Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius took a deep breath through his nostrils. Admittedly, a rhyming guardian was... not unexpected. He could at very least be thankful the fellow hadn't an out-of-tune flute or harp to further worsen his vocal performance.

"Ey," Krysaos shot his hand out-- immediately silencing the crew, "Back off. Musical expression ain't a crime."

"OooOh, Tychon," Elle took hold of his hand. "Can we see a show when we get back to Whitehearth? A musical, maybe?"

Tycon gave his lover a reluctant smile, "If you wish."

Coraline stepped forward to address the crew, "So obviously... there's thirteen paths that we can choose from. One... or more of them should lead us deeper in the forest to the Tree God..."

"Then fate shall decide for us," The Elven Ancient walked forward, standing tall. "Dear friends, allow me to be the first."

Krysaos narrowed his eyes, looking King up and down... "Yeah, go ahead. We'll see you on the other side."

"You have my thanks, friend-human," The Ancient smiled, his eyes glowing with his usual arrogance. "If this king is the first to meet the Tree God, he will force him to submit in battle until the time Coraline Heartsong can entreat him for her quest."

He bowed politely, "Let us meet again soon, noble friends and allies."

With that, he dashed towards an archway, blinking out of existence upon crossing the threshold. Within seconds, a growth of thick and thorny vines sealed it off, preventing others from following him.

Elle waved to get Coraline's attention, "Should... we ask about the difference between each archway? Maybe Mister Satyr can give us a hint?"

"I'm not so sure that'd help," Coraline pursed her lips, "I've read about this type of puzzle before. I'm fairly certain the guardian is only a caretaker of this place. He doesn't have to be truthful about where each path leads-- if he even knows, at all."

"Whoa, fairly certain?" Krysaos' smile widened to a cruel grin, "So you're sayin' there's a chance?"

Tycon was tempted to mention that even without the so-called puzzle guardian, the thirteen archways would remain. However, if Krysaos wished to use violence or other means to discern a 'correct' path, then it would reasonably behoove the group that he do so.

He nodded to the Captain, "Go ahead."

"I hear ya, LT," Krysaos growled before taking a deep breath, "BOOOOYS!! WHO wants it?"

"OH!! OHHH!!" Stickyfingers hopped up and down in excitement, "WHICH one 'az da most LOOT?"

"ScREWWW DAT!!" Catshit climbed up atop the back and shoulders of Petty Officer Bob, "Tell us which one's da MOST DANGEROUS!!!"

"YEAH!!" "YEHHH!" "WE'Z TRAININ REAL GOOD!!!" "OUR MI'DDLE NAME IS DANGER!!"

"C-can we not?" Wonderboy's voice rang out, "Please? Why did you boyz even take us 'ere?! We'z still BRO-ken!!"

"Shut YOUR stoopid gob, Wonderboy," Bob growled as he grabbed Catshit by the throat and casually tossed him away. "Anyroad, Catshit's roight. 'Orn boy! Point out which paff is da most DEADLIEST, DANGER-EST, and most WOR'VY o' da Coral Boy Marines!! BLOOD AND 'FUNDER!!"

"""VICT'RY AT SEA!!""" The Coral Boys resounded.

"We'z gonna DIIIIIE!!" Wonderboy's mournful shout lagged behind, a full second.

The satyr's eyes gleamed as a gleeful smile crossed his face, "Beware thy words, for you court the forest's wrath. You'll find only death if you take... the dreaded Trap Path."

"Trap... path?" Tycon raised an eyebrow. That was... an oddly straightforward name, considering the primarily fae architecture surrounding them.

Catshit popped his head out from the thick leaves of the tree he'd landed in, "TRAP PAFF!!"

"TRAP PAAAFFFFF!!" The figurative hive-mind that ruled over the Coral Boys' thoughts and actions shouted in support.

Krysaos grabbed his sword-wrist, gently rotating it to stretch, "Do us a favor, goat-guy. Jus' tell the boyz which one's the trap path... And please understand that I'm bein' real f*ckin' polite right now."

The subtle threat did not go unnoticed by the satyr.

His face twisted from playful to one of actual concern,  "It's... the last one on the right, if I really must say. But take my advice, fella's, you do NOT wanna go that--"

"Trap PAFF!!"

"Trap PaAaaAaff!!!"

"TRAP PAAAAAAAFFF!!!"

"LAST WUN ON DA ROIIIIIIIGHT!!" Petty Officer Bob bellowed.

The stampede of Coral Boys towards the furthest archway drowned out the satyr's well-meaning warning.

Each of them blinked out of view upon crossing over. When the last of them were gone... the forest returned to an uncanny quietude, free of ambient Coral Boy noise.

...Unlike the Elven Ancient's archway, however, the thirteenth archway did not seal itself.

Tycon nodded in understanding. While none of the medium-scale, thirteen-point formations he knew of applied to the structures in the clearing, a twelve-point was subtly different.

"Not gonna lie," The Captain sighed, "a little part of me hopes they don't survive."

"That's *horrible*, Krysaos," Elle scolded.

Krysaos shrugged in response, "I'm really too f*cked up right now to give a shite, Ma'am."

The satyr crossed his arms, "Now, I'm just a satyr... an' I don't claim to be wise-- but I gotta ask: what kinda... adventurers *are* you guys?"

"Please don't direct that question to me," Tycon grimaced. "I'm not going to answer."

"Lemme get this over with," Krysaos groaned. "I'll choose next... Wherever it is, at least it'll prob'ly be easier than trainin'."

Elle gasped, "Krysaos! Are you gonna let your literally-most-loyal crewmembers go into the trap path without your help?"

"Meh," Krysaos shrugged again.

"Elle is right," Tycon smirked. "You're going with them."

"Ah... hah... HAH! AHAHA!!" Suddenly, the Captain burst into crazed laughter... enough that he held onto his stomach and tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

He looked up... his eyes pleading, "LT... Please... please tell me you're joking."

"You'll be fine," Tycon assured him. "I'm sure the trap path's deadliness is similar, if not *less* in scale, to the obstacle course at Port Saint Guinefort."

Krysaos fell to his knees, shamelessly crawling towards him... "But... but ELL-TEeeEE?!?! Just... just one little break! Please!!"

"Hm... very well," Tycon summoned a bandolier from his spatial ring and handed it to the Captain. "This is a gift from the Arcanite Princess. They're highly concentrated, hence the size of each dose."

"A... belt full of healing potions?" Krysaos gulped audibly.

"With these, you'll be able to take a severe wound or three," Tycon smiled. "It won't dull the pain, I'm sure-- but you can relax a bit easier while your supply lasts."

Krysaos' tears flowed in earnest as he sobbed at Tycon's feet... "LT... this... this isn't fair."

"Consider it training," Tycon chuckled... "Oh, and don't throw away any of the glass bottles. They're expensive."

",