Words are Wind
First Day of the First Month 292 AC
Just as Waymar strikes a second, glancing, blow magic flies from your clawed fingers, hammering at Damphair's ethereal defenses. Two spells hold... a third flickers from existence like a candle in a high wind and in the same instant Oathkeeper lashes out in a vicious arc lurid crimson flames flashing bright as it tastes corrupted flesh.
The blood in the water turns dark and oily as it crawls up the Ironborn's ruined form and back into his wounds healing him...
"Fools, what is fire before power of the sea? A candle set against the infinite..."
Some small detached part of you wonders why your foes so often waste their breath on grandstanding while they are being cut apart? Some illness of the mind begotten by too great power bestowed on those with little imagination, perhaps.
Tyene makes no speeches about her own power nor the power of the Weeping Lady as she focuses her healing magic through the magic of the humble pouch she casts a ray of healing light on Waymar's burns, Lya does not grandstand as the devil again misses his mark to cleave only insubstantial illusion... she simply forms and launches again unerring bolts of power while she and her two remaining images stay well clear of the devil's wicked blade....To add insult to injury a crash of thunder rippling from the clash of Dany's silver wings causes the creature to drop its weapon as it only barely keeps its hoofed feet.
Waymar heals 15 damage
Used 6 Pouch charges
One more blow... you take a chance. Fire is your weapon of choice so it is against fire that the dark priest would have warded himself. Four bolts of ice colder then winter's heart spiral from your hands,two shatter of some murky green barrier, the others drive themselves straight into the foe's eyes and into his brain.
"What is dead may never die but raises again... harder... stronger," the last words lose all trace of humanity sounding more like the sound or crashing waves and the roar of some titanic beast in the distance... the blank faced, servants begin to move and scream, you see one gouge out his eyes in horror of a sight only he can see.
The devil in not yet banished so his summoner lives. Greyjoy still twitches in the water like some denizen of the deep waters he so loved.
What do you do?
[] Attempt to capture him as a sacrifice
[] Yell at Ser Richard to kill the bastard
[] Write in
OOC: Poor Damphair... he rolled terribly for healing: 16 on 4d8+10. the spell could conceivably have brought him near full health.