Chapter 6
by 
GenericEditor168
What do you sacrifice?
My magic, in a single brutal strike.
You raise my hands above your head, and begin to chant in Infernal. The din of battle of battle fades away to nothingness around you, all your focus on your spell. "The Infernal Blessing". The most powerful area-effect offensive spell in the Warlock's arsenal, a spell that turned his or her enemies into puddles of black goo while leaving structures untouched and allies restored.
Such was the power involved, it would stretch the very limits of your ability, and were you to be distracted in any way, you may well turn the whole mansion into a magically-charged crater.
Your hands shake as the casting continues, rebelling against the sheer amount of mana you're forcing through them. You ignore the shaking, as long as you point the mana in roughly the right direction it will link up with the main body of the spell.
You growl one final word in Infernal, and then the casting is done. The black orb formed by the spell hangs in the air for a second, as goblin and men-at-arms alike watch it, and then it descends, smashing into the ground like a raindrop.
A raindrop that turns into a shockwave of infernal energy that expands through the sqaure turning every goblin within its reach into pools of black goop, that is.
With the goblins in the sqaure dealt with, there is only one thing left to do... Attack the castle itself. Given the amount of black goo lying among the grass, most of the goblins must have attacked you in the square, which means that the keep itself will be mostly empty. The only problem is that the leaders of the goblin tribe will be there, and the goblin species believes in "might makes right".
You stalk forward, the taint of fiendish energy still lingering in your body making you hunger to spill blood, and your men look around at the black puddles nervously before advancing behind you.
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