Good luck to it, he'll continue doing that until it's dead.

Once it figures out that it's not going to be able to dislodge him, it sinks its claws into its own neck and rips out the flesh he's clinging to instead.

Its blood smells rancid, like someone left a vat of the least palatable animal blood imaginable out in the sun and it somehow began to rot instead of just drying up.  It tosses the chunk of flesh and its passenger aside, and then there's another screech of sustained LOUD.

He turns his sense of smell off, lands neatly on the ground, and just looks at the dragon unimpressedly.

It pounces on him and pins him under its claws.  The screech flattens into a pure tone, like a pristine tuning fork held against his eardrum; its pitch tanks to the bottom of his range and below, and then begins steadily ascending.

So it doesn't want to give up. Fine. He deafens himself, makes himself even hardier and sturdier and stronger (and he has no idea how to make himself faster without messing with his synapses and really doesn't want to, he'll rely on the other things), detaches his own arms and regrows them, replacing his forearms and hands with five-foot-long vampire bone spikes that become literally as pointy and sharp as he can possibly make them (and that's a lot).

How does dragon feel about a vampire jumping with these spikes directly at its head faster than the speed of sound?

Well, that doesn't seem like a happy sound it just made.

It screams and squeals and retches, its neck thrashes with Sadde still embedded inside its skull, and then it collapses.

It's probably dead.

Hopefully the task of getting out from inside its jaws will be comparably trivial.

It is.

And he's slimy. Ugh. He rearranges his body back to its more usual shape, reaches inside his bag of holding for a piece of rose quartz, and wishes himself clean and clothed. There, that's better.

So—weird plant-wards?

It's a long walk, even for a vampire.  He won't get tired, obviously, but if he has to walk all that way he might get debilitatingly bored.  Unfortunately there doesn't seem to be much else around.

As he comes closer it becomes clear that whatever this thing is and whatever it's doing there, it's more like a single oversized plant - many times larger than a city - than a forest.  Thick tangled thorny vines and layers of bark and bulbous protrusions a bit like pitcher plants.

Walk.

Walk.

Walk.

Walk.

Fuck walking he'll run.

Run.

Run.

Run.

Yeah this is faster though.  This thing is huge.

There's plant-creatures moving around just outside it.

Are they plant dragons. Is that what his life is right now.

They don't have wings!  They're smaller!  The horrible stench of dragon blood is weaker as you get closer to the giant plant thing, as Sadde will notice if he's turned his nose back on!  Maybe they're something else.  Or maybe they're just small flightless plant dragons.

...do they attack him if he gets close.

One of them - something slender and four-legged with a tangle of vines for a body - spots him and sprints off.  A few heavier-duty ones approach, cautiously.

"Can you understand me?" he asks.

The creature nearest him is rhino-sized and bulky.  It seems to be some sort of large, poorly-specified root vegetable.  Leafy stalks extend from its head and back like spines.  Thick white root-tendrils poke out from under its feet, and grow from its head like a beard.  It has no visible eyes, but the way it moves its head seems to suggest it can see, somehow.

It cocks its head to one side when he speaks, like a perplexed dog.

"I should be able to understand anything you say, if you can communicate somehow."

If it understands, it doesn't reply in speech.

It lowers its head towards him, slowly and gently.  Root-tendrils raise slowly and gently like tentacles; if he allows them, they will start prodding curiously at his face.

If it communicates with something other than speech he should be able to understand it anyway so he'll just wait and let it prod.

He is prodded.  The first tendril curls back in surprise when it feels how cold and stonelike his skin is, but after a moment, prodding resumes.  The tendrils trace out the shape of his face delicately.  It doesn't seem to be communicative.

After a while, the plant-creature's head draws back, and its tendrils relax.

Another creature approaches: two-legged and built for bounding, like a kangaroo.  Its legs are potato-brown like the first creature's, but its upper body is a tangle of leaves and thorns.

It bounds toward him, and sits for a moment, and then bounds a few hops away from him, and turns to face him again.  Inasmuch as it can look anything without a face, it looks expectant.

...alright, he'll follow the kangaroo thing.

It stops and looks back every few hops at first, but once it's convinced he can keep up, it speeds up.

After a while the hopping-vine creature leads him to a group of ambulatory bushes replete with fat red fruit, and an enormous squat pitcher plant the size of a hot tub, carried on six squiggly root-legs.  The bushes approach and present their fruit; the pitcher plant raises its upper covering-leaf and shades its pool against the sun, wiggling meaningfully as if to invite him in.

The vine-creature fixes him with another expectant look.

"—I don't, ah, need to eat, but thank you. I'm also—very fast?" He zips somewhere a mile away, waves, then returns.

All the plant-creatures jump back in startlement.  The vine-creature curls its vines uncertainly, then turns around and bounds away as fast as it can.  (Sadde's top speed is still much faster.)

Yeah he can show that. "Also I don't get tired and don't need to breathe, so you can just show me the way, you don't need to worry about carrying me. It's very kind, though."