It was a war that the drones had little hope of winning. Lore was drawing on their essence, using their lives to fuel the power of her sorcery so that the majority of that strain was their burden to bear. It worked remarkably well, for though she still suffered some strain...it was minimal.
But now that damned warrior woman was cutting through them. Even wounded, even with blood dripping from a limp and lifeless arm that served her no purpose, she was able to give good account of herself. Weapons clashed, and sparks flew as she struck steel to steel. They were not mindless, but their reactions had to be controlled lest they slip the net of control she had cast over them.
It was too much for any one normal being to manage. But Lore was no longer a normal being; the skein of threads connecting her to the others was a tangled web at this point, but then it was always ever thus. This was what they were born to do. And yet...
So strong...
Their eyes widened in collective horror as the nameless heroine cut through another of the thralls, the sweet flow of power severed abruptly with that worthy's last dying gasp. Another dropped from being drained dry. There were not many of them left, and for the first time in a long time the creature Lore had become felt a thrill of an alien emotion.
<<You...must cease this....resistance>>, came the words. Delivered to them all.
Seksa merely stared at her, concentration evident on her face, sweat dampening her dress and making her hair hang lank across her face and down her back. It ran in thin rivulets down her smooth cheeks. The exchange of sorcery continued on, only now the ancient sorceress was no longer defending herself, but defending the nameless woman instead. Scythes of power rose and fell, shattered as she plied counter to the attacks. She could no longer launch her own attacks at Lore. She was tired, dreadfully tired, and the rising tide of pain within told that she was coming close to pushing past what would be considered safe.
<<You cannot defeat us,>> the thing said. The warrior woman cut down another of her thralls, staggering back with a fresh gash across her forehead, vanishing into the sweaty hair on her head. Blood sheeted her face, but she did not stop moving.
Lore hissed at her, a serpentine sound that made the hairs on the back of Seska's neck stand on end.
What happened next was nearly too quick to follow. Lore spun violently towards Seska, turning her attention from Lore, and instead of striking out at the woman killing her drones, she struck at Seska instead. A drone gasped and then coughed a cloud of misty blood, falling even as she did. Lore had drawn all of their essence in a single blow, and hurled it at the ancient
Sidhe.
Who staggered backward, blood flying as she was bodily thrown backwards several steps. It was just possible to see the way she was strike, like some colossal force had smashed her fully across the front of her body. She crumpled, only just managing to hang on to her staff and avoid sprawling on the torn ground.
A cry of triumph, a look of ecstatic glee on the demoness as she strode forward with purpose...
...only to shriek in rage.
The warrior woman fell back on her rump, arm dropping from the throw she had just made. The little stone
Draedamyr had given her had done what it was designed to do, perhaps too well. The thralls she had been carving her way through stood like statues for a moment, then crumpled to the ground as a single entity might, and with their vanishing Lore shrieked in feral rage, visibly sagging as the source of power that had kept her going all this time slipped away.
"You...do not understand...us, do you...witch," Seska said suddenly. She looked up through sweat dampened hair, blood running from her nose and mouth, her breath hitching in her chest. She looked as though she was in terrible pain...but her eyes were still clear, despite. Fierce determination, such as that could sustain a soul for tens of thousands of years, reflected in the pale violet glow therein.
<<You have no unde->> the witch began, but she was cut off. The Sidhe had raised a trembling arm, and lightning - the proper retort of wizards and witches of old - lashed out. It might have been a cliche retort to some twisted sorceress, but it
was effective. Lore shrieked in pain, standing transfixed as electricity arced through her. Seska kept on for a heartbeat more before she fainted, falling to the ground with her staff clattered by her outstretched hand.
But Lore, it would seem, was not done yet. The demon-touched girl had fallen, spasming after the encounter, and yet even so she slowly rose. Every inch of her trembled, and her face bore terrible burns from the lightning...but she still stood.
<<You...can not...defeat...>>, she began, but the habit had been formed for interrupting her. This time, arm dangling uselessly at her side, the nameless woman spit and laughed harshly.
"They might not be able to," she said as she stood, already stepping forward. Lore spun to face her, sorcerous power rising once again. "They might not, but I'll fucking do it myself." Picking up pace, she stopped and threw her remaining scimitar like a spear. Lore had not expected that, and the blade sank into her chest, missing her heart but punching through bone and lung alike. The possessed woman exhaled sharply in surprise, and blood and spittle flew.
"Never send a
halfling to do a human's job," she said, and then slumped to her knees, gasping for breath. Lore did likewise, unintelligable gibberish echoing in all of their minds as she sank down, hunching over the blade through her chest.
The world held its collective breath. The sounds of fighting diminished all around them.
