"You wanted my help with... this?" Samuel asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He stood in what he would describe as the not-so-nice part of town, facing a dilapidated sign advertising 'The Jade Lounge'. The street leading up to the establishment had been flanked by packs of the magic-made towers the people of Ocala used for housing, more so than anywhere Sam had been since arriving at the city. A few more cars instead of beasts, and he might have thought it was just a particularly eccentric city from the old world; even the pavement was mostly passable!

From his understanding of the Factional borders, they were now in the grey territory between the Zebelos Family and the Clansmen Faction. A precarious place to be, considering the showing the Bunker Busters had put on at the Hog Parade. Since the spread of construction was mostly mana-made stone, he had a sneaking suspicion the Faction of giants and dwarves had a touch more influence on the particular city block.

"The wails of the suffering clamored for my interdiction."

Sam sighed heavily, almost wishing that he'd opted to go with the others. They'd spent a good part of the morning locked in the ice box the Zebelos kept as a morgue. It was mainly used for mysterious animal deaths, but with the size of the city a spot of murder was almost inevitable --not accounting for the ones instigated by hungry wildlife-- and it had served its purpose as well as Samuel could have wanted. He couldn't deny how fascinating --if macabre-- it had been for him to use his Trait to suss out the bit of inked dermis that had gotten the Zebelos peacekeeper so riled up. "All I did was help you restore a tattoo on the Tendril..."

"Yet it was your discovery that birthed this avenue of questioning," April said, undeterred. "You are integral."

"That's not the problem," Sam grumbled, shaking his head as he checked his comm-plant again. He'd heard from Jolene and Billy, even a gruff 'I'm busy' from Daniela, but it had been dead silent on the Ronan front. He was sure his friend was alright, but how alright depended entirely on a list of factors the Life Attuned didn't want to even start to list unless he wanted to waste a day. Also, he was just more of a fan of his plants and patients than police field work.

"Let us enter this den of sin," April said, her usual flat expression touched by a hint of glee.

"Have I mentioned how you seem way too excited about this murder investigation than is necessary?"

"It has crossed your lips," April said, pushing open the door to the bar.

Immediately, Sam's entire body recoiled away from the doorway. The scent of unwashed bodies, vomit and a half dozen different alcohols meant for drinking and misused for disinfectants of surfaces much too far gone assaulted him in a very physical way. He'd been uncomfortable when his Cognitive Filter Trait had advanced to Cranial Myelin, perhaps not on the level of gaining a new sense like Ron had, but it had left the Druid distinctly aware of his existing five. His nerve filaments he considered an extension of his senses, especially when he used them to control his vines, but even those were sunk as far from his skin as they could to escape the foulness leaking out of the door.

"I was joking about the wails of suffering, since our examinee was deceased, but this place is foul," April said, her own nose curling in distaste as she let the door close once more. Mana curled gently off her horns, giving them the impression that they were releasing purple mist into the air.

"Let's just get this over with," Sam said, pulling out a pair of gloves from within his satchel. Just as he was about to put his second leather glove on, he opted to slip an acorn into the ends of each finger on his left. It made his left hand clunky, but something in the air tingled the back of his enhanced brain and it wasn't because of the stench.

Samuel took the lead, squinting as the clouded daylight was replaced by recessed lighting and a pair of vertical slits that dreamed of being actual windows. I've been spoiled by Ron's architectural sense. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Samuel gave the rest of the bar a scanning glance. A half dozen patrons lingered in the various cubbies of the locale. On the far wall was an impressive array of empty bottles that showcased alcoholic brands that would never grace the surface again. Below those were a handful of kegs that smelled like what the patrons were drinking. The last one in line was strong enough to peel paint, if Samuel's nose wasn't lying to him.

"Can I help you?" A burly, greasy haired human, the very definition of barrel chested, entered the main bar and walked to stand in front of the kegs. Sam's eyes immediately locked on to the twitching hands and how he jumped to start cleaning a mug that had been left on the bar. In a clear display of disdain for any health standards, he hocked a bit of spit into the mug to 'polish it off'. It was so cartoony that Samuel almost missed the obvious sign his Status practically shouted.

"He's a Tendril," Sam sent April through the comm-plant, all the while putting on a forced smile with practiced ease and approaching the bar. He turned to the man and spoke aloud. "Heard about this place from a friend."

"What a bad friend, to let you bring the fuzz here," one of the patrons, an elf, leered at April. "At least she's a looker."

"I'd refrain from addressing her," Sam said, the smiling taking a predatory glint that he'd stolen wholesale from Danny. "Her bite is worse than her bark."

The elf seemed to get the message when the mist curling off April's horns glowed brighter, becoming its own source of light in the dim establishment. One of the patrons closest to the door outright left the building at the magic display. Suspicious, but pick your battles.

"I reckon you aren't here to cause trouble for my customers, or I might have to drop my warm welcome," the bartender said.

"Death always has a cold embrace ready," April provided, smoothly slotting into the 'bad cop' approach Sam had been trying to work for her. It was a rare day that he was the more extroverted of the group. He hated it, but there were few alternatives.

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"Can't say I like your tone," the bartender said, setting the mug on the counter just shy of hard enough to smash the thing. The wood certainly groaned in protest thanks to the abuse of a suspiciously high Quotient person. Their fingers went back to trembling with the mug gone, and Sam narrowed his eyes on the man.

"I can't say I like your attitude," Sam said, taking a seat and opening his hands as if to show he was harmless. "We just wanted to ask after our friend. He hasn't been heard from for a few days. Worrying enough that I had to recruit my other friend to find him."

"Spit it out, so I can kick you out of my bar," the bartender huffed. The elf bystander cackled for a second before it cut out in his throat the moment April pit her eyes against his.

"Alright. Grey Tendril, about my height, about that guy's build," Sam said, pointing at the man suffering from the non-magic version of a death stare. "Had a tattoo of this place on his tricep."

A chill crawled up Sam's spine at the silence that followed. The stench in the air grew deeper, the familiar tang rising in waves from... the patrons. "Shit."

The bartender moved the fastest, even with his large body. Eye watering fluid cascaded off him with enough force to push Samuel off his stool. Paradoxically, when his senses threatened to be overwhelmed they became particularly good at shutting themselves down and focusing on the ones unaffected. Sam's hearing and touch spiked as his smell, taste and sight were erased. He could have corrected that with a , but the Druid had a sneaking suspicion he was going to need all his allotment of healing for other problems. Instead, he let a slow trickle of mana suffuse his eyes.

formed a semi-circle of brambles around him, April, the elf and the bartender even from his position on the ground. His left glove exploded into bark splinters as his inner ear took a dive in the toilet and not because of the booze attack. The Femur Club Amplifier tucked against his spine triggered with practiced ease, taking one acorn as the sacrifice to turn it into a snag tree. As soon as a bracer of wood had formed, Samuel switched to for efficiency's sake, one sprouting from each of the four remaining acorns.

As if his very hand were growing enormous, Samuel made a grabbing motion for the bartender he could clearly hear stomping behind the counter as his vines extended into a cage. The man slammed another wave of alcohol against the incoming vines, causing them to wilt alarmingly to Samuel's senses while drawing deeply from his mana pool. His mana had cleared away most of the irritation in his eyes, even if things still looked blurry, so he risked suffering a follow up attack.

Somewhere in between attacking and being counterattacked, the bartender had shed its human disguise. Smooth, off-tone blue skin shone from its arms and face, while its empty eyes stared at Sam's vines with unnatural hatred. The skin along the man's once-torso was translucent, showing some swirling liquid within where the lungs should have been. The Druid would bet every one of his healing smoothies it was more damn alcohol.

"! !" Sam shouted, taking a cue from Ron's playbook for multicasting by letting the words guide his mind. The dizziness kicked up a notch, but thankfully he'd already paid the bulk of the cost to grow his weapons; his Refinement was quickly refilling his pool and clearing his clouded judgement for each second that passed.

The cage benefitted from both of his Imbued Skills, growing angry thorns along its length and closing in on the bartender twice as fast. While the thorns avoided the strange desiccation of the alcoholic attack with their hardened exterior, the bulk of the vines withered visibly faster especially once they finally dug into their target. The most eerie thing was the lack of sound other than a grunt from the bartender as he struggled to rip the leafy expanses coiling around him.

A strangled scream from behind him alerted him that April was likely putting the screws to the lecherous elf but Sam could also feel his being pummeled by the other patrons. They only had a few seconds to act. Samuel growled. "You made me do this."

With disgust clear on his face, Samuel triggered his Skill. combined with , drilling deeper into the bartender before the vines started to absorb his lifeblood. With an undirected pulse of golden mana, Sam targeted the man directly with the moment he opened his mouth to spew more. When that didn't seem enough to slow him down, Samuel grimaced even more. "!"

The Amplified Direct Skill formed an ethereal link between Samuel and the bartender. As the very essence of his body was zapped into energy, the bartender's face grew pale and his struggles weakened. The spew of alcohol that he released turned more into a drool as the vines recovered their verdant color and the Druid's skin began to heal from the opening attack. With a final wince, Samuel used his vines to snap the husk of the bartender in half with no more difficulty than a matchstick.

Even if he felt fresher than when he'd first entered the bar --mana pool notwithstanding-- Samuel hated that path of his Skills. The greasy feeling of having someone else's vitality intermingling with his was not a sensation he relished no matter how 'hardcore' Daniela thought it was. In the same breath that the vitality settled, the deceased Tendril dissociated under Sam's extended grip, its Dreg heavy cloud of Pith filtering through a pulse of .

Not wasting time, he turned to the two men that had mostly cut their way through his Defensive Skill. At the sight of the dead bartender-turned-dust their bravado seemed to deflate instantly, one of the two dropping to the ground and putting his hands up in the air. A chill ran down Sam's spine as purple mana crawled along the floor to the man, frost forming on the skin and hair of its target. The man who'd surrendered shivered as if he was in a snowstorm before April pounced on him like a predator. Her cuffs flashed forward, locking the man down even as the other struggling to back away started to foam at the mouth under her magic. Just like his buddy, the second man ended up cuffed on the ground.

"That's a nasty bit of debuffing," Sam said, spotting the first elf bound by cuffs except his limbs were twisted into a pretzel he wasn't sure even an elf could contort into. "Want me to handle the rest of our friends?"

"Alas, your comradery with death is much too strong for these common folk," April said, her hands clenching as her mana washed over . Lime green lichen and vivid yellow yarrow ate the thick leaves of Sam's Skill before being replaced by deep red caps that immediately exploded into spores. Instinctively, the Druid covered his mouth with his torn sleeve but the bloom of spores was directed outward to fill the room instead of towards the inside of his defensive wall.

Gagging and a few gouts of flame were the only sounds for a solid minute before April nodded. A snap of her finger and a pulse of mana later, the defensive wall collapsed into a pile of kindling even as new lichen and moss grew over the surface. Her Rot Refinement is no joke.

"Did you think I just intended to kill these people?" Sam asked, pointing at the seven captured individuals.

The demoness turned and gave the Druid an appraising look, noting the scowl on his face and the retracting thorns on the vines slowly wrapping around him like a verdant cloak. "No. However, it does appear that you would have had to think about it. While it would bring me no end of pleasure to close the book on these miserable worms, it would take us no closer to the answer we seek. I do not doubt your prowess, Samuel. In fact, while I would have struggled to handle this room alone it is my impression you had more than a little tussle left."

Caught off guard by April's bluntness, Sam could only cross his arms and stare as she threw the bound men with ease against the destroyed bar counter and grew a single mushroom from the very shirts they wore. With another pulse of magic, every one of them sputtered and coughed up thick wads of phlegm on the ground and each other as they tried to restart their airways. When the six of them --the first elf was still entirely out of commission-- had managed to blink away their tears, they stared with horror at April.