The more protracted the battle became, the more Lillian depended on nothing other than reflexes and instinct. Events began to blur into one another: newer, stronger enemies rising as the previous fell, more wounded allies to restore with her blood and sorcery. This, she knew, was in no way a good thing. Ingwe had been pierced through the base of the neck by a lance of black energy, the fallen guardsmen became replicas of their dark master, and Hats the wizard had fallen twice now. Granted, his revelation of the Necromancer’s origins, of his powers and of his weakness, had been of interest to the scholarly girl. More relevant, however, was his prompt disposal of one among the five clones. The earth gave way, beneath and above: nothing but rubble remained underfoot, and the ceiling of the great underground cavern had been blown clear off.
The girl thanked her stars for surviving the spire of raw eldritch power, and that was all. She had cleared away from the other clones, whose united spell-casting had been interrupted by the magical surge, standing closer to her comrades who had escaped the blast just as she did. With a flick of the wrist, she retrieved the blue-metal dagger she had invested with her blood, the same that had carried her healing webs to the wizard the first time. Applying pressure on its flat, she split the weapon in half, the left piece turning a glossy white sheen while the one in her right hand took on shadows of matte black. The twin blades bit into her palms, drawing her lifeblood, and she threw them again: one at Ingwe, the other once again at Hats. There was, however, no time to watch them work her magic.
The robed elf – Cydnar, she remembered from their meeting in the hidden grotto – had called for help. More explicitly, she understood from his embellished supplication, he requested power: the power to bring his bizarre variant of geomancy to new levels, to cause the wretched Necromancer a pain that would prove permanent, for once in this god-forsaken battle. Lillian wondered just how she could comply; she tried to work out the mechanics of life-force transference, but she feared that was no feat to be achieved like this, on the fly. That is, until she realized what new power she had gained.
“Necromancy,” she muttered darkly, the ink in her eyes roiling in malignant ripples. Lillian had gained a parcel of his necromancy: she had learned to resist its rot, to commandeer dark spells not her own, but more importantly, she had learned its gruesome mechanics. The knowledge to infuse life where it no longer belonged, to drain it from those it still served... it was hers, now. It was hers, and she knew how to use it in conjunction with her own inherent abilities. There was still much residual power in her body, a temporary boon granted by the unleashing of the amber amulet she wore. It quadrupled her physical prowess, already empowered by the blood of Godhand, but it was of no use to her, now – not against four necromancers armored in scales of adamantine.
Lillian flung her hand outward, fingers spread-eagled as five threads of jet black shot out from their tips. They spun and spiraled, cutting through the air, weaving about with only the power of her mind guiding their path, guiding them to Cydnar. They wrapped about his form, and she screamed for him to let them entangle him; thankfully, that had stopped him from slicing them with his blades in fear and reflex. While he would not have been able to, considering their shear and tensile strength, Lillian did not want him to waste his strength trying.
A dark thought went through her mind, and in response, shadows coursed across the webs. They lost their solidity, lost their texture: they were now wisps of half-darkness, strands weaved from the very stuff of Elder Shadows. She had only ever used them to drain the life out of her foes, to rid them of their defiance, their perseverance and sometimes even their will to live; however, with what she had stolen from the Black, today… she had learned to reverse its flow.
And to reverse it explosively.
Mists of pale light fired across the black lines of power, like a rain of shooting stars or swarming comets. The life had not been drained from her: it had been wrung from her very soul, from her mind and from each and every taut cord of her muscles. The raw wave of life struck Cydnar like a lightning bolt, and Lillian cursed: there was too much of it already, and still more to come. He screamed, taking in the power as best he could without letting it tear him apart, but there was only so much he could do for so long: she needed to divert the rest elsewhere, and quickly.
Her right hand shot up, and more threads burst from her fingers, seeking all of her allies: The fallen Ingwe, who she hoped was still alive; the wizard with the pointy hat, who had banished one of their greatest foes from all of existence; the mercenary Godhand, who still struggled against his personal nightmares; lastly, the drow woman whose presence seemed an anathema to the wielders of magic surrounding her. Yet, Lillian knew the power transmitted through her webs would not break helplessly upon her like transient waves against a stalwart reef. What she sent her way was not magic in and of itself, but the raw force of her own breaking body and soul. When there was nothing left within her to give, the threads burst into puffs of shadowy smoke, breaking her link with all five warriors.
And in the blink of an eye, she was spent. Her body felt light – too light, as if the bones that held her weight were suddenly gone, turned to nothing, carried off in the wind and through the great gaping hole in the ceiling. There was no force within her limbs, and she wondered how she still stood on her legs, how she had not fallen over, bursting into dust like a desiccated corpse. Until, she wondered no more.
It was only curiosity. Yes, she was simply curious… curious to understand what manner of devilry had charged the air all around them.
Curious to understand what destruction Cydnar was ready to wreak upon them all, with this new power he was never meant to wield so soon.
Out of Character:
- Dagger-healed Ingwe and Caden.
- Created a link to Cydnar with her webs: used her Shadow Twist ability in conjunction with Necromancy to transfer her lifeforce to him instead.
- Because there was too much residual energy from her quadrupled Gargantua's Might, she divided it amongst everyone: Cydnar, Drusillia, nightmare-trapped Godhand, even the KOed Ingwe and Caden. This extra boost could possibly revitalize them much faster than her healing spells could on their own.
- Everyone besides Lillian now has a free pass to do things they couldn't do before due to individual limits.
- Lillian is spent, and will not be able to post any more this round. Cydnar, however, is posting next to finish his spell.
Submit Thread for Judgment