Reincarnated as a random race, of course I got goblin.

Chapter 70 - Monarchs' Lady-In-Waiting

The leader grits his teeth. He understands that this is an unique opportunity to fell the Monarch, and the boons and accolades he and his men will receive if they survive, but still... He just can't shake the feeling that even if they were successful, a terrible fate would befall them.

His thoughts are interrupted as a thick, dense fog creeps from within the forest, enveloping the group. A dread creeps into his throat as the leader fights to keep himself from calling out to the others. Silence is key. 

The fog is unlike any he's ever encountered. It's uncannily thick, and seems to almost pulse or undulate as it twists its way over everything in the surroundings. Have they been spotted? Unlikely, he's still under the effect of Invisibility, and he hears no nearby noises indicating the presence of monsters.

His second in command gently taps him in the side, more a gentle swing through the air than an aimed tap at the shoulder, since they're both invisible, but it gets the point across: "Let's move on." 

But to where? It's next to impossible to see anything in this fog, they could be walking off a cliff for all they know. Almost as if on cue, the fog lifts slightly. Just enough for them to see a few meters ahead. 

Tensing his hands as to not let them tremble, the leader continues towards the center of the forest. Up until now it's been easy, just head towards the ridiculously huge tree in the distance, but now the bare branches of the trees around them block the view. 

A wind blows gently, swaying the crowns of the trees and making them creak ominously. The fog doesn't react. 

Panic grips the leader. Unnatural fog like this could only be made by one being. Just as he is about to turn around to warn the others-

'Snap'

He stares down. His still invisible foot is covered in coils of Springthorn. Flashes of listening to old tales told by his grandmother during the long dark up north appear in his head as the coils tighten. 

"Beware the still fog and the Springthorn vines. Those mark the hunting grounds of Vir'ava, the cruel Forest Guardian. Turn back once you spot the vines, for once you see shapes in the fog, her children are soon upon you. Retrace your steps, going backwards, do not turn your back on the Mother of Thorns. Retrace your steps, do not disturb the forest ground anew, for fear of angering the Witch of Mist."

He stands completely still as the Springthorn vines crawl up his armored boot. He wishes to call out to the others, but he knows they've already passed him by, unable to see his predicament. The vines dig into the joints of his armor, like hungry fingers trying to pry open the lid to a jar. 

He knows what comes next. His choices are to yank his foot out, springing the thorns hidden within the vines to rip his leg to shreds, or to let the plant do its thing, drink of his blood and eat of his flesh. 

Cries come from ahead of him. The others didn't know. He was the only one from the lands north of Yo'ud, where the Vir'ava is most common. Tears are streaming down his face. To think, the Monarch holds court with something like a Vir'ava! This mission was doomed from the start.

The newly Evolved Vir'ava regards the carnage before her. One, two, three still alive, the rest shredded as the plants under her control coiled around them and sprung their thorns. She did go against Master's rules in doing this, but she feels justified. After all, these humanoids smell like the ones Master captured when she first returned to her Lair after Vir'avas birth. 

"Do not harm the ones that do not resist." Was what Master had told them. The ones still alive here... They stare at her shape in horror, yet she senses no hostility towards her. Perhaps the fact that vines are coiling around their necks make them afraid to fight?

Whatever. Just a while now, and she'll be able to take the live ones back to the grove. Restrain them well, and then present them to Not-Quite-Master tomorrow morning, once She wakes. Not-Quite-Master would probably have wanted this outcome. After all, Her sole objective is to keep Master safe and cure her pain, and She can't fight because of that. 

So Vir'ava taking care of this should be a good thing! Yes! Vir'ava is certain about that. 

Ah- there! Her own Children. Spriggan, the result of a Springthorn plant gorging itself on blood and flesh. These ones are humanoid-shaped, since the bones within them once belonged to humanoids. But Vir'ava is certain that Spriggan can take any form, provided they steal the bones of the right creature.

Bones, still red and glossy from being freshly unearthed from flesh, bound in place and connected by vines taking on the role of ligaments and muscle, provides structure and stability upon which the Spriggan builds its body. Over time, plant-matter will conceal the truth, though some places it will still peek through. The first Spriggan rises, slowly and with great effort. 

Its jawless skull, with empty eye-sockets, stare blankly at the still alive humanoids. Well, two of them. The third is a bit behind the others. The leader, Vir'ava thinks, knew of her kind, and thus he was the greatest threat. However, he was too slow to realize, and she thinks that he deserves to live because of that.

Once all nineteen Spriggan have risen, she leads the way back to the grove. She hopes Not-Quite-Master will be pleased with her!