It's chjøping time!
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The human village had been torched. Just shy of the horizon, a wave of inky smoke could be spotted pouring into the sky at a glacial pace. The black pillar slowly boiled and rolled as it ambled itself aloft. Lit from below by countless fires, it took on a certain morbid beauty in the eyes of the saboteur.
A lazy smile crossed Velandra's face as she regarded her handiwork from a safe distance. The humans had been as dull and slow as ever, the alarm only being raised after a few of the guards turned up dead, and by then it was far too late. The crudely built homes of thatch and dry wood went up like so much kindling, and amid the panicking townsfolk it was a breeze to escape unnoticed. Or at least it should’ve been.
Vel’s smile dropped upon remembering that little snag. One of the bloody half-wit tin cans they called guards had tackled her and some wide-eyed human brat out of the way of a collapsing storefront, dirtying Vel with soot in the process. She had of course butchered the fool for that, along with the stupid mewling girl, but the thought of a human getting the drop on her like that still irked the elven woman to no end.
Vel turned her back on the immolation and began to make her way North. It had been the second time a human had taken her by surprise, although the first time had born far graver consequences than a mere dirt bath. She would need to be more careful in future.
A clatter of steel on steel shook the elven woman from her reverie. She whirled, drawing her blade and peering at the source of the noise. There was a man jogging after her, perhaps 50 paces back. One of the guards, a captain judging from all that crude metal strapped to his body.
Vel smirked and flourished her long, ornately crafted sword. Did this idiot man seriously think he could match her in a fight? She advanced to meet the oncoming guardsman.
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