join this rat in his criminal preparations

The rat perched atop his Golden Charger, a serpent he still had yet to name. A thought had occurred to him, and--in the spirit of cooperation with The Organization--he had set about testing his new question: what does this serpent's venom do?

His first task, then, was to find a Lesser--and his second, to have his snake envenomate it. Preferably without immediately consuming it, which would be difficult to arrange; despite being mentally linked with him, the snake was not a thinking, feeling creature. Its entire existence seemed based on sitting quietly, then eating: either resting or hunting.

"Onward, then," he murmured, a gentle urge. It listened to him, at least. He'd proven correct, even when it doubted him--in avoiding danger, in securing prey--and so it had learned to trust his orders, even if they made no sense to its simple brain.

It did not take long for him to find a target: a large Kyte, its reptilian form somewhat out of place in the cold of this particular tunnel. It looked uncomfortable, shifting where it lay, already standing up (likely with the intention of finding somplace more warm). Archimedes urged the serpent onward, his eyes gleaming with calculation.

Frighten it, he urged. Not startle it off, but--here. I will show you.

He stood, bristling, fangs bared--and the Kyte turned, blinking at him. It shook itself and simply turned to leave, and Archimedes grimaced. That had done disappointingly little. After it. Strike it--quickly!

He could only hope the Charger managed a hit before the thing fled.

Archimedes leapt down, giving the Golden Charger the room it would need to lunge and strike. The Kyte was already turned away, wings spreading, and he knew this would be their only chance.

The Charger's six golden eyes were fixed firmly on its target, however: killing was the one thing, bar sitting motionless, that it was good at. With a flick of its black tongue it lurched forward, body curling into a swift s-shape and hurtling for the kyte.

There was a soft thwap as the snake impacted the far larger Kyte--and then the Kyte turned, hissing with gaping mouth. But the Charger had pulled away, without Archimedes's urging (hmm? How strange?) and was sliding backward, gaze still fixed hungrily upon its target.

It was odd, the way the Kyte stumbled as it retreated, still hissing. Odder still was the patience with which the Charger waited.

Envenomed, then, the rat surmised, and with a couple hops, cautiously made his way back up onto the snake's head. He waited, whiskers twitching, his eyes as fixed upon the kyte as the serpent's were. The prey turned, started to beat its wings and lifted off, flying low and slow--and then tumbled back down again, staggering into a limp.

Fascinated, Archimedes leapt back down and scampered over--and the Charger, driven by hunger, raced past him. Wait, he thought at it, sharply, and it paused, tongue flicking, turning to eye him. It waited for his direction, and he, in turn, crept closer to the thrashing Kyte to get a better look.

The wound was... crusting. "It looks like stone," he mused, aloud--the tissue around the wound was turning hard, scaly in a way that seemed to hamper any movement. And the strange crust was spreading, too. "That's what your venom does?" he asked the snake aloud, glancing at it with one arched brow. The serpent stared back at him, tongue flicking.

Archimedes looked again to the Kyte; it was still hissing, frantic, but unable to really move. The wound had stopped spreading, however, so he supposed he had what he needed--and one mental nod later, the Charger had surged forward again, latching powerfully onto its larger, but crippled, prey.

How does it intend to bite past the-... ahh, he realized, recognition dawning in him as the Charger bared rows of serrated, knifelike teeth. They were quite unlike the small, gripping teeth of other snakes, and he'd always wondered why; the Charger had only ever taken small prey in his presence. Now he could see the reason for the teeth: they sheared neatly through the calcified tissues, quickly bleeding out the kite and cutting it down to manageable parts for consumption.

"That," Archimedes murmured aloud, "could be useful." The question was, how to gather such venom without harming his mighty steed..?