Note : Omg, I squealed, I legit squealed XD
I don't see the box, do I have to be registered or am I just blind?
And quick kinda long plot-related question : I know that Isaac's adventure take place during king Vernus' reign (thanks to iWTBAT's message in the chapter "Time has passed.", and that Ilvir's entering of the crypt was during Astriste's), but one thing never mentioned is if Crawnav is the only responsible for the corruption entering our world or if the corruption had already been known to mankind before, that's confusing me as to how to shape Crawnav's character in Morfi's (yes, I just nicknamed her) memories. That could also give insight as to how long has the battle against corruption been taking place, if from Crawnav's time, then I take it that Ilvir and Isaac would respectively be from the third or fourth and fourth or fifth generation (maybe even second and third if I stretch it a bit) of paladins, so the knowledge of their spells against this dark magic would relatively be recent, that could create plotholes. Also, please, can you leave the next chapter (first option) to me? I have some ideas to make Morfi’s (gosh I already love that name XD) relation to Crawnav more… blatant, from lack of a better term.
Ps : What I’m good at writing are drama, humor (btw I want to shape Fytmorfia into a kind of sarcastic but motherly character, I just can really well imagine her this way, a way to put it would be to imagine her as the mediator of the group once they “save” Ilvir), fights (either with weapons or magic), and overly complicated yet simple to understand plot. Sex scenes, I guess if I have to, but the quality of those are just “meh”.
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"Look," she began with a calming gesture, "you are obviously corrupted, and even the fruits of this tree have yet to develop the power of halting one's changes. This seed had grown inside the very core of this White-Heart tree, with time, the seed would've matured and been expulsed so it could have been planted somewhere else," she motioned to Isaac's own core, which glowed softly, humming subtly while assimilating the powerful item. Fytomorfia then shook her head, "it was the only way to prevent your total corruption, at least in body, the seed's powers should manifest shortly, just leave time for your body to accept it."
Just then he noticed the scratches his brambles had left on her body, which were steadily leaking sap. He recoiled, and felt ashamed. She had truly helped him, he could slowly feel the corruption draining from his mind and his body changing to accommodate the nature of the sapling inside him. He already felt more... human, in lack of a better term, despite his current appearance. And what was the first thing he did to this benevolent being?
Attack her like he did any monster.
Or inversely, like a monster would.
"Sorry," he barely muttered.
She smiled calmly to him.
"For what? Your body only had a natural reaction, just like a clam covers an irritating body in nacre to create a smooth pearl, your body simply tried to push me away and to cover the irritating agent in your own vines, so it wouldn't hurt you."
He snickered.
"You seems to know an awful lot about plant monsters," he joked.
She playfully made a fake frown.
"Have you even looked at me? I think that fruit of yours still lacks working eyes dear..."
A moment passed, during which they stared at each other.
"..."
"..."
Before bursting in wild laughter, the stress of their coming mission lifting for a moment as they enjoyed the other's company, happy as two friends that would have been away for a long time.
"A friend..."
Isaac felt something in his thorny heart. Somehow, he was now sure that the dryad would stay by his side, maybe it was the White-Heart's seed doing this, but he just couldn't ignore the feeling of dread now being that of security a familiar figure could provide.
Yes, now, after such a tense encounter, he felt safe next to the dryad...
"Maybe being a "monster" won't be so bad," he thought to himself.
He then doubled over as his brambled vines began constricting on his heart, his own thorns digging painfully in the sapling as it finally merged with him.
Helped up by the dryad, they both gazed in wonder as the dark vines of his body lightened, sparkling white spreading from where his body had safely encased the sapling, before fading to a deep, minty green all over, the fruit composing his head vibrating softly before hardening, cracking and falling apart, leaving a bark-like protrusion with a more human form. His new head was still soft and flexible enough to move normally, and the leaves on his head began trembling, streaks of midnight black framed by silver coursing in the green leaves that had replaced his hair.
Like the dryad, the crude form of his hand-vines thinned and split, until a multitude of tightly woven together vines accurately simulated hands deft enough to properly grab objects, even write. All over the process took place, until his body was more defined, instead of being akin to a sketched humanoid form of vines. Still, the thorns, even if smaller, about double the size of a rose’s if he had to guess, remained.
Overall, the paladin thought it being an improvement.
As he looked at himself, his eyes now silver patches lacking bark with amber making the pupil and his mouth framed by the same silver as the leaves of the tree, which was easy to miss in the white bark of his head, he felt the inside fill with thorns, wood and vines, trying to mimic a human’s dentition and tongue.
He hadn’t even realised how weird talking had been until now.
As the dryad gazed expectedly at him, he asked something.
“So, what properties does this thing has?”
She thought it over for a moment before listing the many effects.
“First, it will counter any bodily corruption, so your sex drive shouldn’t change too much if you end up being corrupted again, but as a human, you might end up gaining aspects of other… things, and only the plant part of your being will still be affected directly by the seed. This is a first, so I have no idea how its power may affect any future, hahem, addition, to your body, if you get what I mean.” A nod and a sigh was her answer. “Right, next, you should expect to be able to withstand much more mental corruption then a normal human, but you won’t be immune to it, the sapling has its own limits. Yes,” she said as he became concerned, “your mind may end up corrupted, but small quantities of corruption will be treated over time by the seed, it just cannot drain mental corruption in one go, it is a slow process,” she smiled as she added, “so don’t you go rushing in danger thinking you’re invincible, okay?”
Isaac had a thin smile too, and nodded.
“Anything more to expect?”
“Hmmm… I don’t think so…. though maybe some… things may help us on our way… but after all that happened today, maybe we should rest, especially you,” she offered.
As if on cue, a yawn escaped him, and he blushed, his skin darkening to a cloudy grey, his new companion laughing at that.
Without a word, she tapped a foot on the ground, and roots came out the ground, not those of the tree near them, but normal roots, which weaved together in the form of a bed before plunging back in the dirt. Moss began accumulating at rapid pace, packing to form a living mattress of sort, more moss formed a pillow and a beautiful cover made of golden and crimson leaves assembled before his very eyes, some magic the dryad was clearly not about to reveal to him how to work with keeping the leaves together.
It had details that would have made many artisans jealous back in town, and the bed had been created in only a minute or two.
He approached, his hands sliding on the frame, then the cover.
“Wow,” was his only reaction.
He then turned to her.
“And you? How do you sleep?”
She smirked, and then held out her arms, her legs close together, as if…
As he understood, Fytomorfia quickly took back the form under which they first met earlier this day.
“So that’s the form she takes when resting… interesting,” he thought.
She gently smiled.
“You should sleep now, we have a long journey to prepare for, and I have something I must show you, but tomorrow, I sense it is too late for now.”
Despite her curious choice of words, he slid under the cover, amazed at how soft the moss was, and just like a real blanket, the leave kept the warmth in, the pillow plump but not so much as his head would sink in it. He barely noticed that despite his thorns, the bed had not even a scratch.
As his mind drifted to sleep, the dryad already fast asleep, the paladin couldn’t help but wonder if she would be able to do something about his oversized genitals, their weight was simply too distracting.
“At least there aren’t any more of these stupid gnats in here,” was his last thought.