With their guide delving into the vines, the party had little choice but to follow. Fenn waited for the Imp to move into the jungle of wires before he himself ventured in. 

As he had predicted, progress was tortuous. The entrance to the Hanging Jungle had faded from view almost instantly upon their entry, and the mess of cables entwining wherever the eye could see gave little clue as to their current location. Contrary to his charge’s observations and barring initial hesitation over finding which cables were strong enough to hold his weight, Fenn’s long arms and strength left him uniquely suited for moving from one handhold to another, even if it was only by hanging from the vines, but his girth often forced him to pause and push at meshes of wires to squeeze through openings too small for him to go through otherwise. 

In the end, the slow group marked the pace, while the talking armor that led them set their bearing. 

It was an irritating thought, that if their guide so chose, it could slip away from the group and leave them to find their way to their destination on their own. The hound could only hope it had no reasons to do that, and if it did, that scent of the metallic being would still hang vividly enough in this jungle, so that he may hunt it down and tear it open in repayment.

Nonetheless, the guide did not seem intent on straying from its assigned role, and the group continued its slow progress. 

Fenn’s ears swiveled as something reached them. Lithe, clicking sounds, like claws tapping stone added itself to the scraping and grinding noises of metal cables rubbing against each other, either moved by wind currents or their own clumsy passage. They came from a single direction at first, but quickly began spreading, multiple sources of sound spreading to every direction until the group was surrounded.

The hound paused, holding onto one thick, vertically hanging wire and glanced into the impenetrable jungle around him, a growl building in his throat. A moment later, the magpie voiced his question, words carrying with them a sneaking suspicion.

“Aye,” he confirmed, “They come.”

Shadows moved between the meshes of wires, spider-like monstrosities suddenly emerging in sudden lunges towards the members of their party.

As the monsters moved towards them, the Hellhound belched out a tongue of flame into the cables, fire washing over the web of wires and forcing the beasts to move away from the scorching heat. For a moment, the stream of fire seemed to be enough to guard their flank. Then, one of the beasts Fenn had been keeping track off from the corner of his eye vanished, and a weight suddenly attached itself to his back with the sound of chitin clicking against scales.

Fenn’s free arm immediately reached behind him, grasping one of the spider’s appendages, and pulled at it. The sudden force wrenched the monster off its perch and nearly tore the limb from its owner, leaving the spider to hang from Fenn’s grip, its pain obvious in the writhing of its remaining legs. Seeing another spider lunge at him from the side, Fenn swung the agonizing monster like a club. The two arachnids crashed against each other, and the force dislodged the damaged limb Fenn was holding onto, leaving the entangled beasts to crash through the vines. 

Fenn barely had time to discard the severed leg before another arachnid jumped at him from the web. The thing crashed against a raised arm, legs skittering against his scales, sickle-like fangs scratching at the surface. There was a prickling sensation on the base of his wrist before another torrent of flame emerged from his throat, engulfing the monster.

Suddenly, the weight disappeared from his arm, and the monster materialized on empty air a few paces away. Fenn barely had time to see the creature’s wrinkled, charred eyes before it plummeted into the abyss. 

He grunted, clenching his fist. A slight numbness spread from the spider’s bite, stealing some sensation from his fingers. The feeling brought to mind memories of another encounter, long ago, where such a toxin had been used on him. The effects of the spider’s bite were comparatively mild, though he could not tell if that was a result of his size, or his body’s make-up being too different from these predators' usual prey. 

Fenn rocked back and swung onto another vine, letting the chains around his arms unwind with the motion. As another spider jumped out at him, metal links stiffened and snapped upwards, smashing against the thing’s side and sending it hurtling away. 

The chains rattled and danced like snakes behind the demon, protecting his back and sides. He detested using his bonds in such an overt manner, but with the spider’s paralyzing venom and their ability to seemingly materialize from thin-air, he would need more than a single free arm and his kind’s affinity with fire to turn the monsters away. And it seemed to him turning them away was the only recourse the group had, lest they came up with a plan that allowed them to outrun the swarm of arachnids.