The advance has been steady, for all their new alliance. The dead rise. His shield meets them, and a spell cracks from behind, or steel rips joint, or an arrow punches through. Mournwatch have been stretched thin, but they are far from helpless. Still –
The golem looms above him. Cedric has just time enough for recognition: So this is it, before a small wrecking ball crashes into his side. Ness catches his knees half-bent, sends him staggering from range.
And the shadow goes a little blacker.
Something in it, familiar and hungry. A shout finds his lips, and Cedric reaches for the weight of Veil before sense catches him; a crowd of mages around, behind, and ahead Ness. The golem. Darkness that coils and pulses. His anchor-hand flexes with decision, light flaring for the shape of green disc. Reflex catches the black tip of a tentacle against it, shoves the flopping thing back.
The dead surge for her. Cedric vaults forward, presses the tall tower shield out for her to take.
"Plant and hold,"
Until they can get her a clearer shot at the golem. His blade slashes a warning arc before the crowd, but where white fire ought to sear and scare, there’s only steel. He catches one on the backhand, hilt slamming for skull, and another closes teeth around his elbow, too dull to pierce. He smashes it against rock.
Behind Ness, an arm twitches at the elbow, tearing itself free of withered tendon with a sickening rip. The hand picks its spidery way toward her, some pickled thing – a tongue? an organ? – flopping after. They aren't the only two. A little circle of pieces eager to disassemble.
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The golem looms above him. Cedric has just time enough for recognition: So this is it, before a small wrecking ball crashes into his side. Ness catches his knees half-bent, sends him staggering from range.
And the shadow goes a little blacker.
Something in it, familiar and hungry. A shout finds his lips, and Cedric reaches for the weight of Veil before sense catches him; a crowd of mages around, behind, and ahead Ness. The golem. Darkness that coils and pulses. His anchor-hand flexes with decision, light flaring for the shape of green disc. Reflex catches the black tip of a tentacle against it, shoves the flopping thing back.
The dead surge for her. Cedric vaults forward, presses the tall tower shield out for her to take.
"Plant and hold,"
Until they can get her a clearer shot at the golem. His blade slashes a warning arc before the crowd, but where white fire ought to sear and scare, there’s only steel. He catches one on the backhand, hilt slamming for skull, and another closes teeth around his elbow, too dull to pierce. He smashes it against rock.
Behind Ness, an arm twitches at the elbow, tearing itself free of withered tendon with a sickening rip. The hand picks its spidery way toward her, some pickled thing – a tongue? an organ? – flopping after. They aren't the only two. A little circle of pieces eager to disassemble.