Jackal Among Snakes

The people of the Great Chu had come here today, spurred by the son of heaven, to once again beat back the gods—to once again prevent their nation from crumbling. Yet the battle before them proceeded like nothing else.

The endless fire of the sky tower began to rain down upon Grand Commandant Sun’s forces as they marched ever closer to heaven. The application of magic and the aid of divinity made them fire retardant, but the whole of the area was scorched. It was a deep, unending heat, seeping past lesser armors to pool around the skin and slowly burn it away. Their advance upward became harsher than that in any desert, and only those with heat-protected armor like Grand Commandant Sun or his wife were spared the misery.

After this torturous trek, they came to the first outpost—the first gate, protecting the path to the palace. The mountain had been bored through to make way for it. The building was sheer red, and with an angular crosspiece supporting the mountain above, it was a striking image that all born on this continent recognized from tales and stories. In the gates leading to the Palace of Heaven, countless heroes had made their legends sound around the world.

And to all’s fear, manning it was one of these legends—one of the heroes that struck awe in all those of the Great Chu. Distinguished by his towering horn helm, all knew him as the Swallower of Sinners, an ancient commander of history who had once held this very gate against a million barbarian invaders. His gigantic bow, taller than the man himself, struck dread and reverence into the hearts and minds of those that came to take this fortress.

The Grand Commandant Sun informed them all he was a machination of Erlebnis—a replication of the great hero, reborn from the god of knowledge’s vast collection of history. Even they could see these figures were mimicries, gleaming like reddish mercury… yet the legends of old could not be banished so easily. Even a replica of a legend evoked the same primal fear.

Just as in the stories of old, the Swallower of Sinners caught an arrow aflame, and pointed it downward. He fired it not at the grand commandant, nor at the Justiciars protecting him… but at the ground, where pipes of oil led to barrels full of black powder. And just as had happened once before, the ground itself exploded with tremendous force as the oil carried the fire to all the traps beneath the earth.

But the foreign conqueror, Sun, was unfazed by these legends. He barked an order, and his people dug into the earth. With spells, they poured gluts of water inside. And when the aflame oil attempted to ignite the black powder beneath their feet… the water had already soiled it, utterly. His people walked across the lake of fire, where the Swallower of Sinners waited to rebuff them.

The Swallower of Sinners was still a mighty and clever warrior, commanding a legendary retinue of archers. Great blasts of power bridged the gap in an attempt to break the spearhead of their army—to break Grand Commandant Sun, protected by Law’s Justiciars. Though a great man the Swallower was… a man he was all the same, and with a tactic tried and tested against foes of the past rather than those of today.

Red ghosts, born in Sun’s image, streaked across the battlefield to penetrate the fortress. They cast explosive magic, disrupting the Swallower of Sinner’s perfect formation. With an opening, great ballistae brought from the land overseas fired from the back, striking down those that manned the first gate. When they came to the giant red door that blocked their entry, the Justiciars reeled back and slammed against it. A great gong echoed down the mountain as the first of the metal doors swung open.

The first gate fell.

six gates, their foes of the Qircassian Coalition approached all behind them. Gods and monsters swarmed like water to flood out rats... yet unexpectedly, support came. Far behind the grand commandant’s marching army, a lone figure

the prudent few that recognized the god of war, chaos, and ruthless destruction. And consequently, only a

before a scythe. Sataistador chased his thrown weapons, drawing and utilizing countless more as unimaginable glee flickered across his face. Blades, hammers, warpicks—he clashed with

another Great Chu hero awaited—Secret Listener. The last member of an assassin guild, he had created a regiment that had never fallen in all its days. And here, just as in legend, his warriors dwelled in hidden recesses throughout the mountain.

Secret Listener’s men were simply too skilled to be spotted, too adroit to be

became nothing more than metal. That legend eternal lost its luster in moments. When their poison failed, so too did

been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road;

their grand commandant. Yet their commander projected strange shadows of blood, then seemed to disappear—and when the scene settled, Sun stood with a blade of blood stabbed

second gate fell, shoved open by Law’s Justiciars… and

Embracer. This hero had protected the third gate in millennia past with the fiercest of beasts—his pets, serpentine dragons. The men of the Great Chu feared for their life as these beasts of myth soared through the air, conjuring all the elements of the world to break them down… yet Law’s Justiciars

been raging heat, now came icy cold—great maelstroms of ice slammed into them as they pressed onward, battering any who didn’t manage to defend themselves in time. Law’s Justiciars called upon the golden aura within their beings to create great shields that blocked the people, and on they pushed. Yet strangely, all the lightning curved toward the south—a single point in the south, where the other army

replica of the Mistress of the Sky waited for them. The Stormfield was herdomain. When ice, fire, or steam blew, she was one with it, flying through the air and descending upon the weakest link like a falcon plucking fish out of the

the white-haired elf, danced through the storm in pursuit of the Mistress of the Sky. She drew her icy blade, casting spell after spell in easy match for the mistress. For a time, it seemed hopeless to the warriors of the Great Chu—surely the Mistress would dance away, unharmed? Yet the Mistress of the Sky, ever the hunter, became the hunted. The elven

pushed to the fifth gate, growing ever closer to the fortress itself. The Long-Horned Bull stood in their path, out front the fortress. Standing ten feet tall, his strength was such that even gods had fallen before him. He bore a great crescent axe wrought from the skull of a dragon. The Bull had never lost, and in the end, old age was the only thing to claim him. Yet

a swing of his axe, Long-Horned Bull proved the validity of his legend, swatting them all away. The grand commandant stopped his march, and the people feared that this would be where they faltered. Yet

he proved their better. Their swords chipped against his axe, and their armor shattered beneath his blows. The grand commandant stood waiting all the while, the arrow on his bow humming with power unimaginable. After a minute, the bow let out an eerie howl, as if

Bull ceased to

him. It continued onward, striking the metal doors of the fifth gate. The iron groaned, wrenched from its hinges, and it blast forth with the arrow of blood. It revealed the path to the sixth, and final gate—the Palace of Heaven itself, standing in all its glory. There, that indomitable arrow

that they had a new legend. There could be no disputing whose story would ring the loudest if he passed this sixth and final gate.