Neverwinter Forest Keep the knife close while you sleep.

Newly planted are the easiest to pull out. He counters as he takes one pause, breathing the musky wet-earth smell deep in to his lungs. He regards the other man plainly, as he does everyone and everything. His expression is vaguely grim, mostly blank, but he is unafraid to let his attention linger upon the man at all.

This stranger had not been here long. Have you met the witch yet? He meant that as a joke, but lacked the inflection. Another callback to a memory they did not share, and would be meaningless by now. Still, he quirked a half-smirk, one canine tooth flashing as he turned back to his digging.

She was old when I was a kid. Probably barely hanging on now. Lived on the mountain there, I think. A flicker towards the looming Moonspear to the west, following the crumbled ruins. I stole from her. It's here somewh—ahhh, something scraped under claw.

There, buried deeper than he remembered, was an old boar's tooth. Long and yellowed, and stained by the dirt. Myrmidon lifts it free and tosses it within range of his watcher.

Deeper than your roots.