The Vipers' Nest

[Yuhkon]

Chapter 1
Falric stiffened as the Warchief and his entourage of Vipers entered the courtyard. The Serenite commander took his time walking, strolling almost, shifting his gaze from recruit to recruit as he approached. With every meter Falric felt the nervous tension among his peers grow a little, and he could tell from the smell of sweat invading his nostrils that some of them were afraid. As for himself, he did feel a little pit of anxiety in his stomach, he had to admit, but he was mostly just eager. This was warchief Gerillar, the most esteemed warrior in all of the Realm and a legendary commander besides, coming to train them, anonymous young men and women plucked from nondescript nooks and crannies all over the city, train them to become the Lady Songstress' most elite warriors. Falric looked to the left and right and saw that the other recruits were all looking down at their feet. When he turned back to the Warchief, he saw that it was his turn to be looked at. An intense feeling of scrutiny washed over him, as if his naked soul was being assessed for all the weak spots it might have, just so the Warchief could press them one by one later and make Falric's body drop limply to the ground; so intense was the Warchief's gaze. But Falric felt not only scrutiny, but also empowerment, honour, pride, scrap, an urge to prove, and he managed to compel himself to look back into Gerillar's eyes. They were unflinching, and his mouth held the same tight line it had had when he walked through the gate. Falric could have sworn that Gerillar's frown even intensified a little.
Finally the Warchief stopped in front of the line of recruits. He put his hand on the pommel of his blade and began. "From the stink of your sweat - and is that shit I smell? Shame on you, soldier - I gather that you are aware that today, you will be catching your own vipers." Gerillar took off his gauntlets, dropped them in the dust, and undid the sash he wore across his chest. He held the snake corpse by the head, making sure to point its lifeless eyes at the recruits. "It's this little bugger you'll be looking for. Most venomous snake in Gielinor. Most aggressive one, too. Silent as the night. It'll be waiting for you in trees, under rocks, in the water, ready to lunge at your soft little throats. Apart from its 6-cm fangs, you gotta watch out for its barbed tail and tendency to spit hissing acid venom in the general direction of your eyes. Should you get bit, or - Seren forbid - swallow its venom, you will feel your innards burn and disintegrate and your spine shatter into a thousand pieces, all within a manner of minutes. You won't be able to say your goodbyes to your buddies, for your tongue will have swollen to the size of a Pawya, and you won't be able to see them anyway on account of your eyes having crumpled into a point." Gerillar grinned and hung the snake sash back over his scaled armour. "Of course, you all know that, provided you did your research. You had five days - I hope for your own sake that you prepared well. Each of you will get a trident and a net. You may not wear armour. You will go in teams of two. Your goal, brothers and sisters of the Voice, is to become this beastie." The Warchief fingered the black-and-teal scales of the Barb-tailed Lurker. "Bring back a snake and become a viper, comrades. That is all you need to do. Songstress preserve you!"
Immediately, the gate behind them rattled open, and the recruits fell into the scramble for a partner. Falric found himself staring at the snake's head on Gerillar's shoulder, mesmerised by the glassy blood-red eyes. Then he felt someone pulling on his tunic. "Hey, it's Falric, right?" said a female voice. "Name's Gwynnlen. I saw you looked back at the Warchief. That makes you a good partner. What do you say?" Falric turned to Gwynnlen and nodded. She pressed a trident into his hands, slung her net over head shoulder, and out they went, into Isafdar like a pair of wide-eyed, membraned hatchlings.

[Yuhkon]

Chapter 2
It soon became apparent that Gwynnlen was much easier to look at than Warchief Gerillar. Falric thus lagged behind a little, although Gwynnlen also just had a quicker step than him. She was chatting all the while, hacking away ferns and vines in front of them as she told him about how she had experienced the first five days of their training. Gwynnlen was easy to listen too, and Falric found that her energy was contagious.
"So where are you from, Falric? I'm from Port Tyras, originally. My parents moved to Seren Song after the conquest, but it's hard for us dark elves to find a job in the capital. We're hardy ones though, so the barracks paid a good buck to have me for the program. I'm really psyched to be honest, I mean there's nothing to do in Tyras except haul cargo, and now at least I'll get to see some action. Sure, it's boring digging latrines or feathering arrows, but we're gonna be the best of the best, right? We gotta know all that, too. And I mean, with the Lady Royse, I feel like us elves finally have a destiny again. I wanna be there on the frontlines to see it. To make it, you know?"
Gwynnlen looked back at him. "You know what I mean?"
Falric pulled his eyes up. "Uh, yeah. I mean... I'm excited too. To be trained, I mean. The Vipers are legendary. But... do you believe it? Everything they say of the Lady Songstress?"
Gwynnlen shot him a curious look across her shoulder and laughed into the air. "Of course I don't. How could Seren be speaking through her? Seren's dead and gone. Doesn't mean we shouldn't carve a path for our people. There's so much outside Isafdar and the Lady Royse, divine or not, will help us see it. That's enough for me." Gwynnlen's audacity scarcely registered with Falric; it was that adorable chortle of hers that was still reverberating inside his head.
They pressed on for a while in silence after that, mostly because the foliage got thicker and the terrain harder to navigate towards the heart of the forest, where the barb-tailed lurker abided. Without the sound of Gwynnlen's voice, Falric fell into a contemplative mood. Only now did he start to realise the reality of his situation. They were out on the hunt for the most lethal snake in all of Gielinor. Those who could bring one back would be formally inducted into the Green Viper regiment. Those who couldn't were most likely dead. At least you didn't die a slow death, right?
In his effort to steel himself and regain the vigor he had set out with, he did notice Gwynnlen had stopped and almost cracked her on the temple with his trident, thinking it was a stalk he was hacking at.
"Whoa!" Gwynnlen deftly parried his trident with her own. "I'm not that snake-like, am I?"
"Oh, Gwynnlen! Songstress' sake, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
Say, Falric, do you actually have any idea where we're going?"
"Huh, what? Going? But I thought you were-"
"Heehee, just messing with you! There's no need to ask because we're here! I got this tip from a guy I know who went through his training two years ago. Prime spot for lurkers. The howlers avoid this place because of something in the water. Something happened to it a long time ago during the great war, supposedly. Whatever it is, lurkers dig it. Should be easy pickings from the edge of the pond. Come! Let's scoop up two of 'em and get out of here. Watch out for the tall grass though."
Gwynnlen started for the pond but stopped dead after three paces. "Falric, did you hear that? There's rustling. Falric?" She turned around and saw Falric with his weapon in hand and pointed forward. She followed the tines and saw they were aimed square at the shaggy, jet black forehead of a growling dire wolf.