The spell that Diabelle casts rushes about her, the storm as ever playful and lusty in equal measures. It lifts her skirt, the cool air teasing over her legs and crotch, but it also sends her hair fluttering and gives touches of cold all up and down her arms and neck. In the past, when Diabelle has used this, she's been able to find a location, the wind bringing back the information and pointing her the right way. But now, with the world scattered and remade the wind also scatters, rushing past the camp and the other survivors, making the campfire flicker for a moment, before rushing back from all three different directions. The greatest rush of wind is to the west, showing a location no more than 2 days travel down in the mists. The other two are fainter, smaller parts of the sundered Abanab Academy presumably, one further off to the west in those distant mountains and the other to the north about a week's travel away in the forests. The storm releases Diabelle as she spots the rustling in the trees.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d0/71/5d/d0715d70dc050bb83a1f49eef6b8323f.jpg)</div>As the survivors got to know each other, the trees rustle gently again, first when Ming's chest pops out of her dress and again when Diabelle raises up into the air and the storm provides a shot underneath her skirt. As quickly as each rustle begins, it stops. A gentle, deep purring sound emerges from the thicket, quiet enough even in these sound-deadened space to be below notice. It isn't until Diabelle calls out a presence that another rustle happens. Gently, tenderly, a creatures moves out from the trees.<br/><br/>His form is massive, easily nine feet tall even with a bit of a hunch to his stance, and if it weren't for his visage he would have stood out very distinctly. Among the trees and bushes he seems to disappear into the background, and even as he passes forward there's moments that the sight of him is lost until he's fully beyond the treeline. The soft nettles and sticks that make up his skin move slowly, approximating breathing, but perhaps seeming more like the subtle movement of the wind over rushes. Although his shoulders are broad, his body is hollow with a glow that becomes evident once he is out of the thicket. His voice thrums through the air, deep and resonant, "I would hope that I have not startled thee. I... find myself away from my home. But twould thou like it, I find myself quite at thine service." He bows slowly at the waist. "A voice has spoken to me, perhaps because my kind is more... malleable. This world, or perhaps simply the fate of it, is... well. Yours." A slow smile comes across his face as he looks over each of you, "Which puts me in quite an enviable position."<br/><br/>He strides forward, each step taking him nearly a leap forward, but still moving slowly. His form is at once seeming unclothed and garmented, thicker foliage around his shoulders seeming reminiscent of a cape or collar that lowers into nothing along his chest, the hollow form of his stomach obviously bare, his legs going down into something like the appearance of boots. His arms and legs are more branchlike, created of smooth dark wood, along with a thick shaft that seems practically polished to a shine hanging between his legs with similarly oversized proportions. "I am here to help, though I cannot leave from this place. I am Of This Place." He nods slowly and offers a smile, a warm and inviting one, "And you will be able to recreate the world, I should assume." Each survivor he looks at in turn, confident and taking them in as though each one is the most important, beautiful, meaningful person he has met in his life.<br/><br/>