Again, Sven slashed out, dragging his flaming blade through the tendril that makes an ill-advised grab for the Petals of Nil. The muscles in his arm protested. He's running out of magic, running out of energy to keep fighting even as the end of the battle twinkles in sight. He sees the creature's desperation growing as the reality of its possible extermination dawns on its presumably primal mind. He sees Light and 47 hunkered down behind him. Light is the only one who can keep them standing through to the end. He might not have gotten up again without her healing assistance, and as that monster grew more violent in what Sven could only assume were its death throes, they'd need her if they were all going to pull through.
Growling and sweating with exertion, Sven pushed his power into the Petals of Nil. He splashed gracelessly down on one knee as the glow inside of him dimmed, the weapon expanding into a huge shield with a wide, flared top and broad sides that taper into a shallow point. It was a good few inches taller than Sven. Flames flickered along the engravings in the charred black wood, and steam rose with a hiss when Sven rested the burning base atop the surface of the water. He hunkered before Light and 47, holding the shield at an angle above them. It was much lighter than a solid wooden shield its size had any right to be--though still heavier than Sven was used to, thanks to that damn block keeping the Petals of Nil from freely channelling his power. He whispered a prayer in the ancient language of the gods, keeping his screaming muscles alert and ready to slam the shield back against anything that tried to intercept it.
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Growling and sweating with exertion, Sven pushed his power into the Petals of Nil. He splashed gracelessly down on one knee as the glow inside of him dimmed, the weapon expanding into a huge shield with a wide, flared top and broad sides that taper into a shallow point. It was a good few inches taller than Sven. Flames flickered along the engravings in the charred black wood, and steam rose with a hiss when Sven rested the burning base atop the surface of the water. He hunkered before Light and 47, holding the shield at an angle above them. It was much lighter than a solid wooden shield its size had any right to be--though still heavier than Sven was used to, thanks to that damn block keeping the Petals of Nil from freely channelling his power. He whispered a prayer in the ancient language of the gods, keeping his screaming muscles alert and ready to slam the shield back against anything that tried to intercept it.