I let the Trio enjoy their loot and look back at Aranya and the others. They’re still waiting, with Yvonne giving a bit of a play-by-play of the shifting hierarchy among the scythemaws.

Most seem to be more or less settled into their spots, but there’s one that seems a prime candidate for them to draw out. It’s a bit skinnier than the others around, but a whole lot meaner. I’d probably try for one of the others, but from how Yvonne talks about that one’s position, it’s going to be their best bet.

A larger one has been wandering around, and Yvonne thinks it’s waiting for someone to make better progress on a nest before simply muscling them out. It’ll probably get a few cuts from the fight, but there’s little doubt it’d be able to oust the smaller one, and it seems to be the best one for it to go after, too. The others are big enough they might be able to break something, so the skinnier one would be the clear choice.

It’s taking a while, though. Long enough for my attention to wander back to my spiderkin and their new enclave. I’m kinda surprised the scythemaws are mostly treating the cave like the enclave isn’t even there, considering how much they seem to hate spiders.

In fact, the first couple days they were in there, they were always stomping around, growling, and generally trying to get the spiderkin to come down and fight. The spiderkin, of course, have no intention of going down there… at least as long as they finish up relatively quickly. The cave lobster ponds are safe, but they don’t know how long the things will live without any help from the village.

The wranglers are fully confident that two weeks will be no problem, and are pretty sure they should be fine for a month or so. After that, opinions start differing, but they’re happy to leave the concern mostly for the future. The male maws have started showing up and strutting their stuff for the ladies, but no business has been conducted just yet. If they’re happy to lay fairly quickly and leave, the enclave can easily just wait. If they stick around to try to protect the eggs… we might have a problem.

It’s a pretty outside chance, though, so they’re content to wait. While it’s possible the mother scythemaws will starve themselves protecting their eggs, Yvoinne gives it pretty long odds.

And speaking of my favorite birb (sorry Poe), she speaks up from Violet’s doors, where she and Teemo are keeping a careful watch.

“The big one’s back. I think it’s time. With the males mingling now, she needs a nest if she wants a mate. Everyone remember their parts?” she asks, and everyone nods their heads. “Then get ready to open the doors all the way.”

I watch through Teemo as the scythemaw swaggers through the area outside. She sniffs at a few nests, but the ones there growl and convince her it’ll be too much hassle. She could probably take most of the scythemaws in the area, but they might get in some good licks. Yvonne calling that she’d bully the smaller one is right on the money, as she puffs herself up larger as she comes closer to the nest of the smaller one.

The outsider growls as she approaches, and the smaller roars, leaving the larger one unimpressed. She roars again as the other steps a foot into her area, but doesn’t yet attack. She knows this isn’t a fight she can win, but she also doesn’t want to give up her hard work.

A second leg intrudes on her domain, and it’s time to put up or shut up. She dashes forward, mandibles wide open, and her foe meets her. They lock maws, and it becomes a lot like a sumo match: first pushed out loses. Of course, with the difference in size, the smaller one never stood a chance. If she had managed to avoid locking mandibles together, she might have been able to use her speed, but she didn’t, and is pushed out without too much fuss.

She hisses and roars at the usurper, but the new tenant simply snaps her mandibles at the loser, showing she’s more than willing to defend her new home.

Meanwhile, at the doors, Yvonne gets them open and Aelara hurls a stone at it from across the cave. Everyone except Ragnar hides, and the grinning dwarf raps his hammer on his shield, taunting the angry tunnel horror. Whether it’s the insulting look, irritating sound, or the seemingly-empty room behind him, it doesn’t matter: she charges.

Ragnar laughs and runs back inside, taking up position behind a patch of puffballs. As the angry creature rushes in, Yvonne and Aranya work to get the doors closed as quickly as possible. Aelara prepares an earth spell as Ragnar stares down the charging monster. It doesn’t seem to even notice the puffballs popping as it rushes through, though I can see a slowed effect pop up over the scythemaw.

“C’mon, ye wee beastie! I’ve pulled worse things than ye out’a me ale!” yells Ragnar as he plants his feet and blocks the scythes; one on his shield, the other with his hammer. Aelara releases her spell, rooting Ragnar to the spot and helping him deal with all that momentum, while at the same time destabilizing the ground the maw stands on.

It roars in anger, and the dwarf responds with a laugh and a kick to the snout, causing it to rear back. “Och, ye’ll be a grand tale to tell!” he shouts, before getting his shield up just in time to block a swipe from the tail.

Aelara releases another spell, causing the floor under the maw to turn to sand for a moment, its feet sinking in. Then it hardens, leaving the monster restrained for a few moments. That gives Yvonne and Aranya the time to finish closing the doors, and can now join the fray.

“Thedeim’s Temper!” shouts Aranya and a soft orange glow surrounds Ragnar’s armor, shield, and hammer.

“Barrage!” yells Yvonne as she looses a handful of arrows at once. They don’t do much damage, but they do draw the maw’s attention for a moment, letting Ragnar step in and wallop it with his hammer.

“Hide’s tough! Need to hit it in the eyes or mouth!” yells Yvonne, more to let the others know she needs to be at the front. Aranya doesn’t have too much in the way of offense, even with the sword at her hip, and Aelara’s earth magic should be able to do a lot of damage if she actually decides to switch from hindering to damage.

The maw, though, isn’t just going to take this lying down. With a roar, it frees its legs, and swipes the debris at the ones at range. Ragnar whacks one of its mandibles from the opening, though, and I get the feeling he has the maw's full attention now.

“Tha’s right, beastie! Keep yer eyes on Ragnar!”

The maw starts to realize it’s in trouble, so attempts to deal with the small bearded menace. It moves its head to swipe at him, getting Ragnar to raise his shield, before dipping low and cutting into the earth like it’s butter. With a flick, Ragnar is sent into the air with a curse, before being snatched into the wicked mandibles.

“True Shot!” shouts Yvonne over the sound of strained metal, and the maw releases Ragnar with a roar as the arrow finds one of its eyes. He lands in a heap, but staggers to his feet with a manic grin. His chest piece has matching dents on the front and back now, though the orange glow has vanished. He coughs up a bit of blood, which only seems to make him grin wider.

“Weaver’s Tangle!” shouts Aranya as she finishes another spell, this time doing something to the scythemaw. The others seem to take it as a signal, and prepare attacks.

“Hol’ th’ Line!” bellows Ragnar, red spittle flying as he stares down the enraged scythemaw.

“True Shot!” follows Yvonne, her arrow glowing slightly as she waits for the perfect moment to let it fly.

“Stalactite Call!” finishes Aelara, pulling a large spear of rock from the ceiling, directly overhead of the scythemaw.

The monster charges Ragnar, ready to meet and overcome his challenge or die trying, before a twist of Fate seals its doom. “Bold Gambit!” shout all four, their efforts combining. The orange glow nudges its leading foot just a little before winking out, causing it to fall into the gap left from when the maw sent Ragnar into the air. It stumbles with a surprised grunt, and Yvonne releases her arrow into its throat. The beast rears back in pain, before the plummeting stalactite catches it right at the base of the skull and drives it to the floor with an echoing boom.

The party watches for a few moments to make sure the maw is dead, but the body doesn’t even twitch. Nobody wants to be the first to declare victory, but Ragnar soon grunts and takes a rough seat on the floor. “Urg… ‘m gonna feel this tomorra’,” he groans, tracing the long dent on his chest armor.

That seems to pop the tension, and Aelara walks over to heal him with a smile and shake of her head. “I was worried when that thing grabbed you, Ragnar.”

“Aye, how d’ye ken I felt?” he jokes, before looking over at Aranya. “What was that prayer y’ cast? I could feel it fightin’ tha’ bite.”

Aranya looks a bit embarrassed before she answers. “It’s inspired by the ratkin, actually. They remember working in the forges when they were still denizens, smelting ore and making crude gear. They like to ask to be tempered to never shatter, only to bend under great force. A bent sword can be straightened, or reforged much easier than a broken one.”

“Weaver’s Tangle is inspired by the spiderkin, then?” asks Aelara, and my High Priestess nods.

“They like to focus on his Fate aspect, saying he weaves small starts into glorious finales.”

“I’d certainly call that a pretty glorious finale,” says Yvonne as she examines the dead scythemaw, and the others all nod. Ragnar stands, seeming to be feeling much better after being healed, but his face falls as he looks at the dead beast.

“How’re we gonna get it out’a here?”