Your Warmth - Alraune, Ch VI

Of course, the alraune was not blind to the encroachment of enemies on her lands.

She was too… permanent to venture very far beyond the border of her cavern, and beyond the Underwood she could only guess of the hostile world out to harm them, but she was not unaware. She had eyes and ears in the forest, servants and monsters alike, and through them she waited and watched for the humans to return.

They would come to rob her of her prize; that much she was certain. The human-suitor had said so himself. The tall one with the blade would return to them, and so too would the one with the instrument that created painful sparks and smoke in the darkness. If the little one came back, the one that smelt so strongly of fear… well. It had been a long time since she had been able to feed.

She had almost fed on the human-suitor instead, but he had shown traits to her that were too desirable to be digested. He was asleep now, hanging beside her, building up his strength for when the humans came back. His transition into her mate was taking up the lion's share of water and nutrients from the earth, but he would not be whole in time. It was a gradual process and he was just beginning to become beautiful to her. Beautiful but weak, helpless, like a child.

That didn't matter. The alraune was prepared to fight for him herself, and this time there would be no holding back.

†††

Ravendor was the point this time, with Warren and Siro making up the body of the party and carrying between them most of the rescue supplies. Warren had been managing it by himself at the start but Siro had kindly offered to share. Darren trailed behind the three men in front of him, bringing up the rear. Their path was stony and uncertain, but pendulously it etched a road for them to follow, spiralling deeper down into the depths.

"So what is the one thing in the world you couldn't live without?" Warren asked his party, trying to make some conversation amidst the silence of their march.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Ravendor responded from up ahead, the very act of him being at the front meaning that everyone behind him was getting a free face full of cigarette smoke. It might have meant that he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings, but it could also just mean that he didn't care.

"It's like you couldn't function without it. Not having it would mess up your entire day, or you couldn't see yourself being happy with it gone." He elaborated, laughing at the end. "Like with me. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't get to sleep in on Saturday mornings."

"Oh, like a creature comfort." Siro volunteered helpfully.

"Something like that, yeah." Warren agreed, halfway in the process of climbing over a tricky rock formation with the others. He could feel an uncertain dampness from the moisture in the air. They would be nearing the Underwood soon.

"I guess I couldn't live without legs." The blond swordsman speculated, smiling.

Warren stared at him. "What?"

"Well, you wouldn't be able to walk anywhere. You'd be stuck in one of those chairs with the wheels on them, and I don't think I'd be able to live with something like that. I like going for long walks."

"I don't think that really counts, Siro. Everyone needs legs." Warren commented in an amused manner.

"Unless you had a really nice cart." Darren chimed in from behind them.

"What about you, Darren?" Warren asked pleasantly, giving up on Siro for the moment.

"Oh gee, I don't know. I have no idea." He did, but he wasn't about to tell the others. It would be too embarrassing, especially when Mina barely even knew that he existed. She was his reason to get up in the morning; the reason he was even there in Adratea at all.

"I find it most important to practice proper nail-care." Ravendor interrupted, who could frequently be found at his desk in the inn giving himself a manicure on slow days. "Ragged cuticles would simply drive me mad. I don't know how others could stand it."

Siro smiled and Warren suppressed a laugh. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, it's very important."

"More important than those cigarettes you're always smoking? Look, just… can you go to the back of the line behind Darren? We're choking here." The doctor complained.

The older man regarded him for a moment, and rather than having to move to the back with Darren he put the cigarette out on a moss-encrusted wall. It hissed as it made contact with the dampness of the stones. "So sorry." He said at last.

There was silence for a few minutes while the party continued to walk. Darren couldn't help but drag his feet and tried to stay focused on the back of Siro's cloak, because at least he seemed to know where he was going.

"Actually," he murmured after some time had passed, "I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if Magi is dead. It was my- I mean, our fault that we left him there."

"Don't say such things." Ravendor snapped at him. "Magi is not dead."

Fortunately the memory of the safest path through the Underwood was still fresh in their minds. They wandered through low-lying grasses and seemingly prehistoric ferns, shaded by the trees that sprouted out of the cavern's floor and laced by entangling, numerous vines. Bioluminescent mosses and fungi gave the Underwood just enough unearthly light to see by, barely, but they lit lanterns when the darkness seemed to close in all around them and relied on their own light source.

The plants grew quickly. What had once been a thin path just over twenty four hours ago and dotted with acid-spitting flowers had grown over again, barring the way. At first they hesitated and wondered if they might have taken a wrong turn somewhere, but Ravendor managed to find evidence of their own footprints made the day before imprinted in the soft soil and knew they had to press on. The machetes Trina had forged for them finally came out.

She had made them well. They slashed through the reaching branches and vines like nobody's business and Siro and Warren seemed to be enjoying themselves at least a little as they cut their way through to the alraune's cavern.

Darren felt a deep sense of unease as he followed his comrades into the jungle. It felt a bit like somebody was watching him, even though he was the last one at the rear of the group. It was almost like he could imagine eyes peering at him from all the different, dark alcoves hidden in the forest just out of the range of the lantern he was carrying.

"We're being watched." He said quietly as he walked, trying not to be too loud.

Ravendor, who had ended up in the back anyway while Warren and Siro went hog wild with the machetes nodded slightly. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Why's that?"

"Haven't you noticed? The last time we were here we practically had to mow our way through hostile foliage." The older man explained, remembering all too well the acid burns hidden under his coat. It still stung quite badly from time to time.

"Maybe we scared them off." Darren said hopefully, but didn't quite feel it himself.

"Perhaps. That would be nice."

"Almost done!" Siro called from the head of the group. It was beginning to look like the plants blocking the pathway were thinning.

"I think the cavern is just up ahead." Warren commented, ripping out a network of vines with his bare hands. This was… yes, this was where they had stopped to gather their wits after the alraune had chased them out of the cavern yesterday. The entrance to the cave was right over there, open and yawning like a hungry mouth. Plant vines hung down over the entranceway now, a lot like the vines of the alraune and this worried Warren.

They made their approach but stopped just shy of going inside. It was an unspoken thing, like nobody wanted to be the first one to descend down into that deeper darkness. It hadn't been as unnerving before because they had been in a hurry to rescue Darren, but now, knowing what was at the end of that path…

"Well Darren, off you go." Ravendor said expectantly.

It took Darren a second to realize what was being asked of him. He gawked at his friends in disbelief. "W-what? No! I'm not going back in there alone, not like last time."

"You are our scout."

"I've already done it once, I'm not gonna do it again. Why don't you go, Ravendor? You've got a lantern too." Darren argued. Usually he didn't bother trying to protest when the others pushed him around, but this just wasn't fair.

Ravendor knelt slightly and looked down the mouth of the cave. He remembered it being long but not especially precarious. It was just dark, and he did indeed have one of the kerosene lamps in his hands. The older man sighed. "Very well, if I must."

He began the rocky climb into the mouth of the cave. It was hard going, trying not to slip while at the same time trying to keep the lantern safe from bumping or cracking against the stones. At about halfway down he heard Siro call out; "wait a sec," and he clambered down into the cave as well.

"Let me go on ahead. I just realized that I'm the only one here wearing body armor, so I should stay up front. Lend me your lamp." He explained, extending a gloved hand for the precious light source.

"Be my guest." Ravendor agreed a little too quickly for Siro's liking. The lantern was pressed earnestly into the swordsman's hands.

"Siro!" He heard Warren cry disapprovingly from the cave entrance and within a few seconds he was down there with the other two, leaving Darren all alone. The physician wiped the dampness off his hands using his doctor's coat then realized with a wince that it would probably cause a stain.

The mayor smiled at him. "Don't fret, Warren. I'll have everybody right behind me. We'll walk single file and-"

"And watch your ankles for the alraune's loose vines." Warren finished up for him, still not happy with the idea of his partner going first.

"Hey!" Darren cried, struggling into the cave. "Don't leave me up there by myself!"

Together they pressed forward, back into the unknown.

†††

It is time. They are here.

Do you know what you must do?

… yeah.

Kill them. Kill them all.

†††

"Magi!"

The shout echoed through the alraune's lair loudly and clearly, much to the horror of nearly everybody within.

The other three members of the rescue party jumped on Ravendor. Warren quickly attempted to slap a hand over his mouth to shut him up and the other man immediately and unsuccessfully tried to shove him off. Darren made an unpleasant keening noise in the back of his throat.

"What are you, crazy?" Warren snapped, shaking him firmly and by proxy Siro who he had slammed Ravendor into. "Do you want to let the alraune know we're here or something?"

Ravendor shot him a reproachful look. "Mnn." He mumbled.

"Ugh, fine." Warren sulked and let him go.

The innkeeper stumbled away from Siro and Warren but backed into Darren who slunk back against the wall. He looked extremely put off at being grabbed so suddenly. "That does not matter now. The monster has known we are here since we entered this Underwood; there is no need for this pretense of secrecy. Magi, however, if he can answer us…"

He paused all of a sudden, listening to the hollow silence, then shouted yet again in an even louder voice; "Magiiiii!"

There was another hasty scuffle as his party piled on him again. Siro glanced over at Warren in worry. "Do you think she heard us?"

"Maybe. But if we-"

Before he could continue a low grinding noise filled the air. It wasn't that loud but it was persistent and strong; the soft sound of stone pressed hard against more stone. There was a leathery sinewiness to it as well, and when Darren nervously adjusted the shutters of his lantern to let out more light he and his party could now see why. He swallowed hard.

The walls of the alraune's lair were thickly laced with vines, like a delicate spider's web veining through the many layers of dirt and stone. Those vines were squeezing the cavern, squeezing, causing dust and dirt and lichen to spiral down from the ceiling and walls. It didn't seem like the tunnel was collapsing but it did feel like a warning. A threat.

"Guys…" Darren began to say.

Of the four of them Siro was the first to step forward and proceed into the centre of the cave, his own lantern warding against the darkness. He seemed to walk without fear, only curiosity, moving ahead. "Magi?" He called at a more tolerable volume, yet still causing an echo. "Are you here?"

He didn't get a response from the darkness, but that could just mean their friend was unconscious, or possibly gagged. After some seconds the swordsman could hear his comrades following after him, so he placed his lantern carefully down on the ground and opened the lid, exposing the burning wick. Siro looked over to Warren carrying the supply backpack. "Did you bring torches?"

"A few."

"Can you light them? I can't see anything in here."

He unsheathed his sword as Warren knelt to search through his pack. They could be attacked at any moment, and if that happened Siro was ready to do some defending. He was used to slaying monsters but the magnitude of the alraune… he wasn't certain yet. As a wooden torch wrapped in kerosene-soaked rags burst into greater light Siro heard Ravendor taking the safety off his gun, and that at least was a reassuring sound.

Warren swept the torch this way and that as their eyes adjusted to the changing of the light. The altar they had seen before became visible, finally, and upon it…

The alraune. She was just sitting there, reclining on her dozens and dozens of vines, pieces of the cavern, watching them silently with perfect, alien night vision.

She did not look happy.

The men from Adratea came together in a line, forming a small group. Siro didn't feel so perturbed by the alraune's presence until he realized her many vines connected to the huge tangled mass at the back of the cavern, and that she was bigger and stronger than any single monster had a right to be.

As she lifted herself up and raised the writhing, deadly vines connected to her arms without any fanfare, indeed without even a sound apart from snakelike slithering Ravendor suddenly shouted; "Darren!"

Darren was caught off-guard, unsure whether to go for his daggers or the bag of gems given to him by BW on his belt. "Y-yeah?" He quavered, frightened but certain he would not run away. Not again.

"Find Magi! We three will keep the alraune busy while you search!"

The youth hadn't been expecting that. "But-"

There wasn't time for arguing. "Do it! Nobody here can move like you can! Find him!"

When the vines came at them they were ready this time. They had not forgotten the brutal defeat they had experienced the day before and thanks to Trina they now had a way to fight back. She had explicitly told them not to use the machetes in combat and only use them for cutting back undergrowth, but what else was the alraune but a huge infestation of undergrowth with a personal agenda? Vines were vines. As a multitude of the strong, grasping coils leapt out at them Sylvas steel flashed for the first time in the darkness.

Darren backed away from the rest of his party as severed tentacles dropped dead around the three other men, spurting ichorous blood. Warren and Siro braced themselves against the ground and stood firmly in their place, daring more to come, a sword in one hand and a machete in the other. Warren had been splattered with the creature's blood. Siro turned to him slightly, but before he could say anything Warren replied; "Don't worry about it, it's alright."

He hastily wiped the blood from his face with the back of his wrist. As he did this Ravendor rushed past him and Siro and left their defensive protection, a move that frankly surprised Warren quite a bit. He was running directly towards the alraune and those vines, what was-

The first vine he managed to twist in the middle of a step and dodge, but the second got a firm grip around his gun-arm and tried to pull him forward, attempting to disarm him of both his weapon and his balance, but Ravendor hacked at the prehensile limb with the machete in his off-hand and severed it in two rough strikes, then closed the distance between himself and the alraune quickly. The monster seemed surprised by this, not expecting her prey to simply run up to her on the altar within striking distance. Her vines were made for long-range attacks, not close-quarters combat.

Ravendor tried to slice at her with the machete but she recoiled from him and the inaccurate, wildly flashing blade. He didn't have the same degree of control over it like Warren and Siro had and couldn't land a hit, for though the alraune was rooted to the spot there was a certain grace to her movements and she managed to evade each time, skulking back against her cavern's wall.

Realizing he was just wasting his time with the blade and only really needing to get close enough to powder-burn distance with her Ravendor suddenly let go of Trina's machete and allowed the weapon to go spinning into the dirt, freeing up his off-hand to rapidly work the hammer of his pistol. That was way too fast for the alraune to handle, and before she could weave out of the way of his aim he unloaded three rounds directly into her chest.

Smoke rose from the small bullet holes in her once beautiful, full breast. She didn't fall down or flinch very hard, even though were she a human Ravendor would have directly hit her in the heart multiple times. Of course, she was a monster; an abomination. It was entirely likely the alraune didn't have a heart at all.

Siro tried to intercept them as quickly as he could but he was just a few seconds too slow. A thick vine came up out of the ground at Ravendor's feet and punched up with such force that it hit him squarely in the jaw and he fell back, staggering into the dirt. The blond swordsman popped up at her left, sword raised high and prepared to cleave a trench through her side when she suddenly spun towards him, her long fingers outstretched as claws and raked him hard across the chest.

She was deceptively strong. Siro was knocked down by the attack and sparks flew as her claws dug deep trenches through his body armor, leaving permanent scratches behind. She might have eviscerated him had he been wearing anything lighter. The mayor of Adratea groaned as he got back up to his feet, unharmed but a little dazed.

Warren hacked away at another vine that went for him as he tried to follow his friends. He went to the alraune's right, attempting to box her in. "Keep on top of her! Get up, everyone! Darren! Have you found Magi?" He cried, trying to make sure at least somebody was giving orders, but he was just flailing. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, and that panicked him.

Rattled but still conscious Ravendor attempted to push himself up again, but stopped halfway as something restrained him. He could feel something wrapping around his leg and it was tightening fast. He holstered his gun so he could get both of his hands free; as he had a hunch he'd need them soon. "Oh dear…" He moaned, feeling the alraune's vines dragging him backwards, away from his friends.

The alraune herself retreated, not liking the idea of being outnumbered. She skittered up the wall tangle of her own vines like a spider, moving with speed and precision out of their reach.

But the humans, well, they were still within her grasp.

Vines burst out of the tangle like spears, two of them aimed for Warren and Siro. They were of impaling width and sharpness, but Warren reacted first. He threw himself into Siro, unbalancing the both of them and hurling them into the floor, but causing the vines to miss them.

Almost.

A vine grazed by Warren's side as he moved and blood flowed. The doctor roared in pain and when he hit the ground on top of Siro he did not get up again.

"Warren!" Siro called, trying to squirm out from under him. "You idiot! Are you okay?"

"Augh… my side… ribs…" He choked back in a weak voice, then let out a shuddering sigh. "I'm alright…"

It looked as bad as it sounded. The two swordsmen managed to get up without incident but Warren's right side was stained with blood and he was stuck hunched over, trying to hold his wound together with his hand. Blood was oozing out between his fingers at a steady rate. He had gone as white as a sheet, and Siro all at once felt sick to his stomach at the sight.

Warren crouched to pick up his sword again and nearly fell over, hissing in pain. He decided to leave it there instead; his balance was more important than a blade and he had actually trained for this eventuality instead. He tried to smile at Siro encouragingly but it didn't quite come out right. "I can heal it later, don't worry…"

"Can you heal it now?" Siro could hear himself saying.

Warren looked at him oddly. "It takes time…" He protested as Siro walked towards him.

"I will protect you." He said.

The other man laughed at his seriousness, but it became a groan of pain as he slowly sunk to his knees, acquiescing and putting his life directly into Siro's hands. He pressed his own hands deeper against the wound and the twisted grimace he made was almost painful to look at, but then Warren started to say something under his breath, some kind of chant, and the mayor knew that the healing process had already begun.

His partner was a doctor first and foremost, but that did not mean magic didn't exist. Warren was one of those rare kinds of people, one of the people blessed with the gifts of both worlds; of magic and science. He could have become legendary in either field, but Warren would probably be the first to admit that he preferred being a master of none; that he wanted things to work both ways. He worked because of this, and it was one of the reasons Siro loved him for it.

He rested his sword against the right pauldron of his cloak and stood beside Warren; waiting for the vines to return. He would be ready for them.

"I don't suppose I could get a hand here?" Ravendor complained in a strained voice, slowly losing the fight with the alraune's pulling vines. There wasn't much for him to hold onto in the first place and it didn't look like anybody was available to help. Siro and Warren were clearly busy and Darren had up and vanished. Goddamned Darren! He had most likely already fled.

Siro glanced at him apologetically. He just couldn't defend two people at once so far away from each other. "I'm sorry." He said.

The older man smirked sarcastically as his fingers began to give way in the soil. So much for his perfect manicure. "Well that's alright, I'm sure I'll be fine." He grumbled seconds before his arms gave out and he was forced to let go, sliding uncomfortably on his stomach to wherever the alraune had decided to take him. He thought fast and tried to roll onto his back, reaching for a small hunting knife he kept somewhere on his belt.

It wasn't really something designed for combat; it was more of a utility knife than anything else. The vine that was dragging him had wormed its way up his leg and was squeezing just a little too tightly for comfort and circulation. There wasn't enough time to properly brace for the pain so without a second thought Ravendor plunged the small knife deep into the vine and his own leg.

Only the tip of it pierced through his clothing and went into the flesh but it still hurt like hell. Ravendor growled in pain and ripped the knife out again so he wouldn't be pinned against the vine but it didn't seem to notice the stab wound at all. Bullets and blades couldn't harm her, not unless the vines were completely lopped off, and he didn't have time for-

All of a sudden the vine dragging him bucked wildly and he realized too late what the alraune was planning to do. The vine had been pulling him towards the edge of the cavern and when it moved, flinging him against the rocky surface it was like being smashed against a brick wall. Ravendor managed to get a scream out a mere second before he crumpled and was knocked unconscious, and only then the vine decided to let him go.

Siro heard that scream but he was too occupied to do anything about it. Vines kept coming at him at least one or two at a time, sometimes at Warren; sometimes at himself. He could cut through them easily with his sword but the tentacles were just unceasingly constant, one after the other, and sooner or later his arms were just going to give out. They were beginning to burn already and he could feel himself sweating, and even worse than that he could sense the semblance of control he held over himself beginning to slip.

He got headaches sometimes. They were usually stress related, or at least that was what his doctor told him. Other times he got the opposite, a perfect clarity, something that only happened when he felt he was totally synched with his sword. It was a good feeling yet he was always afraid that someday he might become addicted to it. Killing monsters helped to bring it out but cutting down endless tentacles that did not die and just bled more… it did something. It calmed him. It excited him. Endless…

He wasn't sure when it started, but when there was more blood on him than anything else Siro started to laugh. A vine grabbed his ankle. He jammed his sword into the ground and sliced it in half. A thin one grabbed him by the throat. He ripped it out with his bare hands. One grabbed Warren and interrupted him for a second in mid-concentration. It didn't stay whole for very long.

His gauntlets were getting slippery from all the alraune's blood. Was the blood dangerous? He couldn't remember.

"Siro." Warren said evenly, eyes still closed. He focused better that way.

"Y-yeah?" Siro grinned in more of a showing of teeth than anything else.

"Calm down. Think about your blood pressure." The brown-haired man instructed. He was no longer panting or gasping in pain. Warren rose from where he was kneeling. In truth that was the last thing he was worried about right now, but Siro sometimes had issues with bloodlust. The poor guy was barely even aware of it, but Warren knew.

The swordsman hesitated. He put down his blade. "Oh, damn, I…" He mumbled.

And then a vine came just for him, and this time he wasn't ready for it.

Warren came forward and caught it in time. His hand came down like lightning and without even a blade he tore the vine in two.

He grimaced afterwards. "Ouch. I don't think I did that right." He admitted bashfully.

While the rest of the rescue party was occupied with distracting or killing the alraune one other member was having problems of a different sort. Contrary to popular opinion (or just Ravendor's opinion) Darren had not fled. He had picked up the burning torch Warren had dropped earlier when he had readied his sword and had crept into the shadows at the back of the cavern, intent on searching for Magi while he was temporarily invisible to danger.

It was reassuring to know that he wouldn't have to fight, or at least not yet, but Darren was also kind of afraid. He didn't want to find Magi as a pile of bones, or a half eaten corpse, but if that was what he was now that was what he was going to find, and that scared him. If that happened it would be entirely his fault – as Magi's fate had meant to be his fate instead.

If he was anywhere he would probably be somewhere in the back of the alraune's tangle of vines. He didn't want to go near them in case they noticed his presence but the vines themselves were not sentient; they were just a small part of the alraune's whole. If he told himself this it was a lot easier to press forward, to use the bright light of the torch to illuminate the bramble of vines.

"Magi?" Darren called quietly, walking parallel to the wall of vines but being mindful not to get too close to the altar where his friends were fighting. The ground around the vines were bare, kind of damp in places, but there didn't seem to be any place where a human could be hidden, even secretly. The rogue hoped that Magi wasn't actually in the bramble, as a child he had gotten caught in a blackberry field for an afternoon and didn't relish those memories very much.

He looked up and then realized there was also another dimension to consider in his search. If the alraune could climb walls, and it looked like she could quite easily Magi could be up there, above him, hanging like a fly caught in a huge spider's web. Darren sighed. That was why he had been chosen to be the searcher; climbing was his specialty.

It would be hard to scale the vines while holding the torch with one hand, but it had to be done. He couldn't search without light. The youth anxiously placed a boot on a sturdy-looking vine, testing the footing.

He half expected it to move under his weight. It didn't. A little more confident now Darren began to scale the wall of vines, moving upwards foot by deliberate foot. The vines seemed to grow thinner the higher he went and he took extra care not to touch torch to vine. That would probably give him right away.

Far away at the altar Darren thought he heard somebody scream. He tensed, clinging to the vines a little tighter than usual, but he had to ignore that. His job was here. The others were on their own now.

"Magi, are you up here?" He called again, raising his voice to a more normal level. He got nothing in response for some time, until out of the corner of his eye the young adventurer could have sworn that he noticed movement to his left. Not a lot of movement, mind you, but movement all the same.

"Okay." He said to himself to reassure himself of progress and leaned over a bit, trying to find a footing path to progress horizontally without going up or down. This was certainly a lot more complicated than his usual training nights, which normally consisted of crawling about on other people's roofs or drainpipes; practicing his rogue-like skills.

He discovered a good looking path amongst the thinner vines but then realized he would definitely need two hands for the job. There was nothing else for it. He began to hear laughter coming from the ground as he clamped the torch between his teeth (it sounded like Siro and frankly as creepy as hell) and took the vines with both hands this time. Darren climbed and the light from the torch did the rest of the work for him.

He found Magi.

It wasn't a very encouraging sight.

He was hanging there limply from vines bound tightly around his arms, held up yet dangling there without much support. His arms must have been screaming in pain before they finally went dead, even then they looked like they had been deeply, horribly bruised. His clothes were in tatters, he was covered in a sticky kind of something and mud, dust and dirt. Blood stained his thighs and what was left of his jeans. He looked white and clammy and anemic.

He looked dead.

Without thinking Darren reached out and touched him, just on his neck, needing to know if he was still alive or not. He was cold but not ‘dead' cold, sick cold, not rigor mortis cold. He felt Magi take in a shallow breath and Darren in turn let out a deep sigh of relief. He was unconscious but still alive.

"Geez, what has it done to you?" He muttered very badly through the torch stuck in his teeth. Sick of the obstruction and needing more room to move Darren took the torch out of his mouth and wedged it between some vines, mindful to leave the flame a safe distance away from the bramble but deep enough to stick. He turned back to Magi again, drawing a dagger from his belt. Maybe he could cut him free…

It could have been the firelight casting weird hues in the enclosing darkness but Magi in his sickness seemed different. His normal blond hair looked a sickly shade of green and it seemed a bit longer than usual, a lot longer than it had been the day before, actually. Darren wasn't certain. Maybe he was just seeing things.

"Magi," Darren called, trying to rouse him by patting him gently on the cheek, "wake up!"

In response the other man didn't wake up immediately but he did furrow his brow and turn his head away, like a child unwilling to get up and go to school. He looked annoyed.

Darren didn't have time for this. He wanted to get Magi down from there, and quickly. He took the archer by the shoulder and shook him firmly. "Come on, we have to get out of here before the alraune notices us!" He pleaded.

It wasn't helping. Darren would just have to cut him down and carry him to the ground himself somehow. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it, Magi was already bigger and heavier than he was but he'd just have to try anyway.

"Hold still, this won't take long." The rogue reassured his friend, moving his dagger to the vines binding Magi's arms. They were on pretty tightly, for a few moments Darren couldn't find the join, though that might have had something to do with the weird angle he was at.

Strange… green alraune vine connected smoothly to green skin, bruised and hurting skin… Magi's skin…

Darren's blood suddenly ran as cold as ice. He turned to look back at the other man, slowly. Magi was awake. He had green eyes.

Magi didn't have green eyes.

And the sound he made when Darren's hand slipped, when the dagger cut into the vine just enough to draw blood, alraune's ichorous blood, well, that sound wasn't even in the least bit human either.