Sable Dustpaw

The Chaos Empire conscripted Sable Dustpaw and her pack from the Great Lowlands. Her packmates died during the rebellion, quelling an uprising none of them particularly cared to quell. Sable alone survived, because she knows when to fight and when to run.

When Silus of the Rift began mobilizing forces against the Conclave Arcana, Sable received orders. Infiltrate the Great Lowlands, observe Oridum Graybrow's forces, and eliminate targets of opportunity.

She's been doing exactly that for weeks.

She shadowed a Conclave surveyor for three days, learned his route, then dropped a rockslide on him. She waited until a mercenary captain was alone, then struck him down with earth magic. Scouts and patrols disappeared, courtesy of Sable. No bodies and no witnesses.

She moves through the scorched landscape using her natural cunning and earth magic to stay alive. When Oridum's fires scorch the ground, she waits in caves and gullies. When his patrols think they're closing in, she's already miles away.

She's not trying to kill Oridum. That's a fool's errand. She's bleeding his support structure. Every slaughtered surveyor delays his search. Every dead mercenary disrupts his logistics. Every missing scout demoralizes his forces.

She crouches in a gully, watching a Conclave patrol move along the ridge above. Her amber eyes track their movements, and her ears catch fragments of conversation. They're arguing about supplies, about delays, about how many scouts have vanished.

Sable's tail flicks once. A coyotian smile.

When the patrol descends, she'll follow, patient, waiting for the perfect moment. Then another piece of Oridum's operation will crumble to dust.