Description
There was once a mage of such renown that nary a whisker hadn't heard of her. Her name has never been spoken, she is known only as the Abyssal Witch. She lived in the Eastern Forest, having earned the respect of the forest denizens even though reports said she'd been born in the Western Kingdom. Mind you, that's no small feat, earning the respect of the East that is. She's been a reclusive one in the later years of her life, keeping to herself, studying the various magics of the world and helping the many whiskers of the woods. They say she is very kind.
In her youth, she'd gained notoriety in a bloody battle between the Western Kingdom and an invading Northern Mountains. The legend goes that her whole squad had perished as the North pushed through the front lines of the West. Flanked on all sides by enemies, the remaining forces of the West had retreated to regroup, leaving her to die like her compatriots as the sun set on the battlefield.
But she did not die.
Expecting an attack early the following morning, the West regrouped and prepared themselves for an onslaught of Northerners. Hours passed... and no Northerners came. Instead, limping along, came a single whisker. He was a lowly guardsman with an injured foot that had been left behind and forgotten. The Western soldiers were dumbfounded, rushing to his aid but being wary of a trap. There was none. They asked him why the Northerners weren't pressing their advantage and how he could've possibly survived. He looked at them solemnly, with the sun at his back, and said:
"It was her. I've never been so scared in my life. At first I thought she was just a normal mage, doing her best to survive, as we all did. She was beset on all sides by Northerners, fighting them off in droves. I was bleeding horribly, my vision was blurred, but it quickly became apparent to me she was no normal mage. She was felling the invaders left and right, magic of all elements flying from her fingertips. It was incredible. There must have been dozens, maybe hundreds, of them charging her at the same time yet somehow they couldn't land more than glancing blows. I passed out from blood loss, and awoke hours later to see her. She stood atop a mountain of corpses, drenched in red, the sunlight reflecting off of her. She was glowing. Shining. It was divine, but terrifying. I fainted again, and woke up soon after with a bandaged leg... and now I'm here."
The soldiers wouldn't believe him, couldn't believe him. Such a thing could not be possible. A scouting party was sent to the previous battlefield to confirm the guardsman's claims. And confirm them, they did. She was never seen in the West again, but it was around that same time someone with great magical skill took up living in the East. Of course, rumors spread. Who knows who the Abyssal Witch really is?