Deception comes naturally

So it would seem you have the dryad's ear...for now. You know this spirit will not be patient, nor will she be forgiving. No, reasoning with this spirit is folly. You must dominate this dryad. You have learned much of magic over the day. Most importantly, the power of names. You quickly open yourself to the tug from Indra. Yes! She is there, nestled within the tree from which the dryad emerged. With a small nudge to your ****, you open her mind to yours. With luck, your plan will work; though, this spirit is ancient and very powerful. You have no room for error.

"I am Sabine St. Croix, former novice and paladin-to-be in the Order of the Burning Rose. Our abbey was desecrated by daemons. One...deflowered me, and its seed took root. Though, the beast that defiled me was slain, it's spirit wove itself into the daemon in my womb. My companion, Indra, nursed me to strength and performed a ritual. In the dream state, I defeated my would-be master, but there were...side effects. It seems as a result of my victory, I absorbed its daemonic nature. I spoke true: that sword is key to Thoros's return, and I must deliver it to Gerlangen." You watch the dryad for signs of her earlier wrath. The woodland guardian merely watches, tight-lipped.

"You say you are traveling to the High Abbey?" the dryad's question, though blunt, relaxes you. You may yet reason with her.

"That is so."

"And you expect them to welcome you?" her face shows no mirth.

"The sword will be enough to buy an audience. You have heard me out, I will hope they will show such mercy," you reply. "However, I know not the way through these woods. My companion is my guide."

"I know well what your 'companion' is, daemon," the dryad retorts with a trace of malice. "As one initiated with your Order would, you know that witches commune with nature. My forest speaks to her, and I hear her in turn. Indra was hateful of all daemons and those who dealt with them. You have addled her mind, temptress. I give you one chance to explain yourself."

It's now or never. You nudge Indra's mind, and she reaches out to the dryad. You can see the spirit pause as she hears the witch. Through your link you hear her as well:

"Great guardian of these woods, you have rescued me from thralldom; I am forever in your debt. O, ancient one, hear me, let your name be known, that I may praise you."

The dryad neither says nor thinks anything, but it's enough. Just as it was when you attempted to clear your mind, you hear the dryad's name. Rather, you feel her name, whispered by the trees in her ancient language. It is what you needed. Drawing upon your daemonic power, you whisper back:

"Strymwud" The forest seems to rumble with an unnatural echo.

The dryad halts in her tracks and glares at you.

"How do you—" you halt her protest with a finger, just as you did your unborn offspring.

"You are mine now Strymwud. Come."

As in trance, the dryad walks to you, stopping half a pace from Aegis. You gracefully dismount and approach the spirit.