Riven’s heart sank when he realized he’d been just barely too late to save the woman or the man out front, but there was still one person they could save.
His muscles flexed, his body stiffened, and he turned to Athela with a determined upward gesture of his hand. “Go.”
She understood and imdiately slunk into the room to start crawling up the wall while the satyrs were distracted. Riven took in a deep breath and exhaled; his warm breath blew out as a cloud of red mist from his mask. With a nod he activated the Blessing of the Crow, feeling his once-daily and hour-long speed boost activate. His heart raced, his muscles flexed, and electricity sparked across his body. He felt his stamina climb rapidly; it was as if he’d just simultaneously taken nurous energy drinks and snorted cocaine.
Now it was ti to kill these sons of bitches, but his projectiles other than Blood Lance were too short in range to cast from here in such a large room. He could let off two of his Blood Lances first, but imdiately after that he needed to get closer.
Wisps of blood energy radiated across either arm, and with curling motions to summon the magic, he felt his Blood subpillar radiate. He flexed his muscles again, shifted his weight, and launched both Blood Lances right before he lunged forward into the large room.
*CRACK*
*ZIP*
The Blood Lances blurred forward ahead of him and ripped through the skull of one and the leg of another before the satyrs even knew what’d happened. Nurous shards of spinning, razor-sharp blood projectiles followed him in and launched forward when he was close enough, tearing into his enemies in an arsenal of pain and surprised screeches. He saw a dismbered hand fly into the air and extended his staff forward to cast another volley—condensed blood accumulating around the weapon and then shooting forward to impale three of • Stats: 8 Strength, 24 Sturdiness, 112 Intelligence, 10 Agility, 1 Luck, -4 Charisma, 3 Perception, 57 Willpower, 9 Faith
• Free Stat Points: 0
• Minions: Athela, Level 13 Blood Weaver [14 Willpower Requirent]. Azmoth, Level 9 Hellscape Brutalisk [20 Willpower Requirent].
• Equipped Items: Basic Casting Staff (4 dmg, 12% mana regen, 3 magic dmg), Chalgathi Cultist Amulet (???), Leather Boots (1 def), Backpack of Supplies, Witch’s Ring of Grand Casting ( 26 Intelligence), Cloak of the Tundra (22 def, 56 bonus def vs. frost), Breath of Valgeshia (48 def, 13 dmg & 9% mana output dmg for blood dmg, 6% mana regen)]
He nodded in affirmation of his stats and closed the window. He’d been pushing most of his points into Intelligence and Willpower, and he’d also sunk a few into Sturdiness to keep himself alive. The result was that he could tell a very stark difference in the power of his magical casting when compared to the spells he’d started with in the beginning, back in Chalgathi’s trials. The snares and razors were the sa type of spells, but now they had a hell of a punch and could manifest bigger and better for less mana.
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