His initial feeling that the brambles that gathered in clumps atop the greying dead grass were somehow malicious was further proved when he felt a jagged row of tiny blades slice through his flesh; a branch from one of the thorny shrubs to his side had suddenly sprang forwards, curling and tightening around his leg.

You Have Suffered 12 Damage.

The animated branch snaked upwards to Steal's thigh, it's lines of wooden fangs seeped with blood and stained red; drawing thin and rough crimson ravines across Steal's flesh, green skin parting, as if a scalpel was pressed against it.

Steal grit his teeth, biting back a scream as he desperately tried to pry the bloodthirsty plant from his leg; the plant tensed like muscle as his palms gripped around it, the harder the goblin tried to pry the attacker from his leg, the tighter it curled itself, cutting deeper into his thigh with Steal finding no progress or success on his attempts to pull it off of him.

You Have Suffered 8 Damage.

This time, the goblin couldn't hold back his scream; he pulled his blood-slicked hands away from the branch that clamped harder around his leg, Steal had to try something, another way to get this thing off of him.

He felt a sudden warmth in his right palm. His body felt more alive than ever before as an unfamiliar warmth seeped through every muscle and nerve; the warmth intensified to a burning heat as it fled from the rest of his body into his palm; a flash of light erupted from his hand, a mix of purples, reds and yellows as the Daemon Bolt burst forth like an arrow.

You Have Suffered 1 Unholy Damage.

You Have Suffered 15 Damage.

The shot struck it's target; the bloodied branch tightened wildly, then spasmed and pullled away as a myriad of purple and red flames writhed across it's length, crawling forwards to whatever or wherever the goblin's attacker came from. Steal darted after it, his body weary already, the spell had drained him and both his leg and hands seared and howled with pain. With every hasty step that Steal made forwards, a sharp pain ran up his body from the deep wounds that clustered around his leg, but the goblin pressed on.

He sprang forwards into action as the flailing, flaming branch fled upwards along the bark of a tree and into the canopy overhead, the goblin's claws dug into the rotted bark of the tree trunk as he clambered upwards after his new prey, intent on his revenge. Steal made his way up quickly, broken branches and grainy, bulging deformities in the wood proved to be excellent footholds.

Pulling himself upwards, Steal made it to the foot-thick treebranch where he could still see the dim glow of his flames, accompanied by a panicked screech.

A small figure, only slightly larger than Steal himself was frantically beating the flames with one of it's arms; the other arm being the branch that attacked him itself. The silhoutte of the creatures body against the darkness of the night and the light of his flames was vaguely that of a woman, though the smooth skin of most humanoids was forgone, instead having a distinctly browned, thorny and bark-like texture. As well as this, the creature didn't show eyes similar to that of Steal's companions, or even his sharp-eared captors; her eyes were more similar to Steal's, one solid colour. Though unlike his, this bark-woman's eyes were not large black coals, they gave off a sickly green light of their own, crystals that shone in their two sockets like gentle flames.

Though as her eyes narrowed and, their thin, unflickering green beams having settled on him, he felt no warmth or comfort. And as she screamed, flaming, tentacle-like arm lashing out towards him, Steal felt the cold fire that burned in those eyes.

Just as much as he felt the scorching fire form in his palm.

You Have Suffered 1 Unholy Damage.

You Have Suffered 15 Damage.

The blast of writhing eldritch flame left his body, part of the bolt was taken by the bark-skinned creatures whip-like arm; though the rest crashed into her torso; and without a word, without any resistance, she was shrouded in his dark fire; like flickering, purple and red serpents swallowing her body whole. Her thorny arm spasmed and twitched as the flame took it too; the entire creature set alight like a pyre.

Then the flames spread to the impossibly dry and barren tree they fought upon.

The branch was alight as Steal hurried back to the treetrunk, claws raking their way down the dead bark as he swiftly clambered down; the goblin sprang to his feet and charged away from the tree as it was slowly engulfed in his self-made inferno; and until his breath was ragged and his muscles ached, he continued to run; eventually his green body collapsed against a large rock, the dirt around it was glassy, burned and scorched for several feet in a circle. After considering his previous encounter, having some distance from the flora in this dark place was something he'd find comforting.

It was only now that Steal found time to think about anything other than being attacked by shrubbery.

The power still hummed in his body, he felt that warmth in his blood now, less alien, more natural as it flowed with every rapid beat of his heart. seeping into every muscle and ounce of flesh.

Perhaps Maal hadn't lied about him making him much stronger. The image of the burning wood-creature still played in his mind over and over. It was a moment he felt powerful. He knew he was powerful.

Though everytime he thought of the energy that flowed in him, he thought on the pain that had wracked his body as he was branded, he though of that strange demon that had given it to him, and finally, he thought of the messages everytime he cast that spell. He knew that casting Daemon Bolt would cost him a tiny amount of HP, but everytime he cast it he took another fifteen damage without being struck by his assailant-turned-firewood.

He certainly didn't remember reading that in the description of the spell. Perhaps he should check again.

Summon Familiar

Undermagic Prerequisites: INT 25, Unholy Mark (Trait)

MP Cost: 25% Of Max MP

Range: 5 Feet

Maximum Active Summons: 1

Summon Familiar will summon the caster's bound familiar within 5 Feet of them. Summoned familiars appearances, abilties and attributes depend on their species and casters Warlock Level.

If the caster does not already have a bound familiar, casting this spell will instead begin the process of binding a familiar.

If a summoned familiar is slain or dies, they are instead desummoned and can be resummoned again when their HP is at maximum. A non-active familiar's HP/m is derived from their own fortitude and any traits plus their summoner's warlock level. Perhaps the most defining thing about a Warlock is not their bolts of dark energy or daemonic patrons, but it is instead their infernal pets, that assist them in their often deemed as nefarious tasks.

His brain scanned across the text; then scanned again, this time, he looked for where the fifteen damage each time might have come from.

The spell cost fifteen mana.

What had Baphomet said earlier? that mana was his health...

Steal's eyes dropped to the glassy floor below him, ears drooping ever so slightly. He probably couldn't use his power that much here.

He felt the rock shift behind him, a great shadow rose infront of him, then he felt something crunch. Well, he both felt and heard alot, ALOT of things crunch.

You Have Suffered 572 Damage.

You Are Dead.

Apparently, what he'd heard was every bone in his body being crushed into dust.