The Crescent Jungle.
Vaster than Oasis City by an order of magnitude, a self-contained evolving ecosystem that also served as one half as the Boiling Lake’s regulatory mechanisms. Kilometer-tall trees reached into the sky, few in number and acting as landmarks amidst everything else, the jungle sectioned off by lines drawn between these Pillar Trees. It was a self-replenishing wellspring of high-value materials that served as the economic heart of Oasis City.
The Expeditionary Force circled around rather than enter from the point nearest to the city, taking a route that would have the shortest possible in-jungle travel time between entry and their destination in case hostile forces had set up traps, ambushes, or lookouts.
They entered deeply into the jungle, continuing on sleds for a fair while, maneuvering a serpentine path under Yvonne’s expert lead. Its vastness could not be described by comparing it to any forest; it was an entirely separate realm, a place where the likes of a False Drake were small. Zefaris felt like she’d been shrunk; she thought it more appropriate to compare the place to the Shifting Labyrinth’s more open sections or even the cave of the Blackwall Cathedral, with the endless abyss stretching skyward towards an unseen canopy hidden by mist.
They took a short stop to disembark and hide their sleds once things became too dense and vertical, demanding on-foot traversal. The Razorflayers pulling them simply laid down and waited.
“I just hope for no giant insects…” Zefaris uttered as they ventured further.
“Then don’t climb three-hundred meters up or dig into the roots of the trees,” Yvonne said. “Despite the name, the Crescent Jungle’s ecosystem is not like the eponymous jungles of the far south. The Boiling Lake cannot host insects, the jungle’s own pools and ponds are inhospitable to them, and they simply couldn’t function at the scale of this place without changes that would make them no longer insects.”
“They wouldn’t be able to breathe,” Zef guessed.
“Exactly. The shamans decided to simply use other creatures to fulfill the usual roles of insects rather than create or import insects with lungs. They had a choice, and I would say they made the right one. Boreans have ever reviled insects.”
“Really? I would have thought that of all places Borea wouldn’t have native insects that would warrant hate.”
“It doesn’t, not many at least. Ours are… Beetles and bees, more or less, mainly in the south. The hatred of insects comes from their use by Ankhezians in the elves’ ill-conceived attempt to conquer us.”
The conversation petered off rather quickly as they entered more deeply into the jungle. Signs of human habitation were surprisingly common; from simple remnants of management to warnings cut into trees all the way up to unoccupied treehouses.
Soon enough, they reached the sector where the incident had taken place. It was hard to miss; the smell of burning wood was everywhere, and a huge swath of the jungle had been burned. Yet… The burn coverage was extremely specific.
“Magical flame?” Zef asked.
Gunnar nodded: “Aye. Sapdragons have an innate drive to minimize their own damage to the jungle, being born from dragon trees and whatnot, so their flame will not spread past what it initially covers. They will not leave the jungle’s confines without good reason, either. That Eisengeist chased after us well beyond the jungle’s bounds… It is unnerving to say the least.”
They soon started encountering the signs of the battle; more serious environmental damage, shattered, cut-through trees and boulders, gouged earth, remnants of pseudo-blackstone constructs, and of course corpses, but… They were not those they were looking for.
These corpses were masked, wearing attire devoid of any clan’s distinguishing traits. Some had clearly been slain by Eisengeist, but many more were riddled with numerous, perfectly clean holes, crushed under the aforementioned constructs or cut apart. Gore was strewn all about, holes gouged in the earth plainly telling the tale of a beam-type attack that blasted through flesh without issue.
From above a distorted voice came, and Zefaris saw that it was who she thought it to be: “You would do well to explain yourselves, Boreans - and quickly.”
Just above them, she clung to a tree with her left claw hand digging into the wood. She spoke in fluent Borean, though the Pateirian accent was very much present. In her left hand was an octagonal blackstone object, seething with northlight. Before anyone could muster an answer, her gaze stopped on Zefaris. She knew.
“I see that your masks are different from those of these unfortunate fools, but that means little. Who are you, and why are you here? This place is nowhere near any of the popular hunting grounds.”
“The bodies of the fallen must be retrieved for proper burial!” shouted Gunnar.
“Ah, I know that voice! You are those upon whom these morons sicced a Dragon Descendant, are you not?” Red observed gleefully. “There is not much left of your fallen, I am afraid. This…”
She gestured towards the general state of devastation, especially the mangled bodies.
“...Is the least of the slaughter. I did, however, recover several intact bodies bearing the marks of your clan. I would be glad to give them over, for a price.”
“Enough of this game, Karmesin. Why are you here?!” Zefaris called her out. The cloaked woman jumped down from her perch, landing right next to the blonde.
“If either of us should be questioning the other, it is I. For weeks, I have survived in this jungle while I waited for you to arrive… And you come without Zelsys? Where is she?” Karmesin demanded to know, disappointment in her voice.
“We can speak of that later. Where are the bodies?”
“I can take you to them. If you recognize any of them, we can negotiate payment.”
“Swear upon the Divine Maxims.”
“I swear.”
And so, still not entirely trusting the woman, they proceeded. Zefaris was relieved that none of the Boreans asked who Karmesin was and why Zef knew her. Karmesin led them to a particularly dense part of the jungle where a near-solid wall of trees grew, and when questioned, she explained: “I think it to be a crater of some sort. Its bounds were filled with growth as dense as this when I found it. I simply cleared out the middle and made use of it for myself.”
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! Patrons gain access to up to 20 days of advance content, with further expansion planned for the future. So if you want to help fund my crippling addiction to commissioning art, consider reading a couple chaps ahead.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, or even leave a review. Reviews and ratings alike weigh heavily in the eyes of the algorithm (not to mention prospective new readers), so that pretty much means they determine the success of my work. A single review or even just a rating can noticeably influence the novel’s performance, especially when it has few ratings overall like this one does as of me posting this.
Same goes for review voting - the reviews with the most upvotes are the ones that most people will see, so you as readers decide which reviews are legitimate.
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
The Crescent Jungle.
Vaster than Oasis City by an order of magnitude, a self-contained evolving ecosystem that also served as one half as the Boiling Lake’s regulatory mechanisms. Kilometer-tall trees reached into the sky, few in number and acting as landmarks amidst everything else, the jungle sectioned off by lines drawn between these Pillar Trees. It was a self-replenishing wellspring of high-value materials that served as the economic heart of Oasis City.
The Expeditionary Force circled around rather than enter from the point nearest to the city, taking a route that would have the shortest possible in-jungle travel time between entry and their destination in case hostile forces had set up traps, ambushes, or lookouts.
They entered deeply into the jungle, continuing on sleds for a fair while, maneuvering a serpentine path under Yvonne’s expert lead. Its vastness could not be described by comparing it to any forest; it was an entirely separate realm, a place where the likes of a False Drake were small. Zefaris felt like she’d been shrunk; she thought it more appropriate to compare the place to the Shifting Labyrinth’s more open sections or even the cave of the Blackwall Cathedral, with the endless abyss stretching skyward towards an unseen canopy hidden by mist.
They took a short stop to disembark and hide their sleds once things became too dense and vertical, demanding on-foot traversal. The Razorflayers pulling them simply laid down and waited.
“I just hope for no giant insects…” Zefaris uttered as they ventured further.
“Then don’t climb three-hundred meters up or dig into the roots of the trees,” Yvonne said. “Despite the name, the Crescent Jungle’s ecosystem is not like the eponymous jungles of the far south. The Boiling Lake cannot host insects, the jungle’s own pools and ponds are inhospitable to them, and they simply couldn’t function at the scale of this place without changes that would make them no longer insects.”
“They wouldn’t be able to breathe,” Zef guessed.
“Exactly. The shamans decided to simply use other creatures to fulfill the usual roles of insects rather than create or import insects with lungs. They had a choice, and I would say they made the right one. Boreans have ever reviled insects.”
“Really? I would have thought that of all places Borea wouldn’t have native insects that would warrant hate.”
“It doesn’t, not many at least. Ours are… Beetles and bees, more or less, mainly in the south. The hatred of insects comes from their use by Ankhezians in the elves’ ill-conceived attempt to conquer us.”
The conversation petered off rather quickly as they entered more deeply into the jungle. Signs of human habitation were surprisingly common; from simple remnants of management to warnings cut into trees all the way up to unoccupied treehouses.
Soon enough, they reached the sector where the incident had taken place. It was hard to miss; the smell of burning wood was everywhere, and a huge swath of the jungle had been burned. Yet… The burn coverage was extremely specific.
“Magical flame?” Zef asked.
Gunnar nodded: “Aye. Sapdragons have an innate drive to minimize their own damage to the jungle, being born from dragon trees and whatnot, so their flame will not spread past what it initially covers. They will not leave the jungle’s confines without good reason, either. That Eisengeist chased after us well beyond the jungle’s bounds… It is unnerving to say the least.”
They soon started encountering the signs of the battle; more serious environmental damage, shattered, cut-through trees and boulders, gouged earth, remnants of pseudo-blackstone constructs, and of course corpses, but… They were not those they were looking for.
These corpses were masked, wearing attire devoid of any clan’s distinguishing traits. Some had clearly been slain by Eisengeist, but many more were riddled with numerous, perfectly clean holes, crushed under the aforementioned constructs or cut apart. Gore was strewn all about, holes gouged in the earth plainly telling the tale of a beam-type attack that blasted through flesh without issue.
From above a distorted voice came, and Zefaris saw that it was who she thought it to be: “You would do well to explain yourselves, Boreans - and quickly.”
Just above them, she clung to a tree with her left claw hand digging into the wood. She spoke in fluent Borean, though the Pateirian accent was very much present. In her left hand was an octagonal blackstone object, seething with northlight. Before anyone could muster an answer, her gaze stopped on Zefaris. She knew.
“I see that your masks are different from those of these unfortunate fools, but that means little. Who are you, and why are you here? This place is nowhere near any of the popular hunting grounds.”
“The bodies of the fallen must be retrieved for proper burial!” shouted Gunnar.
“Ah, I know that voice! You are those upon whom these morons sicced a Dragon Descendant, are you not?” Red observed gleefully. “There is not much left of your fallen, I am afraid. This…”
She gestured towards the general state of devastation, especially the mangled bodies.
“...Is the least of the slaughter. I did, however, recover several intact bodies bearing the marks of your clan. I would be glad to give them over, for a price.”
“Enough of this game, Karmesin. Why are you here?!” Zefaris called her out. The cloaked woman jumped down from her perch, landing right next to the blonde.
“If either of us should be questioning the other, it is I. For weeks, I have survived in this jungle while I waited for you to arrive… And you come without Zelsys? Where is she?” Karmesin demanded to know, disappointment in her voice.
“We can speak of that later. Where are the bodies?”
“I can take you to them. If you recognize any of them, we can negotiate payment.”
“Swear upon the Divine Maxims.”
“I swear.”
And so, still not entirely trusting the woman, they proceeded. Zefaris was relieved that none of the Boreans asked who Karmesin was and why Zef knew her. Karmesin led them to a particularly dense part of the jungle where a near-solid wall of trees grew, and when questioned, she explained: “I think it to be a crater of some sort. Its bounds were filled with growth as dense as this when I found it. I simply cleared out the middle and made use of it for myself.”
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! Patrons gain access to up to 20 days of advance content, with further expansion planned for the future. So if you want to help fund my crippling addiction to commissioning art, consider reading a couple chaps ahead.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, or even leave a review. Reviews and ratings alike weigh heavily in the eyes of the algorithm (not to mention prospective new readers), so that pretty much means they determine the success of my work. A single review or even just a rating can noticeably influence the novel’s performance, especially when it has few ratings overall like this one does as of me posting this.
Same goes for review voting - the reviews with the most upvotes are the ones that most people will see, so you as readers decide which reviews are legitimate.
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
