Northern Forest of Tob, six hours before the Zuranon Disaster.
Naaru watched as both Blue Planet of Elsewhere and the abomination fell to their knees, not long after the magic caster had placed both hands upon the beast's temples.
The beast's eyes flared with smoldering flames when sparks from the half-goat being's appendages, strange magic unlike anything the dryad patriarch had seen. The effect was instantaneous on both sides.
The ones who named themselves Ankoro Mocchi Mochi and Coup De Grace flared out with the smaller, strangely dressed woman with red hair. Someone named Lupusregina, Naaru believed.
When he had first seen the new arrivals, the first thing he had noticed was how…tall they were, towering over even the most vertically gifted of man and animal that resided within the Forest of Tob.
Skin impervious to all damage, clothing, while rugged or nonexistent for the werewolf and winged feline, that spoke of material wealth in the form of physical goods, rather than coin. A servant fully willing and able to lay her life down for her masters.
Indeed, were it not for the scent of decay and rot that permeated from all of them as if they spent most of their time living in a tomb, Naaru would say that they were figures of legend. Great prowess and strength unmatched by even dragon lords.
The dryad patriarch knew that out of all of them, easily the most impressive in his mind was Blue Planet himself. Kind and soft-spoken. Slow to anger but when done, righteously so. Afterall, what other being would be worthy enough to lead such other powerful creatures as those of Ainz Ooal Gown?
Having been led through the forest, standing beside the ones who Lord Grover himself had admired and learned from, was a rare honor truly. His armor and weapon was a testament to that, the kindness of those who hailed from another plane of existence.
When Naaru reflected upon his behavior the last couple of days, how he had treated them with wariness and distrust, he knew that he had overstepped his bounds.
What would my teacher say, if he saw how I had treated my saviors? The sadness and disappointment would be immeasurable. I'm sorry, Lord Grover Sprigganson.
Such contemplation stirred an uneasiness in him, for they indirectly led to the memories of his time fighting the demon tree. He knew never in a thousand seasons that he would be able to take it on and live.
No, such a feat could only be accomplished with the aid of others. Those who possessed great potential such as himself. Even still, fighting the monstrosity that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere had taken all of Naaru's strength and willpower.
When the elder dryad had first faced it down, the aura of pure malevolence and raw power had been enough that he would have cowed like a pup before the pack leader.
Even to this day, Naaru recalled how his limbs and spirit had ached, his vital essences slowly drained away by the might and magic of the demon tree. One who's fortitude had known no other equal, save for one.
That alone spawned dark theories in the back of the patriarch's head, when he made the comparison. It seemed far too great a coincidence that Grover had disappeared while Zy'tl Q'ae had sprung up around the same time.
But to think that the treant's mental affliction had grown that dire? To reduce him to nothing more than a starving animal, preying on everything and anything in sight?
It terrified Naaru more than he would ever admit. At times, when he rested in his home tree late at night, those beliefs would keep him up, gnawing at his psyche until he eventually fell into restless dreams.
A conundrum also presented itself, on whether or not he should share those theories with the inhabitants of the Spriggan Settlement. How would they react, if they were led to believe that their historical teacher had become the very aspect of nature that hated all life?
While Naaru knew that the humans would never abandon their ways, he did understand that a general uneasiness would sprout from the new knowledge.
Fear would eventually blossom, as the teachings of Grover were called into question. Never left behind, but perhaps never taken so seriously as they were now. A precarious balance that could easily tip over and spell disaster.
No…better to let sleeping wolves lie, than stir up trouble by announcing such speculation. He knew he wasn't the only one, for he had heard the hushed whispers over the years among the members of the community grove.
Now was not the time to idle on what might be, or ponder what greater truth may be lurking.
He stowed away the thoughts to focus on the situation at hand, seeing how the smaller abominations had scampered to their leader's side, in much the same way as the humans, dryads, and members of Ainz Ooal Gown had flocked to Blue Planet's.
Neither side made a move, watching one another to ensure that no foul play would ensue, not while doing whatever ritual that their respective representatives engaged in.
His eyes flickered to the corpse of Zy'tl Q'ae, lifeless and torn to pieces. Then he spotted the angelic individuals referred to as "Cherubs".
Though they radiated holy light, battle fury barely contained by the command of their holders filtered through. A sense of divine bloodlust and protection from which to rain upon worthy foes.
There was no previous experience to draw upon, but the cherubs' feathery wings did remind the dryad of another class of creature known as "angels". They seemed only to come from a place known as the Slane Theocracy.
Beyond the name, next to nothing was known about the supposedly human-supremacist nation. The humans of Spriggan Settlement had sparse knowledge themselves, tales told over campfires and by the more educated humans from the larger settlements like Re-Estize and E-Rantel.
Naaru's Dryad-Born allies and his own warriors mingled amongst each other, spears and magic ready to decimate the ones who had made their lives a nightmare for the last moon.
The abominations snapped their jaws and flashed their talons, horns, and other assorted bodily weaponry. Some of the smaller ones, perhaps younger members, stared quizzically at the "Progenitor" as it had called itself.
The patriarch eyed them all, disgust pounding itself into his core as pus and thick coatings of slime rolled off the beast's bodies and orifices. Their skulls dirty and smudged with dried blood and thin-cracks across the surface.
Taunt skin stretched tightly over their emaciated bones, as if it might tear at any moment, or for the larger ones, it might burst to reveal putrid, fetid muscles beneath.
The beasts' nauseating stenches would drive even the most iron-stomached being to tears, and their aura would drive weak willed individuals to madness.
It was a wonder how they could be so deliberately vile, and yet, not.
A hand clasped Naaru's pauldrons, drawing his attention away from the animals to his peer and human counterpart, Frode.
While it was true that Frode was not the human man's name, but rather Hagnar Rolfsson, or "Pops" as he was affectionately nicknamed, Frode held a deeper meaning to the dryad than the other two titles.
It had been the name of the first human to venture into the forest with Lord Grover in tow, the treant introducing the two groups and managing to get them to work together. At first, there was a certain sense of wariness that came to the then younger tree spirit.
Had it not been for Lord Grover's guidance and compassion, he might have slayed the human on the spot. He could not risk their kind coming into his home to wreak havoc. He had seen too much of that already.
In a forest he had long since forgotten the name of, long before Naaru came to the Forest of Tob, he had witnessed first hand how quickly humanity, and even other races, could decimate entire ecosystems for their own gain.
Those beings held no regard for the sanctity of nature at all! They took and took, leaving barren wastelands in their wake and then moving on when nature had been stripped of all her timeless beauty.
But such was the way of things, when Naaru himself was a mere sapling. Before Grover and the first Frode, he'd even held hope that those other species and humans could be reasoned with and taught the error of their ways.
His own father, another rare male dryad, believed the same, until he was cut down by creatures who bore humanoid shapes but were the upright cousins of more wild versions of themselves.
Wolf-men. Cat-men. Bear-men. Humans… None were innocent in that regard, and they had hardened the patriarch's taproot to further pleas of peace when he came of age and led his people to slaughter the ones who raped and pillaged his home.
When their settlements had been reduced to ash and their numbers slain, Naaru took what little remained of his people and moved on, having to use magic to prompt their home trees to uproot themselves and move across vast distances to a new home.
In time, they came to be to the Forest of Tob, settling into their current community grove and vowing to defend it to the last. Never again would those other than the natural inhabitants of the forest be allowed kinship with the dryads of Naaru Pol Perlia.
At least, until Grover and his followers came along.
Naaru and that human leader, Frode, would grow closer, even calling one another "brother" as they worked together to bridge the gap between their people. When the original Frode finally passed away, it was the first time in his life he had ever wept for someone other than his own kind.
So in honor of his first human friend, he referred to all Dryad-Born patriarchs as "Frode". Save for, of course, those who had become…less-than-ideal. Thankfully, those rulers were short lived in their reigns, always displaced by far-wiser, better fits among the human ranks.
Over-hunting, overfishing, over-harvesting, and an overall abuse of the forest was not something that Naaru would stand for, especially not when previous generations had put in so much effort to preserve the balance of peace and harmony between man and nature.
Only now, that balance was not threatened by man, or beast-men, or even the careless actions of saplings practicing with their powers. Instead, harm came from dwellers of the shadows.
Frode shook Naaru out of his thoughts, his head turning ever so slightly to see the human elder.
"What is it, Frode?" Naaru asked in a soft, gentler tone, "If you're worried about Blue Planet, I'm sure he'll be fine. His comrades are here with us and him. I doubt that they'll let him come to harm."
Frode shook his head. "No, I'm not worried about that, old friend. Look at the trees, where some of the monsters went. Look what they're doing."
The dryad patriarch craned his neck, observing how the creatures scuttled across the muck that encased their own people. A pair, one human and dryad, was slowly being extricated from their organic prisons by their jailers.
He counted twelve encasings in total, making for twenty-four total individuals who had been kidnapped. All of the ones who had gone missing over the past moon were accounted for.
No. Not everyone. Where are my grand pistils? Where have they gone? Where is my future in-law?
Naaru's gaze was narrow through the slits of his bark-plate helmet, but it was inexorably drawn to the corpse of Zy'tl Q'ae once more. Seeing such an immovable and "unbeatable" foe so casually dismembered was both an elating and discomforting sight.
For all of his own power, for all of his wisdom and knowledge, with the backing of several other heros, the best he could manage was to put the vicious demon tree to sleep. If anything, he suspected they'd only fought a single root of it.
Yet here the creature was, dead, and evidently for some time to boot. But in truth, that had made little sense from his point of view.
From his own "private" scoutings of the surrounding area near the community grove, he had seen the tell-tale signs of life evaporation and withering. Plants and animals alike were drained of precious nutrients and water, leaving them as mummified husks in the wake of Zy'tl Q'ae.
It wasn't just around the demon tree's grove either. Naaru had long suspected that its roots spread for miles beneath the forest floor, leeching energy in areas not even remotely close to the creature.
Here, within its sanctuary, the patriarch could see it was far more pronounced, with the addition of the mutated floral life and the abominations which inhabited the desolate and alien plane.
When Naaru started to walk towards the corpse of the titanic arboreal, some of the other amalgamations snapped their attention at him, bearing needle teeth and razor-sharp claws.
"Stay your weapons, you rotten animals," the elder tree spirit snipped, "I have no intention of harming your leader. I just wish to get a closer look at the demon tree."
One bearing the head of a wolf snapped its jaws, rivulets of tar slipping past its gums and pooling onto the ground. A low growl hummed from within its chest.
Another lowered its antlers closer to the ground in a threatening motion, pawing the earth with bovine hooves. Jets of snot and breath blasted from its thin nostrils.
The only one that did not make a move was the same reptilian abomination that had led the party of dryads, humans, and members of Ainz Ooal Gown to the new home of the beasts.
Unlike its brethren, it was still, and watched the human and dryad patriarchs with an alien fascination. Every so often it's fingers twitched and grasped at invisible objects. It clacked its jaws once.
"Tree…offers nothing. Turn…back…only…sorrow…," the reptilian whispered.
"We'll be the judges of that," Frode said in a rare moment of ferocity. His lips were down turned into a gruesome snarl, flashing his impressively white teeth. "Let us pass and see the tree."
The hooved abomination snorted. "Or…what…?"
"Or we smash you like the insects that you are, insolent welps."
Naaru shot a look over his shoulder, seeing the luxurious fur of the one named Coup De Grace. His painted runes illuminated with magic, and his wings flared outwards in a display of grandeur and size.
His crossbow was loaded with a blue flaming arrow, the winged arms cocked back and primed to fire.
The other member, Ankoro Mocchi Mochi, and her…niece, perhaps, stayed where they were with the majority of the group. Both had their attention focused on the patriarchs and watched with keen eyes
The hooved and wolfish beasts slowly began to back away, while the reptilian remained as it was, deep in what passed for thought for its kind.
Finally it let out a wispy sigh. "Very well…Tried…to warn…you…"
It turned on its heel, waving a paw to indicate for Naaru and Frode to follow. For the first time in nearly a century, a desperation drove the ancient dryad's feet onward.
He passed directly by Blue Planet and Progenitor, noting the slack jawed expression on both of their faces. Sparks of mana still tingled between the Druid's fingers as they subconsciously held on to one another.
Both patriarchs continued on their path, the reptilian abomination leading them towards the body of Zy'tl Q'ae. The jagged entrance that was once its mouth was foreboding, shards of timber stabbing outwards and roots shaking across the ground in a way that could easily trip the unaware.
When last Naaru fought his ancient foe, its jaws were cavernous and never ending, a bottomless pit through which weaker prey fell through and were never seen again.
Now it had been hollowed out, allowing light to shine down and place a beacon directly in the contents of the new space.
The first thing that caught the dryad's eye was how much amber there was, constantly flowing from the crushed and cracked body that had been laid down within the area. Bark was coming off in sheets, revealing the underlayers that would be comparable to human muscle.
Crackling, light breaths shoved oxygen out and brought in minuscule amounts of carbon dioxide. The head itself was dented in several spots, and the foliage on top hung on by mere threads.
A tunic, ripped to shreds and sticky with sap, dangled limply off the broken frame of one of his beloved grand flora, Tulipa Pol Perlia.
His other, Pinison Pol Perlia, lay at the foot of her elder sister, stiff as a board and eyes wide open in terror. She was covered head to toe in bark plate like Naaru's, a spear clenched tightly in her right hand.
For the moment, both were alive, though not entirely well. But that meant if Tulipa was here, then Svend would be-
"My-my boy," Frode rasped shakily, pushing past the tree spirit and kneeling down to inspect the pale, bloodless body next to Tulipa. His veiny hands reached out to cradle the younger lumberjack's head.
"What did they do to you…what did they do to you?" The Dryad-Born repeated, over and over in a daze. He rocked back and forth, his earthen robes sullied by the mud.
Svend did not reply, his lips blue and his skin tight as decay started to set in. For the moment, the younger lumberjack's body was in one piece, save for the massive hole driven through his sternum.
Dried blood from the corners of Svend's mouth and his new orifice caked the deathly pale skin, the smell of evacuated bowels and sickly sweet rot prevalent through the air.
Frode kept whispering to his deceased grandson as Naaru hovered over his still-living grand pistils. He took stock of their conditions, noting that Pinison would simply require a quick rest in her home tree to recuperate any lost energy she'd expended getting to the grove.
Tulipa, on the other hand…
She will require more intensive care. With the amount of damage she's sustained, there's no telling how long she may be in stasis for. And that's not even counting when she finds out what has happened to her graftmate.
The dryad patriarch mirrored his counterpart, cradling both Pinison and Tulipa's heads. The former's felt like trying to lift a boulder, as whatever otherworldly force kept her weighted down.
The eldest dryad sapling choked and gurgled something incoherent, Naaru shushing her back into an unfit rest. The younger sapling's initial panic seemed to subside now with her grand stamen there to soothe and protect her.
Naaru, all the while, tried to ignore the sobs that came from his peer, quiet but sharp in his mournful cries. His taproot went out to Frode, it truly did, but a selfish and primeval portion of his psyche could not help but feel elated that his grand flora were still alive.
Indeed, there was a dark sense of satisfaction at knowing that his bloodline had lived on in the face of such dire threats. An old feeling, from a time when humans had not been considered an ally of Naaru or his people.
The thought gave way to an old memory, stored deep within his subconsciousness, and one which reminded him of why he ultimately sided with Frode and the settlement of humans.
It was a hot summer day, just barely reaching into the upper echelons of the afternoon. The sun's rays beat down in an oppressive beam that would send any sensible, thinking creature into the relative coolness of their dens or shelters.
But Naaru was out in a clearing near where the Spriggan Settlement was instead, slightly west of the location where human lumberjacks came and went. All that remained in the clearing were the stumps of recently sawn oaks.
The then-younger dryad hovered around a stump impression, shovel in hand and tearing at the dirt with the human tool. To his right was the current leader, the original Frode, with an identical shovel.
Frode was a physically muscular but soft-faced man, as if he never truly grew out of his sapling years save for his body. His hair was a light brunette and slicked up into spikes, only the faintest of stubble covering his round chin and flat cheeks.
Rather than the traditional brown robes that others of Frode's kind wore, he opted for a forest green tunic and leather pants with work boots. With his stature, the human leader towered over the dryad easily.
Other human men were similarly dressed, spread out across the clearing and either digging away at their stumps with pickaxes and shovels or using ropes to haul away the freshly excavated arboreal roots in small teams of four.
Another pair of humans waited nearby, holding the gangly trunks of sapling trees in their strong hands. A sack had been tied around their roots, holding in vital fertilizer to promote healthy growth once planted.
Several of these saplings had been planted already, but with the amount of trees harvested, there'd was still much more to do before it would be fully replenished.
A pungent stench of sweat wafted across to Naaru, making him crinkle his nasal openings in disgust.
The human wiped his brow with the back of his hand, reaching for a wine skin hanging on his waist with the other. He took a mighty drought of it, eyeing the tree spirit from the corner of his vision.
Frode took the wine skin from his lips and offered it to Naaru. "Here. You've been hard at work with me and my boys. Why don't you take a drink and replenish yourself."
Naaru stared at the extended drink blankly, before saying, "Dryads do not require sustenance outside of our home tree, human. We are perfectly capable of sustaining ourselves."
The human patriarch said nothing, merely returning the wine skin back to his waist and returning to his shoveling.
Naaru looked down at his shovel, seeing how the wood of the shaft matched the tone of his bark almost perfectly, leading down to the triangular, spade shaped metal at the end.
It was a simple and well-worn tool. It had no will, no power beyond the desires of its wielder. A means to an end, which was to dig up the stumps of harvested trees so that new ones might be planted in their place.
Something that preserved the balance of nature, something that the dryad patriarch should be proud of serving. A means to an end.
He threw down the tool with a huff.
"Why must I use a human tool to revitalize the Forest of Tob? I am a dryad! I can bend the oaks and spruces to my will as easily as breathing! There's no point to any of this!"
There was no yelling, per say, but Naaru raised his voice enough that it caught the attention of Frode and his compatriots, who paused to see what the tree spirit had to say.
The silence was enough to spur on the younger patriarch. "I have no need for humans! Nor do my people! We have done well enough on our own without any need for outside help! Why should we start now!?"
"Because it's not nice to be alone," added a sage and gravelly voice.
Naaru's attention shifted to the new voice that interrupted his miniature rant. The constant booming of his feet gave away who exactly had spoken to him.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A shadow washed over the significantly smaller denizen of the forest, bathing him in shadow as he crossed his arms and craned his neck to gaze upwards.
Grover was a titan of a treant, standing nearly as tall as a middling oak, or about the height of a human man and a half. His limbs were thick all around and bustling with greenery from his spare branches.
The bark of the treant's body was a brown so light it almost appeared white in hue. The leaves that grew from the canopy upon the crown of his head provided ample shade for those who stood beneath him.
Crude shards of wood served to create facial features for the giant, crackling with each minute movement he made. His fingers were sharpened branches, and the toes of his trunks for legs sprawling roots.
As Naaru's pitch void eyes narrowed in annoyance, Grover's amber gold crinkled in amusement. Frode immediately gave a half bow to the elder being.
"Don't need to do that, friend," Grover said kindly, "You're my friend, always will be. It gets weird with all the bowing."
The human patriarch stood up with a clearing of his throat and a sheepish smile, mumbling an apology with his soft voice. Some of the other humans laughed.
The treant waved them off. "When I first came here, I was all alone. At first it was nice, but then after a while it got lonely. That's when I found Frode and his friends."
Then the giant knelt down, his branches cracking and his shins digging sizable ruts in the dirt with his massive size. The dryad leader found he was able to much more easily look the treant in the eye.
"Ever since then, I've done all I can to make sure they do good for the trees. They have done good. Now I believe they need to make friends with the ones who live in the forest, so that they can learn what it's like to live in nature."
"Only it's not man's place to live in nature," Naaru shot back, "They have their cities and roads and neighbors. Why must they come and intrude upon my and my people's home?"
Grover paused to consider this, sharing a knowing look with his human "friend" as he called him. He nodded as if he had reached a conclusion.
"Because they are just as much a part of it as you and I," the treant stated, "My teacher told me that once. That once upon a time, humans lived in caves and had to live off nature to survive. Now these guys are trying to do it again, and I can help them do it."
The dryad scowled, gesturing to his forsaken tool. "Which is very nice and all, but how does that relate to me having to use a shovel instead of my powers? I could easily do the work of all of these men within an hour. There's no need for it."
A chuckle emanated from the elder as he picked up the discarded shovel. He held it up close to his wizened, wooden features, then gently stabbed it into the overturned earth.
Then the giant tapped at the center of Naaru's chest with a single digit, grunting.
"Learn how humans do things, so that way they can learn how dryads do things," Grover said simply. "Nothing ever got done by staying apart. Only together, can we get better."
"Make sure to plant your roots deep, so they grow old, and they make something beautiful," the treant continued, "That's what my teacher told me once. I miss him a lot."
At those words, Naaru's annoyance softened. "And what was this teacher's name? He must have been wise, to teach you as such."
Timber facial lines scrunched up in thought, a hum droning on. "I…can't remember his real name. But I do remember the other name he had. That's how I spoke to him most of the time. His name was Blue Planet."
"Blue Planet." The dryad parroted, rolling the words off of his tongue. "An odd name."
"Yeah…but not only was he a great teacher, but an even better friend. Maybe one day he'll come here and see what I've done. I'm sure he'll be happy to see that."
A gentle grin came over the treant's face, placing him in bliss as he most likely recalled his own adventures with the one called "Blue Planet".
Though Naaru hadn't known either Grover or the other humans for very long, he was able to gauge certain aspects of their character based off of the life force that he could detect with his own abilities.
It was one of the few reasons why the dryad patriarch had seen fit to let Frode live, when the human first came to the community grove with offers of peace and friendship.
That, and the impressive stature of the forest guardian right behind him.
Those same abilities had also allowed Naaru to sense that while Grover was sincere in his intentions of cooperation and kindness, there was a sort of childish naivety behind it.
Treants were extraordinarily rare among the inhabitants of an undisturbed forest, with only one or two at a time around to safeguard their home. In the two hundred years since he had been born, the specimen in front of the tree spirit was the first he'd laid eyes upon.
He wondered if Grover was a sapling among the standards of treants, but his broad and all encompassing knowledge that he saw fit to share with the other dryads seemed to indicate otherwise.
Most certainly, if he had the wisdom and patience to teach humans a more passive and thoughtful way of life, then he surely could not be a sapling by any means, right?
A groan pierced the air, Naaru snapping out of his musings to watch as Grover held one side of his head in his right hand. The movement startled the birds that began roosting in the branches that jutted from his upper back.
"Are you alright, sir?" Frode asked, dropping his shovel and rushing to the treant's side. "Is it the headaches again?"
The titan nodded ever so slightly. "Yes…I need some water and rest. The green eyes are staring at me again. I don't like them."
The human patriarch whispered something sympathetically to his guardian, before gesturing for some of the other human men to come over.
Two came by and gently grasped the arms of their teacher, guiding the powerful treant back to where he came from. Dirt clung to his shins as he rose off the ground.
As man and tree guardian retreated, Grover looked over his shoulder one last time.
"Remember what I said, Naaru. Do what humans do, and maybe they can do what you do too. There's no better way to learn than that!"
Eventually, the trio faded from Naaru's sight, Grover's words ringing about in his ears. The dryad leader glanced to his fallen shovel, then to Frode, who had not left with his brethren.
Naaru slowly reached down to pick his tool up from the upturned earth. "Perhaps he is right. I may have my powers and could do all this work easily enough by myself, but then I will have learned nothing."
"What better way for two men to bond than to toil in the dirt together, eh?" Frode said with a small smile.
And for the first time since he had come to that clearing and met with the humans, the tree spirit matched his counterpart's mirth.
The memory ended for the elder spirit, mere seconds within the span of real time for him, but an eternity in his mental space. A message from a time when passion and pride fueled his actions, rather than caution and wisdom.
The new Frode was still silently weeping for his grand flora, burying his aged head into the lifeless body's chest. Tears washed away the dried blood in a storm of sorrow and anguish. The older human's shoulders shook with his emotions.
Naaru released Pinison's head to pat his old friend on the back, mentally comparing the new Frode with the old. He found that both possessed a unique charm that honored the dryad to call the human his friend.
Rustling interrupted their mourning, as both parties turned to see the reptilian abomination standing at the entrance of Zy'tl Q'ae's destroyed mouth. It clacked its jaws, licking gum less teeth.
"Only…sorrow…here…," it stated simply, in the halting speech that Naaru could associate with the creature's kind. "Come…Others….have been freed…Time to go…home…"
Naaru said nothing, remaining as he was with his grand flora in his arms. His grip merely tightened on the both of them, but not so much that he caused discomfort or further harm.
Frode was of the same mind, clutching his deceased grand stamen as well. His robes became stained with the mud that had clung to Svend's cadaver.
"And what of our grandchildren?" The human patriarch demanded, previous fierceness returning in full force. "Naaru deserves to bring his home, and I… my grandson deserves a proper burial, at least."
The Reptilian abomination answered without missing a beat. "Release…others…Good faith…but we need…one heir…they…will suffice."
"No! I refuse to leave my grandson and his betrothed here like this! We will be leaving and that's final!"
"That…is most…unwise…"
The rest of the conversation dulled to a low buzz as Naaru tuned it out. He was unable to take his eyes off of both Pinison and Tulipa, watching the panicked and aching rise and fall of their chests.
Pinison stared at the elder dryad imploringly, her pitch eyes meeting with the patriarch's. He could feel the beating of his taproot drowning out the buzzing of his ears the longer they stared at one another.
Then Naaru broke away to check up on his eldest grand pistil, tracing every wicked crack in her bark skin. The clumps of pine needles that served as hair falling out in steady clumps upon the dirtied floor.
Golden amber leaked from various wounds, the human tunic the older dryad sister always wore was stained with both her and Svend's life blood.
Beating turned into a thudding roar that muted all else, Naaru's inner layers and fingers clenching. His bark armor plates scrapped against one another as the spear he wielded began to hum.
His hearing returned just in time for him to catch what the reptilian abomination was saying at that moment.
"We…are owed…this…We must…have a… heir for…Progenitor…They…will…stay…," it rasped. The dryad leader turned to look the beast in the eye.
The creature's gaze had been wholly focused on Frode, but the intensity of Naaru's stare must have been enough that it disengaged to look at the tree spirit instead.
The thumping drum of his taproot grew louder and louder, the tempo increasingly erratic the longer both parties were in close proximity. For all of his patience, for all of his wisdom, there was always one aspect of Naaru that he knew could hardly be contained in times like this.
Especially when it came to his friends and family, when they were laid low like this. Perhaps in his waiting for the arrival of the human's and dryad's "saviors" in the form of Ainz Ooal Gown, he had become too complacent.
BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP!
It seems I shall have to rectify that.
Spear in hand, it was thrust towards the reptilian abomination, the dryad patriarch shoving away his counterpart so as to not accidentally impale him.
Whistling through the air as the flowers which encircled the shaft thrummed, the weapon found its home within the shoulder of amalgamation. Even with its enhanced reflexes, the dryad was fast enough to catch it off guard.
Surprised gurgling cut off the feral shout that echoed in response, both opponents stumbling out of the tree corpse and into the dirt.
Naaru stood above his new foe, both hands gripped tightly and shoving downwards with all his might into the flesh of one of the ones responsible for the kidnapping of his and his ally's kin.
Through the slit in his helmet, all parties that had remained outside gaped in shock as both denizen of the Forest and pretender practically flew outwards from Zy'tl Q'ae's damaged jaws.
Only Blue Planet and Progenitor seemed undisturbed by the scuffle, as they sat and held on to one another and shared in their peculiar magic.
"You wish to keep them?" Naaru asked, dangerously calm. "Then you will need to pry them from our cold, dead arms first."
Frode himself came rushing out the tree as well, his robes flapping in the wind. "Naaru wait! We don't need to do this, we don't-"
The human's protests were short lived, as a bovine beast charged with its antlers lowered and spittle flying out from its nostrils. Its speed was incredible, for within only seconds it was a meter away from goring the dryad's old friend.
Frode flailed his arms and shielded himself as best as he could, his magical power enveloping him. But in his panic, he could not think of the words needed to utilize his inherent power.
A bolt from the crossbow of Coup De Grace zoomed out, flashing with its ethereal fire and bisecting the disgusting bull-like creature in a shower of organs and gore. It splattered with a wet SPLAT!
Frode gasped and choked for air from the adrenaline rush, Naaru having watched as the human stumbled backwards to try and separate himself from the approaching horns that would have spelled certain doom.
Other abominations roared in guttural, haunting cries that bounced around the changed biome. Off in the distance, their call was answered by similar noises.
"So much for doing things peacefully," Ankoro Mocchi Mochi snarked, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Naaru could only comprehend the illustrious shine of her golden daggers, beheading several of the creatures within an instant. Black sludge spurted from their stumpy necks, bathing the hair-like grass in alien viscera.
The other creatures chittered in surprise, some standing their ground and puffing themselves up in attempts to look more threatening than they really were.
Like their earlier brethren, they were cut down with no room to move by the werewolf's daggers. The smarter ones booked it, finding the nearest shadow they could and falling directly into it.
Those abominations closer to the Dryad-Born and dryad warriors leapt into the fray, their talons outstretched and teeth glimmering to penetrate through even the smallest purchase in finely crafted armor.
Before such scraggly claws could even scratch the surface of the bark plate or robes that the humans and dryads wore, the cherubs which had escorted the group activated, their milky-white eyes glowing with power.
Beams of light shot out, vaporizing the beasts that were mid-air, coating the dryad warriors and Dryad-Born in fine layers of soot. They coughed and gagged, for the particulate ended up falling into their mouths for some.
Some of the more foolhardy beasts tried to outright attack the cherubs, only for the animalistic faces that coated the cherub to react with their own displays of power.
The maned feline on one side of the temple opened its maw as wide as it could, pearly fangs glowing and snapping shut on the heads of monsters who inexplicably found themselves teleported directly into its waiting jaws.
Others of the amalgamations found themselves sliced clean through on the bull's horns, snorting unimpressed as the remains of its foes slid off with sickening smears.
The eagle had no prey to devour, but everytime that it cawed, a soft yellow aura puffed from its mouth, slowing the onslaught and allowing its brethren to do their work.
This was the same for all the other cherubs which had been summoned by the Dryad-Born beforehand, and very quickly the population of monsters dwindled in only moments.
Meanwhile, the spear in the dryad's hand dug deeper, the flowers blooming and thorny tendrils slithering down the shaft. The reptilian abomination howled, needle teeth snapping as it tried to drag itself upwards.
"Gave…you…a chance…," it whispered, "Only asked…for…one…heir…"
"A price too high, when you've already accrued a debt by kidnapping our own," Naaru answered, twisting the spear tip. The tendrils from the flower itself finally reached their intended target.
They wrapped around the wrists, ankles, midsection, and neck of the abomination, holding it down while tightening their grip. The thorns pierced the paper-thin skin, more of the vile liquid the beasts called blood spilling and staining the pin prick tips.
Thin, sharp hands clawed at the vines which were slowly crushing the beast, its squeals dying out as the air in its body was squeezed out. The pressure ramped up to such a degree that bone shards were beginning to poke at the skin.
Naaru watched all of this with a blank expression, his appearance indicating that the strangulation was just another day for him, even if he felt the exact opposite.
His face felt hot and flush with fury, his mouth pressed into a thin line that concealed clenched teeth. Beneath the helmet his voids for eyes bulged with unwanted emotion as aged hands clenched the sacred weapon.
The very spear that the dryad patriarch used was a gift, one of two weapons that had been left behind by Lord Grover Sprigganson. The other, a flaming and iced sword that the tree spirit could hardly remember the name of, had been passed to the humans.
Presumably, the treant had used them in a time before he came to the Forest of Tob. They were never used once while Grover had presided over his followers and the dryads. But he had given them away, so that those he watched over might be able to defend themselves if need be.
The spear was far more at home among the dryad patriarch's people than the sword had been. The sword's composition spoke of powerful and rare metals, fit only for a king or some other position of grand authority.
Said spear was more natural, more in tune with who the dryads were as a people. The decision as to which went with who was easy.
Unlike the sword, Naaru had etched the name of the treant's spear into his mind, for it was one of the very few items that one could claim to be a piece of the wise, if somewhat childish, lord of the forest. It was Nature's Revival.
"Time for you to finally give back to the Forest, after all the taking you and your own have done," Naaru sneered, the vines completely encasing the beast in a leafy prison.
Muffled roars and thrashing answered him, the vines bulging as the abomination tried in vain to break free of its prison. With a final CRACK!, the thumping ceased.
The overall shape of the beast shrunk in mass as the magic of the spear took effect, piles of fertilizer slipping between the creases of the vines.
Not long after, the extensions returned to the flowers which spawned them, their blooming buds closing up once the full lengths had disappeared entirely.
When Naaru glanced up, he saw that most of the grove had been cleared of all other abominations.
A hand landed on Naaru's shoulder, his head snapping around in floral rage at whoever dared to touch him without his permission.
To his relief, it was merely Frode, whose robes had been sullied and in dire need of a wash. The stench of black sludge was enough to warrant the garb be burned entirely, rather than be saved.
The elder dryad had to blink a few times to dispel the magic that pulsed within him, watching as his and Frode's charges rushed to where the kidnapped lay.
Their voices clamored over one another as they checked over their found friends and family. The relief was so palpable and total that it cleared away the oppressive air.
Off in Naaru's peripheral vision, Ankoro Mocchi Mochi and Coup De Grace were by Blue Planet's side, shaking his shoulders and snapping their fingers to get the magic caster to awaken.
They even tried to pry his hands away from Progenitor's temples, only to recoil when sparks of magic singed their fur. The smaller werewolf, Lupusregina, patrolled the border of the grove to ensure no other abominations came though to sneak up on the motley party.
All of this transpired at the same time, overwhelming noise that drowned out even the elder spirit's own thoughts. It was only when he focused on his old friend that everything stopped spinning.
The bark plate that comprised his helmet shed itself, pieces of it sliding down and over the gorget to rest on his back and chestplate.
"Frode," Naaru started, "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"
His counterpart shook his head. "No. I'll be fine for the moment, but we need to get home immediately."
Naaru wasted no time in answering, hefting his spear and returning to the maw of Zy'tl Q'ae. His brothers and sisters in arms were already handling the rescued, helping them to their feet or lugging them over their shoulders if need be.
As soon as he entered the hollowed space, the dryad patriarch knelt, delicately grasping underneath Tulipa's torso and holding her in a human named "Bridal Style".
His eldest grand pistil whimpered in agony, but quieted when the one holding her soothingly stroked her back. He looked down to where his other grand pistil, Pinison lay.
It was loathsome to think, but the younger sibling was in no immediate danger at the moment. Her armor would keep her safe from most would-be predators, as would her weapon. He would have to leave her behind, if only for a moment
What was worrying was the artificial weight that pushed down on Pinison's body, something that Naaru was wholly unfamiliar with. He was able to lift her head, though even that was a struggle.
With the added burden of having to carry his wounded eldest, he could not possibly lift the entirety of the incapacitated youngest. Unless, of course, he resorted to other methods of transportation.
"I'll be back soon, little one," Naaru said reassuringly, "I just need to make sure your sister can be brought home the way I want her to. I'll be back to come and help you up, I promise."
Both pairs of pitch eyes met one another, those of Pinison immediately relaxing at her grand stamen's words. She gave the subtlest of nods with shaky effort, which was all the answer that Naaru needed.
Naaru rushed out from the abode, his gaze on a swivel as he desperately searched for something that could serve the purpose that he needed.
He even extended his "tree sense" to find anything that would be compatible, but his mind's eye was clouded by the miasma that soaked the biome down to its very core.
Jogging shifted to a full-on sprint, the mutated wildlife giving way to more natural specimens found within the Forest of Tob. For how oppressive the grove of Zy'tl Q'ae had been, it's influence had not reached far.
Soon enough, there was a perfectly healthy oak tree standing directly in front of Naaru. He laid Tulipa at its base, and then pressed both hands flat on the surface of the tree's bark.
Magic activated and flowed outwards from his palms, his will molding and shaping the tree's own life force to submit to his will. It was not a true spell like what the Dryad-Born utilized. But more like an extension of his being in the same way an arm or leg was.
The wounded dryad's physical form dissolved with a sigh, her consciousness melding with the oak's essence. For a brief moment, Naaru's thoughts mingled with hers and gave him insight into everything she felt over the last few days.
Agony. Suffering. Anger. Grief. Oh, so much grief…
The connection was severed and Tulipa's mind disappeared, its purpose successful. The aged tree spirit wished not to delve deeper than whatever surface thoughts his eldest grand pistil had, especially not when she already had so much trauma to deal with.
What he'd just done was an emergency tree restoration. Typically, dryads would be able to automatically return to their home tree when left with little essence to sustain their physical forms, unless they were heavily damaged or incapacitated.
Like Tulipa, they would begin to degrade but not dissolve, leading to a slow and agonizing death so far from a natural source of energy. Unless they had a partner to take them to a compatible source and forcibly restore them.
It could be highly invasive, as the process created a temporary bond and could allow emotions and even memories to leak through on both ends.
Either way, Tulipa would be back home in the community grove, where she could rest and be tended to by her sisters of the grove. Before he and his party left, he advised his healers to be on stand-by for whoever they found alive.
Other warrior dryads stomped up from right behind him, carrying their rescued sisters or shouldering them as best they could. They weaved around Naaru and found their own oaks.
Within no time at all, the dryads that were conscious stumbled to trees and did the process themselves, or had a warrior sister to do it for them like what Naaru had done for Tulipa.
None save for the warriors and their leader were left, and they all raced back to the grove of the demon tree to find their human allies were still dealing with their own wounded. Frode moved from man to man, checking on them for external injuries.
During the scramble to send their own home and make sure nothing else was coming after, Naaru realized that he had almost completely forgotten the members of Ainz Ooal Gown.
Ankoro Mocchi Mochi and Coup De Grace were both still seated by their comatose friend, Blue Planet, speaking intently amongst themselves and gesturing wildly to both the magic caster and Progenitor.
Lupusregina had also joined them, probably satisfied from her patrol around the perimeter. The dryad patriarch noticed how her oddly human features were scrunched in apprehension as she squatted by her masters' side.
For just a little while longer, he would have to pay them no mind. His goal was to get Pinison back home as quickly as possible, even if he had to lug her the entire way himself.
Once he was back in Zy'tl Q'ae's mouth, he knelt at his grand pistil's side and attempted to do the same for her as her sister.
The weight of boulders pressed down on Naaru's arms, the elder dryad having to reinforce himself with spare roots from his own body to even make the slightest process.
Teeth grit and limbs shaking, he lifted Pinison centimeter by diabolical centimeter. Whatever magic that held her down resisted the patriarch, invisible chains that would keep the younger sapling to the ground forever if it had its way.
Others rushed into the tree with Naaru, his sisters in arms. They alleviated his burden by joining in his contest of strength and will against the monsters' abilities.
As soon as Pinison was chest level with her grand stamen's chest, he and his group marched as one, holding the wayward tree spirit between them in a mock procession. They grunted with the effort, but managed.
Frode and whatever spare humans he had also joined the effort, while a couple remained behind to heal and tend to the rescued. From Naaru's quick glances, he also spotted Lupusregina with them, her hands glowing with a yellow light as she herself administered proper care.
From his short interactions with her, the dryad patriarch knew that she would not act if she was not given a direct order by her masters. Most likely, either Ankoro or Coup De Grace had done so.
Said pair of Ainz Ooal Gown were pacing around Blue Planet, two fingers held up to their temples in a manner unfamiliar to Naaru. They were still whispering, but not to each other.
Whatever it was was not as important as ensuring Pinison got home safe and sound, and that her issues be tended to. Whether by subconscious thought or some grand stroke of cosmic coincidence, Naaru and his band ended up at the same tree that Tulipa had been transported in.
Like before, the ancient tree spirit laid his grand pistil at the base of the tree, repeating the same motions to activate the process.
There was a…minute fluctuation in the life force of the tree, but it quickly connected with Naaru regardless. A brief delay, but Pinison dissolved with a sigh of her own, already on her way back to the community grove.
He let out a breath of relief he didn't even realize he'd been holding. All seemed right with the world, now that his own people had been returned to the general safety of the dryad's home.
Contentment soothed the mental worries of Naaru's mind, allowing him a small lapse of peace that he hadn't truly felt since the first disappearances began nearly a moon ago.
Strange to think, how so much time had passed and so many were lost. And then, in only the span of perhaps two days, the issue was resolved by the timely arrival of Ainz Ooal Gown.
A ghostly howl interrupted the calm, joined by others in the forest beyond. Yet, they seemed no closer than they had been when the first signs of more abominations sounded off.
"Do you think they're on their way?" one of the warrior sisters asked.
"Maybe," another replied, "but it seems bizarre that nothing came through by now. Where could they possibly be?"
"It doesn't matter. What does is that we get our human friends home as quickly as possible. I do not know what awaits us, but better we stand united and ready for the next wave," Naaru said.
His helmet slid back into place, and the other warriors stepped in line behind him as they stomped to where Frode and his own were.
By now, almost all of the human men that were kidnapped were standing, holding their heads or their brothers in arms. Reactions ranged from astounded to mournful to downright stoic.
Shock, it seemed, could play powerfully upon those afflicted by mortal peril, whichever form it may come in. As Naaru strode up, he saw that Svend's body had been extracted, carried in the arms of another Dryad-Born who was strong enough.
Frode's dejected expression stabbed into his taproot, but there would be time for sorrow later, when the rest of them were safe.
"Frode, are you and the rest of your men ready?" The dryad asked his counterpart, "I think I'm just about finished with this accursed place."
The human patriarch was staring downwards, but then he looked up and mumbled in agreement.
It was an answer enough, he then turned to the members of Ainz Ooal Gown, ready to call out to them and ask to their own status.
Almost as if he was forced to blink, Ankoro Mocchi Mochi was in front of the whole group. Her canid features etched with concern as she continuously peeked over her shoulder at where Blue Planet was.
"I'm sorry Naaru," she said before he could say anything, "but me and Coup can't come with you. We need to stay and make sure BP is alright. We have a friend who's gonna be taking you home instead."
That elicited murmurs from the humans and dryads, gazing imploringly at their would-be savior. Frode himself looked like he got gut-punched with how quickly he seemed to deflate.
"Don't worry though," Ankoro reassured them, opting for her best smile. Naaru was not convinced. "I'm gonna be sending my niece with you, and all those little cherubs too. You guys won't be without protection."
In response to that, another roar pierced the late afternoon atmosphere. The werewolf's ears perked up as her nose twitched.
"Whenever you're ready, we got you covered," she said, locking eyes with Frode first, then with Naaru.
Both dryad and werewolf stared at one another, the former searching her eyes for an answer as to why the sudden shift in her disposition. While she did well to conceal it, hints of her worry still poured through in her aura.
Such emotions the tree spirit did not believe was possible for her, given how cheery and playful she seemed all the time. But here it was, and to scare such a powerful being as well…it must have been dire indeed.
At the very least, I know we will still have their protection, even if they themselves aren't here.
Ultimately, Naaru nodded, answering for everyone. "We will eagerly await your return. And for what my word is worth, I apologize for the way our first meeting went."
"Don't sweat it dude," Ankoro said, her smile just a bit more genuine. Then she held up her index and middle fingers to her temple again. "They're ready, get them out of here."
A rush of wind gusted up from behind the group, all pivoting to see the great obsidian tear that opened up. It swirls with many hues of dark purples and blacks, even the occasional violent spark coming out.
Dryads and humans alike gasped, with Frode taking a step back by instinct.
Always ready to impress, it seems. Fare thee well, Ainz Ooal Gown. I shall see you all again soon.
Just as he was about to take a first step towards the portal, the smaller werewolf, Lupusregina, linked up by his side. In her hands was her oddly massive, cross-shaped weapon of war.
She did not look particularly angry, more-so upset, but Naaru got the general impression not to bother her right now. The cherubs, which had diligently held their positions around the grove, now moved to rejoin the rest of the group.
This time around, Frode was the first to take a step, the others following. There was a slight hesitation, but the human leader passed through the tear nonetheless.
All the rest went through as well, until the dryad patriarch was the last one still there. He turned around, taking one last look at his prophesied saviors.
They had returned to Blue Planet's position, kneeling next to him and gently holding his arms. The winged feline, Coup De Grace, spread both wings to encompass them all. As a result, one wing even strayed close to Progenitor.
A sad smile came to be on Naaru's wooden features, and then he fully committed to passing through, whether to community grove or Spriggan Settlement did not matter.
He'd finally gotten his family and friends back.