Slygotha, though she could barely see through the vines and the darkness spell, had been feeling very smug, but that was now fading away as the reptiles started to pour in from the trees and the river. The crocodiles, keen on the easy meal, would nonetheless only go a short way from the river, but any close to the river would quickly get drowned and eaten by them if they weren't paying attention. She could hear the insects dying, the buzzing across the landing and the burnt smell wafting through told her that her subtlety was lost here. These interlopers refused to die or leave, and they weren't scared of her tricks. She was still loathe to reveal herself, and her senses warned her that something was disturbing the earth nearby, digging methodically, probing her barriers. Things were getting serious. Trogdor had crept from the hoard pile and nosed the broodmother's foreleg, his eyes questioning.
She rumbled, a growl escaping. " I told you to hide in the cavern. It's dug out of the stone, to protect the gold, and it will protect you too," she hissed, trying to keep her voice low .
"But mother, why are we hiding? I don't understand," whined Trogdor loudly.
"Shhh! Just do as I say! I am broodmother!" She growled. Trogdor retreated, looking a bit like a sad puppy.
Even though the various snakes and lizards were creeping in from the jungle, Slygotha could not hear screams of anguish from the interlopers. At this point, it was time to get more serious. They were obviously strong, whatever they were, and resilient too. It was time to make better use of her overgrowth. A few twisting tendrils nodded, still very slowly climbing as her overgrowth spell waned. Summoning her strength, she closed her eyes, and jammed her claws deep into the muck layering the bottom of the cave, touching the roots of the magical vines. She guided the roots to entwine and embed in her claws, feeding the overgrowth with more of her inner magic. Reacting violently, the vines rippled to life once more, catching up any caught near or in the tangled confines, twisting into shape. She siezed the tunneling intruder, squeezing and wrapping around that which had disturbed her roots. The vine had become an extension of herself. Continuing to grow as it picked up the struggling biped, the vines on the edges of the landing receded into the new burgeoning shape, now growing strangely draconic features. They continued changing, with mounds of twisting vines springing forth from the slimy mire, each mound taking on a shape like a dragon's neck and head, with sunken pits where the eyes would be, and dotted throughout with the poison spewing flowers. A dozen heads now waved strangely, the largest one towering with the struggling intruder in it's throat. Slygotha hoped to crush the life out of it first, since it was obviously immune to acid. One of the heads, closest to the edge, turned to the armored bipeds stationed just out of reach. She only knew the local dialects and draconic, but she cursed at them, then demanded," what do you vermin want?"