Liliana Vess Defiant Necromancer

After leaving the cathedral, Jace had Planeswalked away, babbling about the Gatewatch, the group he'd formed with three other Planeswalkers while defeating two Eldrazi Titans on a plane named Zendikar. He promised to return by morning and with the six of them together, they stood a chance of defeating Emrakul. It would have been better with seven, but Sorin had vanished. The vampire had made clear he had other priorities and they would receive no help from that quarter. Sigarda also departed; she had promised her assistance to Thalia, protecting the innocent from the madness overtaking all of Innistrad.

But nowhere was it worse than right here in Thraben. The misshapen werewolves and other creatures that had been rampaging through the countryside had been caused by the barest touch of Emrakul's influence on the plane, what little had been able to permeate past the barrier that had been Avacyn. Now that the great Titan was here, her full corrupting effect had been unleashed onto the populace and the High City had transformed into a nightmare. Tamiyo and Ignis had caught a few hours sleep in the cellar of the cathedral, exhausted by the battle against the maddened angel and her twisted abomination of a sister. But as they made their way to the outskirts of the city to the planned meeting point, they learned the extent of the horrific changes the Titan of Corruption had wrought as she'd made her way from Nephalia to Gavony, slow but relentless.

( Initial Plans )

***
"Look at it, Gared. Pretty, in a way. Your world is ending." Liliana watched as Thraben burned and tentacles reached down from the storms to rake the earth below. The sky swarmed with angels, and the ground beneath the titan just swarmed. From this distance, she could make out only the movement, an unending, writhing mass of creatures, pressing as close to the source of the world's end as they could.

"Yes, mistress. S'what it does around here, mostly." The geistmage's apprentice, with his bulging eye, looked forlornly down at the chaos.

"Ah, there they are. See the fire and the flashes of light? Jace must have gone to fetch his little friends. Looks like they're headed straight toward the center of it all." Because of course they were. And she had no doubt Ignis was right there with them.

Gared tilted his head, an interesting effect atop his already asymmetrical body. "Yes, mistress. I couldn't help but notice, you've raised this lovely little army to help, but we're staying up here, and the others are down there."

There was nothing little about her army. Undead spread out behind her nearly to the horizon. "Hmm. I suppose that's true. Well then, shall we go make an entrance?"

***
( Rarely Survive Contact With The Enemy )

[Mulched, composted, and grown from "Battle of Thraben" by Nik Davidson. Finally, Liliana gets to march an army of zombies on Thraben. Enrichment for necromancers. Played with the peerless chef_chocobo. NFI, NFB, follows this.]

Last night's indulgences (one could say to the point of excesses) had left Liliana with a fairly mild hangover. You know, the kind that a few glasses of water (or, better yet, a bottle of red Gatorade because blue was for cops), a few ibuprofen, and a cold shower could settle quite easily. That being said, Liliana was, of course, treating like she'd contracted some kind of wasting disease that had left her woebegone and bereft, unable to leave her bed, a most tragic expression affixed to her face.

Her head hurt and the sunshine was too bright and there was a weird hat on her head that kept appearing no matter how many times she took it off, and she wanted to sleep a little more but the dull throbbing in her head got minutely worse when she closed her eyes and and and--

Okay, it was a very short list of not-actual complaints, but Liliana was pouting and aggrieved about it anyway. There was no way she could go to work in this condition, obviously, that was far too much to ask someone suffering so terribly. All she was capable of doing was wasting away here in her bed, too weak to even continue the fight with the stupid hat.

Woe.

[Mostly establishy, but certainly available for phone calls, drop-ins, or any gentlemen who have been taken in by this showing of utter misery like no one else has ever experienced in the world.]