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.

about the scar,” Durran continued, eyes trailing the path of rot that led to the

waxpox, we would never see this place,” Argrave noted. “The plague was used for an attack, striking directly at this land—without it having already broken the barrier to this place, we’d never enter here. This place

against the ugly brown mess below his feet. “Suppose I should

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 the party grew every day. “I want us to keep going.

against the ground, pulled his wyvern

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

its face was consumed by the waxpox,

lord,” Argrave clenched his fist,

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

Argrave’s command.

platform, splashing into the shallow rushing water and hurtling towards them with a limp. The beast was threatening enough it was tempting to reach for the Blessing of

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,

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 easily as butter, dispatching it

his hand, and Argrave gathered his team with a simple,

became a hive of activity and sound. The wolf’s howl had summoned everything in the vast crater over, and until they dealt with the vast majority of the Sentinels, their progress would not continue. The four of them ran off the rotted lands and

in the landscape. As they made their way towards the bridge, a titanic alligator lunged up out of a deeper portion of the water, collapsing onto the wooden

“Its

conjure a ward with her enchanted ring in time to block the ridiculously fast tongue. The golden shield shook, but held firm, and

as Durran moved to punish the enemy’s

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,

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 shattered. The wetland reptile reeled backwards, its mouth

to the bridge was 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,

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