Borrowed Time
Thirtieth Day of the Eight Month 292 AC
The creature's maddened gaze never leaves yours. It promises death and worse than death. With impossible grace it leaps towards you over Waymar's instinctive blow... but Ser Richard is not fooled again. He could not be as swift as the monster, but skill he has aplenty... Oathkeeper had already been rising in anticipation. This time it is no mere drop of blood that falls upon the cobbles, but a stream. Spell-steel slices through her upper back as she flees. Another saner adversary might have hesitated from the blow as pain begets thoughts of mortality. Alas that not a single shred of sanity can be found behind her fevered gaze.
"Kill/rend/tear" The wordless thought pressing upon your mind awakens the savagery of dragonblood... but not as she intended. Instead of mindlessly striking against Tyene, your wrath is fixed upon her. The Maenad comes close again, and for the briefest instant you can smell the intoxicating scent of blood and wild grapes... Again you feel her life-sapping caress and watch in horror as her wounds heal before your very eyes.
You take 39 Damage
You waver then, for not even the greatest strength of will can push the flesh beyond endurance... yet magic can. By the strength of the earth called forth to your aid you keep footing and you speak the words of a spell that had only once before crossed your lips. Thus do you call forth magic of a kind only used at great need even by the proud mages of the Freehold, tearing at the fabric of time itself.
The world goes unnaturally still time itself arrested for a handful of breaths. In battle such moments are sharper and more deadly than swords. Raising up the ancient ivory rod in your left hand, you unmake the unnatural vitality around the creature... its blood flows forth anew, though before the first drop can hit the ground you utter twice more the spell that had laid low her sisters. The first fails to bind her but the second at last catches hold. As time jerks into motion again, pushing your consciousness forward like a deluge, you have one final moment of satisfaction for turning a being that so vexed you with her swiftness into something as ungainly as a tortoise.
You heal 18 Damage
"How the fuck are you still alive?" Tyene's worried words and the rush of welcome healing awaken you to consciousness.
You heal 19 Damage
"Magic," you quip rather weakly. "Did someone get the bitch?"
"Azema," the Dornishwoman replies darkly. "She is very helpful when it comes to things that do not put her hide in danger."
"Well of course I am," the Alu demon interjects as she lands beside you and presents you with a furiously struggling tortoise. "You claim to appreciate me as much for my wits as my looks. Getting in arm's reach of that bloody thing would not have been at all clever."
Though you roll your eyes you cannot quite hide a tired smile. At least she is honest, a rare thing among those born the Abyss. "Come, there is still work to be done." You motion towards the manse before you, the flames still visible through the windows.
What do you do next?
On the matter of spells:
[] Heal until you are fully recovered
[] Have Tyene conserve her spells
[] Write in
On the matter of the fox and tortoises:
[] Leave then with Azema
[] Take them with you inside
[] Write in
OOC: First off, I hope you guys will forgive some dramatic rearrangement of the actions during the take down to make the scene flow better. On the matter of your enemy, she was a Fortune-Blessed QuicklingMaenad with some feats swapped like Improved Initiative for Empowered Spell-like ability (vampiric touch) and some extra spell resistance for a total of CR 13.
