Defilers can intercept, prevent, and heal through staggering damage. They are capable damage-dealers at range, spreading corruption and torment through infectious bonds.
Allies may be squeamish about Defiler links. Their healing isn’t known for its … cosmetic appeal.
The Defiler terrifies and impresses with a repertoire of life-warping desecrations and ghastly heals. A medium for the energies of Death, the Defiler can absorb and redirect allies' pain into potent afflictions, twisting friend and foe alike to fit any purpose. A few boils and growths are small price to pay for such generous mending!
Caretaker Wright disliked calling on the healer, feared her tower, and hated the flesh-bound sign swinging over its door: QILIANESCANEVEREX. Once used in hushed reverence, the people of Necropolis had abandoned the name in favor of "hag," "defiler," or simply "Qil." Wright sighed while unfurling a scroll. To think they'd once been close....
Inside, Qil was juicing organs for soup. The Caretaker's booming summons cost her most of an angel's liver, but she was more upset by the list of crimes he shouted at her door: reanimation and soul siphoning, marrowmancy and communion with the dead. How dare they accuse her of such petty offenses when she'd done so much more in the fight for Brevane?
When Qil emerged from the tower, the Caretaker could barely restrain the mob of misshapen townsfolk who'd volunteered to bring her in. Each was a beneficiary of the "gift" of her healing, and they shambled forward as he repeated the charges. "For spreading foul growths among the honest people of Necropolis, spoiling my own body with innumerable eyes, disfiguring the alchemist with lengths of mouth--"
"Everyone looks marvelous," Qil interrupted, beaming. "You, Wright, would be the talk of old Kingsward. And the alchemist? I've never SEEN such a lovely tongue."
The townspeople brandished a variety of sharpened objects as Wright continued. "For the murder of Prion, and for being seen in the company of--"
Splitting with laughter, Qil waved away the illusion concealing a dark behemoth looming above the mob. "Of a Shade Giant?" she finished. "Friends of Necropolis, the Shapers might have transformed Prion, but I rather prefer his new form.” A gush of drool plummeted from the giant's smile. “We’re working on the antidote—“
It was Qil's turn to be interrupted. Howling in a puddle of slime at the giant's feet, the mutated alchemist launched flaming potions at the cleric and her ally. Before anyone could react, Prion drove his scythe back and forth through the man, then grinned reassuringly in Qil's direction.
She blanched as the alchemist slid into pieces and hissed through a hasty resurrection. Unfortunately, the reborn alchemist had more potions to throw, and Prion set back to cleaving. The mob howled and charged.
Qil conjured a beacon of writhing flesh, then dashed inside to pack. The townspeople wheeled on the hideous distraction, incensed as its foul magic crawled, tormenting, through their minds. It had taken spare body parts to assemble, but there was no shortage of extras among the crowd.
Caretaker Wright, for one – the only person unaffected by the throbbing lure – was glad to be rid of his surplus eyes. Glad enough to feign ignorance after the beacon vanished, keeping secret the direction in which Qil and Prion had fled.