The Floral Necromancer

The necrobotanist sprayed a bright, lime green elixir onto the plants in his greenhouse and whistled a complex birdsong spell.

Within a few moments, the decaying plants regained their form, uprooted themselves from their pots, and began arranging themselves in tight rows.

“We strike at twilight,” he remarked casually and received a symphonic response of rustling leaves and the excited tapping of roots.