— Keira (Keir) —
Though the sun had been up for the better part of an hour, Keir was glad for the light of the small campfire. The Gateway Forest was not particularly welcoming at the best time. The gnarled old oaks, Pines, and Spruces grew close together. Around their trunks the dense bush, bramble and grasses grew far denser than seemed natural in the ever present gloom of the thick canopy above. The Dense smells of wet earth and fungus smothered the gentler scents of greenery. What animal noises there were were muffled and echoed in equal parts making it impossible to determine what direction or distance they originated from.
Keir had been sent by the adventurer’s guild to deal with a village’s recent snake problem. Her concern was, even though she hadn’t started hunting them yet, she’d found six giant vipers without going out of her way at all. While she was a warrior who wielded a large two handed sword rather than a ranger or rogue, she was still an elf and a lightly armored one at that. As such she moved too quietly through the forest for their density to be a result of them being drawn towards her. In fact she had seen all but one before they detected her presence.
Rather than spend her morning worrying about it Keir stirred the pot of oatmeal cooking over the fire and went to retrieve her breastplate, gauntlets and greaves. She’d put up with sleeping in her leather armor but the metal elements were a bridge too far. After retrieving the rest of her armor from her simple tent she alternated between donning it and tending to her breakfast. When her armor was on and her breakfast still a few minutes from being done she laid out the twelve fangs, each the length of her forearm, and began cleaning the remaining dried blood from them. Even if she got a bit of a late start, she would arrive in the village well before dark.
Fully armored with her sword sitting at her side, she sprinkled some fruit into her oatmeal and dug in. Around the time she was halfway finished with her meal she paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. She hadn’t consciously noticed anything but her instincts were screaming danger. Only decades of military and adventuring experience allowed her to react instinctively and dive to the side in time to mostly avoid the massive shape that hurtled through the area she’d just been sitting. She managed to grab the sheathed blade but was struck in the shoulder hard enough to slam her into the low burning campfire. Cursing loudly in elvish Keir rolled out of the fire and onto her feet.
When she did, she saw the creature was a gargantuan snake large enough to look her in the eye without lifting its head. As she unsheathed her blade, she Inspected her foe.
“Ancient Viper Matriarch Lvl??”
Well at least Keir knew where the giant vipers came from. Her inability to see its level meant it was a higher tier. Her shoulder throbbed with pain and she was slightly singed from the fire. She had a few healing potions in her pack but she didn’t dare turn her back on a higher tier monster.
As her opponent pulled back to strike again she activated her strongest defensive skill “Immovable Blade”. Fangs almost as long as her sword met her blade with enough force to cause her to slide backwards a few feet even with the effects of her skill. The keen silver steel edge deeply notched one of the viper’s fangs. Taking advantage of the viper's surprise she activated another skill “Riptide Strike” as she swung down with all of her strength. She was aiming for the heat receptive pits above its mouth but as it pulled back its head her blade met and snapped its already damaged fang before cutting through the front of its bottom jaw. A fraction of a second later an echo of her blade formed from surging seawater carved the wound open deeper. As blood poured down its almost black green scales it hissed with rage.
Tide Carvers of the Steel Coast like Keir were primarily heavy shock infantry. As a result most of her tier two skills were offensive. The few that were defensive in nature were better suited to surviving charging into an enemy defensive line, rather than facing a single huge foe. With the relatively long cooldown of “Immovable Blade” she was forced to instead rely on the aggregated tier one skills under “Warrior’s Path”.
As she dragged herself back to her feet after taking her fifth glancing blow, Keir would have laughed savagely if she’d had the breath for it. She’d not only avoided taking any direct hits, the viper sported a few more deep gashes including one along the pits she’d aimed for the first time. Unfortunately due to its size the wounds that would have easily killed one of the lesser vipers several times over were barely an inconvenience to her foe.
If she had access to her potions, things might have been different but she knew if the battle of attrition continued she would falter long before her enemy would even consider retreat. With that being the case she steeled herself and prepared an admittedly risky gambit. The next time the viper struck she jumped to try to help lessen the force and aimed the tip of her blade at its eye. As both of their blows struck home she felt multiple things crunch as her vision went white with pain. She mostly avoided blacking out due to the shock of slamming into the ground. She knew most of the initial crunch came from her right arm and hand; before that she’d felt her blade rip through flesh and impact bone. She barely had the breath or strength to whimper in agony as she forced herself most of the way to feet.
Despite the pain, her training kicked in as she scanned the ground around her for her sword. Her search was cut short as the snake's tail launched her the rest of the way across the clearing her camp was in. Her flight was cut short by slamming into a tree with back breaking force.
As her vision faded to black she noticed her sword protruding from the ruptured eye of the serpent as it slithered away. Her last thought as the darkness claimed her mind was that she was fairly sure the village was in the same direction the snake was heading.
— Alasdair Featherstone —
Alasdair Featherstone smiled up to his wife, Lin, as he handed her the last breakfast order for the day. She wasn’t the tallest harpy but she still stood almost nine inches over his own five foot dwarven frame.
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She smiled back and said “Thanks Dair dear.” before slipping back into the common room with a faint rustle of her silver feathers.
He’d been cleaning as he went while preparing the final breakfast order so there was little left to do to return his kitchen to its pristine state. With the practiced ease of repetition he wiped off his cooking ax and slipped it into the sheath on his belt. While he didn’t anticipate needing it, everyone in Still-Leaf Village was encouraged to carry weapons whenever out and about in light of the ongoing viper infestation.
The thought of the snakes reminded him of the arcane message he’d received from the adventurers' guild. A peak tier two warrior should be arriving within the day.
While he was prepping for breakfast he had taken a rough inventory and found it somewhat lacking. With the dour mood of the village over the last week since the farms had to be abandoned there was a dramatically increased demand for booze and a diminished call for meals. If that trend held he would be fine, but he didn’t expect it would with an adventurer arriving to deal with their problem.
He poked his head through the door Lin had gone through and called out “I’m head’n to the market, Lin. D’ya need anything?”
“Just make sure to remind people the adventurer should arrive today or tomorrow.”
As he exited the “Root and Bough” tavern Alasdair noticed the grim faces of his fellow villagers as well as the eclectic weapons they carried. Most were non combatants but they were hardy frontier villagers. Most of them carried a tool of their trade but there were more than a few spears and old swords. A few people even seemed like they knew which end to hold.
He chuckled under his breath at the thought as he approached his first stop. The produce stand was looking a bit picked over so he said “Oi, Del, ye got anything fresher squirreled away back there.
Lindel, the nearly seven foot tall minotaur’s chuckle sounded like a cave in before she said “Oh there’s plenty of fresh veggies out there if you're up for picking them.”
“Heh, Maybe I’ll take ye up on that tomorrow. For today I’ll stick with what ye got ‘ere.”
She stood a bit straighter as she leaned against the ax at her side and said “Does that mean the rumor is right? A proper adventurer is arriving today to deal with those annoying serpents?”
“Aye, Tha's what the Guild says anyway.”
Alasdair purchased and arranged for the delivery of most of her remaining produce before moving on. A similar scene played out at the three more stands as he bought some fruit, salted meat, and picked up the rolling pin he’d ordered. He was just confirming the rumor for Celylia the mothkin tailor when the air was split by alarm bells and shouting from the village walls a few streets away.
The panic spread quickly through the crowd as first one then in rapid succession seven more Giant Vipers slithered out of alleys from the direction of the nearest section of wall. With a rallying call he led the charge towards the nearest viper.
His dwarven cooking ax bit into the scales along its side, distracting it long enough for Lindel to smash its skull with her own ax, which was basically a plow blade on a stick. The rest of the villagers split up at least three to a viper. Most groups were five or more and even then a few people were clearly injured during their fight.
Giant vipers were peak first tier or low second tier and the few tier two and above villagers mostly held non combat classes. Despite their disadvantageous situation and the number of wounded they quickly killed most of the vipers.
Alasdair was just wondering why there were still cries of alarm and bells ringing from the wall when over a dozen more snakes entered the fray. His light spirits from only minutes ago were long gone as he saw the gnomish alchemist go down hard with the severed head of a twenty foot long viper clamped onto the middle of his chest. At least four other villagers lay unmoving and plenty more were injured or holding broken weapons and there seemed to be no end to the stream of serpents.
Before he could properly process what was happening he heard the sound of splintering wood and shattered stone from the wall. As he instinctively turned towards the sound he barely avoided being struck by a pair of guards. To be more exact it was more like one and a half. The elven woman was missing an arm and the human man’s body ended about four inches below his armpits.
Alasdair’s blood ran cold as he saw the largest snake he’d ever seen by a wide margin dart lightning fast through the shattered wooden gate. His distraction cost him dearly as he felt a crushing and piercing pain through his stomach. Lindel’s ax passed less than a foot to the side of him. The large ax crushed as much as it cut, yanking the viper’s head sideways. As the fangs shifted abruptly in his guts Alasdair swore in dwarvish through gritted teeth. He almost blacked out as she helped him pry open the jaws of the snake head clamped onto him. Just as the fangs were almost out of him two things happened at almost exactly the same moment. He felt a burning cold as the second pulse of venom was sprayed into his guts instead of out of the exit holes in his back. The other was Lindel being snatched up into the air. He followed the movement and saw her limp body impaled through the chest by a fang longer than he was tall.
In that moment the world around him slowed and he saw the snake’s other fang, the one that didn’t just kill his supplier and friend, was snapped off about a foot and a half from the gumline. He also saw a surprising amount of deep cuts on the monster’s face. The worst seemed to be a cut in the middle of its hinged bottom jaw that had been ripped open further by biting down on Lindel’s ax. He reconsidered his stance on the worst injury it had suffered when it threw his friend's corpse aside and looked down. A large two handed sword was embedded past the guard in the pulped ruin of its eye.
Cursing his powerlessness he fled the market towards The Root and Bough. With every step he felt his heart beat spread the venom through his veins even as he bled profusely. By the time he reached the front door it was mainly his dwarven constitution and need to reach his wife that kept him upright.
Dread seized him and he almost collapsed as he slammed through the door and saw what lay beyond. Four vipers lay dead with crossbow bolts through their eyes. Far worse were the bloodstained silver feathers laying on the floor and the bar top.
As he approached he saw the still tail of a fifth snake protruding from behind the bar. Behind the bar he saw the snake was dead with a pair of daggers embedded in its skull. He barely noticed it however when he saw the still form of wife sitting propped against the wall in a pool of her unusually pale blood, an unopened potion still in her hand.
He stumbled over and was about to administer the potion to her when he saw she was already dead. He knew she would want him to take it himself but he couldn’t. Instead he placed it on the bar in plain sight of the door and collapsed next to her.
“‘M sorry my little bird, I can’t fly without ye.” He mumbled through the blood filling his mouth as he hugged her body to his chest. As the screams and sounds of combat were overtaken by the rushing of blood in his ears he kissed her forehead, closed both her eyes and his own, and breathed his last.