After half an hour of a combination of swinging, chopping, and ducking and diving brambles that looked as sharp as razors Mibbet finally broke through, only to find herself face to face with a second such barrier.

Whatever had the Spriggans so upset down here clearly did not want to be disturbed. (The lashing whips of twisted plant tendrils were something of a hint on that front, but still what was the alternative, so after a barrage of very creative froggy curse words (and more than a few equally creative human ones, the learning process going both ways and all) she started hacking away at the second wall.

Whatever the hell was going on here really did not appreciate that, Mibbet had never heard plants scream before, but these ones seemed to be rather good at it for a thing without vocal cords, sending out a holler loud enough to set her ears ringing. Then lunging in on the attack with a fervour that made the previous attempts seem like timid little slaps in comparison.

************************************************************************

She gave a scream as the plants gave voice to her rage, these interlopers had no idea what they were doing, if they kept screwing with her everything would completely fall apart, and she couldn’t have that, she would crush them fists.

Lashing out with all she had in her she aimed lash after lash at them, but what was not cut was blocked, and she was so very, very tired. Soon she was forced to turn her attention to it once again, and leave the humans to their own devices (a terrible idea that has never in the entire of history worked out for the best.)

The thing in the depths would either save her race or doom them, but just trying to get to it was enough to spell danger to her and all of her children. A small price to pay if the gambit paid off, but if even the slightest thing went wrong it would do so spectacularly, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had it in her to contain that much power anymore*

************************************************************************

Errol was more than happy when The Princess finally broke through the barriers, with any luck from here on out it would be plain sailing. Sadly there was no such luck, as the sharpened plants reformed into humanoid creatures, he would have said Dryads, but there was something very wrong there. They seemed completely hollow, more like puppets than a sentient being, and there were one two three four OK Errol was happy to stick to saying a lot of them, as sometimes in life the last thing you want is an accurate headcount. With a groan he redrew his weapons and lunged forward, and it turns out clubbing non sentient plant monsters doesn’t really do a lot, (yes even if you hit them really really hard.) So he pulled out his standard issue sword, and decided he best get to pruning before he became free compost.

Sir Leeroy meanwhile was doing what he did best, running into everything in his path and hitting it as hard as he could, (he was naturally talented in this particular field.) But his plan definitely had one very specific flaw, running into things requires you to have a good run up, and passages are less useful on that front than any other kind of terrain. He was still giving as good as he got though, tearing and uprooting everything he could as he tried to figure out where the hell they were supposed to go.

Elvira was having some difficulty though, pikes are far from the ideal confined quarters weapon, still it seemed standing back and stabbing away at the base of every stem was gradually having an effect. These things were definitely not conscious in any serious way, and only seemed to mindlessly follow orders (reminding her of the yes men back in the palace who she was willing to swear if asked to would play fetch, beg, and even roll over.) So they were definitely not a creature with a tactical mindset, which meant they were completely unaware what she was up to, until things started to go very very wrong.

The plants that were growing started to change, and nobody even noticed until it was far too late, there’s a simple thing that any gardener worth their salt will tell you for nothing, and that is that there are some plants that you never, ever, ever cut. You burn them with extreme prejudice.

Errol had once made home hade itching powder to his own special recipe, using dried and powdered poison oak among other things. He’d been miserable for a few days after, but it was totally worth it a few days later when he hid it all in Mike’s bed. (He’d been grounded for a month once his mum figured out what had happened, but it had totally been worth it at the time.) Now he was feeling a familiar sensation, a terrible burning, stinging sensation, and was just about to warn The Princess, but he was just a fraction of a second too late, as the plants shifted once more to the familiar shape of hogweed, just as the axe was swung, scattering itchy, burny sap everywhere.

************************************************************************

Back in the depths she smirked as her final gambit paid off, she had bought herself much needed breathing room as the humans tried desperately to counter the itching, burning misery that they were now suffering, then just to add to the misery as much as she could, and buy herself precious time she sent pollen production through the roof. Humans always hated that.

That done she could at last focus back on the thing that threatened her territory. Usually a young core had very little power to spare, but this one? Those bastard humans in pink had done something to it, fed it up, and even placed sacrifices. To make things even worse it was a dungeon, meaning deaths within it nurtured it, and all she had to counter that was more life it could kill. She had a time bomb on her hands and no idea how to deal with it.