Lady Mohowauuck looked to the sky, reveling in the storm she had created. Her face was the perfect picture of serenity, she couldn't be any more in her element. Mo held her hands out to her sides and spoke in a language unrecognizable to anyone around her - well, anyone with a humanoid form, that is. The flora responded to her calls to stand and fight with her, causing gnarled tree roots to shift in their places deep underground. With a clench of her fists, the very earth they stood upon trembled, cracking in some places and tripping up the fleet rapidly seeking to clash with her. 

"Rise!" she called out in a harsh battle cry and the grass around her enemies began to grow taller and thicker. The plants took on almost sentient-like characteristics as they curled around the ankles of her foes. A few of the armor-clad fools hit the ground with clamorous thuds, but many merely tore through the plants like they were nothing. Every blade of grass cried out to Mo as they were torn up, they were not cries of sorrow, however. Nature was glad to die in this battle, as the ends would justify the means in the war on humanity. It was time for Mother Earth to reclaim herself. The plants' cries brought out the maternal instinct in Lady Mo, she must protect them, at all costs.

A loud baritone growl emanated from Mohowauuck's chest. "You have never fought a foe like me." she barked at her approaching enemies as she let the beast consume her. Her fingers quickly shifted to jagged claws, coated in alabaster fur. Mo used the claws to make rake marks across her chest, tearing not only the leather fabric of her clothing, but also her sienna colored skin. Tufts of blood-soaked white fur began to poke through her self-inflicted wounds as the pops of bones cracking and dislocating filled the air of the battlefield. Mo's irises shifted to a scarlet red and her body contorted in disfiguring ways of transmutation. As the arctic white fur of her inner form forced it's way out, Mo's skin began to tear and slough off to the ground in chunks. In mere milliseconds, Mo erupted into her final wolf form, the force of which caused a spray of blood and gore in the area surrounding her.

Lady Mohowauuck in her white wolf form was a sight to behold. She stood, both majestic and beautiful while also demonically terrifying. The she-wolf stood taller than any natural Canid creature, and even towered over the height of some men. With a fierce growl, she launched herself, fangs first, into the fray.