“Open your eyes, jackass!” Eric grit his teeth, sucking in sharp breaths as he struggled to keep himself conscious. The fight had left him exhausted and his adrenaline was emptying from his blood flow, causing his focus to practically flatline. With it, rushes and flashes of pain all over him tore at his mind. His teeth ground together, his jaw aching as he fought for every second. All so he could keep working.
Clyde’s condition was nose diving. His body was battered all over and even with both of their mana flows working to help him recover, it wasn’t enough. Eric wasn't as skilled with Light Magic. If Clyde had enough physical strength left, his body might help with the recovery process but even that seemed to be spent. It was like Eric was grabbing for sand.
“Dammit!” His eyes widened as he pulled apart a dozen blood clots, opening the circulatory floor and releasing the backed up blood back into the system. He cleared the dead cells and released the pressure carefully so as to not shock the system, while simultaneously extracting any potential air bubbles that might cause the heart to choke. Then, he repaired the damaged cells and attempted to recover the local damage to muscle and organ tissues. However, the bruising was intense.
It was as if Clyde had fallen off a cliff. In several organs, the cells were largely dead and the systems were at the point of total failure. His intestinal tract was kinked and flattened, causing acid to backflow into his stomach and esophagus. His kidneys were both failing from being crushed. His left lung had collapsed and his right was on the verge of it. And that was just tissue damage. Eric didn’t want to talk about the damage to his arms and legs.
There’s too much. Eric’s eyes gazed across the front of his brother’s body as his mana pulsated inside. It would be one thing if the cells and organs were just hurt, but this was different. Eric couldn’t fix this. Simple recovery magic couldn’t heal the dead cells or repair shattered bones. He needed to fully replace the injured areas.
I need a doctor. As if the answer would be somewhere nearby, Eric looked up. What greeted him was the near pitch black atmosphere of the Arachkin den, along with the walls boxing him into the cell he had been locked in.
Down here, nearly a two week trip away from the nearest village, surrounded by enemies-
I can’t lose you too. Eric’s fingers dug into Clyde’s chest, tugging at the scorched fabric of his shirt along with the deformed chainmail burnt into his skin. Don’t leave me here alone, brother.
“You.” A voice broke Eric from his despair, but the voice wasn’t friendly.
Eric flinched and pressed his lips together. The voice belonged to the real demon here. The individual they had underestimated. He was supposed to be a mage but then they found him holding swords. He was supposed to be just a normal human. Then he started flinging those wickedly strong spells without even a word of incantation. He wasn’t supposed to be able to put on their Demon Veil.
Every step of the way, that man had an answer. He was able to keep up with Clyde, something Eric had never seen someone do. Let alone a simple human! While occupied with Clyde, he could counter Eric’s magic and not miss a swing. What kind of monster was he? There wasn’t anyone normal capable of that spell casting speed! Each spell was insane! This was a man who truly made Eric concerned and made him consider the possibility that they might be bested, but even so he had faith in his brother.
Because Clyde never lost. Never.
“Hey.” A boot smacked into the stone cage and finally drew Eric’s attention.
Eric looked up at the Battle Mage. His jaw was firmly lodged in place as he met those leering eyes. Sleek black hair. Sharp brown eyes with a blue haze to them. An oddly shaped elven sword on one hip. A mismatched dwarven sword on the other. Two weapons Eric had never expected a Human to carry. His clothes were torn to pieces, his leather armor cut up, and there was a scar on his right hand. Yet, even after their brawl, he stood tall. Expressing the capability for another round. What was truly frightening wasn’t his basic appearance alone, but also the lack of injury.
Every cut. Every burn. Every gash or stab. They were gone.
“You’re Apostles, aren’t you?” He asked.
How does he…? Eric felt a glob of fear lodge itself in his throat. That title was a secret, one that Clyde had warned him to not share with anyone. Not that Eric could anyways but they were sworn to secrecy unless talking to friendly and known Demonkin. Their tasks, their purpose, their servitude to the Goddess--no one was to know it. Otherwise the twins might find themselves in some unnecessary trouble. Unless the other individual introduced themselves as an Apostle first, they weren’t to speak of their allegiance.
But this man. How did he know?
Eric looked down at his brother. Forgive me, Clyde. He couldn’t hide it. If this guy knew of their titles, then he wasn’t asking for affirmation. He was asking so Eric understood that he knew.
Eric braved the man’s intimidating gaze again, then nodded.
“So I’ve been told.” The man huffed and then the rock pillars forming the front side of the cage collapsed. They returned to the ground, crumbling to pieces in order to clear the way. The man then stopped forward into the cage. “If that is the case, then this is as far as our fight will go.”
What? Eric blinked and uneasily watched as the man approached. Unable to defend himself with his magic, Eric glanced down at his brother. I’m borrowing this! He reached to his brother’s hip and snatched a small knife. He pulled it up and took a defensive posture, ready to stab should the man get any closer.
The man huffed at him again and narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t put that down and move out of the way, your brother is going to die.”
Eric remained still, stubborn in his position over his brother. If Clyde couldn’t protect them both, then it was up to him to do it. This man was dangerous and even if it meant dying, Eric wouldn’t let his brother die so easily.
After a few tense moments between the two, the man sighed and shook his head, as if accepting that things wouldn’t change if he didn’t do something. “If you don’t move. I’ll make you move, and we both know you won’t like that.” The man’s hand opened and a whirling cone of wind began whistling at his fingertips.
Eric stared at the spell, the weapon that would likely be used to blow the knife out of his hand or hit him in a much worse place. A spell he wouldn’t be able to stop at such close proximity. It wasn’t a large spell, barely the size of his palm, but the message was clear. If the man couldn’t move Eric with words then he would do it with force. After fighting with the man, Eric wasn’t surprised to see such an ultimatum be given.
Eric frowned and backed off, lowering the knife as he moved aside. The man canceled his spell and stepped forward, taking a knee beside Clyde. The blue color in his eyes intensified and Eric watched as mana pooled around his hands. Using his own Mana Sight, he watched the man dump an excessive amount of mana into Clyde’s body. Mana that far exceeded what Eric had available.
“He had this much left…?” Eric’s hope for some form of victory vanished with that revelation. He dropped the knife and felt the strength leave his body. He remained conscious and continued to watch, but his body slumped against the wall.
“And I thought we were the demons…”
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The damage to the Fighter was severe, but nothing that wasn’t able to be repaired. The Mage must have been doing some work too as there were remnants of a second kind of mana within the Fighter’s flow. Yet, Jake could see traces of where the Mage had fiddled. It was patchwork at best and several recovery sites weren’t exactly fixed in any meaningful way. Which left Jake with more work than he was happy with.
“How annoying…” he grumbled, glancing briefly towards the Mage as the demon fell against the wall. Jake shook his head and focused on his task- keeping the Fighter from croaking.
First, Jake set to work stabilizing his body. The Fighter’s muscles were in shock, to start. The intense pressure had caused severe cramping and minor paralysis across his body. Unlocking those muscles to relax the body would ease much of his pain and allow blood to circulate properly. At the same time, Jake worked to clean up the clots and the trapped air in the Fighter’s circulatory system. Ensuring blood was moving was a basic necessity.
As his mana went to work, Jake evaluated the damage to the Fighter’s organs. What he found wasn’t dire but left alone it would cause the body’s natural recovery system to fail and for most of those injuries to develop into critical wounds. He would need to stimulate the local regions in the organs to replace the dead cells and regenerate the organs with fresh tissue. The problem would be what to do with the dead stuff. Some organs were damaged severely with spots that wouldn’t be able to be repaired easily. He could cut the dead pieces off and stimulate recovery but then the leftovers would just be in the Fighter’s system, stuck.
Further annoyed, Jake huffed. It seemed it would just have to cut in, then. There wasn’t much choice otherwise. Thankfully there wasn’t damage to the Fighter’s heart, lungs, or brain. Though his lungs weren’t in great shape, reinflating the collapsed lung and stimulating the recovery of the alveoli wouldn’t be difficult. The Fighter was still breathing, though barely, so the fix would be quick.
As his mana went to work on the soft tissue across the Fighter’s body, Jake looked down at the Fighter’s legs and then his left arm. The external wounds had been closed mostly but chunks of bone were still protruding outwards in some places. Signs of fractures that would need lots of attention to make effective repairs. The breaks were clean, at least, so Jake could fix those.
Settling in for the long haul, Jake made himself comfortable and let out a tired sigh. This was going to take quite a bit of time and a lot of energy.
“He’ll live,” Jake announced. “But I’m not going to fix him up perfectly. Just enough to get him walking so you two can leave. After that, you’re on your own.”
The Mage’s eyes widened as he stared at Jake. He didn’t say anything, though. Which wasn’t surprising. Jake just wished he wasn’t so weird about the staring thing.
“I was unaware of your positions as Apostles nor was I aware that Apostles aren’t allowed to kill each other.” Jake filled the time with a bit of rambling. “Not that I would have let you two kill the Arachkin if I wasn’t one too, but whatever.”
After Jake stabilized the Fighter’s circulatory system and repaired the flow of blood, he began to snap the man’s bones back into place. The Fighter’s flesh gurgled as his skeleton snapped, cracked, popped, and grinded into place. The sharp uptick in pain levels brough the Fighter raging back to the plane of existence and his eyes shot open. His mouth opened wide in a deep gurgle as blood was ejected from his throat. His screams followed, as did the terror in his eyes. To keep him from moving, Jake utilized rock magic to cuff his ankles and wrists to the ground.
“WHAT ARE YOU-- AH!” The Fighter’s jaw opened wide as his head slammed against the stone, pain ripping through him as Jake performed the worst part of the operation.
“Shut up,” Jake grunted and looked away from the frenzied patient. “If I don’t, you’ll never walk again.”
The Mage watched helplessly as his brother writhed beneath the bindings, unable to do anything but observe as the Fighter’s body was meticulously snapped back together. Jake didn’t rush the operation. No, he was systematic and slow. Bone by bone, Jake worked his way through the Fighter’s limbs to ensure everything was settled in the proper spot. He realigned them, repaired ligaments and tendons binding them in place, then accelerated the callousing process that would bind the bones back in place. As he promised, Jake didn’t repair them to perfect standards and the bones would need additional time to heal. However, he laid the groundwork for a comfortable period of maybe a few weeks, or maybe a few months. With his demon blood, the Fighter likely would recover much faster. By then, though, Jake would be long gone.
The Fighter’s screaming slowly quieted down, suppressed to mere seething and huffing as the painful part finally passed. However, he wasn’t about to like the next step- Jake needed to cut him open. In order to extract the dead chunks of internals, Jake would need to make several incisions across the Fighter’s body. They would be small and manageable, yet that didn’t change the fact that Jake was about to cut him up.
Before that, the chainmail needed to be dealt with.
Jake glared down at the Fighter, who was staring back at him with tear-soaked eyes and a face full of rage. “I’m giving you two options. Option one; you comply and we take your chainmail off without incident. Option two; you lay there and I melt it off you. Which would you rather?”
“Fuck yo-” The Fighter initially threw a curse at him.
However, the Mage knew his brother well. The Mage moved forward and clamped a hand over the Fighter’s mouth and pinned his head to the ground. The Mage then met Jake’s eyes and grit his teeth. He grabbed onto the chainmail and tugged lightly, signaling that he would help take it off. The Fighter looked at his brother, his eyes widening in surprise at the sudden betrayal.
Jake huffed and looked down at the Fighter. “Play nice or I’ll break your legs again and let your brother drag you out of here.”
The Fighter stopped resisting his bonds and lay flat on the ground, his eyes staring up at his brother still in disbelief as the Mage held him still. He lay there, broken in spirit, as Jake removed the bindings around his wrists. He didn’t struggle or complain as his clothes were slowly pulled off him, but his eyes never left his brother. As he was laid down flat and once more cuffed to the ground with stone, the Fighter mumbled.
“Why?”
“Because he’s saving you.” The Mage signed back then placed a hand on his brother’s forehead.
“Hold him still.” Jake pulled a knife off his lower back and placed his hand on the Fighter’s core. “He’s going to be yelling again in a second.”
And yell he did. Jake utilized his magic to find the dead zones of the Fighter’s organs and where the injuries were extensive. Then, he made cuts to break deep into the man’s body in order to create space for the dead tissue to be extracted. When the dead tissue was removed, Jake utilized his magic to replace it, forcing the body to regrow fresh cells and organ tissue. When the body wouldn’t comply, Jake instead utilized magic to replicate the cells already there, fixing the organs with duplicate tissue that would hopefully work the same.
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One by one, Jake worked through the Fighter’s organs, doing all he could to ensure an eventual return to full health.
The Fighter’s condition never worsened and remained stable through the procedure. His blood flow remained steady and Jake carefully monitored his heart rate to keep him from going into shock or flatlining. Blood stained the floor around where the Fighter lay and Jake’s hands were covered in the red liquid. So much that the initial layers had dried and others were caking on top. By the end, the Fighter had lost enough blood that his body had become pale. The only thing keeping him alive was Jake’s artificial manipulation of internal functions.
Blood flow is fixed.
Bones resettled and calloused.
Muscles relaxed and repaired.
Toxins expunged.
Dead tissue replaced. Organs stable. Incisions closed.
Breathing stable, both lungs repaired and inflated.
Heart condition normal.
Jake worked himself through the procedure, one step at a time as his hands glided over the Fighter’s body. He verified his work and used his magic to probe each important piece of the puzzle in front of him. Sweat trickled down his face, something he’d just realized.
The Fighter had long gone silent, his eyes closing and his breathing steadying. The Mage remained sitting beside his brother’s head, watching quietly as Jake worked. Even a few Arachkin had come closer to see but they remained at a safe distance, careful not to intrude into the tense situation.
The last step was replacing the Fighter’s blood. Jake encouraged the body to replenish it as much as possible, but the Fighter was spent. His body could barely produce enough to stabilize itself. The Fighter needed food, water, and rest. He wouldn’t be ambulatory for another day and would likely be groggy for two or three more. Yet, Jake wasn’t able to do much more for him. This was the limit of his magic.
“Everything but the last step,” Jake mumbled. Thus far, Jake had been able to use magic to practically cheat the process. Through acceleration of growth and forced repairs, Jake had been capable of manipulating the Fighter’s body and forced it to comply. Yet, the most natural piece of everything he wasn’t able to replicate.
Jake huffed and slowly drew his mana back, withdrawing his grip on the Fighter. He monitored the Fighter’s condition as he did so and pulled his mana out in stages. As each organ was relinquished back to the Fighter’s natural control, Jake verified that his condition didn’t plummet. Up until the very last moment, Jake kept a firm hold on the Fighter’s heart, ensuring it wouldn’t stop.
His hands finally came off the Fighter’s chest and Jake clenched his teeth. Staring hard, Jake watched the Fighter’s chest and face.
Slow, steady, even rise and fall of the chest.
No choking. No trembling or seizing of muscles.
No sudden outburst in pain.
Stable.
Jake let out a held breath and sighed. “What a pain in the ass,” he grumbled. Jake got to his feet and conjured a ball of water to rinse his hands with. He then made another, clean ball to splash his face. After, Jake walked across the den to find the Mage’s staff that he’d tossed. He then found the sword and shield the Fighter had used. He dumped them all beside the Fighter’s body and scowled at the Mage.
This was as much as he could do.
“Take your brother, take your gear, and get out. Never come here again. If I see you two again, don’t even think about fighting me. I won’t save him twice.” Jake gingerly returned to his feet, careful not to rush the process as he had been kneeling for quite some time. His body ached and his own injuries still irritated him. He wasn’t in a bad state like the twins but he didn’t have much mana left to fix those injuries. He would need a day to sleep it off before he would be able to help himself.
Just before Jake stepped away, the Mage reached out and grabbed his leg, tugging on the fabric. Not feeling any aggression in the motion, Jake turned leisurely to see what the deal was. The Mage had already shown enough compliance thus far and hadn’t made any movements to strike out at Jake since the conclusion of the fight. Jake didn’t let his guard down entirely but there was little threat anymore.
At first, the Mage used his hand, waving it around weirdly in front of him. When Jake didn’t answer, the Mage frowned. Mana collected around his finger tip and he wrote a single word in the air.
“Why?” He asked.
Jake shrugged. “I’m an Apostle too, and a little fairy warned that if I killed you two, I’d have more headaches to deal with.” Jake pulled his leg away and started walking towards Rey’ra, and where his pack was hidden. He raised his voice as he walked. “I am Jake Furrow, Apostle for the Arachkin and the Dragonkin.” He stopped midway to look towards the Mage. “And you’re not allowed back into this den, nor is any other adventurer or hunter. Unsanctioned intrusions to this den will be considered an act of aggression against Lady Rastua. One that I will not take kindly to.” Jake’s eyes flared as he dumped mana into them, trying to look as intimidating as possible.
“Tell that to whoever put out that bounty. If they doubt me, make them aware that I will kill them all like I did those adventurers from earlier. So long as my kin remain safe, I’ll burn their entire town or village to the ground.”
His declaration made, Jake turned away from the twins again and crossed the lair to the far side. The remaining mana he’d used for that last word dispersed into the air and Jake sighed as his shoulders slumped. His back ached, his traps hurt, and his ribs felt sore. Breathing felt difficult and his legs felt like they might cramp up on him if he stood any longer. He quickly dug out his pack and pulled it over to where Rey’ra’s webbing was. He set it down close by, then sat down beside it.
“They are leaving.” Rey’ra spoke softly from his left, her eyes watching the twins.
Jake let the mana fade from his eyes, which in turn caused him to practically go blind. The darkness of the lair came forward as his Sensory Magic blinked away. Only the faint light of the Mage’s own fire ball spell was visible. Jake watched, silent, as the Mage collected their weapons and scattered equipment. The Mage checked the area over twice more then finally attached everything to his body for carrying. After a final look over his immediate space, the Mage roughly pulled his brother up onto his back. Hunched over but unwilling to let them become Arachkin food, the Mage trudged out of the den and began the long trek back up towards the surface.
It took him a long time to get himself together but finally, the Mage and his twin brother were gone.
Jake sighed and let his body go slack, truly exhausted and spent from everything.
“You do not look well, Apostle.” Rey’ra chittered, her body slowly turning away from the lair’s entrance as she looked Jake over.
Jake smirked and shut his eyes. “I’ll live. They were worse off than me.” Indeed, though he had put a lot of effort into bringing the Fighter back from the brink, the Fighter was still in quite a precarious condition. His skin was still burned pretty badly in some spots and his bones would be in a fragile state for a bit. Jake had repaired most of the internal damage but his muscles would still be sore and his body would still need a few days to recover from it all. Jake’s work was by no means perfect.
With his eyes closed, Jake could hear the faint patters and skittering of legs. The Arachkin brood was creeping out of its holes to look at the aftermath of the fight. With the enemies disposed of and pushed out, they must have deemed it safe to come out.
“You have my thanks, Apostle. Truly. If not for you, I am afraid today would have been my last.” Rey’ra hunched over and settled her body down to her web as she watched her brood slink out of the shadows to retake their home. “My children will get to enjoy another day because of you.”
“Tell them to enjoy it while they can,” Jake muttered, his breathing slowing as the weight of his exhaustion began pressing down on him. “I won’t be here for the next one, and the Adventurers won’t stop just because of that tiny threat.”
Rey’ra let out a faint chuckle. “I am aware, and I know they are as well. Even so, we are in your debt.” She looked down at Jake for a long few moments, watching as his body slumped uncomfortably against the floor. His arms slid off his chest and she could see his muscles had given out. He was asleep.
“I can see why Chul took to you, boy…” Rey’ra whispered as she moved off her webbing. “You remind me of how he was after we first ran away. So willing to put himself in danger for his sisters, as if he had something to prove to us. And when I saw him again, he had grown so strong and so dependable. So smart and wise. An Arachkin that would make our mother proud.” Gently, she lifted Jake into a cradle with her legs and plucked him from the floor. Tender, as if handling one of her own children, she turned and placed him into the comfort of her web. The thick yet soft silken strings flexed beneath the weight of his body, allowing him to lay naturally without the harshness of stone.
Rey’ra’s eyes shimmered as she retracted her legs, letting Jake lay in peace. “I see him in you, Apostle. I wonder if he saw himself, too.”
The sound of approaching legs tickled Rey'ra's ears. She pulled away from the Apostle and looked down to see a few of her spiderlings moving up to the edge of her webbing. “Yes, children?”
“Is he dead?”
“Mum, what happened to him?”
“No, he’s not dead.” Rey’ra let out a sigh and used a leg to nudge her babies away from Jake. “He’s resting. Leave him be. Go play with the others.”
“Mum, is what he said about Uncle Chul true?” One of the spiderlings spoke up and ignored her mother’s call to leave. Instead, the spiderling crept onto the webbing and settled in near Jake’s head. “Was he really a Guardian?”
Rey’ra noticed a lot of the noise had died down. It seemed there were many curious eyes. “He was.” Rey’ra took in a slow breath as she smiled. “Now shoo. Go play with the others.” Rey’ra nudged her spiderlings off again and rumbled, a little annoyed with them. Yet, she refused to let herself be angry. They had survived a difficult trial, thanks to their Emissary and a human one at that. For today, just today, she would let them be a little foolish.
As Rey’ra settled into her webbing, watching over Jake and her brood, the brood itself began to clear the rubble and clean up the lair. The bodies of the Adventurers were pulled down into the depths of the lair and the corpses were stripped of their clothing, armor, and equipment. Everything taken was tossed into a large pile while the bodies themselves were organized into the feasting wall. The alert system at the entrance was repaired and sentries returned to their duties. The fallen family members were brought to a different tunnel where they would be laid to rest and fed to tamed Maggot beasts. Their mana sources would be ripped out and given to the younger spiderlings, encouraging the growth of the surviving family members.
A day that had started as normal as any other, but one that would be remembered as the day the Arachkin first met their Apostle.
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Eric hung his head and kept his back strong as he limped up the tunnel, a burden of life pressing against his spine. The muscles in his legs burned and cried out for relief, for just a few moments of rest, but he had no option but to keep trudging forward. He had been granted amnesty for his treachery here and there was no telling how long that kindness would last. Not wishing to test the extent of that kindness, Eric knew it would be in his best interest to leave as soon as possible. Yet, it wasn’t easy. His mana was running thin and he didn’t have enough left to fully tend to his wounds. Wounds that threatened to burst open at any moment.
Still, there was plenty of motivation behind him that kept him moving. Dozens of leering eyes watched him from a safe distance, ensuring that Eric continued walking in the proper direction. Every time he passed by a side tunnel, several spiders blocked his path, forcing him to continue along the main route. He didn’t meet their eyes nor did he acknowledge any of their chittering. He simply gripped onto his brother’s legs to keep him in place and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
Eventually, Eric passed the bodies of the other adventurers. The piles were being poked at already by some spiders, likely an advance check-in to see what could be used for food. The bodies were all intact so Eric could only foresee them all being taken into that lair from before. Much like before, there would only be a minimal number of survivors from this expedition. Eric would need to talk to his brother about notifying the families or something. Maybe the Guild would handle it. That would make their lives much easier.
Continuing by, Eric stumbled and nearly tripped a few times. His feet were going numb and his legs tingled as the looming threat of cramps crept in. It wasn’t long before, finally, light from the surface struck his face. He took a pause, then, to breathe and pull himself together. Once he was set for the final push, Eric lifted his feet and climbed out of the spider infested cave.
“Made it.” He sighed as he stepped out into the open air. The eyes following him were gone and the tension in his shoulders faded. Fresh air filled his aching lungs as did the vague sense of relief. They hadn’t defeated the brood or conquered the den, but he would take their survival as a victory. So long as they could fight another day, then Eric considered that to be enough.
“You might not feel the same, but this is all I need, brother.” Eric glanced over his shoulder towards Clyde and stared at his brother’s face. Satisfied, Eric oriented himself and descended down towards the forest. The camp was just inside the treeline and there, Eric would need to explain what happened.
The support personnel would be there to tend to his brother and the Guild Representative would want a full breakdown of the events. He wouldn’t be happy. Not this time. This den would need to be blacklisted going forward, lest they incur the wrath of that other Apostle.
How would Eric explain that, anyways? Apostles weren’t supposed to be public knowledge, yet that Jake Furrow guy wanted the village to know of him? It wasn’t something new to make such demands, but the Guild typically just increased the bounty as a result. Eric would need to be creative if he wanted to get the message across.
Otherwise… Well. The Town of Russal would be reduced to a bunch of sticks and ashes. That’d be really unfortunate.
Eric huffed and shook his head. He’d have to tell the truth, somewhat. Come up with some outlandish story about how they got their butts whooped by some creature that controlled the spiders and some other monsters. One that wanted to be left alone and wouldn’t threaten the humans so long as they weren’t bothered in return. Essentially an offering of peace or something like that. If the Guild wouldn’t accept that and continued to hang the bounty, then at that point it wouldn’t be their issue. The Guild would have to deal with those consequences on its own.
Hopefully Jake understood the difference between the Guild and Adventurers. Maybe that might save some lives if they came to butt heads. If not…
“Stop catastrophizing.” Eric grumbled to himself as he broke into the trees. He hoisted his brother up higher onto his back and pushed those annoying thoughts out of his mind. He made the rest of the walk in silence, listening for the sounds of those left behind to keep himself walking in the proper direction. In time, he saw small pillars of smoke and could smell food being prepared. It must have been lunch time.
When Eric emerged from the brush and stepped into the edges of the camp, all conversation stopped. Every pair of eyes in the camp turned to stare at him. Some looked beyond him, others stared at the body on his back. However, none said a word.
Eric was alone. His brother was either unconscious or sleeping. Their clothes and equipment were covered in blood, torn apart, and they looked a mess. Not a single other person was with them and Eric wasn’t carrying anything other than the bare minimum.
“So. Another failure.” An old dwarf sighed and hung his head.
“It seems so.” A tall, male Elf snapped his book closed as he rose to his feet. The Elf pressed a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose and then called for others to help Eric with his burden.
Several people moved to pull Clyde off the Mage’s back and then they helped take his gear. Clyde was laid down near one of the fires and two Clerics began tending to him. Eric sat down with the Dwarf, Elf, and two other humans. A third Cleric sat with him, tending his own injuries. A hot bowl of soup was passed to the tired Mage along with some water to drink.
The Elf waited patiently across from the survivor, giving Eric plenty of space. After the Cleric cleared him, Eric was given time to eat and also plenty of water. When he was settled in, the Elf pulled a notebook from his pack, along with a feather pen and a bottle of ink. He passed them around the fire until they were in Eric’s hands
“Alright. Tell me everything.” The Elf’s eyes narrowed and his pointed ears twitched slightly as he stared towards the Mage across from him.
Erin frowned and nodded, looking down to the paper in front of him. After collecting his thoughts, he dipped the feather into some ink and then began to write.