Clotho smirked as she spectated Umbra's fascination with the old man's death.  She held the shadowy creature in low regard, a being swaddled in apathy and too fixated upon his own wants to ever grow into something more significant.  If a being couldn't rouse itself to care about anything, it could never rise farther than the lowliest peon.  Not sharing his lustful enthusiasm for killing, the swarm queen began to leave, her bugs already having robbed the house of most of its valuables.  [color=9F8170]“I thought I'd let one of the Master's lesser servants have a kill.  Don't let it go to your head, eidolon.”[/color]  By the time Umbra vacated the armor to let it tumble noisily to the floor, Clotho had already bugged out.

Leaving through the same window by which she'd entered, Clotho shot upward to a vantage point in order to scope out the hamlet's current status.  She found it almost wiped out already, many bodies laying dead in the streets, structures bombed, and a plume of unnaturally hot air coming from the blacksmith.  A bunch of surviving villagers holed up in the windmill had been transported to the woods and bound in shackles by one of her demonic allies.  Already it seemed that the local temple had been sacked by dark forces seeking to prey on the priests' piety, so there was little to do there.  Other various monsters were pursuing and easily taking down the few villagers remaining that had fled.  Furthermore, an ill feeling was gathering throughout the place, one that Clotho could dimly trace to the young Emily.  Judging by the arcane rune inscribed before her, the sorceress planned to unleash some sort of spell.  If it didn't level every building, Clotho decided, she'd be surprised.  Emily was a lot of power crammed into a deceptively small and unassuming body, and with her array of Sung Spirits and prowess with fire, she was one of the stronger members of the Master's horde.  Not wanting to stick around and risk immolation, Clotho scanned the village's perimeter and beheld a twitching patch of grass within a foxhole, where no wind should have been able to reach it.

In a flash, Clotho dove from her vantage point and alighted on the lip of the foxhole.  She placed her palm onto the ground, transmitting instruction, and a moment later a mass of earthworms jammed together into a single, huge amalgamation burst from the ground beneath the patch of grass.  As it climbed into the air, it carried with it an old man.  His face was wrinkled with laugh lines and adorned with bushy gray eyebrows, but it held less fear than Clotho might expect.  The swarm queen tilted her head.  [color=9F8170]“You're a clever one.  By fleeing on your own, slowly and hidden, you escaped the sight of the brutes and the senses of the spirits, who chased down more tumultuous targets.”[/color]  She looked at his getup, believing that she recognized it.  [color=9F8170]“You are the village alchemist, no?  I have been searching for a human who'd be able to aid me.  I am always seeking to expand my knowledge of toxins, chitin, and magical substances, you see.  Judging from your collected composition, you are not a coward...merely a man who wishes to live, as all do.  I can offer you protection if you can offer me your complete compliance.  Of course, this is not optional.”[/color]  So saying, Clotho sheathed her rapier and grabbed the man beneath his shoulders.  She flew with him to where Azavarn's captives stood, and deposited him among the others.  She landed next to the scarlet-haired demon.  [color=9F8170]“Greetings.  This man will serve me.  Pick him a younger assistant and send both to my hive when we return to the Dungeon, or find a subordinate to do it if you are not so inclined.  Must I offer you something in return for this service?”[/color]  Clotho meant the question more as a jape than anything, given Azavarn's nature, but there was always the chance that he'd demand something of her for even something as small as this.