Nothing does, fortunately. They arrive at the upper level of an arena, concentric rings of seating stepping down to a flat space in the center. Four people are arrayed around a coffin with the lid propped open. Length of chain emerge from it, writhing like tentacles in the energy the mages are channeling into it.

A fifth is standing off to the side, watching the entrance. "Ah, Elana!" the watcher calls in a high, shrill voice when she sees them enter. "We've been waiting for you. I see you've done away with your welcoming committee, but come down here quietly like a good girl and we'll say no more about it. Otherwise I shall have to tell your mother."

Wow Lace instantly dislikes this person. She sizes up the best paths to the watcher, given her own superhuman abilities and what she's observed so far of local magic.

"Are you going out of your way to be obnoxious or something?" she calls back. "Because you're definitely a pest."

"Meat should be silent. Really, Elana, you must train your pets better."

"I can't go down there," she whispers. "If I get too close the chains will grab me."

"Right. Will they try to grab me?" she murmurs back.

"I don't think so. They would have tuned it to me."

"Got it."

And she bursts forward, running toward the mages controlling the coffins.

The pestilential woman hits her with a lifedrain. It is exquisitely painful, as every cell in her body seems to recognize it is dying and report that fact to her brain all at the same time.

This is followed up by a spike of ice aimed directly at Lace's center of mass.

Somewhere up there in terms of being all consuming as being unable to breathe, or being eviscerated, or being set on fire... And Lace does those for fun.

She doesn't go down, adrenaline keeping her moving, twists out of the way of the ice spike - starts weaving toward the woman with the pain ray, Lace can ignore it but something in her instincts is screaming she shouldn't let it go uninterrupted anyways -

She's fast, increasingly difficult to usefully hit, and she's going to close on the woman within seconds if she doesn't pull something major.

She looks somewhat surprised that Lace hasn't fallen over dead yet, but keeps the lifedrain going until a suddenly-appearing wall of ice eight feet tall cuts off line of sight, and also blocks Lace from reaching her.

That assumes Lace can't just parkour over a wall! She is perfectly willing to injure herself doing this, too.

She jumps, hooks her hand on the top of the wall, flings herself over, healing any skin that decided to stay behind as she does so.

The woman apparently was assuming just that, as she has turned her back to begin giving orders to her subordinates around the coffin.

Her feet strike perfectly on the back of the woman's neck. 

Snap. She falls.

"Get her!" she screeches from the ground, head at a horribly unnatural angle.

Lace stomps on her head, hard enough to crack her skull - heals her foot from the cuts she gets - and lunges toward the mages.

The mages fling a variety of spells in her direction, though nothing especially exotic, and none of them seem to know the drain spell. They're also not terribly proficient in hand-to-hand combat, though the last one she gets to has managed to conjure up a cloak of flames to wrap himself in.

She smirks and punches him through the flame, healing herself as fast as her skin can blister and burn.

He is very surprised by this!

Once the last mage is down, the chains fall to the floor with a clatter.

She makes the rounds to ensure they're all actually, properly dead or at least unconscious - she was going too fast earlier to be sure.

"Think they're down!" she calls up to Eliese's alt.

She picks her way down, keeping a careful eye on the chains. When the don't so much as twitch, she nods to herself.

"You're very... speedy."

"One of my many good traits."

She hums, and goes to prod at the vampire Lace squished.

She makes a face. "Ugh, Sigrid. Seems she did have a brain after all..." She casts a thin stream of flame at the body, which burns quickly and neatly, leaving only a small pile of ash behind. This she sweeps up into a small pouch pulled from a pocket.

Shrug. "Doesn't mean she used it."

"Do you have more time for pleasantries, now?"

"I suppose I do," she says agreeably. "I'd offer some hospitality, but I am no longer sure I can trust anything I left here."

"Fair enough."