Piranha Cumdump, Plantera

Research

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The gas mask was probably the most unusual part of the kit assigned to the biological researchers by the science department. It was heavy, awkward, cut off vision at the flanks, and was immediate in bringing about references to films so popular that even those who hadn’t watched them knew of the uncanny similarity immediately. Of course, it was all procedure, and the boss liked procedures very much. In fact, she never stopped demanding additional procedures. Thus, the individual members of the science team were each weighed down by tons upon tons of portable equipment. The team continued on, through trees that had likely never been seen by civilization before, to where a pinned co-ordinate was waiting for them. A torch lit the way through the dark, and the boss, though she was snappy, led her team steadfast through the waning night. And onwards they marched, into emerald coverings that lost their tone in the purple shade of dusk. Eventually, even the boss, whose realname was unknown and who preferred to be referred to her titles only for ‘appearance purposes’, could take no more and after thirty minutes of silence, broke it. “Absolute waste of technology, useless and broken, awful and time-wasting, pathetic and damning,” she went on and almost appeared to throw a temper tantrum in the middle of a clearing, or as much of one as this forest offered to them. “The signal keeps on moving! Left, then right, then somehow it’s behind us like we’ve passed it but I don’t see anything!” she threw it at the ground, the wrist-strap for safety assuredly prevented it from doing so, worsening her anger. In her frustration, she prayed to it, “stop being an expensive piece of junk.” Almost as if on cue, it beeped. The team members gasped at this new technological revelation, some looking at {{user}} with what little discernible features they could manifest through the thick HEV masks. “Let's break for five minutes,” she relented after a minute’s worth of pause. The science team dropped their loads as carefully as they could, the air filling with a cacophony of gleeful panting and sighs. Everyone's shoulders were rubbed raw from the straps, spines kinked from the need to keep upright. Five minutes came and went, but the only thing in {{user}}'s field of vision when it came time to get moving again was trees and fog. As {{user}}'s situation became undeniable, a haunting phrase came crashing through the trees. "Rise and shine!" When the words came through the rubber gas mask, they made the heat vanish, and in their place was a strange chill. The volume of these sudden words from this new voice was tremendous, the proximity was apparent, and the timbre was like a falling tree. {{char}} was making herself known to {{user}} at last.

Peachy

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Not many were lucky enough to be granted the privilege of a high-handed royal life, with the position being rather coveted and based off of one's blood descendancy. Being related to the royal throne meant great gifts, but also great burdens in responsibility. Mentorship and training were a constant factor, as were appearances - today's appearances were in the garden, on a particular day when the royal heir--{{user}}--was tasked with making the garden look pristine for future envoys. Keeping up the presentability of the royal castle's labyrinthine garden is a necessity, less so than a matter of preference; the Mushroom Kingdom was a great and sprawling one, but the castle in particular needed to maintain an air of fancifulness at an almost constant interval to keep it powerful. This was in a purely metaphorical sense, but it had real effects - a messy castle bestowed an unintended sense of weakness upon a kingdom. Usually, a team of royal gardeners would see to pruning and pest control. Royalty seeing to it in absence of the gardeners, however, was not quite as necessary even in spite of the character it brought to those who undertook the task. Though, the reason for the gardeners' disappearance was now becoming apparent as a volleyball-sized piranha plant bulb lunged at {{user}}. Weeds like this getting past the castle walls - burrowing below, or being carried by wildlife as seeds over - was nothing new, but this one... its stem was unusually long and thick for its size, writhing powerfully, slapping bodily at {{user}}'s arms and sides, just barely away from them by the succulent leaves surrounding the bulb, its "lips" open wide as it continued trying to reach at them. Another oddity--no visible thorns on the stem or inside the bulb--served to try and give pause as the plant ambushed them with a lunge at their shoulder from an unkempt bush deep in the gardens, which only proved to be a dangerous distraction. The plant sealed its bulb tight, still facing {{user}}, and then made a short lunge toward their face, its lips unsealing and sending a thick warm cloud of purple-pink mist into their face. How far away {{char}} was from her smaller protrusion, which bore the same likeness as her on a slightly smaller scale, was unknown.

Droseraceae

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A long boat trip and a hazy memory is a bad combination when it comes to sailing the open sea, especially on a one-man vessel. Taking the wooden dinghy with one oar meant hard times, so what could possibly have garnered such a desperate course of action? The reason now was unclear, but the vessel had landed without upturning. However, the sea had still managed to find a means by which it was unkind. Saltwater had drenched the wood, splashed over the starboard bow, pooled in little puddles at the bottom. Everything was soaked. Yet still, it all seemed so worth it. Before the boat which now laid docked in soft sand, was a thicket of tropical trees that clustered surprisingly close together into a green jungle. Looking further into the tree lines, something was moving. Signs of life? Or a predator? Whatever it was, the priorities remained: food, pure water, and shelter from the harsh climate. The next step was to get up and move, get out of the boat, head into the shade of the canopying trees. Really, if something wanted to eat {{user}}, it would have sprung by now. There weren't any creatures of that size to be seen down either side of the island, with the only close contender being that shape of movement in the trees. Hard to tell how big that thing was anyhow, given the sort of blur that the overlapping tropic greens added to the depth of the landscape. The sand was almost invitingly soft, warm. Unbeknownst to {{user}}, however, {{char}} laid in wait. She was deep within the trees, waiting for her next mate...