Asterix panted roughly, planting his hands on his knees when he could finally catch his breath. He'd broken out in a cold sweat. The whole time, they had been running through the swamp, ignoring anything that they passed. His companion, Bohan, also was waiting for his air to return to him.

His fingers stung. Like he had gripped a wooden plank hammered full with nails. It was that skelk, no doubt. Turning his hands carefully, he took a peek at the tiny punctures that dotted his fingers. What a great mess it was… Blood soaked his hands. He'd bled numerous times now; it was almost turning into a routine. But what else should one expect when the world is filled with dangers lurking from every corner? At least the bleeding slowed quickly. Hopefully that particular breed of skelk didn't have venom at its arsenal.

He thought about it for a moment. Nah. It couldn't have. Otherwise he would have felt its effects long ago. Squinting painfully, he balled his hands into fists, watching the blood be squeezed out like the sap from a lemon. His blood. There were no imperfections, no glinting particles, no discoloration. Just a beautiful deep crimson red, like a ruby. Normally, seeing one's blood meant bad news, but now, realizing how well he had recovered, he couldn't help but be relieved. Ironic. Red was his favorite color.

Asterix leaned himself backwards, allowing his own weight to plant him down on the ground and filling his lungs for one last deep breath. He glanced back at his friends. Bobbo was fine. He just licked his paw with which he swatted the wild animals from him. His bulk was too great and his fur too dense for the skelk pack to have posed much of a threat to him. Bohan, however…

"Still whole?" Asterix asked. The sylvari turned to look at him. Yeah, there it was. The shredded sleeve of his coat revealed a deep cut on his arm that bled golden sap. It actually surprised him a little. His skin was bark, wasn't it? Could an animal really have dealt such damage? Wait, maybe the bark was just an outer layer. That would explain it. Maybe.

"Dang, that's real deep."

The sylvari smiled sheepishly, brushing a hand past it like it were nothing serious. Still, his eyes squinted and he hissed at the pain. "I've been worse," he lied. Asterix could tell. It wasn't an act of looking tough. He just didn't want to worry him. What the sylvari did next was pull his backpack from his back to place it down. Taking out medical supplies that he'd stocked before the travel. "What about you?"

"You can bring dead things to life?!" Asterix suddenly cried out without answering Bohan's question first. The sylvari flinched, and blinked back at him.

"You seem… surprised," he said with an awkwardly innocent tone in his voice. "Death magic isn't an uncommon practice. I thought you knew that I'm a necromancer."

"Necromancer!" Asterix's mouth echoed after Bohan, and he clamped his hands around his head when he felt his face flush in distress. He didn't want to believe it. The idea alone! He felt bad enough having to kill the skelk in such a horrid manner, but Bohan, a necromancer, had to prolong its suffering, too?

"I'm sorry if I startled you with that. It was for our safety," Bohan added to try and reason with the Gaul. Asterix knew very well that was the intent, but it still felt so wrong. He did have a point though.

"You're a necromancer…" The Gaul stared down at the ground for a long time. "Y—yes," he finally managed to utter. "You're right. You did what had to be done…"

It was an unexpected turn of events, but it shouldn't have been surprising. In this world where magic was a very dominant force, even this could happen from the palm of one's hand. Asterix took a deep breath and watched Bohan attempt to care for his own wound with a jar of green salve and a strap of bandage. He thought about helping, but he wasn't sure if it would be wise to handle the wound with his own bloodstained hands. He instead let his mind wander a little, to recollect the memories of what had just happened.

That was his way of dealing with these things. Put them in a row and pick them apart. Make better sense of them so he could think more rationally after a stressful situation. Finally, he concluded. He was just overreacting. Necromancy or not, the way Bohan put it, it was nothing out of the ordinary here. So why should he get worked up about it?

Now that those nasty thoughts were out of the way, he noticed that he only heard singing of tropical birds. He didn't know for how long it has been that way, but the horrible screeching in the swamp had gone silent. It felt oddly peaceful.

Out of the blue, Bohan called his name. The Gaul glanced up, caught a little off-guard when the sylvari walked up to him, now with a clumsily bound arm. He held the same jar of salve in his hand. Asterix didn't need any instructions; he held both of his hands out, so to show where it was to be applied.

Bohan dropped a small lick of the goop into the human's hand. "Just rub it into your wounds. The smallest injuries will be gone within the day."

"That fast?" He began to rub the salve on his fingers. It started to sting soon, but he persistently ignored it and continued until it was divided over each puncture evenly. The pain faded shortly after he was done doing so.

"Yes." Bohan suddenly beamed up. "Mender Avalia made this after some experimenting with troll salves. It stops and prevents infection, promotes healing… It can even draw out some types of poison."

"Sounds like Avalia is a great mender," Asterix commented.

"One of the best! There's just one catch…" said Bohan. After closing the lid on the jar of salve, he attempted to redo his bandaging again. Asterix perked a little bit. This time he did offer to help, and Bohan hesitantly allowed Asterix to bind the cloth in the appropriate way.

"A catch?"

"While this salve is just as effective on fleshy beings, it's likely going to itch a terrible lot for you."

Using only his fingertips to prevent rubbing any salve or blood on the bandages, he managed to bind the man's arm in a way that was much more acceptable. Getafix would have been proud. Finally, the Gaul smiled nervously after he finished his work. "Well, if that's all, I think I'll live."

Shortly after finishing some quick repairs and packing up, they went back on their way. As much as they would have liked to take a short break from the tension in the swamp, they simply had no time.

Asterix had trouble keeping up, however. He wasn't tired, he was just very distracted. Bohan wasn't joking in the least about that salve. The itching came with a fury like he'd never felt before. It was comparable to picking nettles bare-handedly, but perhaps even worse than that. With no way to soothe the irritation, he was left powerless to its tingling, almost burning wrath. Nerved, he bit his tongue, almost gnawed it, and fiddled with just the tips of his fingers for the longest time. He did anything to distract himself. Bohan had to force back a laugh at Asterix's dismay, but a sudden humored snort made the Gaul jerk his red face towards the sylvari.

"I'm so, so sorry," he guiltily grinned, when the human stared at him helplessly. "It'll be over soon. Hopefully."

"Hopefully?" Asterix nearly cried out, looking frustrated. His hands were pretty much feckless. Couldn't even hold his gun anymore.

At least, the sylvari was right. By the time they were halfway done with their travels, the little wounds were almost gone already. He was amazed. Even Getafix's best healing concoction did not stand up to this. He pondered about maybe buying some of this salve from the mender Bohan talked about. Despite the terrible itchiness, it could come incredibly handy.

The day passed relatively calmly. The sun began nearing its peak and cast a heat down on a land that grew continuously more arid the further the group of three walked. Though not exactly pleasant, the weather actually urged most wildlife to take it easy today. And it would be foolish of the travelers not to take advantage of this. They were able to sneak past enemy encampments, using a combination of timing and wit. And by the late midday, they reached their destination. Fort Vandal was once a reinforced bastion and the gateway to the deeper parts of the jungle, where bandits hid from their pursuers. Now, this place was under control of the human Queen's police force, the Seraph. But of course, there was also a dragon's presence here; enormous vines, with sharp crimson thorns, clung to the buildings and crawled below. They fed on magic and would burrow their ways to places where there were high concentrations, reaching even as far as charr homelands. Asterix felt them shift beneath the earth. Some vines would burst from the ground within the fort, proving to be an annoyance to the unsuspecting when they snagged someone by the legs, but they were stomped out by the Seraph soldiers just as quick as they came.

It was rather nice to be seeing people of his own kind again, but Asterix still didn't feel entirely comfortable around these humans yet. And he wasn't sure if he ever would be. While keeping mostly the same standpoint as home, their culture differed so vastly that he'd easily feel just as much out of place as he was in the Black Citadel. No wonder. Instead of several hundreds of gods of which even he couldn't name all their names from the top of his head, these humans only followed six. The true gods, as they would claim. He never knew why. And while their technology was not nearly as advanced as that of charr or asura, it still surpassed that of even the Romans by only Toutatis knows how many centuries.

"Halt!" One of the two Seraph guards at the gate erupted to the two travelers. His hand flung up and signed for them to stop. "This leads to Mordrem territory. State your business or leave if you know what's good for you."

Bohan immediately stepped forward, giving the man his answer. "We only wish to stay here a while and keep a friend from getting herself into danger. Can we set up camp here? At least until we meet her?"

The guard gave them both an expression as though the sylvari had just told him a bad joke. "Ask the one in command here," he answered plainly, and pointed to the person in question. "Watch the vines," the man added as an afterthought. Bohan gave the man a thankful nod, he then asked Asterix to wait.

Asterix sat down, uncorked one of his water reserves and took a quick swig from it, then he offered a share to Bobbo. The sizable bear drank eagerly. Poor animal was probably feeling pretty out of it after this. They didn't really think that warm weather part through. There's hoping the night will cool him down. He carefully poured some more water into the cup, just to be thanked with a bear's slobber. He didn't really mind. He promised he'd take good care of him after all. He gave the animal a hearty pat on the head.

He took a short glance back to Bohan, who was conversing with the commanding officer. It didn't seem like it was going well, and this he could tell from Bohan's rather exasperated gesturing. Meanwhile, the Seraph officer's body language was steadfast and stubborn. The woman shook her head every now and then. This wasn't going as planned, he deduced quickly.

"Come on," he told Bobbo, and the bear stood up sluggishly to follow behind as they entered. Surprisingly, the two guards allowed them both to pass without doing so much as batting an eyelash. Soon enough, the conversation was in earshot.

"Don't make me say this again, sylvari," the officer started with an adamant gaze. "No civilians beyond or on this point. These are the Queen's orders." Her arms crossed over her metal-plated chest intimidatingly while she glared at the man.

"But you can't make us set up camp outside," Bohan retorted desperately, after which the officer cut in once more.

"I'm not telling you to set up camp outside, I'm telling you to go home," the woman answered. "We've got enough on our hands with these Mordrem vines constantly popping out of the ground, let alone keeping this fort under our control. We can much less use tourists thinking they'll be heroes for coming here."

Blinking, Asterix calmly continued his approach toward the bickering two. "Excuse me, ma'am, if I may bug in…" he started as politely as he could.

Both the sylvari and human turned to look at him. At first, the officer glared, but her features softened up quickly. "Yes?" she asked offhandedly.

"We don't mean to get in your way, miss. We're not helpless, just desperate. Maybe we can come to some kind of compromise?"

He watched the woman's face crinkle with ponder as he waited for her answer. And, finally, she let out a defeated sigh. "You know what? Here's an idea. Tell me what this girl looks like, then if we see her, we'll make sure she doesn't get allowed past. In return, I expect you both to go home. Is that a deal?"

Bohan's face suddenly lit up like a candle. "Deal!" he piped up cheerfully. "She's about four and a half feet tall. Has blue fronds, pine-green skin, red eyes…"

"Wait.. Wears sylvan-grown clothes?" The woman cocked an eyebrow.

Still mostly watching from the sidelines, Asterix's expression went blank when the realization set in. And he saw that Bohan's expression, too, began to change. Oh. This changes everything.

"Oh no… She came through here, didn't she?" Bohan's cheery face had by then turned into an expression of dreadfulness. Then, the woman confirmed his fears with a slow, dark nod.

"She came through here just about an hour ago. Had a Pact permit. We had to let her through," she answered.

They were too late. Liliwen had permission to pass, and they did not. Bohan turned, feeling the defeat weighing on his shoulders. An uncharacterized, tiny laugh left his mouth. "R—Really? We were that close?" He slowly turned to look at Asterix. He saw angst and despair in the sylvari's white eyes. "It's a dead end, then."

"We're sorry," the officer said sympathetically. She raised a hand and placed it on his hanging shoulder, hoping to reassure him.

Creak.

The noise first caught Bohan's ears. As well as those of Bobbo. Suddenly tensing his body, the sylvari turned and gazed at where the noise came from; the gate. The gate that led back to the jungle, where he and his company came from.

"Hey, what's wrong?" the officer asked nervously when she noticed how disturbed the sylvan suddenly looked. Asterix was now also uneasy. The bear started to growl angrily.

Crrrack.

The gate's reinforced wooden doors began to bend and splinter under an unknown pressure, and all of the fort's inhabitants turned to look. Something strong pressed against the gate forcefully. Shortly after, the faces went pale when thick vines crept over. And under. And inbetween. From behind the gate, one soldier screamed in garbled torture while another was flung into the air by thorned tendrils. Everyone flinched at the sound of a sickening snapping noise that finally silenced the screams.

"Invasion!" The female officer drew out her sword and shield, the metal glimmering under the white sun. Everybody else followed suit in a flash, drawing out bow and arrow, sword and shield, and even magic. The smaller vines crawled from underneath, as the larger ones pressed against the fort's walls, attempting to crumble stone and break wood.

The commanding officer ran headlong into the vines, slashing her sword at the tendrils and enjoying every moment of it. "Trying to flank us this time, huh?" she laughed sadistically as she swung her blade again. "That's cheap, Mordremoth! You undignified lizard!"

Every soldier joined in the fight, giving it their all to push the assault back. Asterix held on his own well enough. In fact, shortly after he drew his blade, the Mordrem vines quickly changed their minds about attacking him. If they had a mind, that was. One attempted to snag the sword from him first, but then it learned the wrath of the flames that it spewed in retaliation. And while they curled back in torment and, seemingly, surprise, he took the opportunity to deal with them quickly. The flames danced; with the dry heat at his side, his attacks shriveled the enemy relentlessly.

Bohan, and Bobbo, too, both fought valiantly. From the bear's side, paws battered and teeth shredded. And from the sylvari's side, the splintered bones of those long past struck and bored through the vines below ground, trapping them, while his black magic sucked the life away.

Asterix moved in on what he counted to be his seventh target, and stabbed the vine, watching it glow and turn to ash as it curled in despair. The adrenaline rushed through the warrior's veins. For once, things looked like they were in favor. It was a great thrill. They were actually winning a fight instead of running away from it. The officer continued to mock the dragon as if she were facing it in person, which in turn pumped the soldiers' morales. He felt it too. They were going to win this, for sure.

Glancing to see which unfortunate tendril next tried to strike him, he swung his blade at yet another, and felt a flash of intense heat brush against his arm as his sword cut the thing in half… The quick, unanticipated sting made him yelp out in surprise, that left him with a grim reminder. A flaming sword was indeed useful, but whenever he handled it like he did his old sword, he would often worry that he may seriously burn himself using it. He forgot in all the chaos, and now it nearly happened, too. He momentarily took a glance at his arm to see if he hadn't burned himself. No, he was fine – he only met with the scent of singed hair, and the skin turning a blush of red, though only very slight. It didn't hurt anymore, let alone that it couldn't even be considered a minor burn. It would mend in no time. After making sure he was still fine, he immediately continued in the defense, felling another three of the Mordrem tendrils, one after another. This time while also putting a little more space between himself and the blade.

Suddenly, the earth rumbled, stronger than the light vibrations they felt when a vine was about to surface. This time, a much thicker one broke out of the earth right below a soldier's feet, lifting the man into the air. And though the officer ran to aid, it was simply too late. The tendril swung violently, releasing the soldier and sending him off like a boulder flung out by a catapult. She couldn't do anything but watch. And she soon realized their numbers continued to dwindle, while the Mordrem kept coming, inexhaustibly. The larger vines followed after the first, snagging soldiers off the ground, making each one they caught suffer a painful death. Sometimes it was fast, as the vines curled around their victim's neck and snapping it as though it was but a twig. Others were not so lucky, instead suffocating in constriction or being thrown powerfully into the air, or to the ground. The sound of each dying man was excruciating to hear.

She turned her head frantically. She and her men were losing. This wasn't just another paltry attack, this was a full-blown assault. A repeat of the fate that befell Fort Salma. It was designed to catch them off guard. She could already guess for what purpose. Whatever confidence anybody had, at this point, it was gone. But she wasn't about to give up. Not yet. The woman lifted her sword high, taking a deep breath.

"Dig in!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "We can't let them take Fort Vandal!" With the blade in her hand, she swung it and left a large gash in a vine, deep enough for the weight of the plant to do the rest of the work, and for gravity to fully rip it in half. Filled with determination, she continued the battle, by herself, if necessary.

As they fought back, both Bohan and Asterix began to notice that their surroundings were growing darker, as though clouds had blocked the sun. Pausing for a few seconds, Bohan looked up, and saw the vines looming above. They were trying to engulf the fort, trapping everyone inside. Huge vines had blocked the way home already. He began to search the area for ways out, when finally, his eyes settled to the only gate still free. The one leading deeper into the jungle. The sylvari raised his voice, so everyone could hear.

"They're trapping us!" he yelled. "Quick, we must retreat! Before it's too late!"

"Trap us? No! We're still winning, keep fighting!" the Seraph officer called back. Her blade struck another vine in front of her, but she was oblivious of those that had begun to curl around her ankles.

"Are you insane?" Asterix shouted. "We'll all die if we stay here!" He then turned and called Bobbo, who doubtlessly returned to him, after finishing tearing apart another intruder.

The Seraph halted, and glared at the three, eyes blazing with fury and betrayal. "You'd rather walk straight into the mouth of Mordremoth than stay here? Fine! You're not under my command anyway. Do what you—"

Her ranting was suddenly cut short when she felt a single vine twist around her neck, and she finally noticed the needles pricking her exposed skin and drawing blood. How could she have missed that? She now stood immobile, pinned by the enemy twisting and curling around her every limb. This was going to be the end, wasn't it? The woman said nothing. Instead, she stared regrettably at her men, who aided the travelers in pushing the gate open. That was their only chance left. Mordrem vines still crept in on them from behind. There wasn't enough time. They were going to be killed, unless…

She collected herself, her courage, and as much air as she could. "Mordremoth! I'm not done with you yet! Fight me! You coward!" She screamed and challenged, and bless the Six – it worked! Acknowledging her, the vines stopped in their tracks, turning around to attack her instead. Though feckless in her trapped form, she held her sword and shield firmly in her hands. This was a fine way to die, she concluded.

Pouring every ounce of strength from their bodies, the remainder of the defenders forced the gate open just far enough for them to pass through one by one. One soldier did not make the escape, feeling a vine tangle his feet just as it was his turn to go, and they pulled him into the darkness. Screaming… then choking. Then, silence. The Mordrem engulfed the fort, cutting off the way home.

In the end, only Bohan, Asterix, his bear, and two Seraph remained. And all they found at the other side was an abandoned camp.

This was Camp Resolve.