Bearclaw Valley They don’t get the context ‘cause it’s too complex

yeah... this guy was a diplomatic idiot. once again skoll's question went unanswered... and rather than hearing what he wanted to hear, once again all toad heard was false apologies that sounded like absolute bullshit at this point. and well... they'd told him to leave. they told him to fuck off. when astara attacked, toad didn't mind in the slightest- here had been their chance to leave after the warnings, and they still lingered on the borders with nothing to offer ursus, overstaying their welcome.

nothing to offer except their sorry hides. 

thus they would be treated like santiago, like clay, like valour and clarence, and any and every other poor fool that had the balls of steel it took to remain here. toad imagined they would not be slaughtered here... not while derg was close. they could fight him off for some time, but he'd still find a way to drag his co-leader's sorry ass back home today. 

but toad imagined astara would surely come upon the brindle in a dark hour and retrieve her pound of flesh. 

and yet... he'd see to it that they'd take their chance to kill him here. derg watched them, as if pleading them not to join in, but toad held not an ounce of loyalty to him, and every part of him had been baptized in the name of ursus, fighting for merrick and astara on the borders and in their battles. he leapt as astara did, his own jaws aiming for the man's other side, the other hock- gleefully picturing how amusing it might be to see a wolf who dragged themselves by their forelegs alone, sporting two sad stumps on the other end. evien's call earned a twitch of his ear; of course he would, but he appreciated his leader's support. there was no stopping the frogboy in his pursuit of blood now- illogical, irrational, he didn't care- his heart had beat for ursus for too long to leave the blackbird high and dry in battle.