The first slivers of dawn cut through the cracks in the barn’s battered walls, pale and weak against the lingering haze of smoke. The night had stretched on forever, filled with relentless attacks, clawing creatures, and hails of projectiles. At least until they had gotten the Hearth’s Protection ritual running.

  Now, the sky was lightening, shifting from black to deep blue, then a dull gray.

  Yet no reinforcements arrived.

  The protective ritual had done its job, creating a flickering golden barrier that slowed the enemy’s advances. But the magic was fading, and the hoarderscales weren’t gone yet.

  Outside, the field was littered with the twitching remains of the smaller creatures. The larger ones still held to the forests edge, ready to retreat toward the deeper forest. Silent shadows leaped around, tried the protective magic and left, only to return a bit later. The enemies’ numbers should have been depleted by the fierce fighting, but they increased instead. Either more hoarderscales hatched somewhere nearby, or all of them gathered near the barn.

  Selvara had been peacefully preening her feathers beside Weylan when, without warning, she flared her wings and snapped her head up, her sharp eyes darting around the barn.

  Weylan tensed immediately, hand going to his sword, scanning the dimly lit interior for threats. The barn doors were still barred, the makeshift defenses held, and the only sounds were the restless shifting of the others as they waited. Nothing seemed amiss.

  Frowning, he leaned closer and whispered, “What’s wrong, Selvara?”

  She hesitated, her feathers still ruffled. Then, after a quick glance to make sure no one else was listening, she murmured, “I don’t know. I just started getting XP for no reason.”

  Weylan’s grip on his weapon loosened a bit. “Maybe some of the hoarderscales you hit finally bled out?”

  “It’s too much for that. Way too much. The notifications are still coming in.” Her voice carried an edge of unease. “This has to be from Malvorik sharing his XP with me as his familiar.”

  Weylan inhaled sharply. “Then there's fighting in the dungeon?”

  Selvara gave an irritated caw before switching back to speech. “No way to tell for sure. Could just be adventurers delving into his territory, or maybe he uncovered a monster nest.” She fell silent, following the stream of XP rolling in, her claws flexing anxiously against the wooden beam she perched on.

  The numbers kept climbing. Then, suddenly, the flow of notifications slowed… and stopped.

  Selvara let out a slow breath. “It’s over. Whatever was happening, it ended.” She tilted her head, listening for something beyond human perception. “I don’t feel anything wrong, so Malvorik is probably fine.”

  Weylan nodded, forcing himself to relax. “He’ll tell us when we return.”

  But the uneasy feeling lingered as they returned to their silent vigil.

  An hour later, the priestesses clutched their staves, eyes wide and anxious, as Mirabelle peeked out the window. Her voice was tight with worry. “Where are they? Someone should be here by now.”

  Faya bit her lip. “We heard some horns… someone must have answered the quest, right?”

  Trulda ground her teeth. They were still alone.

  Weylan suddenly gripped the shutters he was looking through tight enough to make them squeal, threatening to tear from their hinges. Everyone stared at him. He turned around, grim faced. “Some of the hatchlings have turned away from the farm. They’re preparing to attack the farm’s main building.”

  Skorr had to restrain the farmer from storming out of the barn to protect his family. “Don’t waste your life! There’s still half a dozen juvenile-spitters out there. They’d kill you before you even reach the farm. They are too many. If we try another sally, they’ll swarm us.”

  Weylan’s face lit up. “Wait… someone’s coming. I think it’s adventurers on horses. They’re heading right for the farm.” After a few more moments his grin widened. “I know that team. Old acquaintances of ours.” He glanced at the priestesses and chose his words carefully. “We watched them fight once. It’s the one with the alternative mage and the parkour master.”

  * * *

  The first light of dawn barely crept over the horizon as Darken’s team, the Vanguard of Innovation, spurred their horses toward the location of the scourge infestation. Local farmers and hunters could easily point them toward the farm from where bright lights and battle sounds came from. The players had started their weekend early when rumors of an area quest swamped the forums, logging in ahead of the main adventuring force. If they were quick enough, they might even beat the official city response. A fact they were eager to brag about later.

  Dust kicked up behind them as they raced across the fields, the borrowed horses not bred for combat but swift enough to get them here before anyone else.

  “Remember, we need to get the horses back alive, or we’re broke.” Bernd muttered as he tightened his grip on the reins.

  Darken, their leader, didn’t look back. “Yeah, that would suck. But if we’re the first ones here, we take the glory. We probably can’t stop a scourge by ourselves, but we can save some of the locals.”

  Their confidence wavered as they neared the farmstead. It was eerily silent. No birds, no wind, just the distant, unsettling sound of something skittering.

  Fleetfoot squinted at the farm. “There are people inside the farm building. I just saw someone at the window. A child!”

  Then, they saw movement.

  A swarm of tiny, dark forms, hatchling-hoarderscales, burst from the treeline like a tide of scaly vermin.

  Bernd gripped his shield tight and looked at the improvised weapon Darken had gotten for him from a tired carpenter he’d woken up early. A quick explanation and a few gold coins had stopped the man from calling the guard and made him hurry into his workshop. Sawing and hammering, like only a master craftsman with the right skills could. The thing looked like a slightly bigger than normal table tennis bat someone had put in long nails from both sides, so the areas were full of pointy spikes. The warrior rolled his eyes, then gave his horse a kick with his heels. “Intercept them!”

  They raced forward.

  Legolias started the fight by casting a magic projectile spell. A translucent sphere appeared above his hand. He stopped and cast the second part of his spell, filling the sphere with blue light. Then he threw it, while still keeping tight control. The hoarderscales easily jumped out of the spell’s trajectory, but at a mental command of its caster, the sphere turned sharply, right at a surprised hatchling that was still in the air. The magic projectile exploded in a flash of cold air, instantly freezing the tiny monster. When it hit the ground at the end of its arc, it shattered. Legolias grinned, but his grin soon faded. There were too many monsters and his casting time was much too long. He considered using the old-fashioned Firebolt spell to fire a swarm of tiny fireballs, but he wasn’t nearly as good at targeting that spell. He’d never hit. He stayed as far away from the fight as he could, but the monsters had already taken notice of him. A trio of cat-sized lizards with hardened scale growths, long teeth and sharp claws stepped out of the underbrush and stared right at him. He took the time to analyze them.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Juvenile-Hoarderscale-Dreadclaw, Level 5

  Scourge-Type Monster

  “Watch out, they have some melee battle forms over there!”

  As the battle lines met, the fight got chaotic immediately. Bernd jumped from his horse and met the scourge with his shield raised in front of him. Which earned him some hits from the hidden spitters at his feet. He just grinned as the stones harmlessly pinged off his steel leg guards. Then the hatchlings jumped at him and he swung his Table Tennis Bat of Spiky Death?. The short handle combined with the large area made it easy to hit even the nimble hatchlings. The warrior laughed as he splattered his attackers left and right, but it was like trying to fight a river. The hatchlings zig-zagged unpredictably, leaping at them with razor-sharp teeth and claws. Then a hatchling jumped at his shield, raced up and lunched right at his face. It bit deep in his cheek. Screaming, he batted the monster away, scratching his shoulder with the spikes in the process.

  Fleetfoot’s horse screamed, rearing back as a hatchling latched onto its flank. “We can’t hold them off!” Fleetfoot shouted.

  Bernd’s horse thrashed violently as a second wave of the monsters leaped onto its legs, chewing and clawing.

  Darken cursed. They had no area spells to clear the field, not enough shields to form a defensive line. Their borrowed horses were panicking, and they were barely keeping the creatures away. He spurred his horse forward and galloped at full speed toward the farmhouse. From the bag at his side, he pulled out a handful of vials filled with a sparkling liquid. As soon as he was in range, he threw one at the farmhouse and turned to circle the building. The vial fragmented and the liquid inside immediately evaporated into a fine mist cloud. His horse let out a sharp cry as hatchlings leapt onto its flanks, but they couldn't keep their grip. He threw vials at every side of the house and then turned back to the rest of his group.

  “Fall back!” he shouted. “Get moving!”

  The warrior didn’t manage to reach his horse that was already fleeing from a large group of hatchlings. They targeted its vulnerable feet and it started stumbling. Bernd tried to reach it, but two of the dreadclaws confronted him. The first one pounced at him and only his shield prevented it from goring him outright. Long claw marks covered his shield, as the surprisingly heavy lizard fell back down. While he kept the first away with his shield, he hit the other one with a backhand swing. His bat-like weapon smacked into its side, but the nails barely penetrated the hardened scales. It turned mid-air and a flick of its tail hit his head and let his ears ring. Then both monsters were back on the ground and started to circle him.

  A pair of magic projectiles hit the distracted monsters simultaneously. Electricity sparked from the lightning payload of the spells. The dreadclaws jumped, both from surprise as well as the shock of the attack, but seemed largely unaffected.

  Bernd used the distraction to switch from his new weapon to his usual sword. A quick exchange of strikes made the monsters weary, so they pulled back a bit, waiting for reinforcements. And the swarms of tiny hatchlings neared quickly.

  They had no choice but to retreat, dragging the terrified horses away as fast as possible. Bernd’s mount collapsed under the attack of a dreadclaw and swarming hatchlings, forcing them to leave it behind. The rest bolted, kicking up dirt as they fled. Bernd proved once again that humans could keep up with horses for short distances.

  Breathless and bleeding, the team regrouped at a safe distance. The hatchlings, more interested in devouring the downed horse, didn’t pursue.

  Darken groaned, clutching a fresh bite wound. “That was awful. But at least we stopped them from attacking the farm. I’ve covered the building with voidbalm. They should be unable to smell anything in the area for an hour or so. That should keep them away. Let’s wait for the main force arriving.”

  The other nodded. Legolias looked at the barn. “What exactly is voidbalm? I don’t remember that being on the list of common alchemical elixirs. One of your inventions?”

  Darken nodded proudly and showed him his last vial. After a bit of rummaging in his bag, he also showed him the flyer he made to sell his invention.

  Voidbalm, a creation of Dark Aromatherapy

  Mixed in an alchemical crucible from a forgotten tomb, Voidbalm is an oil that does not mask scent, it devours it. Infused with the black essence of withered nightshade and distilled from the marrow of creatures that hunt without sight, this concoction erases all traces of odor, leaving only an eerie void where scent once lingered.

  When applied to skin, cloth, or even rotting flesh, Voidbalm seeps into the fibers and consumes all sources of smell. Hunters, assassins, and those who walk unseen anoint themselves with this oil to become ghosts upon the wind. Beware! Excessive use may lead to the dissolution of the nasal cavity, the shedding of skin, and the slow, agonizing liquefaction of flesh.

  Legolias raised an eyebrow. “Liquefaction of flesh?”

  Darken waved the comment off. “A very rare side effect. Barely ever happens.”

  “Aha…” They turned around as horn signals sounded in the distance. First from behind, then minutes later from left and right. Legolas’s ears twitched. “That’s the city guard arriving. They’re starting to surround the area, as expected. They won’t attack until they’ve closed off all escape routes.”

  * * *

  An hour passed.

  The sun rose higher, burning away the last shadows of the night. A warm breeze stirred the dust and dried the blood on their skin, but the tension refused to lift. Then, at last… movement.

  Weylan, who had barely peeled himself away from his watch post, squinted toward the tree line. “Finally.”

  Through the lingering mist, figures emerged moving in tight formations, spread out to encircle the area. Not a reckless charge, but a calculated approach.

  “Guards,” Skorr muttered. His voice was hoarse. “And adventurers. Looks like they’re making sure nothing gets past them.”

  Steel glinted in the sunlight as city guardsmen advanced carefully, scanning for hidden threats. A few adventurers, clad in mismatched armor and enchanted cloaks, moved alongside them, their weapons drawn. While the guards kept a tight formation, the adventurers raced around, jumping at every group of enemies they found. Some kept back to catch anything that tried to escape. It was a well-organized containment operation.

  Only when they were sure that the infestation was locked down did they finally close in on the barn. Arrows and crossbow bolts fell like rain. Magic projectiles of all colors formed a deadly rainbow. Where monsters tried to run, they were cut down by guards and eager groups of adventurers.

  The battle was soon over, the adventurers just had to mop up the last remnants.

  Trulda exhaled sharply, rolling her stiff shoulders. “Took them long enough.”

  Alina leaned against the barn wall, gripping her quarterstaff with white-knuckled exhaustion. “Let’s just hope they brought breakfast.”

  * * *

  Weylan couldn’t place the exact rank of the guard commander who entered the barn first, but the sheer number of insignias on his uniform spoke of authority. The officer swept the dim interior with a sharp gaze, ensuring no monsters remained, then turned and strode back outside. Moments later, Steward Jago entered, leaning heavily on his cane, his exhaustion evident in the lines on his face. He probably had not had a moment of rest since news about the area quest dropped.

  “Well done, Weylan,” Jago said dryly. “You are the first of my apprentices to trigger a scourge outbreak on his very first mission. That takes a special kind of talent.”

  Weylan choked on his response, but before he could protest, the steward cracked a grin. “Relax. I’m joking. You did well containing the hoarderscales long enough for us to surround them.” He gestured for Weylan to speak. “Now, tell me what happened.”

  Weylan and the others quickly recounted the events, detailing every moment of the fight. Weylan made sure to emphasize how well the priestesses had stood up to combat pressure, since he’d been seriously impressed. During the brief lull provided by the protection ritual, they had even insisted he teach them some basic close-quarters techniques. As they finished, a guard stepped inside, saluting sharply.

  “Steward Jago, our rangers and mages have traced the hoarderscales’ origin. It’s some kind of cave beneath a farm to the north. The place is completely wrecked. The livestock are gone. No survivors so far, but we secured the perimeter and kept our distance.”

  Jago’s expression darkened. “Remind the adventurers to stay clear of the site. I’ll handle the investigation personally.” His gaze shifted back to Weylan. “You and your team will accompany me. You’ve earned that much. We’ll also take the revenant team that arrived first on the spot. It always pays to give them an incentive for quick action in times of crisis.” Before Weylan could respond, Jago waved the Vanguard over. “See if they picked up any useful intel during the fight.”

  Then he went away to organize a group to inspect the origin site.

  The Vanguard of Innovation were in high spirits after the battle. As they approached, Legolias and Darken both immediately recognized Weylan.

  “Hello shepherd,” said the elven mage while Darken started with. “Greetings, shopkeeper.”

  They both looked at each other, then back at Weylan. Legolias raised a brow. “Wait. This is the shopkeeper who sold you the spell matrices? The one who helped you take down the acid snails?”

  Darken, lowering his voice to keep the conversation private, added in a conspiratorial tone, “And the one I bought the dungeon token from.” He turned back to Weylan with an approving nod. “That was fantastic, by the way. Best dungeon I’ve ever run.”

  Legolias glanced between the two, amused. “It seemed like you also know the baron’s steward. You look like you fought against half the scourge with your team and…” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “I see you’re still together with the barmaid. Good for you.”

  Weylan’s face burned red. He inhaled sharply, trying to compose himself. “That’s not… We’re not… Well, that’s a long story. The Wandering Shop reopened its portal, but it got stuck in Eldenrest. I had to find work, so now I’m apprenticed under Steward Jago. He sent me with a small team to level up a few young healers on a harmless pest control quest.” He sighed. “Turned out, it wasn’t boggart-squirrels. It was hoarderscales.”

  Both revenants winced at the thought of such a surprise.

  Weylan shrugged. “Let’s exchange battle stories on the way to the scourge’s nest.”