A testament to the puma's madness, it didn't even seem to register the plant-creature until Bryan's flailing tendrils struck hard against its desiccated form. Turning to this new target, the mountain lion shrieked and lashed its curving talons against the tree-Familiar. The sharp claws didn't do much damage by themselves, but the force behind the blows crushed or severed many of Bryan's writhing branches. The huge teeth sank into Bryan's woody trunk, leaving deep holes.

But even a mighty carnivore was not designed to take on a tree. 

Eventually Bryan would grab hold and manage to maintain his grip, lassoing the puma, who jerked back against the restraint with ear-splitting yowls. Bark flew and heavy paws drummed concussively against the Familiar, knocking him around but unable to break his hold. More and more, one limb after another, Bryan gained the upper tentacle, and his grip began to do more than grip. 

Snap! Pop-pop-pop! The tightening vice of viney tendrils began to crush, snapping bones and forcing air out of the puma's mouth. It was not slow, and it was not pretty. Black blood oozed out of its mouth and then out of its remaining eye as it struggled noisily, twisting in unnatural positions and gurgling obscenely until Bryan had literally wrung the life out of it. As it died, Crann would know instinctively that this creature was Bonded to another, just as Bryan was Bonded to her.

If there was any true life there in the first place.

Jimmory vomited casually in the background, bracing himself against the tree.

And then a dry, raspy voice full of callous cruelty wondered aloud. [b][color=598527]"I felt his loss, to be sure. It wasn't as painful as I had imagined. Though, he wasn't long for the world anyways, as I'm sure you noticed, little shrub."[/color][/b]

A human man in a tattered brown duster has emerged from the trees. He wasn't overly tall, and his skin was rather ashen and drawn, pocked and craggy like one suffering from disease. The effect wasn't improved by bruiselike shadows moving across his skin. They were similar to the Marks of any druid, but something was...wrong with them. His eyes were dark and cloudy, though he did not seem to have any trouble seeing Crann. A stink of death wafted from him, not the sharp odour of a rotting corpse, but something far more deliberate and insidious. Something that seemed to emanate. Even while he stood, a hand resting easily on the trunk of a tree next to him, the grass at his feet was beginning to wilt, the bark of the tree blackening and spreading. 

[b][color=598527]"I have many more friends like Mogar there. It will be quite satisfying to see the despair on your face when my good work reaches your precious tree."[/color][/b]

He spoke fey well. Almost too well, like someone who had once lingered appreciatively among her kind.

Behind him, the forest was dying.