And there went the monk.

Ianthe heard the concern in Edgar’s words, she felt the same. Though Avaddon had been a rather loud and seemingly excitable man, she doubted he meant to face a nesting of miniboros all by his lonesome. Still, intentions often held little weight to what could actually happen, and if he wasn’t careful—or perhaps even if he was—he may find himself in a dire situation without aid. She hoped not, not just for his sake, but for the group’s as well.

Balder seemed to be holding together well, which was a relief. She’d seen plenty of leaderly-types among the bandit troupes, and plenty of them were quick to crack when faced with a real threat. Of course, she didn’t want to compare the Hunters Guild to them, but in the back of her mind, the part that denied the existence of true altruism, she couldn’t help it. She felt like a mercenary.

The dragoon pulled her back, and it was nice to hear another voice of reason among the group. Ianthe shifted to the right flank, casting quick, occasional glances back at Luna, Artemisia and Blaike. She kept her focus mainly upon the fog, but pushed from her mind its more mystical qualities. Balder was right, forward was the only way. Everything had an end, and this forest—this fog—was no exception.

Unfortunately, neither were any of them.

Just when Artemisia assumed that the group would be working cohesively to make the best of this terrible situation, that oaf Avaddon took it in his head to enact Blaike's suggestion all on his lonesome. Even worse, he suggested that out of everyone present, herself and Luna were incapable and needed to be protected by the other four. The black mage scowled at him as he made sure to give Luna some reassurance before leaping away into the trees. “Stay safe,” she called, her voice not even a little genuine. She might have just as well said 'drop dead.'

A moment later Edgar asked if Avaddon really took the best and most reasonable course of action, which would have earned a comment construable as sarcastic if Artemisia didn't just then realize she forgot about him earlier when getting miffed. Balder spoke up on her behalf, though, and shortly thereafter confirmed her observation: there would no retracing steps today. Edgar started rattling off an explanation of what was going on, but the anomaly he mentioned turned out more interesting than Artemisia assumed it would be. She took the dreadful fog to be an omen, reacting to powerful fiends lurking within the murky woodlands, but what Edgar said made it seem as though the forest itself sought to bring about the intruders' demise. ”How repugnant,” she muttered.

The group forged on, tensions rising once again. With the path gone and their lifeline severed, the aspiring monster hunters faced severe peril. Unlike in a normal forest, they couldn't just keep going and trust in the trees to eventually give with. This forest had a heart, twisted and black, hellbent on leading any intruders to oblivion. The gnarled wood and heavy air conspired against them to lead them around in circles; even if fiends did not take them, hunger and thirst eventually would. Artemisia's group had already been snared in the spiders' web, and soon the vibrations would lead the predator to its prey.

Artemisia held out hope that she could escape by boosting above the treetops, and she really wanted to, but she couldn't afford to coward out in any situation short of catastrophe—when there was no hope of survival if she stuck with the group. What if things didn't turn out as bad as they seemed, after all? She would be the one who abandoned them. If they started getting picked off, she reasoned, then she would run. But who could say that her strategy was foolproof? Maybe the fog extended above the treetops too. Maybe things were worse up there than down here, where at least there were places to hide. Artemisia breathed deep, keeping herself steady. She kept her hands up, ready to swirl up a storm as she scanned the trees.

---

Location:: Ferris Woods, ???
Date:: 21st Sun of Ondine
Interactions:: Artemisia, Avaddon, Balder, Edgar, Ianthe, Luna, and Mitra

---

Never realized that the definition of scouting ahead equated to negligently running, but that could of fooled him. He could only roll his eyes at the Dragoons remarks, thought he did ponder on if the miasma was clouding her judgement just a teeny bit. Regardless, he didn't forget his suggestion when he pivoted around to witness the lass undergoing what appeared to be a mental breakdown in the forest, which was possibly not the best of times, though Blaikes mind did wander for a bit to the possibility of her being poisoned, well, possibly.

The Red Mages free hand began to glow a soft white light as he reached out towards the priestess, only for the knight to comfort the girl instead. Easing his shoulders, he turned to glance at the ground, analyzing the thick purple mist that was gathering at their feet. Clenching his hand in a fist and dispelling the soft glow, he instead opted to crouch down and dip a finger into the mist. "So that's happening then, huh?"

Standing back up, he raised an eyebrow at the monks new suggestion to have one of them head forward instead of two people, which was just plain idiotic. Going in with two was to ensure both people could watch each others backs while getting a feel for the situation, while flying solo would of gotten anyone else killed in this situation.

But regardless, Blaike was one of the few who shouted out as well when the monk decided to charge foolhardily into the forest in place of just, you know, gathering information about the surroundings? Depending on the thickness of the mist and the way the forest reacted would of given him a better idea of what was to come, you know, observations.

With a sigh, Blaike peered at Edgar as he gave a brief explanation to the uninformed before peering at foliage. Malum Terrae was what they dubbed this phenomenon, or at the very least, it was a blanket term; depending on the environment, the vegetation potentially wasn't just the only thing that could be affected.

Pushing that thought aside, the Red Mage regained his senses as he began assessing the miasma levels, but based on what he could discern, they weren't in the thick of it just yet, however they were close. Giving his sword a light twirl, he watched as the knight obeyed Mitra's command. Yup, same old Mitra alright; hadn't really changed much aside from the unexpected appearance.

"Actually it comes from primarily the harp. If I can recall correctly, the voice of the person itself has no power. When combined with an instrument, in this case the bow, it acts as a medium to empower the voice to give it those magical properties. When combined with the emotions behind the voice, it can empower or debilitate enemies," Blaike spoke up, interjecting to answer the question in the priestess stead as he began to slowly retreat to the back of the group. "Anyways, I'll cover our rear for now in case we're ambushed from behind; not exactly the most elegant spot, but it at least keeps these two ladies out of the melee."

It didn't take long for the mounting suspense to spill over. Movement overtook the underbrush in all direction, causing Artemisia's muscles to tense in anticipation of action, but the creatures hastening through the shadows and shrubs wanted nothing to do with her or her ilk. They moved wildly, and in a singular direction. Away. And judging by the sound, the black mage wouldn't need to do much waiting to find out from what.

”It would appear we're in for something spectacular,” she more or less snarled. One hand went behind her back to retrieve a small black rod from its loop just above her waste, and with a flick of her wrist she extended the telescoping device into a sturdy-looking wand. There came a loud crash and the creak of protesting wood from the direction Avaddon went, disconcertingly close. Artemisia took the warning and let her magic flow. Around her the heavy air of the deep wood stirred to life for the first time in an eon, forming a rushing eddy around her. The black mage lifted off her feet to float a short distance off the ground, and as Edgar called out, she held her wand at the ready.

A moment later a hulking mass burst from the darkness, its hideous jaws clamping shut on the last few unfortunate beasts desperately trying to escape. It snapped them up in a spray of viscera, granting a horrifying sneak preview of the humans' potential fates. The sight shocked Artemisia, just for a moment, but the Malboro did not wait. Sensing more prey it charged toward the party's front line, lashing out with thick, heavy tendrils. Artemisia hoped that Ianthe and Balder could take it, but she couldn't spare the time to look. Instead she waved her wand, crying out, “Salvo!” A flurry of miniature aeros formed, condensed into bullets of air magic, and they sprayed out to riddle the Malboro across its lips. Counting on the others to keep her safe as she continued to cast, Artemisia launched another barrage with a backswing. “Salvo!” Hopefully striking the beast where its flesh was thinnest would cause some pain, perhaps even knocking out some of those nasty teeth. Though full of adrenaline the black mage fought to keep her head, holding close her other cards now that she'd played her first. If an opportunity came to do some real damage, she needed to take it. If this team brought anything less than their A-game, this monster would be their end.

Unfortunately, Avaddon's scouting venture proved a little less than useful as it seemed their prey were fleeing from something else entirely: Their mother. As the large Malboro tore down his perch and sent him tumbling to the ground, the large man did his best to absorb the impact as he crouched into the fall, rolling to a slight halt someway from the group. Luckily, it's attention was more focus on the others than himself, so he was afforded the time to catch his breath and pick himself back up.

As Avaddon rose to his feet, cracking his neck and shoulders, he sized up the beast before him. It was a rather large one, that was to be certain, but the lack of care it showed towards it's young meant they likely didn't have to worry about it receiving any reinforcements. As it focused on the party's frontline, Avaddon took a moment to circle round its backside as the others held it's attention. Once he was free of possibly getting hit, the monk took a crouching stance, hands before him in a clawed motion as he focused. A single step forth, then another, and soon he was surging forward in a pouncing strike at the creature from behind. As Artemisa pummeled the beast from the front, he sought to dig into its flesh from behind. Through the mass of coiling tendrils and eyes, he latched on, launched a quick barrage of strikes, and then moved elsewhere to begin the process anew, doing his best to divert the monster's attention and perhaps find a weak spot where he could do some real damage.

Okay! Ianthe thought, frantic. Needed!

As the writhing, green hulk brought its limbs to bear against the party, Ianthe pulled her sword from its scabbard—and plunged it into the ground behind her. She kept an iron grip on the hilt, bracing herself with the very ground as leverage, and brought up her shield. Perhaps she’d underestimated the shoddy metal, or her own wherewithal, or the intangible yet undeniable effects of Luna’s music, but when that vegetable tendril came down upon her, it found her unyielding.

The impact shook her to the bone and took a chunk of wind from her lungs, but she weathered it. When the worst of the strike was behind her, she yanked her sword free and whirled the edge around to carve herself a path forward.

Baldur was thrown aside, the dragoon—well, Ianthe kept an eye out for her. Behind her, Artemisia had made weapons of the air itself, and behind the monster, Avaddon had begun an assault of his own, simpler in practice but no less effective in execution. A sword—at least, her sword—would be wasted if she used it trying to carve the Malboro apart for glory. She knew her place in this fight, and it wasn’t to wring the sap out of the wretched thing, it was to keep the others safe while they did.

“You fight!” she called back to Luna, but she could only spare a moment’s glance back to the anxious bard before instinct screamed at her to keep her eyes on the giant turnip that was trying to kill them all.

Ianthe weaved forward, shield ahead, trying to keep the thing’s attention narrowed. Big beast, it was, but a beast nonetheless. Vicious, dangerous, but single-minded. Easily distracted.

She hoped.

---

Location:: Ferris Woods, ???
Date:: 21st Sun of Ondine
Interactions:: Artemisia, Avaddon, Balder, Edgar, Ianthe, Luna, and Mitra

---

Showtime!

Blaike tightly gripped his blade as his eyes shifted towards the imposing carnivorous vegetable that was slithering towards the group as it devoured everything in its path. For all its flailing with its tendrils, they seemed to strike true at the frontliners, slapping Baldur to the side like a rag doll. The Red Mage merely sighed at how easily the proctor had been knocked over as he dug in his heels and opened his free hand which was swirling with embers, spinning and weaving like tiny sprites.

While he did note that Artemisia going for the teeth was a decent idea, that wouldn't stop the creature from swallowing them whole and making it a slow, painful death due to the specialized digestive juices the creature has. If it seeped into the skin, it would cause a slow bit of muscle atrophy in a certain area all while paralyzing the victim before slowly causing their internal functions to slowly break down if not cured by the proper priest or mage.

Basically, you were digested from the inside out; popular poison of torturers and poisoners if he could recall correctly. Made him shudder briefly as he analyzed the creature. For all the vine whipping, he didn't seem all too worried about the two ladies up front; Mitra would more than likely evade it with little difficulty and it seemed like Ianthe was taking the blows quite well.

Despite this all, some of them seemed to be fairing... poorer than others.

"Luna, you see those cylindrical-looking tendrils with holes in them," he coolly spoke as he thrust his hand out, sending out a ball of fire that quickly split into three smaller bolts as they flew towards those yellow openings.

"Shoot at those! They're where the eyes are located," with that said he began preparing another barrage of fire to assault the creature with, only for his ears to catch some chittering. Despite the cacophony of the creature slamming its tendrils and roaring, he still picked up on the little things. Blaike could swear that there was something getting ready to come from behind, with the bits of shifting coming from the bush not helping as he couldn't tell if that was a result of the ground shaking from the beast slamming or something else.

Either way he would feign ignorance for now as he arched his arm back, readying to burn the Malboro's eyes to a crisp.

Swiftly the aspiring adventurers joined the battle, only for Baldur to go down straightaway. ”Oh, hell,” Artemisia moaned, with not so much as a trace of decorum. With their great leader down both Avaddon and Ianthe began vying for the monster's attention without delay, but given their different positions neither managed to command the thing's full attention and leave a real opening. Still, Blaike worked with that as best he could, and urged Luna to join him as he pointed out the Malboro's weak spot. Artemisia took a moment to confirm the special tendrils, given the fitful half-light filtering through the canopy here, and then switched targets. While the archer's shots might have more penetrating power, they would come less frequently and be more likely to miss. Given her mental state, poor Luna couldn't be relief upon to lay the pain on that the ambushed party needed to flip the battle's momentum.

The black mage lifted her arm up, prepared to cast. Her ability to float gave her quite the positional advantage, and from it she planned to send an air slash straight across the eye-stalks that Blaike's flames so helpfully highlighted. However, she saw something else: a meaty tendril reaching for Ianthe. Mitra could dodge something like that, but in her heavy gear and with her status as a defender, Ianthe would almost certainly be taking that. If a Malboro was half what it was cracked up to be, though, that wouldn't pan out well. Armor laughed off cuts and most punctures, but it could be crushed, especially by such overbearing floral fury. Then there were those black shards basically screaming 'dark magic', but she couldn't focus on those now. Artemisia clicked her tongue, changed directions, and sliced through the air with her hand. ”Razor!”

An edge of wind magic sped toward the tentacle, aimed perpendicular to its length. Though she didn't think for a moment her Razor would cut all the way through, Artemisia hoped to make it think twice, or else weaken the limb enough to make its grip weak or its girth vulnerable. A moment later, the combined efforts of the team staggered the monster, which honestly left the black mage impressed. ”More laudable than I imagined,” she praised, feeling more at ease. The Malboro then tensed up to release a rolling wave of noxious gas, but Artemisia didn't so much as flinch—and not just because her loftiness left her beyond its reach. ”I'll handle the fumigation. Aero!” She sent forth spell after spell to burst against the ground and drive the foul gas away from the main group. Those attacking from vastly different angles shouldn't be in direct peril, but they would need to keep on their toes.

---

Location:: Ferris Woods, ???
Date:: 21st Sun of Ondine
Interactions:: Artemisia, Avaddon, Balder, Edgar, Ianthe, Luna, and Mitra

---

As soon as he confirmed nothing was going to attempt a back attack, he thrust his arm out towards the Malboro, launching more fire towards each of its eyes the best he could. Regardless, it wasn't hard for him to deduce that this fight was going rather swimmingly, though he did feel a little bad for not consoling the disconcerted priestess, who continued to stand there, petrified.

Where was a Gold Needle when they needed it?

While Blaike was thankful that there was some minor assistance from the enchanting black mage, he felt a bit of light tingling creeping up his back. He had a bad feeling as he kept his focus on the creature, only to watch as crossbow bolts flew at the creatures mouth, causing a decent explosion that blended together with Mitra's.

Following that assault, Blaike noticed a couple of things as his hand began to glow a burning orange for a moment. For starters, those crystals that fractured off the creature caught his attention and gave him a strange sensation of being off and familiarity. He could collect samples for studying in the labs later, but for now he had to focus on the big picture at hand. Speaking of which, he noted that Artemisia had swapped targets, instead aiming her Aero's at the thick tendril that was aiming to snare the rustic lass.

"Hmph, a paltry showing for the beast," he muttered with a smirk as he clasped his hands shut, snuffing out the flame before opening his hands to reveal... apparently nothing to the untrained eye. Guess it was his turn to assist the enchanting mage and the knight as he squinted at the place the former had struck, took aim, and let loose the Aero towards it. Hopefully that would be enough to deepen the tentacles would enough to sever it from Ianthe.

Or weaken it to the point where she could slice it off with no worries. Either or worked.

"Save the venerations for after we've reduced this monster to cinders," he barked out as his hand began to glow a fiery red once more before pausing and glancing over to the panicked priestess. "Luna, how are you holding uh-oh..."

Congratulated the group a bit too soon there Artemisia as the monster belched and expelled noxious gas. Great, it used Bad Breath and the party was all clumped together. He figured it would of been a better idea to move to the side, but the other mage in the party decided it would be a better plan to hold back the gas instead of moving back.

Would of been a decent plan if it wasn't for the wall it created, but regardless, they could work around this. "Considering the intelligence those Minibros displayed from earlier, Abaddon, Ianthe, Mitra, keep your distance; the mother Malboro might attempt to drag you into the gas. However, the gas should dissipate in a minute or so."

Wait a sec', their proctor was knocked out and could easily be pulled into the fumes if they weren't careful. Sighing and shaking his head, Blaike began to form an Aero in his hand, but didn't cast it, instead keeping watch on any tendrils that may slither up and grapple one of them. If he saw one going for one of his companions, he would send his Aero towards it.

Despite this all, he still had that same itching feeling in the back of his head - that some Minibros may attempt to ambush them all from behind. It was the perfect time to do so and weighed a bit on his mind when it came to his next move.

Avaddon did not stop in his savaging attacks as the creature reared in pain from the combined assault, continuing to move along the beast's body as he noted the strange dark protrusions with some concern. However as he heard the rumbling gurgle of the beast's breath forming within the gullet, the monk knew he needed to act fast. Picking up speed as he clawed his way up the creature, he soon made it to the top of the beast, heaving himself up with a flip to land on its head with a feral grin. As the scales along his shoulders once more rattled, he gathered his inner power into him with a low breath. Taking a firm stance, he dug low, resisting the movements of the creatures writhing as best he could.

After this brief silence, the monk would let out a bellowing scream as his fingers curled into a fist and slammed down into the creature's head.Hard. And so would every blow that comes after the first, a successive exclamation to accentuate the force of every fire-infused blow into the creature's upper half would have all of Avaddon's strength put into it. His goal was to either disorient or otherwise disable its ability to effectively deal with the others by focusing it's attention on the one up above. If it continued to ignore him, it would be at the beast's own peril.