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.”

as any other rock, turned to sand. It fell on him, and Argrave reeled away, coughing. He cleared sand out of his nose, his hair, his ears, and his mouth, then lamented, “Forgot

out grains of sand ungracefully as the others near 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

to be able to proceed. That Argrave had been able to overcome this hurdle without doing so

lead, Yarra?” Argrave

said, she showed no hesitation in moving forward into the ominous cave.

with glowing blue runes was a wonderfully unnerving sight in person. The faint babbling of rushing water echoed out as they walked deeper.

narrow passage widened into 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

stairs built for giants.

muttered, gazing out in awe. “And this

know about this place after we’re done. In fact…” Argrave turned

[Electric Eels] bounded from

seemed to evidence that no danger awaited them, yet the atmosphere of the place was decidedly not easing. The dense mist, the coffins, the constancy of the

within the complex system of caves, a noise rang out—windchimes, almost. It was pleasant to the ear. This chiming grew in

“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

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

composure… or perhaps she never lost it, for her hand liquified and thrust forth like a spear towards the warrior’s head as soon as it ceased staggering. Its head scattered like the mist from which it was made,

at it 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

you—you can only hit them when they’re trying to hit

must be wraiths. Ghosts,” Yarra said with conviction. “This mist is not true mist. I cannot absorb

the southron elves used to reign supreme here. They had pets they used for war… and intrigue.” Argrave looked about the cave. “The 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

be trying to find a hole in what Argrave said, but it

them, please,” Argrave requested dryly. “They’re very valuable, culturally and otherwise. Though, maybe you

how will

“They expend their energy every time they try and stop us.

to continue to fight these mist apparitions until they simply cease?”

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