Velena balanced on the driver’s bench, standing with a staff in each hand while Owen drove the wagon, his earth magi forging the crystal road beneath their feet. Orders had come via Quetzalcoatl’s link with Liam, continue the mission, march to Greenwood. Oh, and leave cracks in the road.

There had been other less important messages concerning minor instructions, but they were now out of Quetzalcoatl’s range. Or the snake didn’t like talking to them. A possibility that seemed more evident in every interaction.

“We have hitchhikers.” Said Velena.

“Great, more of the homeless bastards. Hey! Make sure they’re human before you go stabbing anyone.” Ordered Owen, tightening his grip on the reins.

Ahead of the caravan two figures sat beneath a pair of trees, one on each side of the road. Ratty ponchos were pulled over their heads, and their hands were tucked into the opposite sleeves, concealing every inch of their skin. The one on their left had his right arm extended, wearing a glove over his exposed hand. Which held a thumbs up, the universal sign for bumming a ride.

“Oi! Stand and deliver your names!” Shouted Velena, six burning swords flickering into being above her.

Owen pulled the wagon to a halt, stopping what felt like a healthy distance away from the figures.

“We asked a question, are you bandits, brigands, or bastards out of luck!” Called Owen, trying to be kinder than the fire mage.

The gloved man raised his thumb a little higher.

“Out of luck bastards.” Muttered the figure, scarcely loud enough to hear.

Velena frowned, and nodded to Karnak, who hefted his rock on a stick.

“They smell weird, human, but… dustier.” Said Karnak, advancing on the nearest hood.

A pair of knights, part of the mundane escort for the paladins, went to investigate the other man. While the rest of the caravan looked into the woods, some nocked arrows, others raised spears, and a few dismounted, but largely they remained in place. Watching silently.

Karnak reached the man. “Hey, what’s your name?”

The hood muttered something inaudible, and Karnak was tempted to lean in closer to hear the sound, but he wasn’t so naive anymore. A random stranger, an elf who should have been their ally, had kidnapped his master, the act had taught Karnak to be cautious. So he poked the man’s gut with the stick end of his club, and touched nothing.

Karnak leapt back.

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His movement came a millisecond before the man lunged. His hood flew backwards, pushed aside by a flour food long serpent’s head, and his concealed hand slashed. A dagger seeking Karnak’s throat. Neither fang nor blade found its mark.

“It’s a trap!” Shouted Karnak, bringing his mace to bear.

The creature was impossibly lean, and used the worn hood to keep its abominable self concealed until it could strike. It recoiled out of Karnak’s reach, rearing its snake skull head until it stood nine feet tall. An amalgamation of human and serpent bones that had somehow been fused then reanimated into this monstrosity.

Shouts from across the road distracted Karnak for a split second and the beast struck. Serpent head lunged forward to impale Karnak’s arm. Fangs pierced his hide and immediately his arm was ablaze with pain. A familiar feeling to the werewolf. His club fell to the dirt. Lycan claws catching the serpent’s skull, just behind the head.

“Unlucky bastard.” He muttered, jumping over the creature.

Its neck twisted, contorting to maximum stretch as it flopped backwards, trying to get wrapped around Karnak’s body and strike him again. But the champion gave it no opening. He hooked one leg around the creature’s elongated neck, and placed his other foot just beneath his hand. When they finally crashed into the tree their natural thrashing ripped the hooded snakeman apart. Its neck shattered and Karnak felt the bones go slack in his hands.

Except for the head, which was still pumping venom into his arm. Heat climbed up his arm, searing pain that made his arm spasm uncontrollably. He took hold of his spasming arm with his free hand and slammed it into the nearby treetrunk. The same tree the hood had been leaning against as they approached. Refuge turned to anvil, obliterating the skull with a muscle hammer. One blow snapped its fangs, leaving them embedded in Karnak’s forearm. While a second cracked the skull. He howled, and beat the tree with the skull until bone fragments exploded, showering him with bits of his fallen enemy.

Then he picked up the rock on a stick and smashed the corpse, vomiting between strikes as poison turned his stomach.

“By Taloc! Karnak, stop! Come here!” Said Velena, stopping him with an arm on his shoulder.

He staggered back, vomiting again as the poison wracked his body. Velena yanked out the shattered fangs, all four of them, and a paladin of light purified Karnak’s body. Though the damage was already done. His natural healing would have to repair the damage.

Across the road four knights templar were smashing the second skeleton to dust. One of them held up a thumbs up to Karnak. A man that seemed perfectly average in every way and went by the name of Belarius, though that seemed like a strange name for a man whose dark skin marked him as a native of Khereshetal.

“Thanks for the warning Karnak, you really saved our asses.” Said Belarius.

“Welcome,” was all Karnak could rasp out.

“Cmon, you can rest in the wagon.” Said Velena, dragging him back to the caravan.

Owen watched the interaction with a frown. Karnak’s warning had been timely, but unpolished. The werewolf had blocked his view of the thing so Owen and Velena had lent their magic to the other side of the road. To Belarius, who reacted so swiftly that Owen wondered if something had tipped him off. He’d thrust his spear into the creature’s ribs and pushed it down, where Velena had been able to hack its head off before it could strike. While Owen liquified the dirt beneath it, stealing its footing.

They needed to work together, to fight as a coordinated unit instead of Karnak fighting alone. Owen frowned, Lord Alhusam was no longer here to aid them. He would not save any if they overextended themselves, nor did the caravan have an excess of healers. They needed to solve their own problems. It was time for the paladins to treat this as the crusade it was, and not some camping trip vacation.

It was time to go to war.