Jackal Among Snakes

Backpacking was a laborious thing. Argrave was coming to terms with its necessity, but he could not say that he was fond of carrying a pack on his back with the bare essentials while travelling across landscapes of varying types. Without healing magic to ease him of blisters and other things brought about by the journey, he would never have made it across the Burnt Desert. Between its dunes of sand and its rocky hills, it was not an easy place to traverse, even in winter.

Now, though, Argrave found great pleasure in the hike they took. They travelled from Sethia to the distant mountains where the southern tribals made their home. The weather was pleasant, the desert was quite beautiful, and the wildlife, terrifying though it might be at times, invoked a dual sense of nostalgia and wonder.

It helped that he had conned someone into carrying his pack for him.

“It’s going to be dangerous to travel farther,” Yarra warned, who kept pace with Argrave. She seemed to have no trouble with the pack, despite being as skinny as he was while half his size. It was the power of a magical body, he supposed.

“Because of the tribals?” Argrave looked up to the dark mountains towering above. “Meh. We’ll be fine,” he waved dismissively. “Not much farther anyway.”

She adjusted the pack with her ire hardly concealed, casting glances at Garm atop Galamon’s pack. Despite her constant curiosity towards the head, she asked as many questions as a mute. Argrave had intended to find out what she knew, but her stubborn silence made that difficult.

They travelled along a dry riverbed. Though the valley around them evidenced water had once flown through this area, all water had dried, and the clay-like soil beneath their feet was hard and cracked into tiles of varying sizes. Argrave kept his eyes on the mountain as he walked slower, looking for landmarks he recalled from the game to guide him.

After a long delay, Argrave spotted a strangely split rock that was quite familiar to him and smiled. “Folks… let’s set our packs aside. Someplace safe.”

“What for?” Yarra questioned, while Galamon and Anneliese moved to obey immediately. Galamon freed Garm from his position, holding him in his free hand like a torch.

Argrave rubbed his hands together. “Time to get to work, obviously.”

Yarra followed Argrave’s gaze to a large boulder down into a gulch.

Seeing she still wasn’t removing the pack, Argrave chided, “You were so hesitant to put it on, now you can’t bear to take it off? Just listen. Is that hard?”

She begrudgingly took the pack off and sat it alongside Anneliese and Galamon’s. After ensuring that their packs were well-concealed, Argrave proceeded into the gulch, minding his step as it descended slightly. The gulch turned right, driving further into the mountains, but Argrave ignored the turn and walked to the boulder.

Argrave held his hand out and knocked four times, then said loudly, “Gebicca, blood of Burgund, has come to pay respects.”

other rock, turned to sand. It fell on him,

stared beyond into the cave. Once he was done, he straightened and examined his own handiwork, a smile lining his face. Though the cave ahead was disorderly and uninviting, glowing blue runes shone on the surface of

have restrictions on quests. Even if the player knew the solution to a puzzle, they’d still need to talk to the right person to be able to proceed. That Argrave had been able to overcome this hurdle without doing so was a deeply satisfying thing—and it doubly confirmed that no one had

lead, Yarra?” Argrave

no hesitation in moving forward into the ominous cave. Galamon

glowing blue runes was a wonderfully unnerving sight in person. The faint babbling of rushing water echoed out as they walked deeper. The runes provided light enough to walk forward without issue,

a vast cavern. A set of stairs descended deeper down into the cave, meeting the smooth, upward-sloped cave floor. At the very top of this slope, there was a small spring, a single trickle travelling down in

They were packed closely together as they ascended, like stairs built for giants. The coffins had blue runes along their rims, lighting the place like torchlight. There was an

incomprehensible,” Anneliese muttered, gazing out in awe. “And this

lost in your head, Anneliese. I can tell you what I know about this place after we’re done. In fact…” Argrave turned his gaze to the Vessel, Yarra. “You may

donning it himself. He drew his greatsword, too. Argrave held out his hand, a spell matrix forming. Soon enough, four [Electric Eels] bounded from his palm, illuminating the area better yet as they drifted above his head. He took slow, steady steps down the wide stairs, waiting and watching the

awaited them, yet the atmosphere of the place was decidedly not easing. The dense mist, the coffins, the constancy of the babbling stream above… Argrave’s gaze

pleasant to the ear. This chiming grew in volume,

“Be ready,” he cautioned.

of perfect timing. The mist within the cave began to condense, solidify—in but a second, Argrave found himself facing a black-skinned warrior with large ears and indiscernible features. A curved sword

howl battered against Argrave’s ears at once, echoing in his head and against the cave walls until it was all he heard. The sound was terrifying enough that he felt all his skin crawl against

towards the warrior’s head as soon as it ceased staggering. Its head scattered like the mist from which it was made, yet the attack seemed

with his greatsword. His blow struck home, both the metal blade and the wind blade following it causing another visible impact. With another near identical howl, the mist exploded backwards, blown by an invisible wind. The sight did not distract Argrave from the sound of something scraping—claws on stone, Argrave thought, like a

forth. “The first of them knows that we’re here. It’s like I told you—you can only hit them when they’re trying to hit you. They have to be solid to attack, and as

said with conviction. “This mist is not true mist. I cannot absorb

Singers of the Brume, they’re called. Brumesingers for short. They subsist on the souls of the dead. The little devils are no ordinary animals, and can be held responsible for the warrior we just dealt with. This fog...” Argrave held his hand out. “It’s a magic mist. A brume, I guess.

find a hole in what Argrave said, but it seemed after some reflection,

valuable, culturally and

how will

energy every time they try and stop us. It’s a game of cat and mouse, chasing these creatures about ‘til they

we have to continue to fight these mist apparitions until

“There are plenty of other rooms in this place. So… let’s get