The Last Remnant

    The dank stink of decay permeated the air, as figure in grey moved along the solid path of rancid earth that made it way along the marsh.  Each footfall of her knee high black lather boots seemed to sink a little deeper into the much, as if the land itself tried to sway her from her path.  As she moved further into the bog the once bright stars in the sky became obscured by the choking mist.  Sorrow and despair punctuated the absolute silence of the swamp, a once lush forest, now laid barren and lifeless.

    The lone figure stopped and leaned heavily her ornate wooden walking staff, and regarded the surrounding area.  A spoken word of power prompted the amber stone embedded in the head of her staff flared brightly illuminating the area, and the owner of the staff.  She wore a simple red halter and skirt that contrasted her dark bronzed skin.  Her clothing bore the golden runes of her order, as did her staff of red oak.
 
    She was tall, even by elf standards, with a muscular build that was built of many years of service to her coven.  Tresses of braided white hair cascaded down past her shoulders, framing her fair elvish facial features.  Adorning her head was a tiara of golden wire whose band formed into a third eye in the middle of her fore head, set with black stone of onyx.  Her piercing grey eyes regarded the surrounding wilderness with a mixture of awe and regret.
Shaking her head quickly, as if to ward off the notion of turning back, she continued on her trek into the heart of the ever thickening mist.  Concentrating on the sucking sounds of her foot falls, the elf fought the ever deepening sense of foreboding that with each step she was walking to her doom.

    The mist around her began to take on patches a luminous azure blue that seemed to bob and weave just behind the cloak of the grey death that hung all around her. Knowing this was a sign she was nearing her destination, the elf began to utter more spells and incantations of protection.  As she approached the goal of her sojourn, she sensed the goal was aware of her presence, and preparing for her as well.
 
    Then as if held back by an invisible barrier the elf came out of the mist into the presence of a mighty oak that towered before her.  The ground suddenly was lush and green.  The walls of fog were held at bay around the tree allowing the moonlight to bath the island of life in its soft glow.

    “YOU DARE INVADE MY DOMAIN, WITCH!?” came an angry his from the branches of the mighty tree.

    The elf fell back into a defensive posture, holding her staff out before her ready to defend herself.  Her eye searched franticly for the source of the accusing voice.  Her gaze fell upon her target.
The same luminous blue mist she had spied in the fog had appeared and solidified into the form of a woman, perched on one of the lower branches of the tree like a jungle cat ready to pounce on prey.  The figure was in the shape of a slight and svelte woman, with a pleasantly chiseled musculature.  Her blue tinted skin was covered only by a simple leather loin and single should top.  The figure’s face would be beautiful if not marred by the angry snarl of her mouth and the burning blue rage that poured forth from her eyes.

    Fighting back the fear the elf found strength in the righteousness of her mission and speaking from a place of conviction said “I’ve come for your help!”
   
    The lithe figure jumped forward from the branch once again disintegrating into the blue mist, only to reconstitute before the elf armed with a long staff.  Without preamble the figure broke into a series of swinging attacks against the intruder.  Not without skill the elf deflected each blow with her own red wood staff, sparks erupting from every block. 
“Thanks to your kind, we are the last of what was once a mighty life force, and you DARE ask us for anything!” Her eyes flared with every syllable.