Wrath of Portia

The air around the mob grew heavy, almost cloying as a pestilent smog spread from the baneful cry. The echo of her scream reverberated about the chamber, getting higher pitched with every repetition until it sounded like the delicate chime of crystal shattering. It was then the skin started to slide from the faces of the intruders. Small slithers fell at first, followed by oozing chunks of flesh as Portia’s magic melted their bodies, consuming every last bit of them. When she was done, nothing remained apart from foul, corrupted meat puddling over the armor and assorted clothing of the mob. The room was still. Nobody could take their eyes from the mess that spilled in from the large doors and across the marble flags.  —From Betrayer, an entry in the Tome of CHAOS

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