Conan of Cimmeria was having a rather strange night. Of course, it wasn't exactly the strangest night he had ever had, but it was certainly close. After years of wandering and adventures, many nights were worthy contenders for his strangest. Fewer contenders had come up recently, though. His many encounters with the mystical and sorcerous aspects of the world had desensitized him, in a way, to some of the lesser curiosities he may find. This night, however, he encountered no such lesser thing.

He had been wandering the hills of northern Argos. He was on his way north, to Cimmeria, after a particularly harrowing adventure with a crew of Argosian treasure hunters, nearly 3/4 of whom were now dead, courtesy of no less than a pack of large jackals, a cyclops, and a sea dragon! Still, the survivors had each taken home a fair sum of treasure, the Cimmerian included. Conan had not set foot in his home country for years, and he felt that a visit would soothe an ache which had settled in his heart as of late. Adventure yet may still be found within the crags and woods of that northern land.

So there he was, in the hills of Argos, enjoying the sounds of the wind rustling in the trees, and the warm night air. Night had fallen only recently, and Conan had been searching for a good place to make camp, when suddenly the sky blazed to life. After being momentarily blinded, he had drawn his sword in case of attack, but it was no attacker which caused the burst of light. It was a shooting star, blazing across the night sky, leaving a shimmering trail in its wake.

This one was different than other falling stars the Cimmerian had witnessed, however. It was far brighter and larger than others, as if it were closer to the earth. It was slower as well. While most stars streaked across the sky and burned out in an instant, this one's descent was but a fraction of that speed, though still quite quick. Of course, none of that was what truly grabbed Conan's attention. It was the color of the meteor which did that!

It was a burning purple, like that of the Aster flowers which grew wild in the fields of his homeland. Behind it lay a trail of pink sparks, as if a thousand thousand rose petals were drifting in the firmament. As he watched, Conan saw three great pieces of the star break off and hurtle themselves beyond the horizon all in different directions. The greater part of the star remained, however, and continued its descent.

It was only after he observed it for some time that he realized two things: firstly that the star was not quite as big or as far away as he had first believed, and secondly that it was hurtling directly towards him! Realizing this with some degree of panic, he dove to take cover behind the nearest boulder and braced for impact. Rather than a burst of fire and shattered stone, Conan witnessed the star pass directly above his head, blazing furiously. It hurtled onwards, only to crash no less than 500 paces from him in the wood to the north.

"Crom and Mitra." He had sworn breathlessly. He didn't know what force came over his body, but before he had realized it he was running towards the crash, his cloak fluttering in the breeze. It didn't take him long to reach it. There was a dim purple-pink glow around the area, though it was steadily fading. Before he reached the clearing created by the crash, he drew his sword. There was likely sorcery of some sort afoot. Conan had enough experience with magic to know that it could be a death sentence to be caught unawares around a magician or demon.

He steadily made his way towards the crater, moving silently through the shadows from tree to tree. As he finally reached the edge of the clearing and peered in, he was met with a sight which surprised even his jaded eyes. Before him was a rounded clearing, the trees flattened and splintered, surrounding an earthen crater. The area was lit by drifting pink lights, slowly diminishing in luminosity and number.

Neither of these things were what first caught his eye, however. What caught his eye lay in the very center of the crater. Conan had expected some sort of stone or metal. He had heard of the power of Starmetal, and how alchemists and sages could shape that strange substance into weapons beyond compare. Part of him had hoped that he would find some here, and that he may take it to an experienced smith for forging. There was no metal, nor any steel or stone of any sort to be found in this place. In the center of the crater, of all things, was a woman!

She was bruised and bloodied all over, apparently from the impact. She was burned in many places as well, and her hair scorched short. She wore little clothing, just some tattered purple rags, likely because it had been burned up in her blazing fall. Her eyes were shut, and she didn't stir in her earthen bed. Conan, for his part, was well and truly astounded. He could not believe that a woman had fallen like a star from the firmament, and yet it appeared that was exactly what had happened! He stood there, sword in hand, jaw open wide, for what felt like hours to the Cimmerian.

The only thing which drew him out of his own astonishment was the sound of the woman's breathing. It was shallow, ragged and pained. It occurred to Conan that her fall had likely injured the woman severely. Putting aside his contemplations on the mysteries of the vast universe, he hurried into the crater to aid her.

He had carried the woman, wrapped in his cloak, to a rocky overhang not far from the crash. Once sheltered, he had inspected and treated her wounds in greater detail. He applied an ointment of pig fat and thyme to her burns, taking on the grisly task of cutting away dead flesh in the case of more severe ones. He cleaned her cuts and bandaged them with the leaves of a nearby beech tree. Her right leg was broken, and so he had set it with some sturdy branches and vines. There was little he could do, however, for her most serious injuries.

There were two great rents in her back, near her shoulder-blades. They were the deepest of all her wounds, and took the longest to clean and bandage. They were of equal size and shape, the same distance apart, and were both surrounded by ragged tears. It was as if something, or rather, two somethings had been violently ripped from her back. As he sat by the fire and observed the woman slumbering under his cloak, Conan's thoughts were drawn to tales he had heard from the devotees of Mitra, God of Light.

They spoke of angels, beings born of purest light, like winged men and women, who lived in the heavens. They did Mitra's bidding, delivering messages to his faithful and smiting evil in his name. He had even heard a tale which said that each star in the sky was in fact an angel, and that the thousands upon thousands of stars were a heavenly army, standing an endless vigil. They kept watch against beasts and evils from the Outer Dark while the sun, Mitra's light, slumbered at night.

Having met a few beings and creatures which hailed from beyond the sky during his travels, Conan knew fully well that there was life amongst the stars. Perhaps it was not so strange to think there were angels up there as well. The world was, after all, very strange indeed. As the woman turned over in her sleep, the Cimmerian surmised that if angels indeed existed, she very well could be one.

Her hair was soft to the touch, even when scorched. It was about the color of the daffodils blooming all throughout the hills of Argos this time of year, a faded golden yellow. Her face was pleasantly rounded, with an air of regality, even in her current state. She seemed tall as well, taller than most women Conan had met on his travels. He surmised that she would equal his own height, though he had yet to see her stand in order to confirm this. Overall she reminded him very much of the noblewomen of Corinthia or Aquilonia. While she seemed slight and fragile, a crash like the one she endured would have surely killed most mortal women or men, even shattered steel, but she remained.

She was a beautiful, yet enduring enigma, he supposed, one which would hopefully be solved when she awoke. Whether she was truly an angel, a fairy, or perhaps a sorceress, he did not know. At the very least, Conan hoped she wouldn't kill him when she woke up. Fallen angel or not, the Cimmerian wasn't about to let his guard down. So he sat by the fire, watching her until he allowed sleep to take him.

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Hey guys! Hope you're liking the story thus far.

And yes, I did decide to make Angella Human for this, or at least look human after losing her wings and most of her magic (yes MOST, not all). This is mainly because the Hyborian Age is pretty Low Fantasy as opposed to Etheria's High Fantasy. It just felt like it would work better narratively. She'll also know what basic stuff is, like a knife or a tree or a river, but she won't know anything specific to the Hyborian world, like nations or creatures and such.

One last thing: I based her human look a bit off of her 80s version! Points if you noticed.