Twigs were split beneath her feet; leaves crushed; logs leapt over. She let nought a second go to waste. She had a rough idea of where it landed, and a direction. All she had to do was get there and... Well, that would come later. For now the first and most important task was to find the fallen star, and... Eh, that'll come later too. Maybe hire a blacksmith to melt down the materials and forge something? Or maybe sell it? She knew the Lords and Ladies of the Kingdoms would pay countless coins for useless junk. She learned that the hard way... Bastards.
Such was the demand of her current task that she did Ignore the warnings of the Elder Brothers and Sisters of the Ten Eyes. Forests were often home to the Demons. Soulless beasts who resembled twisted, deformed, and freakishly large animals with glowing red or yellow eyes and boney protrusions. The Demons had but one goal: the complete and utter destruction of Humanity and all of his creations and teachings. Legends claimed the first Demon was given life by a God of Darkness. Others say that the Old Ones of a forgotten age had formed the Demons for reasons that died with them. And others still say that Demons were formed when a witch used foul and fell sorceries to bring back her lost lover, thusly defying the natural order and claiming herself equal to God.
Yet she was never one for superstitious wives tales. She neither cared nor knew how or when the Demons came to be. Only that they've existed for almost as long as Humanity. She knew they were monsters. And monsters deserved to die. Yet not all monsters wore the skins of the fell Demons...
Yet she had little time to waste in foolish thoughts. She focused on the path ahead and ran. She ran deeper, and deeper, and deeper into the old, foul forest. She noticed not how the trees grew blacker and more twisted. Branches resembled skeletal hands, almost seeming to reach for her. Grass, bushes, flowers, leaves and other foliage grew sickly yellow and malformed. The sky grew darker and darker and darker and darker. The heavens above weapt; arcs of blue light spearing the black clouds and painting them a bluish white for but a moment. She noticed not how the wind seemed to carry the voices of long dead spirits. Nor did she notice the lack of beasts, or birds, or any form of life fuelled by blood and constructed of flesh and bone.
The wind began to bite at her. It grew cold, treacherous, and ever louder did its howls and dread screams rise. The trees this deep in the woodlands were gnarled and tall as mountains. Here no light could penetrate the thickness of the trees claw-like branches. Upon the trees were a tar-like liquid, dripping to the ground and forming large puddles. She, of course, did not notice the glowing crimson eyes in the unnatural darkness of the forest. But they noticed her. And they followed, their stomachs ravenous and bodies shaped like hideous mockeries of both man and wolf.
Yet deeper into the forest did she travel. And for her efforts she was rewarded with stench of burning flesh and sulfur. It was distant, the smells, only carried upon the wind. Yet small fires were visible in the distance. Some flames were nought but the size of a candle's infant flame. Others consumed entire sections of the forest; converting wood and leaves into thick columns of smoke. She struggled to breathe, the tainted air weighing heavy upon her lungs. Yet she persisted through the hellish flames and smoke. She persisted even as the forest gave way to miles of lifeless, desolate, burning land. She continued northwards, towards where the star had fallen. Yet she was not the only one seeking the comet. No, already word was traveling fast.
In distant lands holy men urged their Kings and Queens to march upon the fallen celestial body, for it must surely be a gift from the Gods. What else could it be?
Yet in other, more obscure lands, a witch plotted. She could sense the immense power contained within the comet. She prepared armies of heretics and Demons.
Yet in the east reigned a immortal pretending to be mortal. A man of great skill and knowledge; a man whose soldiers already marched. He would not — could not — tolerate the presence of a unknown player in the eternal struggle. Yet all these armies, these witches, these holy men, and heretics had not yet to ask but one mundane question: What happens when you steal away a Dragon's pride and honor? The answer is equally as simple. Castles bathed in demonic flames; Kings frozen to their iron thrones; armies reduced to cinders. For nothing is as deadly or as unpredictable as a Dovah whose ego has shattered. Yet perhaps hope yet lives in the form of the hooded woman who grows ever closer to the downed star. Perhaps a little humility and a single act of mercy is what stands before Remnant and a ocean of blood and fire...