As the sudden shout from the raiders echoed between the trees, Galen’s entire body clenched in alarm.

Shit. They spotted us.

But no one was looking their way. On the further side of the circle the raiders stood in, a man with gray braids and a narrow face seemed to be dancing a frantic jig. He looked down toward his feet.

The ground beneath the man welled up, rising and falling unevenly, as if something dug a large burrow just under him. But the earth kept welling, rising into a long, ropy form that at first Galen thought, inanely, was a tree root. Then the form coiled, and its upper portion lifted, and a massive snake of muddy earth and twigs wrapped itself with startling quickness around the gray-haired man’s lanky body.

Galen couldn’t possibly have heard the breath being crushed from the man’s body or the splintering of bones. But somehow, with an increasingly familiar sensation of hearing without using his ears, he did sense those things.

Words drifted up the slope from the shouting mud-touched.

“I told you to watch!”

“Look out!”

“Kill it!”

Javelins flashed from the hands of the raiders closest to the snake. Two more whistled through the clearing’s bright air. Only one, fumbled by a woman with long black hair pulled into a bundle at the back of her neck, fell short of its mark.

Where the sharp tips of the javelins struck, mud splattered and oozed down green-brown hide and dripped over the rough bark of twigs mixed with the muddy flesh.

Brin and Danto gaped at the sight. Galen snapped his mouth shut. A sudden certainty swept through him, like cold rain on a hot day.

“It’s helping us.” The words fell from Galen’s mouth, and he felt their truth in his gut. “The Shining One sent it.”

Somewhere deep in Galen’s head, a small voice continued to whisper.

Don’t do anything stupid.

But something louder and more primal roared within him.

I asked. They answered—they’re helping. I have to do my part.

Without thinking that he would stand, Galen stood. He clutched his spear in his right hand and ran through the thinning trees, unconcerned about making noise now because the mud-touched raiders all stared toward the unnatural snake and paid no attention at all to the tree line behind them. Dimly, Galen was aware of crashing in the underbrush behind him, a counterpoint to his thudding heart.

“Galen!” Brin’s voice, breathless.

Danto uttered some wordless sound that was half laugh and half excited shout.

Two raiders stood side by side closest to the tree line with their backs to Galen, the woman with black hair and a man with messy, shoulder length chestnut hair. Galen caught the scent of swamp water, stagnant and musky.

The new militia trainees had practiced with the spears all week. Muscle memory drew back Galen’s arm and drove it forward, aimed at the woman’s back.

[You used Melee Attack on Meres Raider. 18 hits!]

[You deal 7 damage to Meres Raider.]

The woman’s back arched. Her head turned, looking back over her shoulder. Galen’s spear struck, but lower than he’d aimed. He glimpsed charcoal lines drawn across the woman’s face and green eyes and a snarl contorting her face. Splotches of blood appeared on her armor.

It was a solid hit. Galen ended his turn. He didn’t remember hearing initiative rolls.

Surprise round. We can do this.

Danto shouted again. Off to Galen’s right, Danto’s spear slashed at the male raider with the brown hair.

[Meres Raider takes 2 damage.]

Faint red spatters marked Danto’s hit, but the mud-touched twirled a javelin as he danced away from Danto’s spear.

A third spear whistled toward the same man Danto had attacked.

Brin. She threw hers.

The spear flew wide and jabbed instead into the ground. The raider Danto faced off with kept bringing his javelin around, twitch by twitch as he awaited his turn. The point, wickedly sharp, leveled off toward Danto’s stomach.

No. Wait.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

This was not how it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be an ambush. The raiders were supposed to drop without anyone who mattered getting hurt.

But their surprise round was over, and zero enemies had gone down.

Now the dice rattled. Frozen in place, Galen waited for initiative order to be sorted out.

I can’t do anything but.

The black-haired female raider opposite Galen lifted a hand behind her head as she kept slow motion turning.

Reaching for a javelin.

In miniscule increments, Galen drew back his spear. The woman’s tattooed face and muscled arms filled his vision, blocking most of his view. But the male raider Danto had attacked spun into a dervish of movement. Galen glimpsed red.

[Danto takes 12 damage.]

Danto’s shout turned into an anguished scream.

“No!” Brin cried out from somewhere beyond the raider-filled field of Galen’s vision. She sounded close but not close enough.

She threw her spear. She probably can’t get close enough to pick it up again this turn.

By next turn, it might be too late.

A bright line descended from the direction of the black-haired raider in Galen’s face.

[Meres Raider uses Melee Attack on you. Miss!]

Galen twitched away from the javelin’s sharpened point. The woman’s snarl deepened.

The paralysis holding Galen relented. Blindly, he drove his spear forward again.

[You used Melee Attack on Meres Raider.]

[Critical Hit!]

[You deal 11 damage to Meres Raider.]

The woman’s snarl faded. All the lines smoothed from her face, and her eyes widened. Liquid warmth poured over Galen’s hands and arms. She fell toward him.

Critical. Yes! That’s what I’m talking about.

A split second later, Galen’s elation veered back toward fear.

Danto!

Galen risked a glance.

The other raider held a javelin straight out in front of him. A line of blood welled from his side, but he leaned forward, grinning even in turn-based paralysis at the blond-haired boy impaled on the end of his weapon.

Danto moved freely, but he’d dropped his spear. His hands slapped ineffectually at the javelin, coating his fingers with his own blood. Tears welled in his wide eyes.

Galen had been there more than once over the years of TTRPG campaigns—your character has no actions left, and all you can do is end your turn. But you know that once you do, it’s going to be over. You’re going to drop to zero hit points, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop it.

Only half-consciously, Galen had been tracking initiative order. Danto’s was the last turn in this round.

The raider whose spear impaled Danto would go next.

Danto’s feebly-moving hands slowed as his turn ended.

Dread settled into Galen’s bones.

The raider’s twitching grin widened. He didn’t even try to withdraw his weapon and make another strike. He merely gave the javelin a swift, vicious twist.

[Danto takes 10 damage.]

Too much damage. That’s too much!

Danto’s grasping fingers closed on empty air. His body slid backward, away from the raider and toward the ground.

Brin scrambled past Galen and dived toward the ground beyond. The spear she’d thrown flashed as she whipped it up from the ground and slashed toward the brown-haired raider, the one who’d just speared Danto. The raider side-stepped without even looking at Brin.

I underestimated them.

Something sharp pricked against Galen’s leg. Instinctively, he batted at it.

[Meres Raider uses Melee Attack on you. Miss!]

His arm threw aside the slim weight of a javelin. The black-haired raider’s weight fell against him. But a wicked light still filled her eyes.

No. No, no, damn it all, no!

Galen shoved the raider backward, hard. As soon as she’d stumbled clear of him, he drove his spear after her.

[You used Melee Attack on Meres Raider. 16 hits!]

[You deal 6 damage to Meres Raider.]

Galen’s spear met with resistance. He pushed harder. The raider gasped and gurgled and fell away from Galen.

He didn’t stop. He shoved the spear after her, into her, driving the point until her body was on the ground and he was leaning onto it, putting all his weight into her death.

[Meres Raider has died.]

The earth around Galen trembled. He looked up from the dying woman’s face.

The gray-haired man who’d been wrapped in the snake’s coils had collapsed into a misshapen pile of broken limbs and blood. Beyond him, movement flashed through the trees. No more raiders stood in the clearing.

They’re running.

Maybe they were shouting as they ran, but Galen heard nothing but a high-pitched, panicked humming sound inside his own head. In front of him, the snake began to sprout once more, root-like, from the ground.

To Galen’s right, something moved. The brown-haired raider, the one who’d just taken down Danto, stumbled into Galen’s view, holding his hand against his side. Blood spilled between his fingers. He ran, too, attempting to flee in the direction the others had gone.

A spear flew past the fleeing man, once more missing by a wide mark.

“Galen! Help me!” Brin. Brin was shouting.

The emerging mud-snake coiled in the direction of the escaping raider. Galen wanted to give chase, too.

Kill him. Kill them all.

“Galen! Danto!”

Danto.

What have I done?

Bright noon sun dappled light through thinning leaves and patted warmth against Galen’s arms and face. In the shade of the tree line, tiny white flowers glowed like miniature stars in the ambient light. At Galen’s feet, purple thistles and blades of grass peeked through the blood of the dead raider.

I killed her.

Galen’s fingers still clutched his spear. Its point was somewhere inside the woman’s body. His hands had gone cold, so he let go of the weapon. It shifted but remained mostly where it was, sprouting from the dead woman.

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d killed an enemy in a game, tabletop or video. But this time felt different. Vague blood splatters had become very realistic wounds. This felt very much as if he’d killed a real person.

A shudder swept across Galen’s shoulders, followed by several more, until he was shivering.

“Damn it, Galen! Snap out of it and come help me with Danto!”

Brin. Brin was calling to him. Moving was an effort, but Galen turned his head.

Brin kneeled on the ground, beside a form that was vaguely person-shaped but the color of spilled blood.

Galen staggered to Brin’s side.

So much blood. It stained Danto’s golden curls and smeared across his face. His entire midsection was soaked. A stink rolled over Galen, of blood and shit and a lingering pond scum scent of swamp.

Too real. This is way too fucking real.

A soft sound rose from Danto, raspy and rattling.

“Is he dead?” Galen whispered.

Brin’s head shook. She’d placed one hand on Danto’s neck, but the other fluttered helplessly over the wreckage of his body. “Not yet. But he will be if we don’t—”

Even as Brin spoke, a sensation filled the air, quiet, no more than a sigh. Danto’s rasping ceased.

[Danto has died.]