Using the terrain for any sort of advantage, the mystical staff was waved, giving way for the ground behind her to morph, losing its solid form and turning into a large, tidal wave of mud that loomed over the hunters.
Leading the chase, the elven hunter with long, platinum hair held his hand in front of himself, speaking in a whisper that was too quiet and too fast to be heard, "----"
At that moment, Celly felt a spike in mana; a refined signature that felt like a wise, ancient tree, yet honed for something sinister. As she looked back, the tidal wave of mud was parted by an archway of stone being formed, dispersing the entrapping liquid and allowing the hunters to continue sprinting forth, unimpeded.
It had to have been manifested within a second; the construct of stone created a tunnel that completely negated the desired effect of the mud wave.
