"Ah-ah, eyes forward, please." The voice said.

"Alright." Jack said, doing his best to sound non-chalant. Internally however, his head was racing, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn't casting a spell with a blade against his neck. By the time he got the word halfway out of his mouth, they'd probably have a dagger in his spine. He tried tapping into his fighting instincts, but they also sent back a less than positive picture. He was good at armed, battlefield combat. He was stronger now, and had some sense of how to fight bare-handed, but it wasn't his specialty. He only had a decent chance against someone who wasn't armed, or someone who didn't have the jump on him. Unfortunately, his enemy managed to have both advantages.

He could try and pull away, turn, and attempt to disarm his opponent before they could react, but he knew in his gut that that would be both dangerous, and not terribly likely to succeed. Dropping down and attempting to sweep their legs would probably be the same result.

Unfortunately for him, he was gonna have to think his way out of this one. Or talk his way out of it.

He didn't feel good about his chances.

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"So, what's the plan here? Are you wanting to take my stuff? Because seriously, it's not worth much." Jack said. "I mean, I've got some decent pasteries and a couple changes of clothes, and that's about it."

Which, omitting his axe, wasn't really a lie, now that he thought about it.

"We're not interested in your items," The voice said. "What we're interested in is what has led a man armed with an obviously magical weapon, accompanied by a talented fighter and a rogue into our forest."

"That's it?" Jack asked, a little bit taken aback. "We're just pa.s.sing through. We're chasing after some gnolls that took a friend of ours. We actually had no idea anyone had claimed this forest."

"So, you're after The Iron Hounds." The voice said.

"I... guess? Is that what the gnoll clan led by some powerful shaman that lives past here is called?" Jack asked.

"The very same." the voice said, then added "which, by virtue of your goal, makes you no enemy of us."

Jack felt the metal lift from the back of his neck. Instinctively, he rubbed his hand against the spot where it had been pressed, and returned stained red. His eyes widened, but before he could react further, the voice explained.

"I sometimes forget how sharp my blades are. Intimidation was the goal. Harming you, however, was not."

Jack wiped his hand on his pants.

"Well, for whatever it's worth, I never felt it cut in, so they must be ridiculously sharp." He said. "So, do I have to keep standing like this facing away from you while surrounded by your men, or can we just talk like normal adults?"

The voice behind him made a noise of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You can do what you like, so long as it doesn't involve leaving or attacking us." The voice said.

Jack s.h.i.+fted his weight, and turned to face the voice behind him.

Behind him was a younger man, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, with shoulder length wavy hair and grey eyes. His features were sharp and intelligent, but his face was heavily pockmarked by what looked like acne scars. He was wearing a dark green doublet of what looked like felt and leather, and held a pair of wickedly curved knives in his hands. Directly behind him stood over half a dozen more figures in their matching dark outfits.

Before Jack could say anything, the young man spoke again, s.h.i.+fting both knives to one of his hands and offering the other in a handshake.

"Welcome to Darks.h.i.+re Forest."