Acacia Chronicle

Elena’s report for Lady Nhaka Mezalune, continued…

Anyway, the reanimated cultists. They were shambling at us slowly, like zombies. But then suddenly, they rushed at us with murderous zeal. They dropped their blades, rushing for us with their bloody hands stuck out for murder like the bony claws of the reanimated skeletons and the walking dead that reject the weapons of the living. Where far beyond them, was that elf-killing bastard, safely positioned from harm’s way with his blood-infused cultists protecting him like a living wall.

I stuck out my hand towards the oncoming horde, and I tried to command them with my sigil as any Lich would. Since, you know, we’re masters of the dead. Didn’t work, though. They were still alive, somehow. And it was because of the creature’s blood, my Lady. Calling it potent would be an understatement. It emanated from the soullessness of their eyes and their flesh like red and bloody stains. So holy, so vibrant, and so full of life magic. That it had driven them, these mere mortals, to insanity. And that’s a word I’d use sparingly, given the state of this damned shrine, long before we ever got here.

“Let’s get 'em,” I remarked to Iris, my eyes still on the oncoming horde as she joined me atop the altar. “This won’t stop us.”

“Of course it will not,” Iris said in reply, her voice little more than a whisper as she stood by my side with her holy blade and shield at the ready. “Stay close to me, Lady de L’Enfer.”

As soon as that was said, she leapt off the altar. With holy zeal that took even yours truly aback, she cut a swathe through the reanimated cultists while I followed her the best I could, fireballs and bolts of unholy blight slung one after another from my hands as we hacked, slashed and blasted our way through. The cultists, they were a lot tougher this time, the creature’s holy blood probably having done a big number upon their physical resilience. But it also made it such that unholy, necromantic magics worked like a charm in tearing them apart. Looking back, it probably disrupted the holy blood coursing through their veins, melting them into nothingness.

Indeed, my Lady. Who would’ve thought unholy magics work great against holy blood, huh? Like fire on ice, in a way. It also meant that with all this holiness going around, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little apprehensive about having any of them touch me, let alone stick their hands into my eyesockets. Personally, I wouldn’t recommend that for anyone, undead or not.

But at least, Iris was there to be my shield. That yours truly, would have her very nifty red longcoat stay nice and intact, stained with the usual dashes of blood and gory bits. And with her being my sword as well, we got ourselves out of our encirclement. Just a few steps away from that bastard elf-killer, as what many remained of his revived cult rushed at the new position we had stopped at, as if a wall of flesh with their gnarled hands like claws out for blood, even if I personally didn’t have any for them.

“Give him your best,” Iris whispered as she positioned herself between me and the oncoming horde of blood-crazed cravens. “As I shall with them.”

Wordlessly, I nodded. With the jewelled truncheon the bastard was holding up high set in my sights, with my sigils burning hot upon my hands, I unleashed yet another blast of fire at him with one hand. Predictably, the creature of blood intercepted it with its own body. And that was what I wanted, because when I followed that up with a wave of necrotic blight from the sigil in my other hand, the creature intercepted it as well. This time, though, it stopped in its tracks, visibly shaken by what it had just struck it. And like a lesser slime, it spilled off to the side, shrieking and writhing as my unholy spellcraft disrupted the life magic that formed its very being.

It was with this, that I stuck a palm outwards at that elf-killing bastard. As I felt the welcome sensation of dust trickling down my eyes, I smiled as I felt the flames dance upon the lines of the sigil glowing upon my palm, and I said to him:

“Face oblivion, you son of a bitch.”

Or at least, that was what I wanted to say. Really, and it would’ve most definitely been so cool and stylish! But yours truly was suddenly (and rather rudely, I might add) interrupted by a sharp pain clasped tightly upon my neck. Oh, and it was a burning pain as well, one that caused the sigils on my hands and the fiery invocation in my mind to go completely blank.

I let out a gasp, barely, as I stared ahead at the bloody sight before me. The creature of blood had somehow mustered up the strength to attack when I had left it for dead. One final hurrah, perhaps, and it had me firmly in its grasp. As all that it was, a crimson simulacrum of an elven woman, shivered and writhed where it stood, looking into my eyes with a deep sorrow from its featureless face.

“Isha…” it whispered. “Isha…”

It hurt, it really did. Remember, my Lady, what I said about fire and ice, and how I was so squeamish about being touched by these holy beings? Sure, I wasn’t about to suffocate any time soon since I don't breathe, but from my neck, I could feel the touch of the creature's holy blood incinerating itself into the rest of my body. And it felt, for lack of better words, like I was burning alive from within as it got so hot and painful. So damned hot, so damned painful, I wish I could put it in words that would do it justice, even now.

And the creature, it didn’t let up, not even after I fell limp in its grasp while that elf-killing bastard of a former Vizier walked up to me. Slowly but surely, with what looked like the edge of a silver blade made just for me held in one hand of his, while the other held that damned jewelled truncheon with the soul gem’s light.

“You reek of death, being so close to me. And I know what you are, elf. A Lich,” he said slowly, much like his steps as he gloated like the bastard I knew him to be from what short, yet meaningful time that we’ve spent together. “You’ve must’ve killed so many innocents to create your phylactery, to become so powerful… you evil, knife-eared bitch.”

I would’ve said something to that. Probably something sarcastic, but his blood pet had me firmly within its grasp even as it withered away before me, which made any verbal rebuttal at that moment rather difficult. But to be honest, he kind of got me there. Because he’s right, because I do have sins aplenty. Even if it was a long time ago, back in a life where I stupidly coveted things that would’ve been mine in time. Where I was so silly, and so very blind.

But it’s also there, even as the creature continued burning me with its holy grasp, that I’m thinking, at least with what little remained of my conciousness, about other things. About Isha, about that bastard’s jewelled truncheon, and the creature’s determination as it uttered that name over and over. And it’s then when it all clicked nicely rather together for me.

Very nicely, I’d say. Sure, the holiness of its blood was searing right through my every thought, but I still had enough within me for a simple spell. You know, a basic invocation to grab nearby metal objects at a short distance, a parlour trick even an apprentice starting out could do with their sigil. I mean, It was worth a try, all things considered.

And with that bastard all but a few steps away with his silver blade at the ready, I extended my palm out towards that craven bastard with my flickering sigil bearing that one spell, hoping for the best. And when I heard an audible gasp from him as he stopped in his tracks, when what felt heavy like cold iron launched itself into the grip of my hands, I found myself smiling despite the pain as the creature of blood finally let go of me, its featureless visage looking first at the truncheon in my hands, next at the audible terror of its former master, and then towards me.

“Go on…” I uttered, my mind and body still aching with the lingering sensation of life magic. “He’s… all yours.”

Indeed, my Lady. I could only watch on with a grimace as that bastard’s screams filled the hall. As that dying creature of blood tore its former master to shreds in an orgy of bloody violence that soon fell to deathly silence. One that I’m sure must’ve been a long time coming, desired and craved by it far more than Iris and I ever could.