"Dwarf?"

Punchy gets up and brushes his hands off one one another, glaring at the elf from beneath his brows. His red hair sticks up in mad clumps.

"DWARF?! I. AM. NO. DWARF. And I am going to rip your pionty-eared head off of your skinny neck and then sheit down tha hole!"

Punchy charges.

Greenleaf attempts to hack at the plant tendrils with his knife/sword, although the increased length of the blade makes this a more awkward situation than it normally would.

The elf, getting slowly to his feet, catches the look on Punchy's face in the light of the fire. He turns and tries to run away.

He doesn't make it.


Greenleaf manages to cut almost all the tendrils. One wraps around his wrist.

Time ... stops.

The ranger is suddenly aware in a way he's never been before. His vision extends in all directions. He can see Taddeo's blade in the fae-elf's leg, count each heartbeat that gushes fresh blood onto the ground. He can feel the ragged breath of the feral man Punchy wounded, the rattling gasps growing slower as he dies. He can feel the pressure of Edric's frame against the archer and the ground, the way the earth cools as the flames on the archer's body go out. He can smell the horse's terror and note as each leaf, each branch, is consumed by Zaljan's fire barrier.

Mine ... says a voice in his head, and the tendril tightens around his wrist, beginning to snake up his arm.

Some while later Punchy wanders back to the others, weaving from side to side a bit, and covered with blood all up his torso and both arms to the elbows. The blood has chunky bits in it. For once, Punchy isn't grinning, and somehow thats worse.

"Tha' was fun. Magic boy, magic me a wash up eh?"

"YEARGH, Get out of MY HEAD." The ranger screams. He is still frantically cutting at the tendrils as best he can.

Taddeo snaps out at whatever daze he has been in. The tip of his sword is wet with blood, so at least these things bleed. He can hear Greenleaf screaming, but the more important thing is the spell caster in front of him. The duelist rushes the elf, trying to knock him off his feet and stab him with his main-gauche. He reaches the elf, with the blade just about to hit his opponent just before the elf finishes his spell.

Edric slowly pushes himself up to his feet again, still favoring his injured one, naturally. "Zaljan, check on this archer. He needs your help more than I do." He then looks seriously toward the plant-creature attacking Greenleaf. "You! Unhand the ranger!" He does what he can to counteract the magical powers the creature is exerting on Greenleaf.

Zaljan gets confused by all the various calls for healing, so he just tells the fire spirit burning up the eastern part of the forest to go home instead.

Between Greenleaf's aggressive mental fight against the creature and Edric's magical assistance, the ranger is able to hack through all the plant shoots and free himself. The tendrils shrivel up to blackness and rot before their eyes.

Greenleaf is still temporarily deafened from the thunderclap noise, but can already feel his hearing returning slowly.


Taddeo feels a mental blast slam into his consciousness as the blade drives home in the elf's throat. It's disorienting to the edge of nausea, but immediately starts to wear off as the elf's words are choked into silence. An explosion of tendrils blooms from the wound, accompanied by a loud ripping noise (merely loud, not deafening). They can't reach Taddeo at the end of his sword, however, and writhe as they rot and fall away.


The fire spirit departs, leaving the camp suddenly dim and cool, lit only by the campfire which has burned low.

Taddeo bends over and expels a helping of bile and the remains of his last meal. He is able to keep from falling over, but the mental blast causes him to retch until he is left with only with dry heaves.

Zaljan gets a chance to assess things, and decides the archer is the worst wounded, and thus the first to be tended.

As he passes the fire on his way there, the last spirit flees from him, and the fire extinguishes.

Greenleaf rolls over on his back breathing heavily. "WHAT...WERE...THEY?" He rasps.

The camp is plunged into a silvery darkness, lit faintly by the moon overhead. A cool breeze blows through the shadowed camp, helping Taddeo regain himself a bit and feel better. By the carts, the man with the broken leg weeps quietly, uncontrollably.

The archer stirs, half conscious. He's burned, most seriously on his arms, enough that he would probably quickly die of infection if left on his own. But it's not so far gone that he can't be healed.

Smelly salve comes out, and the archer gets healed. Next up will be broken leg guy, then Punchy, then Edric.

Edric may actually have forgotten about the arrow in his leg. He stands in place where he is, slowly looking over the people in the clearing. He notes with dismay the blight emanating from Zaljan (in his mythos, spirits are fleeing him, but to a spellcaster like Edric it looks entirely different). He cautiously sets to work cleaning up his companions, starting first with those Zaljan has healed, hoping to decrease the risk of infection by keeping them clean.