Hungry Necromancer

Dark Step.

A spell I've been meaning to use but never really got the chance. A spell that requires there be at least a single undead within range and switches your position with that undead. 

Essentially teleportation but just with extra steps.

I groan out in horrible pain as my body drops like a bag onto the hard grassy floor, a thing I'm sure should be soft.

I've just switched places with my dear, dear newly created self-sustaining undead, Panda.

The sounds of skittering and scampering quickly let me know that I haven't much time to reminisce or appreciate the hulking mass of power Panda is. 

Instead, I snap my fingers the resulting explosion is so powerful I can hear it from the very edge of the wall. Some projectiles even arc across the sky soon after.

Still wheezing and unable to breathe properly or at all with my ribs broken into my lungs, I quickly call unto mana and begin to mould into my second most mastered spell.

The critters and barking, howling wolves make their approach, unlike I, Panda was merciful enough to have given his pursuing enemies some distances before the swap. Although, it's not like he knew what would happen.

In but a moment's notice, just as the wolves push past the spiders with a burst of speed and terribly salivating mouths, they come within range and, "Death Grip," Every single one of the eager wolves caught.

To their credit they don't dally biting at the ethereal green hands, instead they keep the chase and keep after me.

Unfortunately for them, "Soul Drain." The one quick, most effective healing spell I know. The most destructive as well perhaps, seeing as both the soul and body are dried up like a sponge in the desert.

I'm fully rejuvenated. I take a generous, greedy breath of unhindered air and appreciate the functioning of my lungs. But I'm not out of danger just yet. 

Something wet and sticky slaps itself on my hand with enough force to push it away, I look down and find a white, silky web linked to one of the seven spiders that surround me in a curve.

For this, I take out my dagger and slash at it.

To my surprise, it doesn't cut, it doesn't even budge. To think this was wet not a second ago. Its comrades see my helplessness with the dagger and prepare their business to fire at me, raising the oversized humps in the air and targeting.

Frankly, I don't mind, this is exactly the kind of opposition I need for my training. Breathing the green mist of necrosis onto my blade I try again and this time, it cuts through, but not all the way. Another swipe and I'm set free from the hungry pull of the arachnid.

In that moment, its comrades fire out their own wet, silky bits. 

The attack is tough to dodge so rather than waste my time on that I dash for the most vulnerable in their assembly, the one at the end of the line. 

The horrid, giant thing hisses at me, its teeth snapping eagerly and all eight eyes watching my movements, unfortunately for it, it was far too focused on my hands and on the dagger and not on my mana.

Another tendril of Death Grip bursts out of me and the combo of Soul Drain takes its life. It crumbles up on itself, losing all mass and power in its terrible death.

The others haven't moved since I took it on, only watched me. I wonder if they're deliberating whether or not to run, if they are, then I can't wait to boast of how- Oh no, they're coming.

All remaining six dash at me with organized fury, giant things the size of a child I ready my blade and mana for their assault.

They critters circle around me and begin to fire web shots, shots I still have trouble dodging; one hits me in the shoulder and throws me off balance, without even stopping to see if I'll fall over or not two of the damned things jump at me, teeth bared and eyes glistening with murder.

"Death Grip!" I exclaim just as I fall to the ground, the tendrils of green mana latch onto the beasts just before they can chew my face off.

Unfortunately, the others don't give up this chance. Four of the six not in my grip instantly start to peltering me with their webs. Dodge chance is zero.

I'm effectively glued to the ground at this point.

"Ah fuck it! Death Grip!" Rather than take them on with effort I decide to cheese it after getting in a bind, the tendrils of necrosis burst out the webs like a hot knife through butter.

Dozens of them, make their way for the carapaces of the spiders, their little legs can't dodge all of them, and they don't.

"Soul Drain!" All six within my grasp begin to screech in pain as I suck out the life and mana out of their bodies, leaving them as husks, dried up and brittle.

"Ugh!" I groan, finally able to take a breather. I lie there, staring at the open sky. 

It glitters with stars deep in the darkness. I realize, I haven't looked up in a while.

For the moment, I resolve to enjoy it.

…

…

…

"Asher!" I fucking knew it. Anselm's voice calls out for me in a panic, I get up to my feet and an explosion rocks the ground, an explosion I haven't caused.

"I think its coming for you!" He screams out over on the broken wall.

Wait, broken wall?

Said wall is broken even further as a torrent of black floods through it, expanding the hold and swatting Anselm away like a bothersome fly.

The black begins to reconstitute in front of my very eyes; feet, legs, toned, muscular legs, and next a torso.

The result of the spiralling black is a creature I would only picture to be out of the fantasy books and stories.

It takes on the shape of a horned, goat legged daemon.