Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave walked into the vibrant architecture of this stone monument to a culture long perished, seeking to restrain the Brumesingers before they caused any problems. Though he was cautious about the dryads, he felt inaction might pose a problem given the fact his druidic bonds were doing something far from the mean.

He cast a spell and the little creatures fortunately obeyed, backing away and coming back. One by one he scooped them up into his arms, and when that was done his eyes fell upon the dryad whose face still peeked from out the tree.

“Naughty foxes. Thieves. Best worn as coats, or scarves around the neck,” the dryad whispered gleefully.

“I would advise against trying to make that happen.” Argrave put his hand between the big fluffy ears of one of his pets, and then looked out across the place.

I’m not sure what this is, but I don’t need it right now, Argrave thought. If it is important, it can be dealt with in peacetime.

“Don’t mind the dryads,” Myriarch Batbayar said as he joined Argrave. “They’re quite childlike.”

Argrave wasn’t minding—as a matter of fact, he barely heard the elven commander speak. He surveyed the place thoroughly. Dozens of other dryads peeked their heads out of trees, disappearing and reappearing like mole rats with bark to hide them instead of the ground. But he found what he was looking for, standing there the same as ever.

“Like I promised... I’ll ignore them. I don’t need them, not yet-- more dire matters draw my attention,” Argrave assured Batbayar.

“Your sister-in-law...” Batbayar began, looking over at them. Argrave was briefly confused, but he remembered their cover story before the mistake could be noticed. The myriarch continued, “She reacted like a child I taught once. Her parents kept her inside a cave no larger than a cabinet for days on end, for months at a time. The mist brought back memories of that.”

Batbayar didn’t say how that applied to Onychinusa, but the pieces were easy enough to put together. Only difference being... I imagine Erlebnis kept her locked up for years at a time, not months, Argrave thought.

“She’s tough,” Argrave said, shaking his head. “She’ll manage. We’re heading for those stairs,” he told the man, then went to retrieve the rest.

#####

“You know... it’s taboo for people to come down here,” Batbayar told Argrave as they descended down the stairs he’d spotted.

In the distant reaches of the ruins, the roots of the trees in the courtyard above poked into this place. The dryads could manifest here, too. They repeated the word taboo, and giggled as they said they were going to tell on Batbayar. Their constant chatter had been somewhat annoying at the surface, but as the light dimmed in wake of the swallowing underground it was eerie.

Argrave looked over and said pointedly, “Given what you’ve already done, I don’t think taboos will make you shake in your boots.”

Batbayar said nothing further, conceding the point. Orion led them down, Argrave in the center and the two fake sisters in the back. The orb of spell light dancing about his head illuminated elaborate carvings on the walls, but Argrave paid them little mind. It was rather hard to focus on his surroundings when the Brumesingers squirmed in his pocket. It felt like a massager had found its way inside of his clothes.

“The only thing we’ll have to deal with are Yettles. Orion, I hope you can handle the burden of that, given your expertise fighting endless waves of woodland creatures. Deeper within, though there’s...” Argrave trailed off, feeling the foxes writhe in his pockets even faster. “These damned guys...”

it was an enemy. For the first time since he’d bonded with these creatures, it bit him, its teeth sinking into his glove. It couldn’t hurt him, but the fact it did it

scream loud enough to break glass... and stone, for that matter. You might not care, Onychinusa, but we...” the fox he’d

still seemed displeased by the

been all that. Sure, the architecture is great, but... beyond that? Yettles and mandragoras? Hardly an empire worth defending, if they should

to the elves,” Argrave said idly as he watched his pets, trying to decide what he might do about this. “Humans, other elves... they enslaved just about everybody. It was a slave rebellion

carving,” Anneliese pointed, where what looked to be a horseman with two people on it rode. “Centaurs and elves, both

knelt down, staring at his pets as dryads taunted

this thread out, discover what causes your bonds'’ misbehavior.” Anneliese looked at them

head. “We can handle all

can,” she agreed, though her tone carried the implication that

up at the roots where faces peeked

dryads seem to like my Brumesingers. They’re cute, aren’t

one of

“Hate them,” one groaned.

“Thieves,” one hissed.

furry things,” one

on a spit,”

tanning rack,” the last of them

arms out. “What did they steal from

for a while, and then the dryads grew quiet. It was like a bubbling classroom suddenly

stolened nothing... yet,”

they want to,” another

we just wait until they

might not

the past,” one

so far,” they

punctuated this conclusion of theirs,

so... prejudicial,”

want,” Argrave continued undaunted. “You can trade. But to give something to you as good as what they want, I need to know what they want,” he chose simple words,

our mist!”

“It protects us.”

“Blinds our enemies.”