,"What do you mean we're ineligible?" Iris's voice, sharp as shattered glass, echoed in the Elder's dimly lit study. Her glare could curdle milk.
The Elder, his blue eyes ancient and unyielding, remained seated. "You haven't even received your adventurer medallions, let alone proven yourselves in the field. Going after the Mug-hag is suicide."
Hunter watched, a mixture of admiration and apprehension churning within him. They'd been pleading for hours, trying to convince the Elder to let them hunt the Swamp Monster before it reached the village. Iris, however, was a force of nature.
"We're the *only* ones brave enough," Iris insisted, her voice rising. "Those 'expert adventurers' are nothing but a bunch of scared rabbits! Every minute we waste, that monster gets closer to innocent people!"
The Elder slammed his fist on the table. "I will not send children to their deaths! This isn't a game. Get out!"
The market square buzzed with activity as they walked away, a stark contrast to the Elder's tense study. Hunter kept his hands in his pockets, his expression neutral, while Iris practically hummed with barely contained fury.
"Let's go grab some drinks from the tavern?" Hunter suggested mildly.
Iris stopped, a glint of mischief replacing her anger. "Better," she said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. "I've got a contact. Someone who might be willing to overlook a minor detail like...lack of official certification, and let us leave the Village"
-------
The air hung heavy and humid, a thick green blanket draped over the whispering reeds of the Whispering Marshes. Hunter Dragan, all elbows and knees, stumbled over a particularly stubborn root, sending a spray of muddy water onto his already damp trousers. He grumbled, more to himself than to Iris, who strode ahead with the grace of a woodland sprite, her emerald eyes scanning the murky depths.
"H–honestly, Iris," Hunter complained, wiping a smear of mud from his cheek, "Couldn't we have picked a less... swampy location for our first hunt? My grandmother always said swamps were bad for one's complexion."
Iris didn't even bother to turn around. Her dark braid, usually meticulously plaited, was now escaping its bonds, strands clinging damply to her cheek. "The Elders once spoke of a creature dwelling here, it's not as strong as the Mug-hag. Its scales are said to shimmer with the same light as the moonstone. If we kill it, we can definitely defeat the Mug-hag and take its crystal"
Hunter sighed dramatically. He'd much rather be practicing his newly-acquired earth manipulation spell, coaxing flowers to bloom at his command, than wrestling with muck and mythical swamp monsters. But the woman,.both of them had met the day before a woman whose wisdom was only surpassed by her terrifying stare, had made the quest clear: hunt the Grolak, save the village from another bout of mysteriously wilting crops then find the Mug-hag afterwards. And Iris, with her unparalleled archery skills, was the only one brave – or foolish – enough to accompany him.
The marshes seemed to breathe around them, the air thick with the smell of decaying vegetation and something vaguely fishy. Giant dragonflies, their wings shimmering like stained glass, zipped past, their buzzing a constant drone in the oppressive silence. Hunter, despite his initial complaints, found a strange sort of beauty in the desolate landscape – a wild, untamed beauty that contrasted sharply with the neat rows of his village's vegetable patches.
Their journey was punctuated by unexpected obstacles. Spiders the size of dinner plates scuttled across their path, their hairy legs leaving trails in the thick mud. Hunter, never one for creepy crawlies, yelped more than once, causing Iris to roll her eyes with practiced amusement. At one point, they had to navigate a treacherous bog, relying entirely on Iris's keen sense of balance and Hunter's somewhat shaky earth magic to create temporary stepping stones.
"You know," Hunter said, struggling to keep his balance on a particularly wobbly rock, "I'm starting to think the Elder exaggerated the power of this crystal. Maybe a nice, ordinary rock would have been less… perilous."
"You haven't even seen the Grolak yet," Iris replied, her voice calm despite the precarious situation. She deftly leapt across a gap, landing with the quiet grace of a cat. "And besides," she added, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "a little adventure never hurt anyone."
Hunter, though still slightly terrified, had to admit there was a thrill to the danger. He was used to the predictable routine of village life, the familiar comfort of his herb garden and the quiet hum of his spells. This...this was different. This was exhilarating.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached a clearing. In the center, nestled amongst the gnarled roots of a giant cypress tree, was the Grolak. It was even more grotesque than the village elder had described: a hulking mass of scales and slime, with eyes like glowing embers and claws that could easily rend a man in two. It resembled a colossal, malformed frog, its skin a patchwork of greens, browns, and sickly yellows.
The Grolak let out a guttural croak, a sound that vibrated through Hunter's very bones. He instinctively reached for his staff, his fingers tracing the familiar runes carved into the wood. Iris, without a word, nocked an arrow, her movements fluid and precise.
The battle was less a grand duel and more a chaotic scramble. The Grolak, surprisingly nimble despite its size, lunged at them, its claws slashing through the air. Hunter, using his earth magic, attempted to create a protective wall of earth, but the Grolak simply smashed through it with a roar, sending chunks of mud flying. Iris, meanwhile, peppered the beast with arrows, each shot finding its mark with deadly accuracy.
Hunter, realizing his earth magic was ineffective against such brute force, switched tactics. He focused on the swamp itself, manipulating the mud and water to ensnare the Grolak's massive legs. The Grolak struggled, its roars echoing through the marshes, but the mud clung tenaciously, slowing its movements.
This gave Iris the opening she needed. With a final, deadly accurate shot, she pierced the Grolak's thick hide, striking a point near its heart. The creature let out a final, agonized shriek before collapsing into a heap of scales and slime.
Exhausted but triumphant, Hunter and Iris approached the fallen Grolak.
Hunter couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. He might not have been the most graceful fighter, but he had played a crucial role in their victory. And as he looked at Iris, her face smudged with mud but her eyes shining with satisfaction, he felt a familiar pang in his chest – a mix of admiration and the ever-present ache of unrequited love. Maybe, just maybe, this adventure might bring them closer together, even if it was only a small step.
Even the spiders seemed to give them a wide berth. As they walked, Hunter couldn't resist sharing a small joke about the Grolak's unfortunate fashion sense, a comment that, to his immense surprise, earned him a genuine chuckle from Iris.
Perhaps, Hunter thought, the swamp had been a good idea after all. Not only had they proven to be strong, but they'd also gained a slightly less prickly Iris, and the mud had only enhanced her already captivating looks. Maybe he would attempt that joke again tomorrow.