Well then. That sounds like it's kind of a terrible time to be him, doesn't it?

He manages, eventually, to form a thought that isn't ow. His healing has finally gotten him off the thorns and is now busy reconstructing half his lower back, among other things. There are some really unfortunate holes in his pants.

- of course one of those fucking horrible little bugs got him while he wasn't paying attention. He snarls weakly at it. It's probably not safe to set it on fire but damn is he tempted.

The fucking horrible little bug is having such a great feast! So many fluids to drink! Slurp slurp slurp slurp! Soon enough, it retracts its tendrils, quite full. It had been feasting for a while. It attempts to fly, and -

- It pathetically drops drunkenly out of the sky, wriggling its little legs uselessly. It drank a bit too much, it hadn't before been confronted with something that could dispense infinite life fluids. It didn't know anything about self control. Now it's too fat to fly. It isn't going anywhere until after it's done digesting.

He stands up, with difficulty.

He stomps on the bug.

It goes splat, and oozes red blood that's probably his.

At least it died happy.

Fuck this place so much.

His clothes are a total mess. He resists the urge to set them on fire, and instead repairs them with magic, badly. And then he starts walking again. He is going to get to that palace.

He is left undisturbed for a little while.

There are some more glowing flowers up ahead. These are blue.

He stands well back from all of them and shreds one with magic.

Icesplosion!

Now this part of the street is iced over, and slightly safer.

He can do the rest of them, too, then.

Lots of icesplosions!

These flowers: continue to be impotent.

What lovely flowers! Onward he goes.

The city is getting denser and its layout is becoming a bit more confusing and twisted. The buildings are tilted at more alarming angles, and bending, now. Like someone's taken clay and twisted it. So far he's been able to follow the main street, but it's starting to become harder and harder to tell what the main street is. He might run into a dead end or two.

Something moves, just at the edge of his vision.

- he instinctively sets it on fire, and only barely manages to dissipate the spell before it explodes. His sword glows brightly.

Something makes a dying sound! Probably one of the sneaky bastards. Nothing else comes out of the stonework to cause him trouble. For now.

The street up ahead dips down, and is flooded.

He freezes it over because fuck meeting whatever lives in that.

A bit of the ice cracks and swells, like there is something under there, and ice wasn't enough to kill it.

Oh. Great.

The ice sinks, then swells again, and a large creature bursts from the ice and towards Siran. It does not make it all the way to him, instead flopping pathetically in front of him, its large flat body not really built for land. The shape of it is reminiscent of a manta ray, if manta rays were made out of rotting, misshapen flesh, haphazardly stitched together with algae and vines and what looks to be some kind of sickly yellow mucous.

Stubbornly, it flops a little further up onto the land.

That's really fucking gross.

"You're really fucking gross," he tells it.

What happens if he rips it in half by magic -

Thousands of tiny flying insect creatures burst forth from its hollow carcass and swarm him, that's what happens.

Augh.

Fuck it now he's on fire and so are they.

They're covered in water and the same mucous substance that was holding their carrier creature together, which seems to be at least a little fire resistant. Not fire resistant enough of course. They start burning soon enough. They get a few thousand bites in, first. They're venomous, but the venom isn't paralytic, just painful, burning in his veins a little while longer even after they're all incinerated.

A few strays buzz around in the carrier creature, laboriously pulling the two halves back together, apparently uninterested in throwing themselves mindlessly at Siran.

He definitely shouldn't set the carrier creature on fire too.

He does anyway.

It doesn't explode, this time. It just - gets loose. Curving lines of fire whip through the air like angry snakes tethered to his hands and arms and shoulders, striking at everything in reach, and their reach is growing - ten feet, twenty, thirty -

- it's tempting to just keep feeding them. They express his mood very accurately. But the longer he keeps them, the harder they'll be to get rid of, and surely he will eventually meet something he doesn't want to light on fire, although perhaps not in this city.

The fire-tendrils melt brick and boil water while he thinks about it.

Lots of things burn. None of them seem like a particular loss.

There are a few pained screeches of murderous creatures dying, but really, that doesn't seem like a particular loss, either.