Magma Hamilton Flamingo, gorgon, better known as Ham, dug her claws into the ground and turned over the soil, searching. Her snake hair hissed excitedly as the symphony of smells rose into the air— earth elemental magic, fungus, organic things long left to rot, and all manner of minerals.
The gorgon continued to dig until she found a knot of roots leading into the heart of a copse of trees. Lowering her head, Ham took a deep breath, confirming via the particular perfumes from the soil she was in the correct spot. As one, the snake hair on the gorgon’s head bit into the roots, injecting them with potent magic venom.
The trees began to darken subtly. Within a month, all color will drip out, the trunks will harden, and the leaves will solidify. By the season’s end, each tree connected to the root ball will have turned into magical stone, drawing in the sun’s energy and directing it into the ground rather than utilizing it purely for growth.
Ham eyed her handiwork, checking the immediate progress. The trees were absorbing the venom with minimal stress. The gorgon slithered around each tree, rapping upon it gently with her knuckles. From a small pouch around her waist, she selected various vials and bottles. A few drops of Spring Sunshine for the tarbark elms, a smidge of Green Ghost Energy for the toxin oaks. As if to offer thanks, a cool wind blew across the gorgon’s brow.