Blood & Wine - A Spawn Astarion Fan Fiction

Nymeria

"Astarion!" His name is torn from my lips as I watch his body contort to the will of the symbols at his knees.

"Oh." Cazador laughs, "I do long to see the look on your face when your lover is consumed." He levels his gaze in my direction, "but I doubt you will live to witness it."

Cazador raises the staff and brings it down hard against the marble floor once more, this time a black plume of smoke billows up between each point of the star. As it fades, a werewolf stands tall with the familiar shimmering ring of red runes around their necks.

"Gods below." Karlach groans from beside me as she looks to the seven ravenous werewolves, thick drool dripping from their teeth.

In addition to whatever control Cazador holds over the creatures he has also stripped them of all their humanity as evident from the wild look in their eyes as they size us up almost chomping at the magical bit to be released. They won't hesitate to tear us to shreds and for a moment I am thankful to absolve myself of the guilt I feel whenever we cut one down. I must focus on getting to him and freeing him somehow.

Karlach leaps forward, placing herself between us and the werewolves. She widens her stance and lets out a yell that echoes through the chambers. The infernal engine in her chest flares to light, sparks and flames emanating from her body as she grips her greataxe tightly readying a strike.

Beside me Gale begins to gesture with this hands, working The Weave between his fingers as his very being distorts and in an instant three identical copies of himself stand surrounding him. The true Gale looks to me and winks, the others follow his movements only a second behind.

Looking around the room I take in the werewolves again, inhaling deeply while I channel the very essence of nature into my body, hardening my resolve and turning my skin to something tough akin to tree bark.

"Effligo." Cazador says, strike in Infernal.

One by one the magical collars subduing the werewolves fade and they begin to stretch and snarl.

I suck in a breath and let my hands fall to my sides, palms down with my fingers splayed. I close my eyes and imagine thick vines and thorns cracking through the marble under my feet.

"Right." Karlach says, "Who wants to go first?"

I can hear the playfulness in her voice as I open my eyes to see the three of us surrounded by my conjured brambles. Karlach's thick boots make quick work of the thorns beneath her, giving her more freedom while the werewolves stare at the growth, confusion in their eyes.

"Ecce dominus." Cazador recites, his staff begins to glow again.

I recognize the words, Behold, my Lord. He's beginning the rites.

A werewolf to our left and right break into the undergrowth, one making it's way towards Karlach and another with it's eyes trained directly on me.

"He's starting the Black Mass." I call out to Gale.

"As soon as he speaks the last word, the spawn will be consumed." Gale says, looking at me, his brows creased. He sets his sights on Cazador, pulling a fireball from The Weave and sending it flying in Cazador's direction.

It's just a glancing blow, but the way Cazador reacts makes it seem like he's tethered to the spot as he's concentrating on the rites.

Karlach arcs her greataxe, swiping at the advancing werewolf as it drops to all fours and gains speed across the thick terrain. She thrusts the axe forward, catching the werewolf in the shoulder with the spiked tip, pushing it back as it snaps at the air, a groan seeping from it's lips.