Harvest

Dale had been restrained and disarmed of the scroll, by none other than the Lich. Who gave it a once over before chuckling. "That's funny, but.. Nooo.." He hissed in raving whispers. The lich latched onto his arm with a twisted glee. "Fooood…"

A bioluminescent green wisping flame spreads slowly across his forearm. Seeping joyfully into any cracks and creavess found. Dale struggled helplessly, to no avail. All his mana had been sapped when he used the scroll. All he needed was the last string of words. However he couldn't speak under the force of this monster, he still hoped. Not wanting to let go of life so easily, Dale still had much to live for, so much to learn and see, so experience, why should he die here? He won't hand his life to anyone, but the moment that wicked magic touched him. The will of mind and body almost broke in an instant. 

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