<div class="floatright">(https://78.media.tumblr.com/226dd7626e69bc863ea292cd0bebbea5/tumblr_nv2ds3PVDJ1r2s3h9o1_500.jpg)</div>Aiparrah's word is tested as the dryads continue to lurch forward through the bog more fully onto the mound, great muscular legs bringing them out of the sludge water, hides wrapped around their hips dripping water and swamp.  They tower above as they walk, those without masks showing crooked mossy grins forming on their faces.  The leader with his antlers barks out an approximation of a laugh as he begins to swing his maul once again, "Alternatives?  You gave aside alternatives when you entered our swamp."<br/><br/>The dryads close in, now bathed in light to show their features more specifically, though their steps begin to slow, to falter a bit.  The armored male reaches down and adjusts the bark covering his crotch as he lets out a low grumbling voice that calls out, "Unless they could be mates."<br/><br/>The leader turns his head in the direction of the speaker and nods once, his wise antlers bobbing, "First mates, then sacrifices.  Waste not want not."  A vague shifting of leaves and branches not unlike soft laughter goes through them and then begin to trudge forward despite the fire, the burning embers lighting up cruel faces, enormous muscular bodies, and tented hides, including that of the gauntleted she-dryad.<br/><br/>The burst of fire in Serylia's hand adds another bit of light in the darkness, cutting through some of the fog of the swamp.  The nearest dryad, the skull-helmeted one, pulls back and lets out a hiss of frustration and anger.  There is a shifting, a raising of mud and muck as suddenly the roots come to life, pushing through the ground as the leader of the dryads shout, "Damn their fire!  Take them!"<br/><br/>Survivors, what do you do?