The Charred Bog was an endless expanse of marshes and fetid swampland, filled with all manner of foul creatures and evil-stricken folk, banished from more civilized lands. Lords and kings have for years tried to conquer the region, with every attempt ending in failure, countless lives lost. For now, the Bog would remain unclaimed: an uncharted festering wound upon the region.

But within the swamp, past winding, muddy trails and murky pools - life flickered. A ball of flame, held in the hands of a young boy with all the uncertainty of a novice.

"Focus, Brennen, control your breathing. A spark will not catch without kindling to fuel it." The boy's eyes flicked toward the source of the voice: a middle-aged man standing beside him. The man was tall and slender, with sharp, pointed features, and long brown hair that fell past his shoulders.

The boy - Brennen - did not reply, but did his best to follow the man's advice, taking slower, deeper breaths; all-the-while gazing intently at the fire in his hands. If the man said anything else, Brennen did not hear it, focusing all his attention on the flame he nurtured, seeing it grow stronger, more vibrant, feeding on his energy.

But a child's focus does not hold long, and sure enough, Brennen's eyes were drawn to the sound of a nearby frog leaping into the water, and the flame fizzled into nothing.

Brennen's initial shock quickly turned to frustration: a scowl spreading across his features as he angrily kicked at a clod of mud. The man, however, appeared unfazed, simply moving closer and clasping a hand on the youth's shoulder. "Patience, my son. The fire will return... for it is a part of you."

---

"Part of--" Brennen awoke slowly, echoing his father's words through dried and bloodied lips. Disoriented, Brennen blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes to the light. He was not at his camp. Instinct set in, and Brennen immediately tried to rise to his feet, only to strain futilely against coils of rope that bound his hands and feet.

Where was he? Who had done this to him?

Brennen's second question was almost immediately answered as a small, wretched-looking creature came into view, grasping a spear nearly as tall as it was. Goblins. Brennen had seen small groups of them skulking near his base camp: no more than two or three at any given time. A quick flash of steel or conjuration of fire was often all it took to get them to scatter. But as a sharp throbbing in Brennen's head began to settle, he realized they must have taken him in his sleep.

More goblins began to appear, surrounding an admittedly-impressive bonfire in the center of their clearing. They chanted, screeched, and bickered amongst themselves in their coarse language, unknown to Brennen's ears. Now fully awake, his eyes darted all about, looking for sign of his possessions, or anything nearby he could try to use to free himself. Unwittingly, the goblins had figured out Brennen's perfect weakness. His restricted movement made it near-impossible for him to channel flame. The best he'd be able to manage was a small spark, barely worth any note. But right now, a spark may be what he needed.

Thinking back to his earliest lessons: the basic foundations of Pyromancy, Brennen cleared his head, taking deep breaths, and focusing on them. With time, patience, and perhaps a fair bit of luck, he might be able to burn through his bindings...

The freshly sharpened tip of the steel javelin caught a small yellow-orange ray of morning sun as the hunter nestled between a pair of tall, hollowed-out tree trucks. The sunlight hadn’t quite reached the entirety of the vast landscape, and the massive trees of the forest gave just enough shadowy cover to keep the Goliath hidden from all but the most keen of vision. It was time to hunt, and this part of the region of Faerun was known for its wild boar, elk, and various vegetation, unspoiled by the age of industry as the wilderness itself continued to thrive. The large frame of the tribe-woman stood as still and silent as was possible, and a muscular arm held the short, spear-like weapon at the ready, awaiting the small boar to make its way into the kill zone.

Vah’lux learned much about patience when it came to the hunt, taking what she had been taught all those many years ago and building upon it, especially as a lone hunter. Too long had she been separated from her people. Too long had she dwelled in lands not her own. But if there was anything that could be said of the great race of pseudo-giants that hailed from the mountainous Northern reaches of Faerun, it was their survivalistic instinct. But, until she is one again reunited with her great tribe, surviving in the unknown regions is her only recourse.

Her emerald eyes darted to movement several meters ahead, and her hand gripped the javelin as she knew this would have to be the creature she’d tracked earlier. The wild boar were quite large in this part, one which could provide food for at least a few days, or even a week if rationed out properly. However, a Goliath’s metabolism is quite extraordinary at times, that such a beast may only be sufficient for a day or two. Either way, Vah’lux was hungry as her stomach enjoyed reminding her throughout the early morning hours.

There it was, the boar! And with her weapon at the ready, Vah’lux was just about to thrust her arm forward and release the steel javelin so it may fly through the air, fast and true, toward it’s target. But wait. What is this? Someone or something had spooked the animal enough for it to flee for its life, and Vah’lux, irritated by the sudden interruption, allowed a frustrated sigh to escape through her lips and nostrils. This wasn’t right. This was supposed to be her kill, not that of another. But, as it turned out, the short strangers paid no heed to the boar as they marched through the dense trees up ahead, with makeshift spears, wooden shields, crude swords, and a nasty disposition backed by distinct snarling and bickering that reminded the Goliath of a particularly sly and disgusting creature.

“Goblins.” She muttered under her breath, stepping back behind the old tree trunks to be fully engulfed by their shadows, while maintaining a clear visual on the band of mischief-makers as they continued their trek past her hunting spot and toward the south. Vah’lux had seen a few smaller groups of Goblins over the past week, gathering in various spots along her travels, and the few times they spotted her, their first instinct was to steer clear of the “giant woman”, which most likely kept them alive a day longer.

But the Goliath let them pass. She had no quarrel with them, nor did she intend to start one. She herself was enough of a stranger in a strange land, and at the moment, food was about the only thing on her mind.

"Huuch! Daagaan an or huuch!?" Harsh, guttural words escaped the lip-less mouths of one of the creatures, larger and uglier than the others. With a shortsword that appeared to be little more than a jagged shard of obsidian tied to a makeshift hilt, the Goblin swung the blade about with as much refinement as a butcher with a cleaver.

"Hegaan an huuch!" The Goblin spat, now pressing the sword's tip against Brennen's neck. His head tilted back as far as it could go, Brennen's lips twitched in fearful anticipation, ragged breaths leaving his chest. With only the slightest amount of pressure, the blade began to cut into his flesh, blood already starting to trickle from the wound.

"I don't...know...what...you're asking me." Brennen plead in his defense, wincing as the sword dug slightly deeper, drawing more blood down his neck.

"Hegaan huuch! Or o dhuul..."

Brennen could've sworn the Goblin's rasping voice took a sinister edge, but had little time to focus as the Goblin's blade began to move, opening fresh cuts along his neck, only just skin-deep. Eyes slamming shut, Renault breathed in sharply as the stinging sensation followed the blade's trail.

The spark he had been coaxing in his bound hands flared to life, unleashing a gout of flame that assailed one of the nearby trees. In only a few seconds, the familiar stench of smoke began to fill the air; as leaves and bark began to pop and smoke, fresh tongues of fire forming along the trunk.

Taken by surprise, the Goblin quickly withdrew the obsidian blade, barking commands to the other wretches, who scrambled frantically to try and put the fire out.

The Goliath knew of a river that ran quite the distance toward the Southwest, and since that was the way her travels would take her, she walked for a good distance -wary of the Goblins in the area- until she eventually reached the banks of fresh water. Thirsty, Vah/lux pulled the hide water pouch from her belt to refill before continuing her journey along the river, gripping the javelin in one hand, which can also double as a close-combat weapon should the need arise.

Her weapon of choice, however, has always been, and will alway be, the large glaive strapped to her back, one which was taken as almost a “trophy”, from her Orc captor many months prior. She had, since then fashioned the polearm to suit her aesthetic, carving into the hardwood handle, ancient symbols of her people, tribe, and culture, as well as fashioning feathers together from sacred birds, and hanging them just under where the massive blade attached. Vah’lux had wondered quite often why she’d kept such a reminder of her many years in captivity under the mud and shit covered heel of the Orcs, yet she could think of no other reason as simply a reminder of victory against oppression. Never again would she allow herself to be taken prisoner. At least, not alive.

The smell of burning wood caught the Goliath’s attention as the winds shifted toward her, and while that isn’t an unusual scent to be carried through the air considering plenty of intelligent creatures through the wilderness may build fires for cooking or warmth, what wasn’t typical was using the wood of the great pines, as it can be toxic to ingest and quite messy. So, one of two things were happening, perhaps: A camp had no other choice of kindling, or-

And just then, Vah’lux could see the thick, black plumage of smoke atop the tree line ahead, which most likely meant one or more of the pines had caught fire.

“V`harsoth” She spat the curse in her native tongue, immediately assuming that the various Goblin bands she had been seeing were most likely responsible for the destruction of nature. Creatures such as they were conniving, created only for nefarious purposes, and the Goliath despised them just as much as Orcs.

As she drew closer, the fire could be seen through the dense forest, and the Goblin’s guttural voices echoed from afar. A few could be seen running down to the nearby river, scooping up water with makeshift items and even the flipside of their shields, only to hustle back up the incline and disappear behind the trees. Using the bit of shadow cast from the forest, she moved up toward the thick, shady areas, keeping behind shrubs and trees as she crept closer to what appeared to be an encampment, and several Goblins scurrying about. Vah’lux also noticed something, or *someone* sat down and propped against a tree, with another Goblin a few feet away barking out something to the others as well as keeping an eye on its captive.

Human? She assumed based on the figure’s body proportions as she crept that much closer, and did her best to avoid direct inhalation of the smoke that was building. The Goblin looming over the captive shot a glance toward her direction, and the Goliath stopped, hoping that her natural slate-colored skin and earthy hide armor would keep her position secret for the time being. And that it did, as the creature turned away and toward the tree fire that the others were tending to.

With a sigh, Vah’lux wondered why she was getting herself into this mess in the first place. This wasn’t her fight, per se, and she could be off carving her own path through Faerun. But the Goliath, as stubborn as they could be, were also a culture who had a heart to assist those in need, sometimes whether they deserved it or not. And with that, she circled around until she was out of the Goblin’s line of sight, and crept ever-so-closer to her target.

Human indeed, or perhaps an Elf? It was hard to tell from the vantage point, but regardless, the person was clearly tied to the base of the tree as the Goblins decided to have their way with his camp. This wouldn’t do at all.

Vah’lux pulled back her muscled arm, javelin balanced in her hand, and closed an eye to gauge distance before thrusting the weapon forward and letting it fly through the air with the force of a hurricane behind it. The metallic spear emitted a low whistle as it cut through a few low hanging branches before skewing clean through the side of the Goblin’s odd-shaped skull, and sending its small frame soaring a few meters across the grassy landscape before the sharp tip of the javelin embedded itself into the trunk of a nearby spruce. The Goblin’s body dangled lifelessly.

Vah’lux ran up to the stranger who had been tied to the tree, knelt down next to him, and pulled out her hand ax to slice the ropes.

“U’hrs ghorth” She said to the other, quickly realizing this one most likely did not speak her language. “Do not move.” Her words seamlessly switched to the common tongue, with still the hint of an underlying accent.

“Are you hurt?” She finally said, after a few moments of cutting through the bindings until the stranger’s wrists were free. At that moment, however, the shrieking of the Goblin’s filthy language echoed from across the clearing. A few of the ones putting out the tree fire had turned and noticed the Goliath, and they were not happy. One even let off a barrage of exclamatory comments after witnessing the death of their supposed leader.

“Can you fight?” The Goliath gazed at the other with large emerald eyes that almost seemed to glow in the light of the fire. She cocked her head slightly, awaiting an answer, however, at that moment a half dozen Goblin soldiers armed with various melee weapons and shields bounded toward the two of them.

“By Kavaki, I certainly hope you can.” She said with a sigh as she stood to her feet, towering over the human, and passed him her ax which would most likely require two-hands to wield.

With almost the same fluid motion, Vah’lux reached around to the Glaive strapped to her back, and with flick of her wrist, released the hook and swung the six foot weapon around to her front before holding with both hands into a ready position.

His bindings cut, Brennen released a breath he did not realize he was holding, hands immediately shooting for the burning wound at his neck that stained his skin red. "Many thanks." He bid politely, offering a crooked-toothed smile at his would-be rescuer. His eyes met hers, noting their brightness. All Pyromancers in the Bog had eyes like his, remnants of Valaista's kiss. Brennen had to wonder what the significance of this woman's emerald orbs were...

Averting his gaze for a moment, Brennen turned to see the result of her handiwork: the Goblin's lifeless corpse quite literally dangling from the javelin that impaled him to the nearby tree. Had Brennen not known better, he'd have thought this the work of some siege engine, not the strength of one's arm.

As the woman asked to his condition, Brennen pulled the hand away from his neck, the blood coating his open palm assuring him that his wound was not superficial. "Nothing serious." He answered, clenching blackened fingers into a fist. "Though Goblins are not known for their...hospitality." There was a pause, a gap in Brennen's words as he saw the assortment of Goblins that realized what was taking place, and surrounded the two, waving weapons and shields in anticipation. Brennen was their prize - and they had no intention of releasing him.

"Can you fight? By Kavaki, I certainly hope you can." The woman rose to her feet, and Brennen could not mask a look of surprise as she more than towered over him; his eye-level barely reaching her toned stomach. This only confirmed his suspicions...Whoever this woman was, she was not Human.

Choosing to save such questions for later, Brennen took the axe she offered, and it promptly dropped in his grip; only an exertion of strength keeping the head from landing in the dirt at all. Of course the Goblins had disarmed him - likely pilfering through his possessions while they were at it. Until he could find his gear, this would have to do.

In proud display, the woman unhooked the massive glaive secured to her back, swinging it with dexterous motion that only came after years of training and familiarity.

Moving his right hand closer to the iron head of the axe to keep a better grip on the weapon, Brennen released his left, and - drawing on the adrenaline that now flowed through his body - wordlessly conjured a glowing ball of fire that hovered just above his palm, crackling and lapping hungrily at the air.

With a quick glance at the woman's direction, hoping she would move as he did, Brennen let out a quick cry, pulling his arm back before throwing it forward, hurtling the fireball towards the nearest goblin. With only seconds to react, the Goblin cried out in fear as the orb crashed into its face, sending the creature sprawling to the ground screeching in shock and agony.

Mages. Conjurors. Wizards. Sorcerers. Spellcasters.

No matter what they referred to themselves as, or what others perceived them to be, only one word came to the Goliath's mind: Trouble-makers. Growing up in a culture where magic and mysticism seemed to be two separate entities, the magic aspect of Faerun was all but lost on many of her kind, and therefore mistrusted and seen as the work of darker spirits. On more than one occasion, Vah’lux herself witnessed such chaotic usage of spells and witchcraft, even a few of her tribe-mates dfelving in such things only to meet a terrible and agonizing end. Some losing their minds, others, being quite literally consumed by spells that were meant to defend, but backfired instead.

The bottom line was that magic was not to be trusted until otherwise proven different. And as the Goliath stood nearby only to see a spark form into a large ball of fire within the palm of the human’s hand, she all but leapt backwards a few meters, caught off guard by the cunning of yet another mage. With glaive at the ready, she watched as the fiery weapon was thrust forward and immediately hit the Goblin assailant nearest to them both. Vah’lux had to quickly remind herself that things were already set in motion, and it would do her no good to allow such prejudices to cloud her focus. At least not at that moment.

Two Goblins flanked the Goliath, one wielding a shortsword of crude iron, and the other a wooden pike fashioned with a rusty spearhead, and seemingly felt as though they were making a poor choice but at the very last moment. Vah’lux shifted her foot and positioned herself to face the attackers, swinging the massive glaive in a forward arc, first slicing through the torso of the sword-wielder, and knocking the other to the ground, before allowing the momentum of the weapon to guide her next action. Vah’lux quickly pivoted slightly, spinning the shaft of the glaive so the tail-end pointed down at the prone Goblin, and with a great force, impaled the creature through the face with the pointed steel tip. It’s lithe frame squirming under the initial pain, followed by muscle spasms, until no movement was left. The other, sliced halfway through it’s torso, bled out into the soil beneath. The Goliath spat toward the corpses, hating the fact that their decomposition would soon contaminate an otherwise beautiful area.

The Goliath pulled the bloodied glaive from the ground and turned to spot two others nearby who seemingly were ready to defend whatever they had left...

There were few true warriors to be found in the Charred Bog. Their lack of contact with the outside world removed the necessity for it. Indeed, no knights or armor-clad soldiers could be counted amongst their numbers. They were pillagers, scavengers, finding what weapons and bits of metal they could from the swamp, itself. Centuries worth of failed campaigns and ill-fated adventures. The Pyromancers used their home to their advantage; favoring skirmishes and short-lived, decisive battles over drawn-out conflicts. To say that Brennen was out of his element in the middle of enemy territory surrounded by angry, bloodthirsty Goblins would have been a gross understatement.

But to his incredibly tall rescuer, it was almost a dance. She swung her blade with deadly precision, and Brennen could not help but notice the nearly dance-like rhythm of her muscles beneath slate-colored skin. For such a large, unwieldy-looking weapon, she wielded it as though it were weightless.

For comparison, Brennen held the smaller axe she gave him with the clumsiness of unfamiliarity. His own axe was far smaller than this; little more than a hatchet, all things considered. But this weapon, suited for one closer to his rescuer's size, forced him to adapt his stance.

Of the two Goblins that presently remained, one, at least, had the forethought not to end up like his burning companion, and charged at Brennen with a cry that radiated pure malice.

Seeing this, Brennen took a step back, a brief flash of surprise spreading across his features before settling into stoic concentration. Loosening his grip on the axe ever so slightly, he felt the polished wood handle slide down his hand, waiting until he nearly reached the butt of it. Tightening his hold as the Goblin came ever-closer, Brennen threw all his weight into an upward swing, using his momentum to add strength to the strike that he could not have otherwise.

The blade caught the Goblin by head, cleaving into mottled flesh and rotten bone before sending the creature's mutilated corpse back and onto the blood-stained grass.

The last Goblin remained, betraying in its cruel countenance, a fearful uncertainty of what it wanted to do next. Run close and face an axe? Or keep distance and confront the woman's glaive. Still hearing the anguished moans of his still-smoking companion, the Goblin was smart enough to realize two words that every race could trace back to at some point or another: Fire dangerous.

The fact that the human struggled a bit with the weight of the Goliath’s hand axe wasn’t missed, and it even brought a bit of a smirk to her face watching such a thing. Still, there was a small bit of respect now for the mage, that while Vah’lux assumed differently about the effectiveness of such a man’s martial skills, it was clear that the human at least knew how to swing a weapon without losing it.

The Goliath turned her attention to the remaining Goblin, the one who seemingly was at odds with itself and with the situation at that point. Their comrades were taken down within seconds between both she and the human, and perhaps the creature who now stood shaking and mumbling something in its native tongue would be wiser to simply-

“We have a runner...” Vah’lux said in a matter-of-fact tone, watching as the small being turned-tail and scurried off as quickly as its little legs could carry it. The warrioress jammed the spiked butt-end of her glaive into the ground far enough for it to stand on its own, and with the other hand, reached behind her to slide out another steel javelin from it’s leatherbound quiver. Switching it to her other hand, she shifted her stance, positioning herself to wind back her arm, and held the other out, pointing two fingers toward her target, as she turned her head and aimed down the length of her muscular arm for a moment.

“But hopefully not for long.” And with that, she thrusted her weapon arm forward and released the metal shaft as it once again let out a low whistle through the air, gliding across the clearing, before skewing the Goblin through the back and causing it to immediately collapse and squirm before bleeding out.

Vah’lux sighed as she surveyed the camp. “I assume this was your place?”

The battle ended, almost as quickly as it had begun, in fact. The tension in his body relaxing, Brennen's shoulders fell into a more casual posture as he looked upon their handiwork, eyes falling to each of the corpses that marked their victory. Wordlessly, he knelt near to the ground, reaching for the obsidian short sword that lay in the grass, falling from the grip of the Goblin whose remains still decorated the nearby tree.

Holding it to the morning light to examine its craftsmanship, the blade looked equal parts crude and beautiful to Brennen. Given the poor quality weapons possessed by the majority of Goblins, anything more polished than a rusted dagger would have likely been a sign of strength and status.

For a moment, Brennen held the blade properly by the hilt. It was too light and clumsy, made for hands much smaller than his - and certainly much smaller than that of his rescuer's.

He turned to see the woman surveying the camp, with a look that befit a hunter upon the horizon. “I assume this was your place?” She said to him after a deep sigh escaped her lungs.

"No, actually." Brennen answered, ending his first sentence with an uncertainty that indicated he was not done speaking. He looked down at the obsidian blade still in his hands, debating its usefulness, then letting it fall to the wet grass without another thought. "No, they must have dragged me here; looking for loot and a meal, most likely." Brennen continued, a look of concern briefly flashing over his hood-obscured features at the thought of being cooked and...eaten by those creatures; which would have undoubtedly been his fate had this woman not come along when she did.

"I just--" he hung on the word for a second, eyes narrowed as he looked for something. "Need to see where they put my things..." With that, he moved towards the center of the camp, closer to the bonfire that still burned, though was hungering for kindling that was not there. As he walked by, Brennen absentmindedly stretched out a hand into the fire, his fingers curling as tongues of the flame lapped out towards him, as though trying to ensnare him before releasing their hold - unharmed.

Heading towards one of several crudely-constructed tents - the largest, in fact - Brennen stooped low enough to cross the flap-covered threshold, the sound of clattering and items moving about undoubtedly reaching the woman's ears, followed by a sudden "Aha!" As Brennen assuredly discovered something he was looking for.

A few moments after, Brennen emerged from the tent, holding a rustic, weathered knapsack in his hands, made of coarse leather and holding several empty vials on the outside. Opening the sack, Brennen scoured its contents, making a mental checklist to ensure each and every one of his items were still accounted. He procured a chipped and worn hand axe, the tool fitting into his grip with a familiarity and ease that more than signified that this was his weapon of choice. Returning the axe to a notch at Brennen's belt.

Briefly heading back into the tent, Brennen emerged lastly with a shield...if it could even be called that. The slab of planks with an iron boss in the center looked hardly fitting for a Goblin, let alone a proper Human, but Brennen seemed not to care. With his gear now back with him, Brennen returned to the woman, looking all the more pleased.

"Ahh, good to know they didn't destroy everything. Though I think a few of them may have drunk my potions...Hm." Pausing on that note, Brennen looked up to face his rescuer, holding out the axe she had given him with slight difficulty. "I never properly thanked you, I'd have assuredly been killed had you not arrived. I am most grateful." At this, Brennen gave a small, halfway bow, showing all the clumsiness of a man inexperienced with such gestures. "I am Brennen, what might your name be?"

If anything, humans seemed to be a rather predictable lot, along with attachments to a variety of objects that could not or would not have an attachment to them. And while the Goliath admired a warrior who prized a particular weapon, for instance, the weathered mage had a few things that appeared to be near and dear to him. Things that almost seemed trivial to the other, yet what did she care?

Vah’lux nodded in appreciation toward Brennen as she slid the shaft of the hand ax through metal rings that hung on a thick leather belt around her waist. Speaking of admired weapons, the woman couldn't deny the fact that she loved the ax, especially one so well-balanced and fit just right for her style of combat. She may have hailed from a race of pseudo-giants who packed on the muscle through both genetics and physical training, but make no mistake that she was far from a lumbering beast. Heavy, clumsy weapons were never her thing, but a weapon with some weight to it and one that wouldn’t hinder her ability to make swift attacks and counters, was something to cherish for sure.

“You handled yourself well.” The Goliath said as she continued to survey the area, watching as the fires which engulfed at least one pine began to die away. “I noticed the Goblins on my own journey throughout this part of Faerun, especially this far west. I think something may have pushed their numbers this way, but unsure of what.” Vah’lux shook her head. “Most likely greed if you ask me. They are a race of scavengers above all else, and where there are numbers in their ranks, there’s bound to be trouble on the horizon.”

'Hmm...Scavengers' Brennen pondered on the word for a moment or two, for it'd be an apt one to describe him as well. Those on the outside had a negative attitude towards it, he found; cultural taboos on the treatment of corpses. Brennen found the custom barbaric, if nothing else. The Pyromancers never buried their own, though bodies of soldiers and mercenaries from ages past could still be found mummified deep within the Bog. No, upon death, a Pyromancer was cremated, their ashes scattered in the tribe's bonfire so as to return their spirit to Valaista, and the Flame that birthed them. Weapons, tools, and gear were fair game, though personal effects were typically given to family and next-of-kin. Sentimentality was but an inconsequential thing in the swamp, and could easily hinder one's survival.

"Goblins. No land without them." Brennen finally said aloud, carrying disgust in his tone. Shifting his expression to one more genial, he smiled again at his rescuer. "You never gave me your name...I've no idea who to thank for my rescue." Taking a breath, he shifted subjects briefly. "I don't know in what direction my camp is, but I travel light, regardless. Nothing of real value there other than a tent and bedroll. Regardless, it's best I be on my way - you as well. I've no doubt more will arrive will before long..."

The woman couldn't have agreed more. The Goblin population seemed more an infestation than anything else, pushing out communities here and there, and setting up their own camps by way of resources that were already available. However, they are also creatures of fairly easy flight response, and will usually only attack when they know their numbers outweigh the competition.

“Vah’lux.” The Goliath nodded toward the other, “And yes, others will most definitely come, if they are not already nearby, signalled by the smoke from the fires.” She motioned toward the blackened pine near the edge of the clearing. “It is only good that a single tree had been affected, and not several acres as I have seen before.” The Goliath shook her head, thinking back to a previous encounter with Goblins, and their destructive presence upon the woodlands.

“In any case…” She continued, walking over toward both spots to retrieve her javelins. “It is time to move on.” Vah’lux pulled the first weapon out of the trunk of the tree, as the corpse of the creature slid from the shaft and crumpled to the ground. As she walked over a few meters to retrieve the second, the woman stopped for a moment to listen. The clanging of armor and weapons, and the muffled chatterings of the Goblin language was carried along with the breeze blowing in the adventurers direction. After grabbing the second javelin, the Goliath signalled to Brennen, pointing to her ear first, then the direction of where the sounds were coming from.

“We need to go. Now” She whispered, passing closely by the other. “There is a river to the west, not far from here. I suggest we cross it to throw off any trails, then we may go our separate ways.”

"Smoke from the--oh." Brennen caught himself repeating Vah'lux's words as his eyes drifted to the results of his handiwork. He was filled with a sense of shame at his carelessness, however unintentional, and the knowledge that it has been entirely his doing. Lips twitching slightly as he focused perhaps much too hard on his actions, he instead brought himself back to the present, nodding at the large woman as she went to retrieve her javelins.

But before much could be said or done, the woman stopped, tensing, a focused look in her eyes. As she signaled over to him, he heard it, too, the guttural chittering of Goblin voices and the clanging of mismatched, ill-found armor and weapons. He wracked his brain for any possible way to create a distraction of some sort, then quickly gave up. Anything he attempted to do to throw them off would likely only attract them further, no, they had to move.

"Let's be off, then." Brennen declared in a hushed voice, nodding once at Vah'lux before taking off westward. Though he remained unsure just how far the Goblins had taken him from his camp, a man his size, it couldn't have been terribly far. Once he caught sight of the river, he'd be able to better catch his bearings...then see where the road took him next.

Skimming along the river several meters, Vah’lux examined the water to catch an area where they could cross, specifically where the mud was high enough that they didn’t have to be totally submerged. The sharp-toothed creatures that lurked below the water’s surface were the unforgiving lot, and being too vulnerable would mean a huge disadvantage for both the Goliath and the human. The huntress kept watch along the treeline as well, ensuring that that duo wasn’t being flanked by Goblin forces.

“Here.” She pointed to an area in the river where the mud was raised enough enough to almost make a bridge across the river. “We’ll cross here. But be wary, this river is deeper than it appears.”

The large woman stepped into the water, which rose up to about her knees, and kept steady with her glaive used as a walking stick. “Keep an eye on any shiny yellow-orange fish, they tend to enjoy nibbling to the point that they may tear flesh.”

Following suit after the woman, Brennen was taken aback - though more out of annoyance - as the water that rose to her knees reached his torso, making his gait slow and unseemly. The Bog had only a few places where the fetid water reached any higher than one's ankles, but the Pyromancers knew to steer clear. Magics had a profound impact not only on their wielder, but on the environment as well. Places shaped, twisted by years of exposure to the mystical forces that lay just beneath the surface of the temporal. Though the Pyromancers stood as steadfast guards within the Bog for centuries, just outside their borders, covens of witches, necromancers, and would-be-warlocks practiced their foul 'arts', irrevocably tainting the land.

Struggling to find a foothold in the frigid, flowing waters, Brennen briefly regretted finding his gear in the Goblin's camp, as the hatchet at his hip felt like a hunk of raw lead only further weighing him down. Eyes peeled just beneath the surface of the river, Brennen kept his arms up as much as he could, in case someone...or something intended to engage them.

Spotting something bright and orange out of the corner of his eye, Brennen did not hesitate, letting out a hiss through grit teeth as he shot a bolt of fire towards its direction in the river. Though dissipating as quickly as it had appeared, the fire displaced the water, leaving naught but steam in its wake.

He looked up at Vah'lux somewhat sheepishly, perhaps thinking his reaction was a tad overzealous. But given the situation they were currently in, a healthy paranoia was, perhaps, a necessity.

The flash of fire and immediate hiss of it disappearing into nothing but vapor, caught the Goliath’s attention from the corner of her eye. For a moment Vah’lux had forgotten that a mage was in her midst, at least, {i]some[/i] sort of a magic user dealing with fire. A “Pyromancer” she believed they were called by some, and even “the devil’s advocate” by others, which was more a term born out of spite than anything else. Most people looked at a magic user as untrustworthy and deceitful, and while the Goliath herself felt those waves of sentiment, it was more the fact that her companion was human. Trust had to be earned in great leaps and bounds for sure.

“You would do well to keep the use of magic to a minimum here.” She said very plainly, looking back at the other for a moment before returning her attention toward the riverbank. “There are plenty of sentient creatures in this region who would most likely kill you at the sight of such trickery.”

Vah’lux could tell her own bias against a human user of magic was beginning to surface in a way she didn’t particularly like. Emotion was a weakness, and one she could not -would not- show in the company of a stranger. At that moment, nearing the edge of the river, she leaped onto the muddy bank, using her glaive to steady her balance due to the uneven surface.

“Watch yourself there, as this sand can be unforgiving.”

Moments later, the garbled hysterics of the Goblin language could be heard echoing from the other side of the river, where a handful of the creatures peeked out from the darkness of the forest. A few decided it best to wastefully spend a few crude arrows at the travelers expense, all of which fell short of their targets. Vah’lux shook her head at their presence, still curious why they are as restless and aggressive as they’ve been for the past few weeks.

“They are no danger to us now, but be on guard.” The Goliath gaze across the flatter lands in front of them, which wasn’t as heavily covered in trees and a bit more open. “It is safe to part ways.” She gave Brennen a not, as though to say goodbye to say farewell to the human.

Trickery? Brennen at first looked confused by the word. Then - if only for a moment - indignant. What was the trickery in fire? Fire was warmth, and light. A shining beacon that stood vigilant against peerless dark. His lips twitched ever-so-slightly under his hood, as though he was measuring what to say. The flash of anger that briefly overtook him disappeared as quickly as it had come. Offense was not intended, and he would not respond with it.

"The Sorcerers that navigate the lands outside may wield magic with a guileful hand, intent to deceive. But the Fire we wield is primal...heretical. Not drawn from arcane tomes and spell-books, but from ourselves." To emphasize his point, Brennen cupped both hands together, letting a sliver of flame - no bigger than a candle - manifest in his palms. "It is more than just magic." He said, this time looking up to Vah'lux. "It is a part of me." At that he smiled, almost softly, as if in reminisce.

Returning to the present once more as they reached the bank of the river, Vah'lux warned of the land's unsteadiness as she leapt upon the muddy sand, using her weapon as a foothold. Nodding once, Brennen followed in suit, showing ease-of-movement that spoke to his upbringing. The Bog was filled with all manner of deep pools and shifting ground. The first mistake many would-be-conquerors made was bringing horses into such a treacherous land...

"It is safe to part ways." Brennen heard her say, turning to see her nod in his direction. This was a farewell. Though Brennen's instincts agreed with her sentiment, something else in him fought against that, prompting him to, for better or worse, go against instinct.

"I still owe you a debt." He replied, pausing to let the words hang in the air. "I'd have been dead by now, were it not for your timely rescue. That's something I take seriously." Though he said nothing else, his intent was quiet clear.

The Goliath knew her words would sting the other in a way that cut deeper than she could ever imagine. They were not words to be spiteful, but moreso, out of caution, as Vah’lux had her fair share of dealing with darker forces than the one standing only a few feet from her. However, the primal side of life she most certainly understood, and respected to a degree. It was the early teachings -both physical and spiritual- of her people that kept the Goliath grounded throughout the trials and tribulations. Primal knowledge of one's heritage was important. She glanced at the small fire Brennen conjured in his cupped hands, and nodded in acknowledgement. Certainly nothing special, but still something, she supposed.

However, what had caught the tribe woman off guard was the mention of a “debt” that the human mage felt as though he owed her. At first she was about to reject the offer, instinctually wanting nothing more to do with a wandering stranger who most likely didn’t want to be in the Goliath’s presence anyway. But, she stopped herself, and instead went against her better judgement out of a glimmer of respect for such honor and dignity being shown at the moment.

“Just know I will not be responsible for your safety.” She said after a few moments of mulling it over in her head, leaning slightly on tall glaive while peering down at the man. “I do not carry extra rations or water, and any food will need to be obtained by your own hands.” The disclaimer did seem to come off rather harsh, but in the back of her mind, she hoped the mage would reconsider the offer and go about his own business.

“Otherwise...” She sighed. “You are welcome to accompany me.” The statement was followed by a nod, before turning her sights toward a cluster of trees in the distance, this time on their side of the river.

“The path to the south is being watched, and the Goblins won’t forget what happened back at the camp. We will continue to head west, but be on guard.” She said, putting a large hand on Brennan’s shoulder and giving the human a bit of a squeeze. “As these creatures have a nasty habit of picking on the smallest first.”

Vah’lux gave the other a wry grin and a gentle pat as she turned and headed toward the intended direction.

Brennen couldn't help a slight chuckle at Vah'lux's words, initially wanting to make a sly comment in regards to her first statement. However, given the circumstances of their meeting, Brennen decided against it. Cockiness would get him nowhere when he had to be rescued just minutes ago. Regardless, self-sufficiency was a virtue in his culture. His days of total helplessness ended the moment he was weaned off his mother's breast. Though Valaista had blessed them each with the Gift of Flame, the Bog was a dangerous place inhabited by twisted creatures. Their Arts aided them, but those who lacked the proper mindfulness were swiftly overcome.

"Goblins have always been around, but--" Brennen paused, pondering on his next words before speaking. "Their boldness has increased." At this, Brennen rubbed the back of his head through the coarse fabric of his hood, wincing as his fingers brushed across the spot they had clubbed him.

"Orcs and Goblins are alike in only a few ways, but those ways bode misfortune for anyone else. They're disorganized, aggressive, and self-serving. But every so often, one with a little ambition takes over and then you have an army. They never last long, but..." Brennen's mouth twitched, clearly thinking of the untold horrors that a Goblin raid would inflict.

Taken out of his thoughts by the woman's large hand clapping against his shoulder, Brennen couldn't help the slight stumble in his steps from Vah'lux's clearly superior strength. "Smaller in stature, but certainly not helpless...ordinarily." Brennen spared a slight chuckle. "There should be a small town not far from here...a few miles to the West. The Goblins couldn't have taken me far, so we should still be in the right area. It's walled off, has a small militia, should be somewhere safe to stay temporarily while we figure out a plan."

Agreeing to stick together for the time being, the pair headed west, off the beaten path as to hopefully lose any previous pursuers. The sky was slowly beginning to darken with an oncoming storm, as the temperature dropped slightly following gusts of wind.

“Aye, the Goblins have been busier as of late.” The Goliath nodded in agreement with Brennan’s earlier comments. “Mischief begets further mischief.” Vah’lux glanced behind them for a moment, seeing a few stragglers trailing behind as the cluster began to disperse. “But, something seems to be stirring their curiosity, or perhaps restlessness, as their drive toward aggression grows each day....” She returned her attention toward the path ahead. “Which becomes more of a nuisance for those wishing to be left alone.”

The town Brennan mentioned was known to the tribe-woman as one of many trade stops for travelers and merchants, which generally meant the roads leading there would be monitored by not only local militia, but bandits as well. And while the Goliath wanted very little to do with predominantly human-populated towns, she supposed it was a necessary evil to at least lie low for a night.

“‘Windsgate’, I believe is the town you speak of.” Vah’lux said after a few moments of silence. “I have never been there, but have met a handful of halflings and humans who reside within its walls. They were, for the most part, hospitable...at least once they saw past the giant of course.” She smirked, but shaking her head as well at such things. Humans always had an uneasiness around her kind, but a Halfling who already felt too small for the world most definitely would feel out of place amongst the race of Goliath.