[Thankfully, dryads are not often aggressive in nature, even if this one is growing impossibly fast thanks to borrowing a fragment of Thomas' power. Its branches fan out, more and more and more, so fast that they could skewer a man if he stood in the wrong spot, at the wrong time.

One comes rather close, rushing past, but it glances off the shield that Berna's crystal has summoned in front of him. He hears her voice soon after as he steps back, then glances up at the ceiling to watch the tree strain, strain, strain against it.]

It's a giant tree now, Berna. This little potted plant was a dryad just waiting to grow, and I assure you, that bastard must have known-

[Morgan, of course. Already, his mind whirs. Every item is going to be crushed under the spreading girth of this delighted dryad, rent via branches or entwined via vines. He needs to get out before he's one of them.]

Time to go. [He starts climbing the tree, grabbing limbs, fingers dislodging blossoms, hefting himself up with surprising agility. If it's going to burst through the ceiling, then it can take him with it.] You need to do the same!