Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave slept little that night—enough to function without issue, but not much more. All of his time was spent studying the spell [Bloodfeud Bow]. The ‘how’ of things still eluded him—the B-rank matrix felt fragile, and his attempts to put it into motion simply made it break. It felt like he was trying to pick up a house of cards and move it elsewhere. It didn’t matter how he distributed the force, or if he applied it evenly across the whole thing—to set the spell matrix into motion was to break it.

Despite his failures, he was not discouraged. Never again, he repeated mentally time and time again. He could never again relax, never again fall into contentment. Everything could be taken from him in a heartbeat if he was not adequately prepared.

The expeditionary forces were rallied early in the morning. Orion brought with him ten of his Waxknights, and Argrave brought his three companions, plus Silvic. In total, that placed them at sixteen. All had plenty of rations. Orion brought a weapon along. It was an ornate flanged mace made of black metal and gilded with snakes on the shaft, and thoroughly enchanted.

Orion distributed backpacks full of rations to all, including Argrave and his companions—they had been diligently gathered and preserved. The Waxknights accompanying them were C-rank mages, one and all, and seemed to be skilled with their blades.

The morning was spent by Silvic—in truth, Anneliese—scouting out a proper path. The obfuscation was paranoid caution on Argrave’s part, concealing some of their abilities in case they needed them. Anneliese marked the trees in the vast wetlands ahead with her Starsparrow. Argrave repaid some of his debt to Erlebnis—the first hours of the journey would be safe, he knew. He would likely regain his ability to use the Blessing of Supersession the next morning.

After their preparations…

“If you stray too far from me, my power wanes. Barring Orion, perhaps, all will die. The wetlands themselves will consume you in hours, and none will find your body,” Silvic cautioned.

“How dangerous can it be for knights of the faithful?” a Waxknight rebuffed.

Silvic turned her head towards him. “I will not make you believe me. I see no reason to stop you from killing yourself.”

Orion crossed his arms. “Heeds the spirit’s words. We are allies against evil,” he commanded.

“Then we may go whenever you are ready,” Silvic directed.

Orion stepped away, peering through the trees into the vast wetlands beyond. A cold morning mist blocked much vision ahead. This fog seemed different, somehow—the wind did not affect it.

“Oh gods,” Orion sung. “As I walk through hardships, protect me, your Lordships…”

Orion stepped ahead first, heading into the wetlands. Argrave pulled his gloves a bit tighter and then walked forward just after him. Soon enough, the whole party disappeared into the cold morning mist, heading for the foul Plague Jester.

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fortress, the unnaturalness of these wetlands

to possess a boundary of protection she could extend. In ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ it had been an annoyance—the player would follow by the side of this slow-moving character, staying within the safe zone as they moved to the first fortress. Now… things were different, death was reality, and Argrave was tense. He and his companions stayed near Silvic, the Waxknights forming a

within Silvic’s protection and that without was visible and tangible. A cold mist surrounded them just outside a boundary as though they were trapped in a bubble. This mist writhed and twisted into shapes, faces, and let out muffled screams that were horrifyingly intense. Beyond that, the wetlands themselves twisted and writhed and bubbled, mud and water stretching and contorting

and the light of the sun faded. The Waxknights were forced to light the way with spell light. The waters rose, and before long, everyone waded through knee-high muck. Well, mostly everyone—Argrave was glad to be tall more than

the hours passed… the enemy started to

assault was a formidable thing—they came from the trees, jumping down from above, and simultaneously attacked

do whatever he wants. His talk of being blessed by 96 gods was no delusion. It was

not sink back in the water—instead, it met something solid, and he stood up out of the water. In not seconds, a wall of ice formed around their party, isolating the leopards that had jumped down at them from the trees. The Waxknights treated this as the natural order of

of the assault, as all of the cats needed to climb over it to get at their party. Argrave attacked sparingly, making good use of his escort.

the ground began to shake, and Silvic said, “The

Argrave relayed, but none treated this as seriously

of water. Its skin was black, reminiscent of volcanic rock. It slammed into two Waxknights in its charge, tossing them aside with

he started, stepping

His legs stayed firm, appearing indomitable. His elbow bent as it received and

may be strong…” Orion said, a foul anger in

one hand, pushing it back in the same motion. His mace whistled through the air in an uppercut. It struck the hippo on the bottom of its jaw. It was powerful enough to send its titanic head into the air, and its front legs rose up out of the water. It collapsed back into the ice wall,

his hand free, he looked

something atop one of the ice walls, and his gaze locked onto it. A black gibbon as large as a man hung from

it turned pinker. After, it let out a staccato call, several high-pitched hoos that filled the air. Argrave tensed, and as the gibbon called, the apes descended on

Bloodmoon] immediately. A thread of his blood formed a circle before his hands as the Waxknights confronted the apes, immediately proving his caution warranted. The apes swung their light-imbued sticks with intense ferocity. Their arms were six feet long and pure muscle. These humble sticks blessed

and they felt no pain. What few blows they did not parry with their enchanted blades were returned twofold, and the gibbons fell one after the

The sticks slammed against the golden ward as

that pressed further. It was an overwhelming slaughter, and Argrave did not

searching for more foes. Just then, a hippo barreled through the ice wall. Argrave prepared to fight, only to see the hippo scrambled away on its back, feet swinging through the air as it tried to turn and run. Orion stepped forward, planting his foot on its stomach. He pressed his foot down and bashed his mace against its head relentlessly, each