There doesn't seem to be much in the way of exploitable resources in the immediate area. There is, however, a positive surfeit of mud. The earth is a nearly-uniform grayish brown, pockmarked by craters of varying depth in which a few flames still gutter. It's difficult to tell the time of day through the thick cloud cover, only a few shades lighter than the ground below. The air is thick with the acrid stench of fuel and spent gunpowder, almost covering the coppery tang of spilt blood.

Ah, a war zone, and a recent one. Nostalgic. Better technology or magic than her usual worlds, too...

She flies up into the air, deciding there's no real point in bothering with the mud. Even if her clothes are enchanted not to get dirty - well, it's the aesthetic that counts.

There is a whistling sound, rising in pitch, and something is streaking through the air to kill her.

Cute.

Her heat signature (and image) is suddenly far enough away from her she'll be unaffected by any blasts.

The rocket screams through a sharp turn to its new target position.

The explosion is quite large.

Oh, she underestimated that.

Still, she's unruffled, after briefly flickering ethereal.

She keeps flying up, away from the false target.

Another pair of missiles are sent to futilely attack.

From her higher vantage, she can see the battery that fired them and the encampment surrounding it. The tents seem like semipermanent structures, divided into neat rows. Parked between every few tents is an armored vehicle with a pair of long barrels on a swivel mount on top.

Interesting enough to investigate.

She stays high in the air, almost idly flying over.

A figure wrapped in a green glow rises into the air from near the middle of the encampment and streaks over to where Acererak left her decoy. It pauses there for a moment, then begins following her path through the air.

Oh, somebody over there's clever - and decently powerful, it looks like.

Acererak holds still, idly weaving protective spells and preparations around herself. (It'd be somewhat obnoxious to have to reform again so soon, and of course eventually she'll wear through her stash of functionally identical magic items.)

The figure quickly approaches, resolving into a young woman who appears in her late teens wearing a dark outfit: a long, slim coat over a lace-up shirt with the top ones left undone and a trim pair of pants that flare slightly at the ankles for the high-heeled boots.

She's murmuring something as she arrives, the sound stolen away by the wind, and her eyes flash as she looks Acererak over. "And who, pray tell, are you supposed to be?"

She grins and bows extravagantly. (She's wearing a purple robe with silver eye designs picked out in gleaming threads, and an elaborate headband, a silver and amethyst necklace that seems oddly arresting, gloves decorated with images of daggers, silver filigree boots, a wood and silver and amethyst staff slung on her back... Just of her visible items, of course.)

"Why, I am Acererak, the Devourer and the Lady of Unlife. And who might you be?"

"...Eliese."

"A good name. Tell me, Eliese, is this," and she gestures broadly, encompassing the destruction around them, "Your handiwork?"

"Most of it." She cocks her head to the side. "Are you a fan?"

Laugh. "I'm too newly arrived to be a devoted fan just yet, but it does look rather impressive from where I'm standing."

She smiles, tight and angry.

"If you like this, stick around for a day or so. I've had just about enough."

"Oh? Enough of what?"

"This fight. These orders. This planet. The whole damn war."

"I've never much been one for orders, or for wars I didn't start. Why do what others tell you?"

"Because there's too many of them."

"Declaring your own war on the universe can be a bit tricky... But there are other ways to fight, you know."

"Avenues I'm sure I'll explore after I've made my statement here."

"Oh?"

"I wasn't planning on witnesses. But you might do."