Visha's Fascination With Flora

Visha Tanith was quite enjoying herself. She was rather pleased she'd agreed to lend her expertise to Ryker and his "merry band of red cubs"—or whatever the Crimson Lions were calling themselves these days. The dangers of the garden didn't faze her; in fact, the oppressive miasma, the deadly flowers, the acid-filled fountains—it was all a magnificent feast for her senses, a twisted sanctuary that called to her [Pestilent Harbinger] class with every toxic, sorrow-soaked breath.

Visha's eyes sparkled with a rare gleam of genuine admiration as she drank in her surroundings, her gaze lingering on each strange, poisonous plant and intricate statue as though they were pieces in an art gallery. This was no ordinary dungeon. The Garden of Achlys was a place that exuded an artful, deadly beauty, one that perfectly complemented the powers she wielded. Her class, which thrived on decay and toxicity, felt perfectly at home in this corrupted sanctuary. The miasma here wasn't just oppressive—it was nourishing, whispering promises of power to anyone who dared to harness it.

As the rest of the group moved cautiously forward, wary of traps and the insidious pull of despair that lurked in every shadow, Visha was busy with her own work. She pulled out her favorite black notebook from her spatial ring, its cover worn and darkened from countless hours of use in her laboratory. This notebook was where she recorded all her most valuable observations—formulas, discoveries, and the finer points of her alchemical experiments. In a place like this, every detail mattered, every poisonous leaf and petal a potential ingredient.

Flipping open the notebook to a fresh page, activated [Pestilent Insight], the unique version of [Analyze] that her class granted her, Visha scanned the twisted, ghostly flora that surrounded them. With each glance, she gained insight far beyond what most Hunters could perceive, noting toxic levels, potential reactions, and even ideas for extraction and distillation.

She approached a midnight-purple blooms with a calm, measured stride, the flowers seemingly glowing with an iridescent green along the petal edges. They were almost surreal in their beauty, an eerie luminescence that gave them an otherworldly allure. As she leaned in, a faint mist emanated from the petals, carrying a scent that was sweet and metallic, like the mingling of honeysuckle and fresh blood.

She paused, inhaling deeply, letting the scent permeate her senses before she activated

[Pestilent Insight]. She could feel the sleep-inducing properties of the gas seeping through her awareness, subtle and soft, like a gentle whisper lulling her senses.

[Pestilent Insight] Report:

Toxicity Level: High

Name: Achlyssian Nightshade

Properties: The petals release a subtle, sleep-inducing gas when exposed to the open air. Ideal for immobilizing or subduing targets without inflicting harm.

Potential Uses: Perfect for creating a potion or powder to induce a dreamlike state. It could also amplify neurotoxins in a mix, extending their effects.

Notes: Handle with caution. Minor exposure may cause mild drowsiness. If harvested with precision, this plant could yield a gas that induces tranquil sleep. Ideal for stealth operations.

She sketched a quick illustration, her hand steady as she captured the curve of each petal, the faint shimmer of poison that clung to them. The gas these flowers emitted could have numerous applications, and her mind raced with ideas. "I wonder… if I were to distill this into a fine powder, I might create a blend that could make entire rooms succumb to slumber," she mused. "Or perhaps… an inhalant to ease the mind before extracting information."

A smirk played on her lips as she closed her notes on the Achlyssian Nightshade, mentally filing it as a favorite.

"There's a sweetness here, almost intoxicating…" she murmured, her voice soft and thoughtful as she noted the plant's peculiar ability to mask its true nature. Her pen scratched across the page as she documented each detail, her hand steady as she captured the curve of the petal, the faint shimmer of poison on the surface. "It could be refined… distilled into something even more potent."

She carefully noted its uses—how it could be employed in brews that induce sleep or render entire groups drowsy. Satisfied, she left the flower, her gaze lingering for one last appreciative look before she continued down the winding path.

Further down, she found herself standing before a thorny, twisted plant creeping along the ground. Its dark, oily tendrils seemed to pulse with life, and at its edges hung clusters of blood-red berries that looked ready to burst, their thin skin revealing the venomous fluid inside. The berries' oily sheen caught the dim light, giving them an almost hypnotic allure, like drops of congealed blood waiting to be spilled.

Visha knelt beside the vine, her fingers hovering just above the surface, close enough to feel the energy pulsing from the berries but careful not to touch. "The smell…" she murmured, taking in the sharp, metallic scent of iron that mingled with the miasma. "A hint of something ancient. Ritualistic, almost. This venom… it's potent enough to cause decay."

Her [Pestilent Insight] illuminated the berries' properties,

[Pestilent Insight] Report:

Name: Bloodfruit Vine

Toxicity Level: Extremely High

Properties: Berries contain venom that causes rapid muscle decay upon ingestion or contact with an open wound. The vine itself secretes a translucent adhesive sap designed to immobilize small prey.

Potential Uses: The venom could serve as a primary ingredient for a flesh-decaying poison, highly effective in close combat. The sap could be bottled to create natural traps or bindings, holding enemies in place.

Notes: Harvesting requires precise tools, as even the slightest contact with the sap can lead to temporary paralysis.

"This could be used for immobilizing prey… or perhaps something even more permanent," she whispered, her voice filled with satisfaction as she mentally cataloged its potential. The sap's adhesive nature made it perfect for setting natural snares or traps.

Her mind raced with ideas as she sketched the vine, capturing the pulsing berries, the twisted thorns, and the oily sheen that dripped from their edges. Rising slowly, she brushed her hands off and gave the vine an approving nod before moving deeper into the mist.

The Bloodfruit Vine was proving to be a rare find, something she would be certain to revisit before leaving this garden.

As she walked further into the garden, the miasma thickened, almost pressing against her skin. Ahead, she saw a tall, ghostly plant with silvery, drooping blooms that looked almost sorrowful, as if they were weighed down by some unseen burden. Each petal had a faint greenish tint along the edges, making them appear both sickly and beautiful. The air around it was filled with a strange, decaying scent that tugged at memories of darker times, old fears, regrets long buried.

She stepped close, and as she inhaled, the scent curled through her mind, whispering despair and melancholy. A shiver traced her spine as her own memories stirred—old wounds, moments she rarely allowed herself to remember. She stilled herself, drawing a slow, calming breath as she activated [Pestilent Insight].

[Pestilent Insight] Report:

Toxicity Level: Moderate to High

Name: Mourning Thistle

Properties: Contains a mild hallucinogen that induces despair and lethargy, making it difficult for those exposed to act with strength or resolve.

Potential Uses: Ground into a powder, it could be used to sow confusion and depression among enemies, draining their willpower. Blended with other toxins, it enhances lethargic effects, leaving targets mentally and physically vulnerable.

Notes: Prolonged exposure to the scent is fatal in small creatures. High doses could be used to psychologically weaken an opponent.

Her pencil scratched across the page as she detailed the effect on herself. "The despair it induces… it's an interesting weapon. Not outright deadly, but capable of breaking down the mind." She smiled faintly. "Perfect for interrogation, or perhaps, more subtly, in a social context… weakening an enemy's will without them realizing it."

She tucked a note into her mind to test the Mourning Thistle's properties under different conditions, curious if she could strengthen its hallucinogenic effects.

Her notes became more detailed as she recorded each effect, each whisper of despair the scent invoked. The Mourning Thistle wasn't a physical weapon; it was a mental one, ideal for weakening an opponent without a direct attack. The thought filled her with a dark excitement. If refined, she could use it to psychologically destabilize enemies or create a gas that sowed confusion and lethargy among larger groups.

With the faintest of smiles, she added her final notes, closing the page as she moved on, her senses keenly alert for the next wonder Achlys's garden had to offer.

Finally, she came upon a shadowed corner where roots twisted up from the ground like skeletal fingers, ghostly pale and semi-translucent, as if feeding on the very air around it. The roots emitted a faint, almost undetectable chill, a cold that reached deep, beyond flesh, tugging at the edges of life itself. The silence here was thick, the air heavy with an absence of warmth, as though the plant drew life and light into itself, leaving only numbness in its wake.

She crouched down, extending her hand, feeling the root's frigid aura, the faint tingling of necrotic energy pressing against her skin. "A life-drainer," she whispered with reverence, activating [Pestilent Insight] to peel back the layers of its essence. "It doesn't just poison; it consumes. Sapping the life slowly, leaving only… decay."

[Pestilent Insight] Report:

Toxicity Level: Very High

Name: Wraithroot

Properties: Contains an essence that induces necrosis, draining life force and creating a numbness in flesh upon contact. Ingested or applied to open wounds, it causes symptoms of hypothermia and eventual tissue decay.

Potential Uses: Distilled essence could serve as a powerful necrotic poison, ideal for slow-killing toxins. Root can be powdered for energy-draining spells or numbing salves.

Notes: Extreme caution advised during handling. Prolonged exposure leads to necrotic effects, particularly around the area of contact.

Her insight painted a detailed picture in her mind: the root contained an essence that would numb flesh, induce hypothermic symptoms, and ultimately lead to necrosis. A small smile crossed her lips as she noted the potential of this root—a necrotic poison that would drain vitality over time, a slow and agonizing end.

"This is perfect… a poison that doesn't just kill, but one that drains the very essence," she murmured, scribbling feverishly as she sketched the root, capturing its skeletal form, its ghostly hue, and the frigid aura it exuded.

The Wraithroot was a rare find, one that would serve as a powerful component in her arsenal. Rising slowly, she cast one last, appreciative glance at the plant before tucking her notebook back into her ring.

As she moved back onto the path, her senses fully open to the surrounding toxins, she could feel her blood thrumming in harmony with the garden's miasma. The poisons within her and the poisons outside blended like an intricate melody, each note distinct but part of a greater, deadly symphony. Achlys had crafted a masterpiece of pestilence and despair, and Visha could feel herself drawn into its essence, her blood resonating with the dark energy around her.

As Visha moved through the Garden of Achlys, she felt the air thickening around her, the toxic miasma soaking into her skin, winding through her like a second pulse. Unlike the others, who felt its oppressive weight, she sensed something deeper. Her blood responded to the miasma's presence, awakening a sensation unique to her [Pestilent Harbinger] class—a heightened awareness, a visceral sense of the poison that filled this corrupted sanctuary.

The poison in the air felt like a subtle, familiar song vibrating through her veins, every pulse of toxicity resonating in her blood. She could sense its composition, its effects, the different layers of venom that coiled and drifted through the mist. Each breath brought with it a new note, a faint burn as if the miasma was merging with her very essence, singing through her veins.

"Exquisite," she murmured as she savored the divine taste of the miasma in the air. 

Closing her eyes, she let the sensation deepen, feeling the venoms as it moved through her senses, a dark pulse that her body interpreted effortlessly. "Truly divine."

Dabria, watching her, let out a soft, delighted laugh. "Oh, you're enjoying this far too much, wifey," she teased, though there was admiration in her gaze. "You look as if you're in a trance."

Visha gave a faint, almost dreamy smile, the pulse of poison still dancing in her veins. "This place… it's exquisite. Each plant, each toxin, I can feel it. My blood responds to it, almost as if it recognizes its own." She looked at Dabria, her eyes alight. "It's rare to find poisons so refined… Achlys's creations are far beyond the ordinary."