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[center][b]Kalar Splint, Chief Ranger of Galuntrung Keep.[/b][/center]

[center][b]Ten miles north east of Merandin, along the Geshmere Road.[/b][/center]

Such wreckless hatred. Such wanton slaughter. Such senseless waste. 

The caravan had been hit merely hours ago, and it had been hit hard. It was no small venture either, a full eight wagons all told, and at least a score of heavily armed guards. Now all that remained was smouldering embers and warped iron. A few blackened limbs stuck out from the wrecks, and a few bodies had been gruesomely welded to the hard stones of the Geshmere Road. 

Kalar scowled from the cloaked sanctuary of his heavy linen hood, wincing away rivulets of rain that were busily sliding down his face. None of this made sense, it just didn't add up. Kalar Splint was the kind of man who had seen a typical raid a thousand times. People were killed, women raped and children enslaved, goods taken and horses stolen. The fact that [i]everything[/i], riches and all, had been reduced to ash and glass was just bizarre. 

And few fires could rage so strongly under the towering might of a Galuntrung Storm. 

The rain crashed down in a fierce temper, doing its best to snuff out the last of the flames, but despite its tenacity, the blackened wood continued to crackle away merrily. Whatever had hit the caravan, had hit it fast and with enough heat to literally melt people into the road beneath. 

A dozen or so rangers, some of Kalar's best, were busy trying to find tracks aside the road - something that would give a clear indication of what had happened. However, the rain was doing a fine job of destroying the evidence. Frustrated that the situation may become beyond their understanding, Kalar turned his head slightly to address an equally drenched and hooded figure beside him. 

"Liara," he croaked, rather than spoke, "find me something. Anything. I want to know what happened here." 

Liara was his Ace; she'd barely been with his group for two winters, yet she was already a better tracker and a better fighter than he himself would ever be. Not that this openly showed of course, for Liara was a delicate looking thing - not quite a woman of the court delicate, but she held a frame that followed the curves of natural beauty, as opposed to the rigid outline of an unstoppable force. Looks were deceiving though, and Kalar had learned as much early on in their "partnership". 

He may have been an effective and calculating killer when all was said and done, but Liara had the kind of potential that could bring down Empires, if she ended up walking that road. An unnatural energy possessed her, he knew this though he'd seen little real proof. Her presence made even the hardiest warriors uneasy, the most feral beasts wary. Few women could stand toe to toe with a man twice their weight, and he'd seen her take on several at a time on occasion. Wasted potential, one might say, but Kalar had come to appreciate that she was not keen to fulfill the mould that had perhaps been cast for her. This was good, as far as he saw it. That kind of power could corrupt a person, turn them sour.

The rain carried on, and Kalar awaited Liara's response. Innocent blood had been spilled that day, and the Rangers of Galuntrung Keep were about to avenge all those stories that had been cut several chapters short.