Jackal Among Snakes

Moonlight filtered through the poorly boarded windows of the abandoned house, leaving long slivers of orangish light across the decrepit floorboards. Argrave sat on a table, gazing up at the red moon with tired eyes. He was growing used to the strange sight, if only just. Across from him, Galamon was tidying up their preparations. He was carrying the bulk of things—glass bottles filled with viscous liquids, pouches full of tools and all the like.

Soon, everything was ready. Galamon took a moment to ensure he had not forgotten anything, feeling his axe, his dagger, his greatsword, and his bow. Once he was content, he locked his white eyes on Argrave. “We are ready.”

“I’m not,” said Argrave. “Thought I could reach C-rank magic. I suppose I was big-headed.” He shook his head lightly and stood. “Well, no use moping. I don’t think we’ll lose.”

“We can retreat if we do,” Galamon pointed out. Argrave was not sure if he was trying to comfort him.

“If we retreat without killing Tirros, it’s rather pointless. We have two lose conditions, the way I see it; Tirros escapes, or we die. If he escapes, he’ll just relocate alongside whichever Veidimen druids are left alive, and I can't really find him again.”

He spoke of the matter very casually, but Argrave was a mess internally. Certainly, if this was ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ he would have complete confidence in his success. He had faced greater challenges in-game, primarily for fun. Now, the former NPCs around him were living, breathing people, and he himself was not some player-controlled avatar devoid of mistakes. He had fear, doubt, inexperience—all of the symptoms of impending failure. But could he stop? The mirror in his pocket said 'no.'

Argrave grabbed a small satchel and a knife, slinging both to his leather gear quickly. He drank the contents of a vial on the table, and he was visibly reinvigorated—his pale skin returned to a semi-healthy pallor. “Ant venom stamina potions—disgusting,” he said, moving his mouth to get rid of the taste. “Let’s go.”

Galamon threw on his Viking-like helmet, and the pair left the abandoned house. It was perhaps an hour before midnight, but the streets of Mateth still had many people moving about. Most were sailors, coming to the city after long voyages over the turbulent oceans. Though some dubious people prowled the streets, the two were not troubled by anyone on their way to the gate. Argrave watched for pigeons, but he could see none.

The moon was close and bright, and they had very little difficulty seeing the way.

Argrave left the gate closest to the coast—the same one he’d taken to go to Erlebnis’ shrine. The guards on duty watched with tired eyes but offered no greeting or questions. They broke off from the road, heading towards the forest, but they followed the edge of the trees without entering the forest proper. Once they came to a river, Argrave crossed, delicately walking over some exposed rocks.

Once Galamon reached the other side, Argrave pointed to the distance, where a mound of rocks sat at the bottom of the beginning of a mountain. Trees rose up the mountain towards its peak, decorating its entirety with green. One could faintly make out the river pouring down from the headwater in the mountain.

“See those rocks stacked up?” He kept his finger straight.

Galamon followed Argrave’s finger, and then nodded.

“They stack up in a rough circle, but the inside is hollow. You can vaguely see some trees growing out,” Argrave explained. “That’s where they are. There’s a crawlspace they enter through, but we’ll have to climb up the rocks for our purposes. I know a good route.”

“Scouts?” Galamon questioned.

we left so late at night—to sneak in

fixed on the spot that the scouts usually stood. His heart sped up until it was as fast as

he kept his focus as best he could. The climb was not especially difficult, and Galamon gave him aid where he

paths had been carved into the landscape by frequent travels, like a game trail. There was a makeshift construction atop the rocks—a simple platform of wood planks with a ladder leading up to it, and railings preventing anyone from falling too easily. It had been covered partially with moss, evidencing it had been here

the wooden platform, crouching low and looking out across the druid’s hideout. The trees, mostly oak,

ladder. Then, you draw your bow. Prepare

“Why paralytic?” Galamon questioned.

with Tirros at the center. If

go first. I’ll

ladder was sturdy, and Argrave had never been afraid of heights. He was most

more, Argrave could not be gladder. He slunk off into the undergrowth, ears perked for any sound. Galamon followed closely behind him, landing as quietly as one in

Can you shoot him on the platform?” Argrave questioned. “Wait

can stash him

a crack above them and looked up in a panic. A rock fell down from the top of the mound, landing in the undergrowth.

thinking.” Argrave shook his head. “When he comes by, be sure to hit him

Argrave cast a D-rank illusion spell, [Chameleon], that would keep them hidden so long as they

Veidimen walked into view. It was a woman. She wore battered leather armor that was the color of tree bark, but it was covered with scratches from branches and shrubs. Argrave was briefly taken aback that it

woman jolted back and fell, exhaling

in her shoulder, sputtering. Her eyes were locked on the two of them. Slowly, her contractions became more infrequent, and she was still, hands wrapped around the arrow. No blood flowed

Argrave trailed off. He hid his mouth with his gloved hands. He was

pulled her into an area with dense undergrowth, breaking some greenery and tossing it over her to better conceal her. Argrave peered ahead.

We should start the assault

location as they were in the game. In a small clearing below, the druids had established a small camp of uniformly

of the other constructions. Argrave motioned to Galamon, and he came closer. They came to the top of the hill, hiding behind some denser bushes as they peered out across the

inscribed. Glass could hold enchantments. Argrave only knew E-rank Inscription and Imbuing, but he

you sure you can throw these

took two of the bottles from Argrave’s hand. “Do you want them on