Elena Stanfield sat in a circle, chanting words in a tongue long-forgotten by most men. She breathed in and out, drawing power from the surroundings. By steadily increasing her intake of energy, she could power her body beyond the need for food or sleep. She rather disliked this method - it was much less fun than actually eating food. Still, it couldn't be helped.
The witch was out on a cold night, the fog thick in the air. The sleepy town of Ketra was about to know trouble...that is, if she could find it again. She wasn't too worried about finding it, though. She knew the general direction, and could sustain herself indefinitely until she got there, but it was...what?
Elena clutched her chest. Urthanoa was stirring from within her again. The cold dulled her senses, numbing her to the cold and the fog. This was different, however. Her senses were screaming at her that there were two men approaching from behind, two men of unearthly origin...
Elena stood up, brandished her staff and turned around. "Who goes there?" she shouted.