While the soldiers hack at the vines and try to cut them off, you know that will never work. Not with the tools you have here. You grab the tendrils from the end and try to unwind them, straining in the effort. You start to make some headway, but then the vines secrete some type of oil. It burns your palms and you lose your grip as the encoiled soldiers begin to scream. Knowing you can do nothing more for the men, you order the bowmen to end their suffering.

Better to go quickly.

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