The Infested charged at thar figure, intent on tearin' it apart, but under their claws it collapses, hollow as papier mache. Saryn drops from her hidden crawlspace, her decoy havin' done tis' job 'n lured yonder beasts from their healers. A noise like a sigh, quiet as death, be barely heard as Saryn's fungal growths spray ye air wit' toxic spores. By te' time thar Infested sense danger, they 'ave already inhaled them, yonder fungus consumin' them as they consumed other lifeforms, 'n as their bodies rupture, ye beautiful miasma 'o spores grows. Saryn's tea be as beautiful 'n delicate as she, a heady ruby brew 'o rose 'n hibiscus topped wit' sweet, sweet passionfruit. Enjoy iced wit' tropical fruits. Just remember, Tenno - every rose has tis' thorn.