[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210306/ca6a9c71bc4f1ef0289de3e2c95b767c.png[/img][/center] Headache. Now that was a certainly a name for this group of fools, Shandris figured. Her head reeled from the incoming psionic attack, temporarily unable as the council began cluck like chickens and scream of an approaching giant beast. Wait. Giant beast? [color=0BA535]"Hold, you buffoons!"[/color] The druidess shouted, waving the magician's smoke away with her hand as she stepped with care over the broken china. But she was too late. Perhaps Shandris, being a druid, could've reasoned with the beast. They were both one of nature; one of the same. And yet it seemed her fellow council members were so eager for death that they forgot the advantage they held in their grasp. [color=0ba535]"I swear; why do I even bother..."[/color] Shandris uttered, approaching the now fleeing molerat. A shame. Such a creature would've made a fine war beast or some other boon to their cause. Kneeling downwards, the druidess' eyes grew a greenish hue as she began speaking in a foreign tongue, [color=yellow]and harnessed her own magic with the elemental uncertainty of the land to bring life to nearby trees, hoping to drive their roots right through the beast's body.[/color] Even if they failed in their task, the druidess was in need for some treants or ents to join her cause anyway.