Tristan

After a little bit of back and forth between Sophie, Kitara, Manama, and even Laura (who backed off quickly), the pantaloons ended up going to the tiny healer. Kitara was clearly overjoyed and said they were a vastly better upgrade than the wand would have been as she thanked everyone. The most interesting part of the process for Tristan, though, came as soon as the fairy accepted the pants, which promptly shrank down to exactly Kitara's size, just as the earlier mana potion had.

The little fairy wasted no time and started to change right there in front of everyone, causing Tristan to quickly look away.

Cross, also looking away, asked, "Do we need any additional break time, or are we ready to begin clearing the Barren Grove?"

Sophie raised her hand. "Should I switch over to my scout astral, as we'd discussed earlier?"

Drannis chuckled. "You don't need to raise your hand, little summoner, but yes, of course you may. I fully support anyone who wishes to maximize progress along their Paths, though I do hope you consider my request that you switch back to your mage before the assault on the Cinder Wyvern."

"Of course," Sophie replied, turning back to Mister Biggs and gently stroking his mane. "You were phenomenal back there, big guy. I'm glad you're feeling better now. I'll see you again soon."

With a deep, rumbling exhalation, Mister Biggs nuzzled the astralist back--and then he was gone, as Sophie was already beginning to summon Sneakers.

Chessa stretched out tall before pulling her bow from her back. "I'm always ready to kill more things."

Opie looked rather at ease beside her with his staff behind his head, but his voice was far more irritated as he turned to Drannis. "Hey, man, I get that you're all super excited to go kill the next beasties. I am, too, really. But in your excitement, you almost got us killed on the first freaking trash pull. We still need a minute, and not just to regain our mana, but also to breathe and calm down. We're really in no rush. I know Kitara and I make it look easy, but we need mana to keep the raid up."

Standing up by the now dull pile of ashes, the dwarf raid leader rotated his shield arm. "As you no doubt know, my Class does not require mana, so I often forget the perils of needing it. Still, this was the role for which you signed on, my good healer. In the future, perhaps more open communications about your mana needs would be beneficial. I hope such a lapse does not lead you to thinking of leaving. We've only just begun this excursion."

"Leaving? Me? Absolutely not. This has been the most fun I've had in months! Besides, I couldn't possibly put all that weight on Kitara's shoulders! She's so teensy tiny! I just need a few minutes! Two tops. My neck feels tighter than a poor man's grip on his last freaking coin, you know?"

After an awkwardly silent moment in which Drannis merely glowered at Opie, Manama started to sing and pluck a lively tune on his lyre. It was jarringly upbeat, especially after the previous tension, but it also had a strong enough rhythm that everyone seemed to start tapping their toes in time. The man had a great voice, and though this was not one of his songs that gave tangible benefits, Tristan did feel like it lifted his spirit.

The raid leader's face had resumed its more usual, chipper appearance when he spoke next. "Right, we march for the Barren Grove, for there are dragons to be slain!"

"There aren't actually any dragons there," Chessa corrected. "A bunch of whelps, sure, but neither boss--"

"To the Barren Grove!" Drannis shouted over her, marching along to Manama's song with large, exaggerated movements.

Without any further complaints, the rest of the raid followed his lead. There were no further enemies between the fallen bosses of the Loose Wilds and the central clearing of the Ever-burning Wood. Once they arrived there, it was clear which path they'd be going down next.

The one without oozes crawling all over it.

The Barren Grove actually reminded Tristan a bit of his mother's hairbrush of all things. It was full of oddly straight, incredibly tall tree trunks, none of which bore any blooms or foliage. There were no grasses, no shrubs, not even weeds. And strangest of all, there was none of the characteristic fire, which made this path much darker and more ominous than the first had been.

Actually, examining the situation further, Tristan could tell that the height and number of charred tree trunks, even as close together as they were, shouldn't have blocked out all of the light. But somehow the Barren Grove was practically dusklike, even though it was still early in the day.

Another oddity of this wing was how the total absence of burning sounds allowed the other sounds from their surroundings to stand out more clearly. Chessa commented, in a voice barely above a whisper, about the flapping sounds she was hearing in the not-too-distant woods. Even with her warning, Tristan was't sure he could actually hear them. All he heard, even with the immense quiet, was his own breathing.

"Black wyvern whelps," the huntress explained. "Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, try to watch for the wet glinting of their eyes." She turned to the tanks specifically and said, "None of the roaming packs have spotted us yet, but they're bound to once we proceed deeper."

Cross nodded his head. "Acknowledged."

Drannis checked over his shoulder to the healers. "Are we all ready?" Hearing no complaints, he hefted his shield and glanced at Sophie. "Stick close to me, little summoner, and tell me precisely what that astral bird of yours sees. I don't want anything sneaking up behind us in there."

"I'll be right beside you the whole way to the boss if you like," Sophie confirmed, "and Sneakers is already up and circling. He can see everything pretty easily. I kind of envy him for that."

Tristan shared her sentiment. He didn't like how claustrophobic all the tall, dark trees felt. But it's nothing compared to that coffin, he reassured himself. He forced himself to shrug it off as he drew his [Oozebane Greatsword]. He knew he'd have to adjust how he fought in such tight spaces, at least some. It was another of the lessons Jamal had gone over several times: which cuts worked better in different circumstances--though admittedly Tristan had always imagined the tight-quarters he'd have to fight in would be alleys, or halls inside dungeons.

Periodically, Sophie would whisper something to Drannis. No doubt sighting monsters flitting about around them. Otherwise, the whole group was moving so quietly Tristan could barely hear their footsteps. His were, admittedly, the loudest, and it made him more than a little self-conscious.

After almost three minutes, he heard Sophie whisper, "There's a small glen up ahead, to the northwest."

"I see it," Chessa whispered back.

Drannis nodded. His quieted voice was almost like sanding down rough wood. "We'll follow your lead then." He raised his shield and took a position to guard the group's right flank.

Cross silently took up a similar position on the left side.

It took only two minutes before the whole group stood at the edge of the open glen. It was a bit too-perfectly circular to be natural, with a diameter of maybe twenty paces.

Tristan saw Drannis silently question Sophie with a raised eyebrow.

The astralist closed her eyes, breathing deeply, before saying, "Sneakers doesn't see any motion in the nearby trees anymore."

There was a creaking of leather as Manama leaned toward them. "This is normal, right? It's meant to be this quiet? Because honestly, I kind of hate it. I'd rather start singing and draw everything to us--"

"That approach would too quickly prove overwhelming," Drannis replied.

Kitara fluttered over and landed on Sophie's shoulder, a position Tristan was noticing the little fairy was taking more and more often. "So, in we go? We've gotta at least try it. Even if it is an event, we're prepared for it."

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"Sneakers says there's a symbol in the middle, possibly a rune," Sophie added.

Drannis nodded. "An event it is, then."

There was quiet agreement from all, and the two tanks raised their shields again.

"Brave adventurers, please allow me the honor of entering first," the dwarf said, though Tristan did hear a momentary trembling in his otherwise solid bravado.

The instant he crossed into the glen, a blinding red ring of fire sprang up from directly in front of the exit path on the far side and began to run around the circle of trees, threatening to bar their way if they didn't hurry.

"EVERYONE IN, NOW!" Cross shouted.

There was no hesitation as they all leapt into action. Chessa was the first to fire off an attack, pulling back and releasing two arrows in quick succession, both aimed toward the far side of the encircling flames at something Tristan hadn't seen yet. "Whelps!" she cried, perfectly describing what both arrows brought down.

Manama began to sing a melody Tristan immediately recognized as [Rally the Heroes].

"There's a huge swarm incoming!" Sophie called out as Sneakers streaked into the frey, dropping [Napnap Gas] on a group of whelps that had just flown straight through the fire ring. Everything in the area immediately slumped to the ground, asleep, at least for now.

Both tanks called shots as they tried to keep the little wyverns away from the middle of the group. "Protect the squishies," Cross called.

Both Tristan and Xanax responded by taking up spots between the tanks, forming a wall of steel and armor around their lower-armored group members, who stayed within. From this formation, they were able to spark, slash, stab, and shoot nearly all the biting, fire-breathing monsters.

But the wyvern whelps quickly began to fly over that wall, diving down in angles so steep only Chessa and the casters could hit them before getting strafed.

Tristan kept his sword constantly moving, cutting through one winged lizard after another. He worried more about keeping them back and protecting his allies than his own health. Eventually the onslaught ended, and the ring of fire sputtered out.

Everyone was breathing heavily. All their weapons were still drawn, dripping with the same crimson that stained the ground around them.

"I think that's all of them," Chessa said, her eyes still scanning beyond where the ring had been.

"Sneakers," Sophie said, and without another word the astral flew skyward again, where it circled in wider and wider circles. "He doesn't see anything else nearby, at least nothing that's actively coming our way right now."

"How many more packs of whelps does he see from there?" Drannis asked, wiping the blood from his mace with a crusty-looking cloth.

Sophie closed her eyes, not reopening them for nearly a minute. "Between where we're standing and the big clearing that way," she said, pointing deeper into the wood, "four. Actually, five, but I'm pretty sure we could avoid one pack if we wanted to. It looks like all the closer packs got pulled into the event."

Drannis and Cross exchanged a look.

"I believe it is safest to just pull them one at a time," the dwarf said.

"More fun the other way," the half-giant replied, "but whatever."

Laura had sauntered over, too. "I actually agree with Drannis. We're not in a big hurry or anything, right? Better safe--and thorough--than sorry."

Tristan nodded, agreeing with both points, and he saw both Xanax and Manama do likewise.

Opie, on the other hand, spoke up. "I actually liked how chaotic and challenging that was. I wouldn't mind pulling more than one pack at a time! It was fun!"

Cross chuckled at that. "I'm liking you more and more."

"I mean, it was beyond hectic," Opie continued, "but also pretty exhilarating! And easy? Like, Kitara, was that hard at all for you?"

"Not really," the fairy acknowledged from Sophie's shoulder once again, where she was stroking the knees of her new pants. "A shame there wasn't any loot."

Opie shrugged. "There'll be more loot later. But, on the plus side, at least no one stood in the fire." He cleared his throat as his gaze fell on the Xanax.

"I considered it," the scaleborn admitted. "With this new scarf, I imagine it would have been but a tickle."

Opie threw a hand in the air and walked away, shaking his head.

Chessa, perhaps trying to change the subject, turned to Sophie and asked, "Are there any more clearings like this one that Sneakers can see? It would speed things up a bit, assuming they all summon the nearest groups in."

"It's hard to say. Maybe one, due north of here--"

"Then that is where we shall go," Drannis said.

The rest of the raid gathered themselves and their things and began marching north. Unlike their earlier approach, this time they did not try to hide their presence at all. In fact, whenever either Chessa or Sneakers spotted a nearby pack of whelps, the whole raid pivoted to go after them.

By the time they reached the northern glen, they all knew precisely what to expect, so the process went much more smoothly. They utilized the same defensive wall formation from before, with the ranged and healers in the middle. With everyone in the right place from the start this time, it was a brutal and efficient slaughter.

It was a show of their improving teamwork, and it made Tristan smile. There were even two potions to distribute afterward, one healing that went to Xanax, and one mana that went to Opie.

He no longer felt the tall thin trees they marched through were as imposing as they had once been. He'd grown used to the darkness--and the quiet. It was almost strange how comfortable he'd grown in the near-dark surrounded by practically unseen monsters. The large group of allies at his side only made him more so.

They reached the edge of the trees after taking down all five packs of whelps. And suddenly it was clear where the whelps had all come from.

Spread before them was a full-on hatchery. It was a jagged field of dirt and rocks, but amid and punctuating it all, catching the midday light on their glistening green, scaly exteriors, were countless spiky eggs. They practically covered the outskirts of the space, spread wherever the rocky terrain might provide them even the slightest hint of protection.

And resting in the very center was a hulking pile of green-black scales and living death, the boss they had come to slay.

[Cinder Wyvern, level 23] {{Malefic Progenitor}}

It was bigger than most of the houses in Woodsedge, with a mouth large enough to swallow multiple cows at a time. It was terrifying. A single wing was as big as a ship's sail, and though it extended only once--briefly--as they approached, that was enough for Tristan's imagination to run rampant with all the horrible things that wing might be able to do to them. It had been lined with pitchblack membranes that looked like long, clawed fingers, and they'd been dripping some sort of liquid that sizzled as it hit the ground. Tristan assumed they were venomous, or acidic--or both--and also couldn't help but wonder just how fast those wings could launch the bridge-sized creature in a chase.

Or should things go poorly in their pull.

The Wyvern's eyes were closed, possibly in sleep, but with the older, greater lizards you could never be sure. Too many stories told tales of adventurers who underestimated their intellect--to their own peril.

Here and now, the wyvern was breathing so rhythmically that it was hard to say. It was certainly loud enough, though. He'd actually been hearing it for the last half hour and not realized that was what it was. He'd figured it was just an unsettling breeze through the charred trees. But no, it was a breath through a razor-filled maw.

He whispered to himself, "We've got this. Easy as pie." He gripped his sword and took comfort in its stability. He exhaled slowly, looking around at his gathered allies. "We're already working together pretty well now. What's the worst that could happen?"

Immediately he felt the smack of wood against the back of his head. It didn't hurt very much, but it sure caught his attention. Opie slammed his staff back to the dirt a second later.

"I swear to all the gods whose names I don't even know, Tristan, if you just freaking jinxed us again, I will write a strongly worded letter to your mother, detailing all the freaking ways you're a walking disaster, and spoiler warning: it won't be a short freaking letter!"

Tristan rubbed the back of his head. "I was just being positive!"

A few of the others were now shaking their heads at him. Others clearly hadn't heard the exchange, only caught the end of it. And then there was Chessa, who was simply rolling her eyes. "Give him a break, Opie."

"Did you not hear what he said?"

"You're just being superstitious. Again."

"Better superstitious and alive than careless and dead!"

"They're not mutually exclusive," Chessa said with a sigh. "And besides, you're too stubborn to let any of us die. You'd keep us all alive just to be able to curse at us later."

That remark brought out a chuckle from Kitara and Manama, though neither met Opie's eyes when he glared their way.

At some point, Sophie had finished switching out Sneakers, who'd been getting more and more frustrated with Kitara's stealing of his perch, for Poof. The fluffy astral mage now rested contentedly in Sophie's arms, under the constant caress of her fingers.

Sophie walked over to Tristan and whispered, "Are you ready for the fight?"

He searched his memory, scraping all of the details from the briefings together. "I think so. Lots of wind--"

"Toxic wind," Sophie supplied.

"--Painful scales--"

"To anyone who touches them, even with a sword," Sophie added.

"--And flying obstacles," Tristan finished.

"Trees, Tristan. It'll uproot and throw whole trees at us."

"Yeah, I'm ready then."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't touch the eggs--"

"--Or they hatch," Tristan finished for her. "Yeah, I remember that part, too."

Sophie shook her head and blinked rapidly. "Sounds like it. Color me surprised, you're prepared. This fight is going to be a real test of mobility. You've got your work cut out for you."

"Hey, I like to run," Tristan said with a wry smile. "I'm good." And in that moment, he truly felt like he was. He even dared to think that this boss didn't sound all that bad. Not that he'd say that where Opie could hear.

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