Concentrating, Fiero beckoned the mop of plant to slog along the side of the wall, undulating towards the doorway where the two guards stood.
From his vantage point, now hovering just beyond the bars, he could see the one guard standing stiffly after speaking with his partner. The man was a bit portly, wearing a sharp uniform, silver hair puffing out from under a cap. The other guard was taller, gruffer, with a black mustache and thick eyebrows. He was chewing something, looking away from his partner, and seemed closest to the spider awaiting them.
"I still think it's kinda racist. Everyone's got swords. My mum's half-gnome on her father's side and she's got a sword. Tiny little thing."
"You know what we call gnome-swords?" The mustachioed guard grinned, "Butter knives."
"Feh."
So the silver-haired one would be the one to distract. Fiero allowed the plant to shrug further.
It slipped next to the guard's boot, thin strands of ivy barely touching his leg. Fiero saw the guard do a double-take, surprised. "Hey!"
The plant began to scuttle past the guards, rushing outside as quick as a mop of vines could. Now the portly guard ran after it, though he wasn't nearly as fast. "Wait! Get back here!"
"I'll hold the line!" The mustached one cried out, standing at attention now. Little did he know that just above him was his doom...