Overview

The gau is happy to see the rattlehand safe and sound. He was shaken to see the black mothryn, but he seemed to be not with the pirates, and that is good enough for Ham. He settles down and checks up on Alfred. 'Asleep?' He quizzes if Alfred's statement is an obfuscation since his crewmate can hear them. On the other hand, Alfred says it like it is wholly positive. A well-deserved rest in reparations for dealing with the poor sap. 'I'm sure Joren has his good days, especially when he isn't drunk.' Taking it as it is, Ham believes the green giant is getting his beauty sleep. "Kryk T'k wouldn't be joining us anytime soon... Don't worry about it. We just need to take care of his fur for the time being... It has taken quite a liking to Helena." Ham stalls and starts, his gaze drifting down mid-sentence. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. You can call me Ham. We need to get out though. I concur. The caverns make the most sense." As the group approaches the door back to Cobble streets, Ham kneels before Myla. "I hope you make it back to the Snail in good condition. I bear you no ill will. May the Pirate's Path be prime and pliant." With that, Ham rolls her out of the way and holds the door open for the others.

Park Stadium | ApectsBloodline: Ardent - Tough as Nails (4-Track Trait) - You’re a natural survivor. Rolls made to treat or heal an injury you're suffering from treat conflicts as triumphs. - Ironclad Mind (4-Track Trait) - You are immune to hallucinations, mesmerics and mental compulsions. Origin: Ridgeback - Archaeodermis (2-Track Trait) - Your skin (or whatever you have as an outer covering) mimics the mountain you were raised on. You're immune to keen damage, as well as bites and stings from small creatures. - Shamanic Idol (4-Track Gear) - Holds a sliver of power from a not-quite-god. Deals LR salt damage. Post: Char - Taste Test (4-Track Trait) - You're immune to poisons, and can determine their presence and characteristics by taste alone. - Seasoned Cleaver (2-Track Gear) - As useful on the battlefield as it is in the galley. Deals CQ hewing damage. Increase impact when acquiring dangerous or disruptive specimens. | EdgesGrace, Instinct & Tides | SkillsDelve: 0 Vault: 2 Wavewalk: 0 Hunt: 2 Study: 0 Sense: 3 Harvest: 3 Scavenge: 0 Tend: 2 Concoct: 0 Cook: 3 Rattle: 0 Flourish: 0 Outwit: 0 Sway: 0 Brace: 0 Break: 0 Hack: 0 | LanguagesLow Sour | ResourcesCook Utensils (Salvage) Bag of Spices (Specimen) Tonic of Health (Specimen) Liquid Fire (Specimen) Carrion Weed (Specimen) Manticore Bloom (Specimen) Mandrake! Park exclaims effusively, full of pride for making an important discovery. He swallows the poisonous tea he was using in his experiment in one gulp and runs as fast as he can to Shahan Farr, invading his cabin like a ram breaking a castle door. Niceties and protocol be damned. He explains his findings in the more roundabout way possible with lots of unnecessary gesticulations. Captain Chef, where I find de ingredients I want? OOC

Rifhe was quiet and rueful for inadvertently poking his new friend's sore spot as they hurried out of the pirate ship. He was still ruminating on what to say when they emerged out of the deck and bumped into some new faces. They didn't seem to be one of the pirates, and his new ketra friend conversing with them confirmed his suspicions. With a huge grin on his face, the mothryn curiously examined all of them, his mind immediately conjuring up numerous questions. Of course, he won't be rude, so introductions are in order. Rifhe immediately stood tall, unfurled his wings and bowed (he forgoed the twirling this time however, since they're still in a possibly hostile pirate ship, after all). "Are these your crewmates, friend?" the mothryn said to Alfred. "If so, well met! Any friend of Alfred's is also a friend of mine! You can call me Rifhe!"

Atus sighed again, this time at the damaged set of pliers which now rested on Biff´s decking. Oh well, they were old and needed fixing anyway. He shifted his glowing gaze towards the squirrels on the railings. "Shoo." he said gently, letting his lightning subside and his heart slow down from the frenetic pace. He then picked up all the dead squirrels from the decking. "I am sorry that you attacked me and died. Go back to the Green and find peace." He moved to the railing and with a respectful nod for each one, dropped them into the rustling leaves. He then ignored the squirrels and turned his attention to the massive Gau. "I hope to speak to her directly, but if I cannot, would you please translate on my behalf? That way I will still be able to communicate with her, with your assistance. Many things about what you have said confuse me. Some clarity and understanding would be appreciated and I have many questions. If I understand correctly, ´she´ is a supernatural entity, not of this earthly realm, who communicates primarily with pollen. You say those that hear her voice are ´compelled to obey´, but also say ´those who have accepted´, implying that either acceptance is optional, or that some, despite the compulsion and acceptance of her message, are deemed unworthy. This is confusing and makes me speculate about what happens to those who do not value her message, cannot hear her message, or are deemed unworthy." Atus gestured towards the wailing Ardent, "The violence already displayed to my peaceful overture indicates to me that refusal, inability or disagreement results in death. This is concerning to me, in that the entity you describe either does not sound well-intentioned with a convert or die mentality, or allows atrocities to be committed by her disciples in her name." Atus sighed again, "I am also unclear as to what you acolytes and disciples receive in exchange for your obedience and service. You say she can protect you against what is coming, as if what is coming is not a consequence of her actions in this plane of existence, and is only necessary because of her. You mention salvation and also the Tyrant. I think I really need to know, why is she here? Is her purpose as ill-intentioned as it appears?"

Tharr looks at the tree in horror, and at the mothryn in disgust. "You find this comforting?" he asks, the disdain written on his face and pervading every syllable. "I hold no love for the Wildsea, which takes sailors at its whim. But then, I am a hunter of living things, for the reason of sustenance of myself and my fellows. In this, the Wildsea and I are similar: both of us act according to our natures. What is is what must be." "But this? This act of never-ending torture, even unto something which would devour us? What does it say of our natures, that we are capable of this?" The mothryn looks at the staircase sadly. "Would that I had died curious, because the truth of this tree leaves me little hope for mortalkind."

"Oh hello. The nice big green ketra fellow tried to kidnap me..." Alfred paused and turned to Wattson, "Do you think I should be worried about this becoming a more frequent event?" Wattson gave an unhelpful buzz. "Well regardless, he's having a nice sleep now. Fellow deserves it what with having to put up with that Joren. If they don't sort out that excuse for a rattlehand their ship will be below the green in no time at all. Oh and hello, I see you made a friend too..." Alfred wandered over and down to the bound gau upon the docks, Wattson bobbing beside him. "Or are you a foe? It has been a long and trying day so far and I see no Kryk T'k. I don't think he likes me much, but I am getting more and more worried about his safety." Alfred glanced back at the others, "I guess we get out of here and find Joren and beat some answers out of him? I think i'd prefer the passage up all things considered."

Tharr's gaze moved from the dazzling view to the true top of the Spire. He nimbly wafted up the stairs, and then stood before the source of the light. It took him a moment, even with his hawksight, to pierce through the blinding light to see what was giving it off. It was, of all things, a tree. A tree wreathed in flames. The entire tree, which was only about ten times Tharr's height and quite bushy, was encased in a room made from thick glass cast in such a way that the light of the tree was distorted and focused in particular directions. Its branches were only barely visible among the flames, but never seemed to burn down to cinders, as it rightfully should. An ever-consuming flameA "Consuming Flame" whisper has been added to Tharr's inventory.. Another mothryn was lounging on the railing nearby, strumming a stringed instrument gently. Their eyes fell on Tharr, and he plucked a short riff. "You too, are drawn to its light? So many are, and not just of our kind." He chuckled, unaware of Tharr's earlier thoughts. "It is a tragedy, in its own way; a tree, its veins running with concentrated crezzerin, transplanted up to the heights of the world, and then set ablaze, its constant regeneration forever keeping it alive, but the fire never ending." The strumming stopped. "I come here to think; life never seems so bad when I contemplate what life must be like for this tree, that has given its comfort and wellbeing to light the night and keep death at bay." The strumming began again. "Don't try to get inside; the crezzerin fumes in that room are instant death, almost faster than the heat." Though the bardic mothryn lounged with ease, Tharr did note that its muscles were toned and even in lounging it showed a fighter's grace. It also, Tharr recalled, had to have earned the approval of one of the hunting clans in order to be up here in the first place. OOC A whisper for Tharr; he can say something to the mothryn or do something else, which may yield relevant knowledge, and then next up will be starting to plan for departure.

"There is no authority; there is merely knowledge, and Her voice, and Her song. And a compulsion to obey. The problem, of course, is that what exactly constitutes 'obeying' Her is somewhat open to interpretation. I think one thing, and this ardent another. I may be a minority, I fear. Perhaps it is because I am a horizoneer, more open-minded than others brought into her fold. Perhaps I have retained more of my intellect than the others. You will have to speak directly to Her to change the poor behavior of Her other disciples. She may be receptive to change." The ardent had given up on words, and was merely humming a wordless tune. "This yelling is exhausting. I will come up to you if you won't come down to me." As Atus continued to fendRoll below. off the squirrels, whatever was moving towards him beneath the leaves turned away before reaching Buff, and instead began heading toward the ardent. The rustling leaves stopped just in front of the ardent's outrider, and then a massive, piscineOOC, it's a treeshark. :P head that reminded Atus somewhat of the cuda, though smaller and with more teeth and smaller eyes, reared out of the treeline. It snapped its jaws at the ardent, who stared down at it impassively, still humming. The beast opened its jaws, a single red flower blooming on its snout, and moved to grab the ardent's leg. Atus swatted another squirrel aside as the monster strained to close its jaws, but seemed to be unable to. After a moment, it receded back beneath the rustling waves. Atus was not sure what to make of that; there was discord within the Manticore Grove, but its inhabitants seemed to have trouble harming each other. More rustling came from the tunnel that Atus had spotted, and then the largest, fattest gau Atus has ever seen trundled clumsily up it, a similarly massive red manticore bloom gracing its head. It began making its way across the leaves towards Biff, stumbling every few steps, its progress painfully slow. The squirrels had thinned in number, and had finally realized that they were making no substantial headway against Atus. Their fervent, chittering attacks stalled, and the dozen that remained instead perched on Biff's railings, staring intently at him. The ardent's hum became a musical wail. OOC Atus has taken a single damage to his Living Workshop aspect as part of the Conflict, but with the Twist that the squirrels have had enough and are instead now just being creepy.

The Poison Rose Alfred led the way hurriedly out of the ship, with Rifhe right on his heels and Wattson floating behind them, bringing up the rearguard. They emerged back into the mid-morning sunlight, only to find Ham, Helena, and Old Stumps climbing the gangplank up into the ship's deck. Alfred noted that Kryk T'k was not with them, but saw that the itzenko's ragged fur was down on the wooden dock, standing watch over a slender gau firmly wrapped in a large green leaf. Rifhe, standing just behind Alfred, noticed a large, writhing, apparently living fur down on the deck, looming over a bound gau. His eyes lingered on that strange tableau for a moment before he turned his attention to a squat gau with a large mouthlike pouch, a silver-haired ardent with steel eyes dragging a spectral anchor in her wake, and a hulking spiny ektus making their way onto the deck of the ship. Ham and Helena, for their part, saw an unscathed Alfred standing before a new face: a black mothryn with particularly resplendent wings. They all stood on the deck of the pirate ship for a moment, Ham and Helena examining Rifhe, while Rifhe examined them all right back. On the dock, Myla the gau tried to roll away from the fur, towards the doorway back to the Cobble streets, but the fur leapt over her and blocked her path. OOC A meeting! Pirates may start coming back to the ship at any moment, so at some point you will need to decide how to get out of here, whether it's wavewalking around the isle or heading back up the tunnel and hoping no one is coming down it in the opposite direction.

After incapacitating his fellow gau, Ham was tempted to see how different they could be. With his mouth watering, he had to stop and distract himself by thinking about how to bring Kryk T'k's fur to a more stable condition. All he knows is how to prep salves. He has no idea how to care for ghosts. 'On that thought, they outnumber us now. Then again, if you count the slinks, they've outnumbered us from the start. Pelts like soap, maybe oily conditioner.' Throughout their ascent, he ponders about what he had read about leathers and fur. He is afraid the relic couldn't mend itself on its own. His shaky hands are not fit for sewing. Upon surfacing, he is glad to see a friendly face. "Oh! That's fortuitous! Thank you for being so patient! You say he went with the green guy? How long has it been? That might be a problem." Ham runs his hands across his jowls. "Helena, is your blood still hot from Joren's antics? We were supposed to meet up there in a minute or so. Wanna call it short and grab the fellow?" The two/threeHam Helena Old Stumps make their way to the Poison Rose, with Myla in tow, hoping for the best but bracing themselves for the worst.

One day I will write a character who doesn't have some kind of tragic/sad backstory/reason for motivation...but it is not this day. 😛 I am curious how his motivations and ideals might change. Whether it becomes acceptance or he becomes more galvanized to remove his 'curse'/find a 'cure' regardless of cost.

Sorry for my delay, unexpected niece-sitting. Six year olds have lots of energy.

Atus sighed as the squirrels attacked. He really hoped that his display would have been enough to stop the attack, that just possibly the flowery Ardent would listen to reason. He swatted a few of the squirrels away, but was more annoyed by the destruction of his small music box by the trampling rodents. The main winding spring broke and simultaneously tossed the small box over the side and into the green. He felt his rising rage and pushed the emotion down with everything he could. There was a part of him that desperately wanted to fry the Ardent to a crispy husk and it was only with an extreme effort that he refrained from doing so. As the voice asked him if he was coming down, Atus spoke, between shocking squirrels and tossing them over the sides. "I will gladly join you, as soon as the path is clear. Trust works both ways. You should clear the path to demonstrate your authority and show that I can trust you. If you do not have the authority, then the Ardent speaks for you, and his seeking death to my peaceful approach dooms us all."

Alfred was quiet and thoughtful for a long moment and stared at his gloved hand, unclenching and clenching it. A low electrical shock ran across his back. "This ability...maybe I should say this curse...came later in my life. Something I struggle to truly control. I know not why, but regardless...my path is to find true control or a means to remove it. Of this I will succeed, one way or the other." He sighed as another jolt blistered upon his neck. "But yes, let us move on."

I'll send Rifhe and Alfred up tomorrow or the day after, but I want to give Alfred a chance to respond to Rife's well-intentioned question first, as Alfred is a bit sensitive about his shocky powers. :P

Though piracy is widespread across all of the Florid Sepulcher, the majority of shipborne theft occurs in the southern part of the reach, in the areas around Sarkosa and Titana & Gorgantha, mostly under the purview of the Pirate Queen Morgana Engraigh and her web of bloodsworn captains. However, pirate activity has increased in the northern areas of the reach in recent weeks; this may in response to the vulnerability of many ports in the wake of the Shudder, or it may be that these pirates are seeking the Tyrant's Bloom. Most recently, a medium-sized port a day's travel from Angler's Spire (in Karaxes Range), known as Drezzen Spit, found itself the victim of an assault by a trio of northern corsairs, none of whom flew the Bloody Snail of the Pirate Queen; instead, these pirates all flew flags bearing a stylized squirrel's skull and crossbones. At least one of the ships is reputed to be a submersible, and smoke was seen rising from the ruined port by the Watcher atop Angler's Spire, hinting that they may have used the forbidden tool, fire, to subdue the port. A few survivors made their way back to Angler's Spire on small outriders, but none who have visited the ruined port have yet returned.

The Dauntless, a massive iron longjaw captained by Tyrant's End merchant Evon Fennick, spent four days docked at the port of Sevenstones after departing from Verdurance. Bloomseekers are watching the progress of this vessel with interest for many reasons, not least of which is that many of them believe this vessel to have the best chance of claiming the Bloom for their own. At Sevenstones, Fennick took on an additional twenty undercrew and five new full crewmembers, bringing his ship's total numbers to a staggering one hundred and five, including at least fifty armed corsairs. The trade his crew brought in to the port was enough to revitalize the city's economy, which had been severely depressed in the root of the Shudder, and his crew helped rebuild much of the port's Upper Cobble. Unfortunately for the port, Fennick and his ship have now departed, and rumour has it they are headed for Sarkosa by way of the Roseate Monarch, which may be an ill omen for Pirate Queen Morgana Engraigh; Captain Fennick is notoriously intolerant of piracy.

Tharr looks upward at the light at the top of the tower. After a moment, he begins to climb. "It is tremendously stereotypical of a mothryn," he grouses. "If anyone makes any japes about candles, I shall be quite cross."

Rifhe giddily twirled from the adrenaline rush from a danger now past, as well as from a plan successfully executed. "Wonderfully done, friend!" he exclaimed. The mothryn was vibrating, trying to stop himself from taking Alfred by the hand and spin in circles with him. And while he did manage to stop himself, his curiosity got the better of him instead. "A positively electric performance! Which, speaking of, I am terribly curious how you've come about with these voltaic powers! Were you born with it? Did it come later in life? From an accident, or did somebody inflicted this on you?" As for Alfred's question, Rifhe shook his head. "I doubt this sorry lot has any info about the Bloom, and more unfortunately, not the kind of pirates who are amenable to overtures of friendship. What a pity," he sighed. Still, he put them out of his mind, then grinned and clapped his hands in anticipation. "But I am very interested to meet the rest of your crew, so lead the way!"

"...Apologies," Alfred muttered though maybe not as sincere as he would normally be. Trying to imprison/kidnap him tended to have that effect. Wattson gently bobbed and circled around the downed ketra's head. Alfred sighed, put the iron bar away, put his glove back on, and retied his mantle tendrils. "That was quite the display. Almost distracted me. Well, I think we have outstayed our welcome here and I was promised a drink what feels like an age ago and tides be damned I want that drink." Wattson gave a short beep and rejoined Alfred. "Why yes, I suppose if i'm not careful it will become my own great white vine-whale...Hm, shall we then? Or was there something you wanted to do first, my mothryn friend?" Action: Alfred is all for leaving unless Rifhe has any objections/ideas

The squirrels hesitated for a moment before Atus' sparking display, and then diverted their charge, surrounding Biff in a rough circle of chattering rage, all of them sporting at least one manticore bloom. The nearest squirrel's flower was on its head, tilted at a rakish angle like a jaunty cap. "Well? Are you coming down here or not? I think the hole that the pinewood shark tore in the canopy hasn't healed over yet. I'm just down there. Not sure I can get back up to the surface; I may no longer have legs. And I don't know if the ferromagnetic signals are strong enough for someone like you to hear them, but it's worth a shot. If we could reach your kind with Her voice, any risk would be worth it." The voice from below spoke. The floral ardent was not swayed by Atus' words, however. "It is a stranger! It is a danger! It has returned, Its body must burn, Remove the threat, Acolytes, get!" With that, the flowered squirrels chittered and swarmed onto Biff. Atus stepped back toward the center of the skiff as they rushed him from all sides. More of the vermin, hiding beneath the leaves erupted forth and scrabbled up the ship, throwing themselves at the sparking ironbound, their hesitation gone and replaced with a rabid single-mindedness. The first few to strike him burned, sparked and died, but there were so many now, and Atus was surprised to find that their teeth were actually damaging his metal skin. The rustling beneath the leaves grew louder as whatever was beneath the canopy began heading straight for Biff as well. OOC Whatever lies just below the canopy surface is convinced by your words, but you will need to get past the squirrels (and potentially whatever is below the leafline) to get there. You can just pilot Biff down/over there with a speed test, but the squirrels will continue to attack unless you take the time to deal with them now. The squirrels have also inflicted damage; this can either take the form of a mark on one of Atus' aspects or the destruction of the music box salvage (trampled by squirrels).

The Argos was quiet without Atus and Tharr. Tolliver, exhausted from the previous night's activities, lay asleep, and Park took advantage of his crewmate's slumber to pluck a bloom from him and begin another round of culinary experiments on the flower, in the hopes of finding something that would kill it at the roots; an ointment would only ever treat the blooms without expunging them, and thus was useless. It had to be a poison absorbed by the roots the flowers grew into the flesh. However, by consulting his cookbooks, his experience, the results of a long discussion the previous night with Shahan Farr, and what ingredients he had on hand, he eventually came to the conclusion that a simple three-part tonic should purge the Bloom from the system: A very strong acid, such as something fermented or pickled and then concentrated or the juice of a potent citrus. Park thought that rendering his own pickling juice down to make a vinegar concentrate might be sufficient, or more reliably, if he could find a Cannibal Lemon, the most acidic of fruits, he could use its juice as the base. Mycofloravore spores. A type of fast-growing mold that preyed on flowers. With a sufficient concentration, they should survive mixing with the lemon juice and attack the flowers from within Tolliver's body when ingested. While these spores would be poisonous to an ardent or mothryn, and fatal to an ektus, because Tolliver is a gau it is likely that these spores will merely make him ill for a few days. Park wonders if maybe a sample could be acquired from the Deathblossom. Thick tree-bark ground into a paste, to allow the spores to survive and provide a substrate for them to survive until they reach the flower sports throughout Tolliver's body. This should be easy enough; the key is to make sure that the bark that Park uses does not have large amounts of toxic crezzerin. Park is reasonably sure that this is what he needs to cure Tolliver. OOC And that completes the Study in Manticore, and earns Park a related milestone. He has a recipe now, but will need to gather the actual ingredients. Both Tharr and Park have a little more time in the day while they wait for Atus to return; Tharr can continue to just chill atop the tower or he can focus in on anything mentioned above that he noticed, or go up to the light source. Park can, should he choose, go try to talk to Tolliver (being GMPC'd by me at this point) about what he's found, go find Shahan Farr next door to verify with him and ask for advice on sourcing ingredients, or go into the Deathblossom market to try and find the ingredients (which would be a Sense + Instinct/Tides test to find one, or how to get one). Or any other short action. :)

Alfred and Rifhe: The Poison Rose Alfred agreed that Rifhe's plan was a sound one. Thankfully, the ketra was slow, so Alfred had plenty of time to dart across the hallway and hide around the corner, just out of sight, while Rifhe stood brazenly in the middle of the corridor at the foot of the stairs, flutteringFlourish + Grace: 5, 6. Triumph! his wings. As hoped, the ketra stopped his descend as soon as he saw Rifhe. "Hey, get back inna cell!" He raised his club and charged straight at the mothryn, who, despite his courage of a moment before, took a single step backward in the face of onrushing pirate and club. Thankfully, his new friend came through. The moment the ketra left the stairwell, Alfred stepped forward and thwackedBreak + Veils + Iron Bar + Surprise (had Rifhe failed as a distraction you would not have received this bonus) - Precision = 4 dice = 3, 4, 5, 6. Small straight! him in the nether regions, channeling his volataic mantle through the iron bar. There was a thud and a sickening crackle as the ketra dropped their club, let out a pathetic small gasp, and began to fall forward. The iron bar moved up again for an upswing, catching the ketra on the chin. The pirate finished collapsing and lay in an unmoving, though still breathing, pile. Now they had an empty ship and an unconscious pirate on their hands. OOC Threat neutralized, and no nasty twists this time! You can do something with the poor ketra, head out as fast as you can, or something else! Ham and Helena: Beneath the Waves Helena nodded at Ham's words, though Ham suspected Helena had not been planning to be so generous. Helena called down to the fur, hoping it would understand, asking it to bring the pirate back up. The fur did so, carefully picking it way up the branches in an impressive display. When the pair of them arrived at the level of Ham and Helena, the fur still tattered and ragged and the pirate Myla absolutely petrified, Ham wrapped the pirate up entirely in one of the sticky leaves, immobilizing her (thankfully, only one side of the leaves were sticky), and then the four of them made their way back up to the surface, and then across the leafy waves back to the docks. Helena nimbly leapt back onto the dock, next to the larger pirate ship, then turned to help Ham and the fur up. Myla was unceremoniously dumped on the dock, and Alfred was nowhere to be found. Ham looked over at their guard at the entrance, Old Stumps, who quickly trotted over. "None comyet, but soon I think. 'fred went inna shipdere wit'greenguy, ka?" He gestured to the pirate vessel. Kryk T'k's fur draped itself over Helena's shoulders, much to her surprise. Myla remained silent on the planks, but had a crafty look in her eyes. OOC Myla lives, but is well bundled.

As the small squirrel army began to rush in his direction, Atus´ heart audibly spun faster, the menacing sound disappearing into an audible range that could only be heared by those capable. Atus dropped the music box and clapped his fists together twice, a strong band of electricity crackling dangerously in a threat display. He doesn´t target the squirrels, he simply holds the electricity between his hands as if he held a devastating chain of pure power. Further sparks danced all around his metal body, some arcing off the metallic parts of Biff. Atus then spoke quickly to the voice below the canopy. "Ferromagnetic signals? Electromagnetism flows within me. I have spoken to living storms. I will gladly come to you and speak with you in peace. I will gladly seek understanding and I will listen to the message of the Manticore." Atus then turned to the Ardent and his voice turned stern. "But attacking me is unwise. Do not mistake my gentleness for weakness. You attack because you are afraid. I do not lie and I do not let fear rule me. I truly do not wish to hurt you. Let me pass."

The prose voice spoke in reply. "I think you fundamentally misunderstand the nature of this place. You view this as a burgeoning hivemind, but from my unique vantage point here, I think what you see is something similar, but a little different. Those who have accepted the Manticore have come to realize that salvation can only be achieved by complete and utter devotion to Her. She speaks directly through the network of blossoms; I suspect in this mortal plane in the form of pollen and other, more subtle signals; maybe ferromagnetic. The flowers that open and grow from our flesh merely open the way and allow us to hear Her speak, and now that we have heard Her, we obey." As the voice spoke, Atus tried to pinpoint its location, but it was difficult; the voice echoed. The flowery ardent-in-verse then haltingly clambered up onto the railing of their flower-riddled wrecked outrider. "She sings in our sleep, We all must obey, We all move as one at her wishes. Our love goes deep, Our lives we will lay, To further her glorious visage." A pause. "Well, obviously some of us disagree. But what we do agree on is that She can protect us from what is coming soon to this place, and only She can do that. Those abominations like yourself cannot ever hear her voice, and so cannot understand, and cannot be protected. When the Tyrant returns, your kind alone will be vulnerable, for you cannot hear salvation." ThereSense + Instinct: 5, 5, 6! Triumph with a Twist!! The voice was coming from a hole in the canopy to his left, just past where the squirrels were gathering at chittering menacingly in Atus' direction. The hole was in the grove, but Atus noticed a path to it that was clear of both the choking vines and manticore blooms; in fact, it almost looked as if the treetops sloped down into the hole, almost more like a tunnel than a proper hole. Whatever was moving below the leaves began its slow advance again, now heading directly towards Atus. "Your offer, though, intrigues me. You would save a part of this place, and this Her voice; would you spread it as well? Share salvation? Perhaps if you come to me, we can talk further without interruption from my irritating singing comrade." The ardent-in-verse spoke again. "Unwise; it lies! The iron dies! Make it bow! Kill it now! Before it shuts her down!" The squirrels' chattering grew louder and they rushed at Biff; by this point, there were at least two dozen of them. The movement beneath the leaves, in contrast to the squirrels, suddenly slowed, then headed towards the hole where the prose voice was coming from.