[Ned Flanders]

Pharis, removing his monocle and grinning ear to ear, turned to head deeper in the woods having gleefully observed Tashara struggle with the transformation from woman to arachnid. She’ll be none too pleased, he thought to himself, glancing through the dense forest canopy stealing a glimpse of the crimson, gold, and mauve waves in the western sky, but what a view through those eyes. His thoughts wandered to her companion, suspicion rising again at the sight of the faerie dragon. Magical, mischievous, and inquisitive, he wondered if the dragon was able to detect the strong dweomers present in his kukri and armor and the consequences it might bring should the dragon relate any information to her.

Picking up the pace and activating his invisibility ring, he made not a sound while rambling across the forest floor. Howls from the pack echoed in the distance indicating they had located the orcs and were corralling them in the proper direction. He angled his way through the forest settling on leaning up against a large oak to wait patiently for their arrival. He continued to hold his armor, Drital, in his right hand and pausing, made to unsheathe one of the two kukris he had strapped on the right of his belt. He took a deep breath and grasped the handle of Belbau d’dro, waves of emotion invading his mind, the two words, duul’sso ussa, ricocheted in his head. He submitted to the telepathic request, and drew the blade from its sheath, her diatribe beginning immediately.

Is that any way to treat one who’s been so loyal to your cause over the years? The gratitude I receive for sustaining your life far longer than one of your kind deserves. If I had known you were to turn out so soft, I would’ve never…

Begged me to take you with me, Pharis playfully interrupted.

I did not beg, the blade proudly stated.

Really? You’d still be sitting on the bottom of Donigarten were it not for your incessant whining…

It should be you sleeping with the fishes.

Zuul’shaa is the dimmest dark elf to ever wander the underdark. Knowing you as I do, I dare say you betrayed your former master.

Silence.

And?!

I’m thirsty., the kukri whined in Pharis' head.

And so shall you drink.

Again there was a pause...Orc!? It’s been over a year and the best you can serve for an inaugural dish is orc!? I refuse. The blade had taken a rather haughty tone with its' master, apparently unimpressed with the snack prepared for her.

I can sheath you for another year, Pharis chided the sentient weapon.

You wouldn’t dare! Relations would be much smoother if you would just admit to yourself how much you need me.

You’re daft. Sometimes I wish you were created by a man.

A male couldn’t craft such beauty.

Well, whatever. Lick your chops, lady, lunch is served.

Belbau d’dro sent a mild, uncomfortable shudder through Pharis’ body, intentionally so, symbolic of the blades' disdain for its upcoming meal. The orcs made an enormous racket, aimlessly romping through the forest, away from the cries of the stalking wolves. The bulk of the force, some two dozen, made a wide path through the wood, passing quickly, unaware of the predator in their midst. Pharis selected a straggler headed in his direction. The unlucky orc passed right next to the great oak tripping on Pharis’ outstretched invisible foot. His invisibility dispelled, Pharis tossed the armor in front of the prone orc as he slowly regained his senses. He crept up behind the orc until he was within reach, completely silent in his steps, the orc fixated on the armor in front of him.