Novala sat crossed-legged at the center of the small clearing that was her camp.
Her magical fire burned beside her, giving off a pale blue light that complemented that of the moon.
A light that, unlike natural fire, would not be so easy to spot from a distance in the pitch-black wood.
Her master was late...
A fact that she could do nothing but brood about in her head.
She hated having her time wasted, but alas.
Not a soul alive or dead would dare bid her master make haste,
Nor would Novala risk her own neck giving that move a go.
She would sit and wait, as she had been instructed.
Luckily for her, the weather was fair, and the sky was nearly without a cloud in sight.
High above her head, the stars shone brightly.
That light poured through the leaves of the massive, encroaching canopy.
Starlight that flashed and flared in the darkness around her.
She waited.
After nearly an hour's time, Novala found herself nodding off.
Although small, the magically fueled fire was more than warm enough, and the vigilant woman had not slept for more than a few hours in a row for several weeks now.
She had been tasked with overseeing the assault on Kabuterval by her black-cloaked master on one hand, and with its defense on the other by Rayden, the Spymaster of Garth Verlore...
As you could imagine, playing both sides of this particular fence had her exceedingly drained.
Everything had been going just fine up till this point.
She had started a rather lucrative relationship with an odd pair of goblinoids nearly 20 years ago that was set to pay off tomorrow, and unfortunately for her and her schemes, a Razor Leaf Ranger just happened to be in the vicinity.
That was a major problem.
Rangers with the R.L.R.C. were known for their martial skill and combat prowess, and neither of those was a thing that the lone Saboteur cared to deal with alongside the besiegement of the small town...
Outside of that, if she happened to come into contact with said Ranger while she was attired in her own black robes, she would most definitely be outed by not only the R.L.R.C., but S.T.A.R. as a not-so-friendly unit.
That, above all else, she could not have.
Her role in the bigger picture was far too vital to her master...
She couldn't risk Rayden or anyone else at that damnable school finding out her real goals and purpose for going S.T.A.R.
She alone had set up numerous meetings between the large and often warring Goblinoid clans.
She had organized war training.
She had recruited as many of the smaller clans as she could muster.
Well...
She had coached her two loyal thralls with all such tasks, and she had done so so intricately that they had carried out all of them without much need of her assistance.
Teaching and planning for goblins was mentally taxing...
The only blessing came in the fact that these two, who went by Ahgo and Ahmay, were far more intelligent than the average goblin. This didn't make them stink any less, nor did it make them any less ugly.
Novala's mind came back to the moment.
She was over the waiting.
Any longer and she would pass out where she sat.
She rocked herself forward, moving to make to her feet.
Suddenly, the blue flame that was once quite dim surged in both new brightness and stark intensity, its heat doubling and then tripling in a matter of seconds.
Novala rolled backward and away from the heat wave, summoning her Labrys as she did.
She came to her feet in a combat-ready stance.
Her feet were set, and her grip steady and confidently wide on the handle of her gleaming, black, two-handed weapon.
The flames before her burst forth and swirled like a miniature tornado, spinning faster and faster until it was all but a sapphire blur.
With a sudden and bright flash, the fire was gone, and over the smoldering embers floated a lone figure draped head to toe in the blackest of black robes that the startled woman had ever seen.
They had that effect every time.
Every time.
With a sigh of relief, Novala took her left hand from the handle of her weapon and gave a quick, sharp snap of her fingers.
The Labrys vanished in the blink of an eye back to the Aether realm from which it came.
Before her, the man "stood" as still as death.
Every inch of him was covered in a cloth that was so very deeply black that it seemed to suck in and destroy the faint starlight that fell softly upon its wicked surface.
Novala fell to one knee, bowing so deeply that her face nearly touched the warm, flat-packed earth.
"Your Greatness."
She began softly.
An edge of irritation just barely perceptible on the tail end of her words.
"It has been far too long since you've graced me with your presence."
She said with a fine dusting of sincerity.
"I can only assume that you've come for an update?"
The imposing figure stepped forward and from atop the embers.
His feet stopped an inch from the ground as his robes cleared the smoky threshold.
Novala took the opportunity to rise and take a singular nervous step back as she did.
The man's arms moved from his sides, slowly met in the middle, folded at the elbows, and clasped one another in a soft grip.
His hands were slender and gloved.
The gloves were just as black as everything else about him.
The light breeze that had once vexed the forest around them seemed to divert its path on purpose, leaving the hollowed air around the small clearing stiff and stifling.
When the man spoke, it was with such power and bass, such depth and tempo that the leaves around them vibrated and shook on their branches.
The loose pebbles and earth trembled and jumped about.
Novala fell back to her knees in both fear and awe.
She could feel the very Aether swirling around before her, threatening to suck the very air from her lungs.
His words seemed to manifest inside her head.
From beneath the lip of the man's hood, deep, sapphire light poured forth.
Novala held her piss in her bladder, made sure she didn't move a muscle, and listened.
Fack, she quickly found that her stark fear made it so that she couldn't have moved if she wanted to.
"YOU... FALLEN STAR... TWILIGHT CLEAVER... YOU WILL CHAPION THIS SEIGE... KABOUTEVAL MUST FALL... THEIR ARTIFACT WILL BE MINE IN NO MORE THAN A TENDAY'S TIME...YOU WILL NOT FAIL ME...YOU WILL NOT FAIL US..."
The man's voice seemed to reverberate within the very corridors of her brain, so potent, so powerful, so palpable were his words.
This, in fact, WAS the case, and Novala hated it.
It was rude, stupid, and intrusive as all fack, but she would be the last one to let him know that!
She preferred her soul stay exactly where it was: INSIDE of her mortal shell, and not in one of the thousands of this man's snare jars...
She shuddered at the thought...
The figure sensed her hesitation and spoke again before she could muster the courage to do so.
"SPEAK...WHAT...TROUBLES YOU..."
He said, the deep blue light pulsing over and bathing her in his twisted, foul Aether as he spoke.
She swallowed once, twice, in an attempt to wet her mouth.
It failed.
She forced out what she could.
"All has been to plan, Your Greatness, until just the other day-"
Before she could go on, the man's voice boomed a single, heavy word.
"CLARIFY!"
And the humbled Saboteur did.
"Well... Just as Ahgo and Ahmay got the last of the goblinoid clans to agree to our terms, a Ranger showed up."
The man's hooded head tilted to one side in confusion.
"WHAT OF THIS... RANGER? WHAT PROBLEM COULD... A LONE RANGER... BE TO... AN ENTIRE ARMY?"
He asked, his hands moving slowly to meet behind his tall, slim form.
Novala swallowed once again before answering.
She anticipated a burst of outrage.
"She is a Razor Leaf, Sir."
She said before quickly bowing her head once more.
The figure before her was still and silent for a moment as he contemplated the issue at hand, weighing it against the larger schemes in play.
A dark, evil solution came to his devious mind.
One that neither the ranger nor the dorpie would see coming.
Literally and figuratively.
He spoke once more before disappearing in a sudden plume of dark Aether and smoke, leaving Novala in a dazed and confused state, so wild was his request.
"A TROLL... LOCATE AND SECURE... THE EMPLOY OF A TROLL... BEFORE THE SUN RISES... UPON THE MORROW... WITH IT WE SHALL... HAVE OUR WAY... WITH IT... KABOUTEVAL SHALL FALL..."
And with that, Novala was once again alone and left to her own insidious devices.
She stood and stretched, her fingers interlocking above her head.
"Hmm."
She thought aloud.
"Where in all the facking hellz are Ahgo and Ahmay going to find me a troll?"
It would be a long night.