Twisted Fate Chapter 7: Undeath

> To have his spine so neatly severed by that single hit was a random-lightning-strike level of misfortune. Almost makes me wonder if it might not have been so random after all. > Turning her back on the gruesome sight of the broken revenants left her staring at the metal table to which she'd recently been so securely fastened, the unbuckled leather straps still dangling from it. She flinched as the memories of pain replayed themselves, and she had to repeatedly remind herself that it was over. Oof. > "I call upon the power of the Protector," she chanted, and didn't need to say a single word more, because it was instantly obvious that the power wasn't there. It was nothing like when she'd tried it while bound, in which she'd merely failed to access the power. This time, there was no power to access. It was gone completely. Welp. > "I have no idea what the heck that indecent pink thing was you were wearing when you first turned up, but the stuff it turned into when I bashed you is on the floor over there," said Harold, pointing, before taking off at as much of a sprint as he could manage indoors. > The cloak was bloodstained around the neck, presumably by the blood from her head wound, and the front was dirty and scuffed from her fall, but it was still far better than going out naked. Better than the 'indecent pink thing', too, which she could no longer access even if she wanted to. Heh. > we know that necromancer failed miserably in whatever he tried to do to me *Do* we know that, though? > "There she is!" came a shout from outside. "That girl matches the description of Amy exactly!" > Amy blinked in the bright sunlight as she tried to focus on the speaker, who was standing in the middle of the street in gleaming armour, the breastplate stamped with an emblem she recognised from the cathedral. > Several more were standing at other doorways in the residential street, apparently conducting some sort of door-to-door search, and all turned to look in response to the shout. Here's hoping they do not, in fact, "end [her]."

Tim Burget