Jackal Among Snakes

Having a preplanned route makes travel all the faster, especially when good terrain is chosen. When traversing uncharted wetlands, such a thing was largely impossible—with Anneliese’s Starsparrow, though, they picked out a relatively flat and dry route devoid of many obstacles. It facilitated quick travel through the northwest… and their destination was not so far, fortunately. The Starsparrow could only scout so far ahead, though, because a great power restricted passage further ahead.

As the day neared dusk, the cold, foggy wetlands bloomed into a scene more befitting a summer retreat, colors of all sort abounding from brilliant, wide-petaled flowers growing off vines and trees and all manner of exotic flora. The temperature of the air did not change, so it was a jarring transition, almost unnatural.

Yet as they proceeded deeper, the little microcosm of beauty was marred. Though it affected plants nowhere else, here, the waxpox morphed what was beautiful into golden brown pock-marked monstrosities that curled and twisted and writhed in unpleasant ways which, though motionless, gave Argrave the impression of bug legs and tentacles.

“Everything goes silent ahead,” Galamon stopped Argrave from proceeding onwards, hand placed before his chest.

Argrave pushed Galamon’s hand off of him. “We’re entering another realm. It’d be stranger if you could hear.”

As they proceeded, the sounds did indeed quiet. The entire wetlands around them had become grotesque—even the roads they had entered to come here were not so ugly. But as they pushed past, Argrave’s ears popped… and a sight of incomprehensible beauty spread out before him, like an illusion shattering.

Before them was a great crater of rushing water laid out in a perfect circle. Water flowed from every bit of this circle towards the center. Great wooden platforms rested atop the rushing water, but they were not built—instead, the bridges were formed of natural-grown trees, and hosted plant life uncountable. There were archways of vines hosting bulbous flowers, golden lily pads persisting atop the swift water, and towering trees with beautiful, myriad-color fruits dangling from their leaves.

There was one thing marring this beauty. A jagged path the same ugly brown rot as the land they’d emerged from cut across the verdant landscape, like a lightning bolt of decay striking at the center of the place. Even despite that, the beauty was incomprehensible, and Argrave took a moment to gather himself. Everyone did.

The game had called this place the Marred Hallowed Grounds. Argrave had been here time and time again.

“If any place could be called a land of the gods…” Durran stepped out, head turning to appreciate the sight.

Anneliese stepped forward, her curiosity consuming her, but Argrave stopped her by grabbing her waist. “Careful. This place is not friendly to us.”

Anneliese nodded, and Argrave released his grip.

continued, eyes trailing the path of rot that led

see this place,” Argrave noted. “The plague was used for an attack, striking directly at this

against the ugly brown mess below

sighed, and his Brumesingers finally jumped out of his clothing, shaking their graying fur out. Their fur darkened every day as they consumed the souls of the fallen, and their use to

disappeared. He tapped his glaive against the ground, pulled his wyvern scale helmet off his pack

center,” Argrave said, stepping forth and turning around. “The Sentinels of the master of this land roam this place—they’re dangerous. They take the shape of animals, though druidic magic does nothing against them… but they’re weakened by the waxpox, and they’re

in the same motion. Opposite their party of four, a gargantuan white wolf stepped up atop one of the wooden platforms, front paw on the edge. It lowered its head. Part of its face was consumed by the waxpox, leaving one side of its maw slack as it growled. Argrave shifted uneasily. As he did so,

Argrave clenched his fist, brain working

worked faster, though. Anneliese shouted, “This is a terrible spot. We can be surrounded on three sides. Head for that bridge—we must narrow the avenues they can approach

they waited for Argrave’s command. “Let’s go. Rightward bridge,” Argrave

rushing water and hurtling towards them with a limp. The beast was threatening enough it was tempting to reach for the Blessing of Supersession… but he

wind. It split open the wolf’s snout, and it staggered back. Durran pressed forth, using the only C-rank spell he’d learned, [Tempest]. The spell, a great whirlwind meant for blocking projectiles, hovered before him harmlessly, but

and Durran while he conjured the D-rank [Gore Scalpel]. His wrist split open, and his black blood surged out from his glove, forming a dark maroon knife in his hand. He sunk it into the wolf’s head and it passed through as

Argrave

vast majority of the Sentinels, their progress would not continue. The four of them ran off the rotted lands and onto the first of the many wooden

across the wooden platform, doing their best to avoid stumbling over the myriad beautiful flowers in the landscape. As they made their way towards the bridge, a titanic alligator lunged up out of a deeper portion of the water,

Argrave shouted, “Its

seemed nonsensical until the alligator’s maw opened wide, tongue propelling forth like a chameleon’s towards Anneliese. His warning prepared her, and she managed to conjure a ward with her enchanted ring in time

Durran moved to punish the

used Garm’s eyes to view the magic within, and he saw the great roiling black mass of magic within whirl as though a hurricane ran through it. A great bunch of it surged to her hands, forming the lines of the spell matrix—one dimension, two dimension, three dimension… and beyond,

frozen arms attached at the shoulder. They braced for a swing, then spun forth, cutting through whatever was ahead like a sawblade run amok. The swarming beetles were blasted away, some bisected entirely. It continued past the beetles, striking the alligator’s tongue as it retracted before cutting into the giant beast itself. When the blades of ice struck its whole mass, they

clear. Anneliese staggered a little, breathing heavily, and her Starsparrow chirped noisily, flying about her head. Argrave stepped forward and supported her. B-rank magic was where things became truly destructive. She used a spell of her people—[Icebound Twinblades]. Veidimen ice magic was always potent, made doubly so by

see her magic supply was greatly diminished. As she gained her bearings, he said evenly, “Conserve your energy in case it’s