[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/OvtbTEP.png[/img]
[sub][@TheWendil][@Flood][@SilverPaw][@dioscuri][/sub][/center]

[color=a2d39c]“Well, that sucks,”[/color] Shika chimed. [color=a2d39c]“But hey I’ll just do it this way then.”[/color]

They pointed outwards with a finger, and from there, a new finger, a new hand, a new arm, a new chest, a new head, a new pair of legs grew, this time mirroring the general physical appearance of the Envoy, complete with eyepatch and suit. Asexual reproduction was a gift that plants had, after all, and all the extra superficial changes just came from the supernatural alterations that Shika could afflict upon plant life. With fake-Envoy beside them, Shika snapped a couple of pictures, did some thinking, and slapped their fist against their palm.
If this was going to be a gathering quest, then it only made sense to make it into a zombie apocalypse, no?

So Shika and fake-Envoy became four. Then eight. Sixteen. Thirty-two. More humans, plucked out from the memories that the corpse-flower had of Siracha City’s residents, emerged from the originators, each now sporting some monstrous tumor in a part of their bodies. As if they were infected by a parasitic devil. Veins bulged out from their flesh, and the horde moved in jerky, unwilling fashions, puppets controlled by the strings of an alien intelligence. Shika smiled, shot finger guns at fake-Envoy, and sent [i]that[/i] particular puppet off to start collecting the black stones around the temple grounds.

As for the rest, the corpse-flower had only one thing she wanted to do.

Turn up the volume.

[b]“Ugh, it hurts!” “Someone save me, please!” “M-mommy…” “I can’t, agh!” “K-kuh, just kill me!”[/b]

Amidst the cacophony of terror, despair, and all around badness, Shika molded their own body once more, molting out of their skin like the snake scales that glittered around the area. Now standing at seven feet in height with a glorious updo and lips painted as red as blood (or maybe it was just actual blood), Shika fully embraced the role of a truly, magnificently evil dommy mommy, chuckling with dark desire as their puppets continued to shuffle about on the now-desecrated temple grounds.

[color=a2d39c]“Yes,”[/color] they chuckled, holding a glass of wine (translucent leaf cup and grape juice) to the sky. [color=a2d39c]“Dance for me, you pitiful mortals.”[/color] 

If [i]that[/i] didn’t grab the Devil Hunters’ attention, then nothing would.

Except maybe bioterrorist attacks in high-population density areas of the city, Shika supposed.