[PLOT] That's no ordinary rabbit

[northrend]

Date & Time: All day Friday, December 14th and onward.
Location: Initiate Hold
Characters: All
Summary: The plague has taken hold and there are rampant, angry undead critters running around! Better get rid of them quick, before you attract the Scourge Horde.
Warnings: Undead attacks, localized around cute woodland critters.

[The death tolls of all the woodland animals had come around the same time. Some lasted longer than others, but for the most part, it appeared that most of the sickly animals had passed sometime in the middle of the night. The next morning, transports would awaken to find their furry friends looking...well, less than furry. Their eyes glow a sickly yellow, patches of fur fall off their body, and they continuously cry for help.

Help from whom? You?

Or the group of rampaging ghouls charging toward you?]


[ooc: Original plot post is here!. If you would like me to NPC ghoul attacks in your thread, please mark your subject line with three asterisks. (***) Otherwise, feel free to do it amongst yourselves! Please note that I won't be able to NPC threads until tomorrow afternoon.]

Comments

[uncalled_for]

It was not the name that caught any interest but the noise itself, and her body halted its slow march. Dread consumed Fiona, where she had once tried to stop herself from moving at all, she now only hoped to run. Slowly her body turned and her bleary sight followed after it. Please don't... She pleaded as she put every possible thought she could into stopping her body from turning. Somewhere she must have still had control, somewhere. But nothing responded again.

She heard a low inaudible growling sound that held a sickening wallowing feeling in the back of her throat. It was coming from her and her mind faltered its concentration, aghast by the connection.

Without taking a step further, slowly her hand raised, the familiar feeling of mana channeling through her and into her withering hand.

[ofthegrey]

He advanced a few steps more, urgency in every line. "Thank the Maker. I've been looking for you--" He cut off abruptly as she started to turn, and he came to a halt. "Everywhere." It came out with a note of uncertainty.

He was close enough now to see her skin. Despite all of his training and everything he had been through, fighting an uphill battle rebuilding the Wardens in Ferelden, facing Darkspawn, dying, he didn't want to believe it. He didn't speak her name a second time. What he saw in her eyes was enough to tell him it would do no good. The thing regarding him with a milky glare wasn't Fiona.

There was no way to know if she had suffered. There was no way he could leave her in that state now, and with the undead hordes mounting in number on the streets, he had no time to find another solution. His mouth firmed to a grim line. I'm sorry, he thought. He shifted his grip on his daggers and charged toward her, intending to let his momentum carry him to a swift killing blow.

[uncalled_for]

But the spell had finished being cast and with an unnatural twist of the raised wrist a light beamed from it, spreading as a wave in all directions. Everything that moved slowed, causing even the already sluggish movements of the few undead nearby to come to a near crawl.

As the wave passed Duncan she could see his dark expression. She had seen it countless times in battle, but never was it one she had seen while he faced her and running toward her with daggers at the ready. It was horrifying as she realized his intentions. There was no point in attempting to look around in hopes that he was charging for something else, he was coming for her, and that look was meant for her. The recognition of this reeled at her mind, but not even a brow twitched in reply as her body stood still in its crooked stance. But even if she could communicate or break through the undead glare, there was little she could say or do. Any way but this. Any stranger here and not Duncan coming after her.

Without any hesitation her body proceeded to cast another spell, her arm lowering to hold her hand out in front of her. Still, she tried to yell a warning but only the gurgling sound of the grumbled spell reached her ears.

[ofthegrey]

Maker's breath, she cast! He had time for the thought to process, agonizing time in detail as he felt his limbs grow sluggish. If she could cast, did that mean she was still in there somewhere? Was there someone he could still save as they had managed so many years ago in the Fade? It was horrifying to have his mind racing so quickly and his body moving at what felt like a crawl. It was nothing compared to facing a long time ally and friend as an enemy.

He had seen Fiona casting in battle. He knew that anything that followed would be far, far worse. "Fiona," he said urgently, his vocal cords slowed as well. His own voice sounded wrong in his ears. "Fiona, listen to me. You have to fight this. Whatever this is, you have to fight it."

There was to be no reasoning with her. He felt the ripple of mana, almost a tangible thing in the air between them. He had to break free somehow, had to hold on through the duration of the spell to try to gain some advantage.

Something odd happened. One moment it seemed as though he was an insect pushing its way through solidifying sap. The next there was a tingle, or a tickle-- a sensation he would later struggle to define with no success--in both palms gripping the hafts of his daggers. A tingle and a sharp pull that was less physical sensation than strong mental impulse. He dove to the left, and where he had felt trapped in his own torpid body before, now he slid as fluidly as quicksilver. He let a pauldron take the impact as he rolled to regain his feet.

[uncalled_for]

She was ready to give up. Anything left of her felt as though it was becoming a tormented shadow. This wasn’t a Fade demon or the taint; she had lost this battle when she collapsed. Better to try and stop watching even with her eyes wide open. When he told her to fight it pained her to hear. It was easy to try and hope that a sound would break through. I’m trying! But the voice staying lodged in her head. Or she had been trying, but she was running out of options. Better to... She kept her thoughts away from that. If she could do anything, maybe it would be enough to halt the spells.

An icy frost crusted over her already cold finger tips before the spell had finished. She didn’t even have time to try and delay it. With the clench of her body’s hand ice encased an area in the distance meant for Duncan. It was maddening to watch, she knew her spells’ capabilities and what they could do to one person, even a group of enemies. It wasn’t something she would ever threaten an ally with and here she was using it against one. She wouldn’t let the next spell happen.

[ofthegrey]

Everything was happening so fast now. He felt the air temperature drop abruptly just to the right of him. Had it not been for the mental tug, he knew he'd be there now, painfully frozen and helpless to any further attacks. "Fiona!"

If he put enough urgency into it, maybe it would help her break free. He couldn't believe there was nothing of the real her left, not when she was casting spells almost as familiar to him as his own battle tactics. It took a mind to cast spells. They weren't blind instinct. They had fought as a team during his formative years in the Wardens. She was still that young mage from that time. "Damn it, Fiona, you're stronger than this!"

Time was running out. If she blasted him with flame, it would all be over. There was no cover, nothing else to distract her. He couldn't allow it. How many more would she kill when she was done with him? With a feeling of lead in his gut, he charged her again. Come on. Give me something to work with! Hesitate. Just hesitate, and I'll find a way to contain you. It doesn't have to be this way.

[uncalled_for]

Thank the Maker the spell missed him. It was an easy feeling of relief. By now he was getting closer, it wouldn't be much longer. As horrible of a thought that it may be, she didn't want to watch anymore of this. Again she was a puppet watching without any control to the outcome. But still, it was worth trying, as the next spell began, the low, vibrating, gurgled chant still sickening in her ears, she focused.

And then for a moment, it worked. The chanting ceased and the vibrations ended. But it was hardly enough time to even consider an alternative action. With a final inaudible growl the spell finished, the hand moved and a stone fist flung toward its target. Duncan! She cried, but it reached no one's ears.

[ofthegrey]

He noticed the moment she stopped. "Yes. Yes! I knew you were still in there." He was both relieved and horrified. It was bad enough for her to meet such a fate, worse with awareness. How to help her?

His hesitation cost him. The stone from the spell slammed squarely into his breastplate and knocked him back easily fifteen feet before he hit the ground in a clatter of mail. He couldn't breathe, and the back of his head felt as though someone had taken a cudgel to it, spinning with lights blinking in his vision.

Somehow, despite that, he still held his daggers in a vice grip, but it was beyond his scattered faculties to make his body do anything more than fight to regain air. He wheezed, his jumbled vision catching sight of gray sky, a crumbling sky line. He half expected her to be upon him already. What good was knowing she might have some control when there was nothing he could do about it?

[uncalled_for]

A soiled phlegmy hum rang in her ears; the impact was taken as a victory.

She anticipated that there would be another spell to cast. Finishing him off while he was down, she was ready to stop it and hopefully buy him some time to stand back up. But that was not the case. It started moving instead, a sluggish and slanted walk toward Duncan. The movement made no sense to her at first, but the closer it drew the more she panicked with another ping in the back of her mind. It wasn’t hard to recall her being bitten when the group she had faced got the chance. The slow dragged walk was a torment to watch. Each step she tried to stop, to turn, to distract, anything but each step was shortly followed by another.

Soon she stood next to him, her discolored hands ready to claw at him. Get up! She continued repeating as her foul gaze was stuck on him. She screamed and just as she stood above him the movement halted, dead eyes looking down at him, her fingers paralyzed as claws. Her mouth gaping open and breathing rot and spoiled breath onto him.

[ofthegrey]

When he realized he was going nowhere for as long as he couldn't breathe, he stopped struggling and forced himself to focus on the labored pull of lungs. It wasn't the first time he had ever had the breath knocked from him. Once he was past the instinctive panic of it, he could feel the strength coming back to his limbs. He heard the shuffle of her steps drawing closer, didn't dare to look in her direction lest he tempt another spell. Perhaps if she thought him down, she wouldn't waste more mana on casting. It was likely the only chance he had.

Her shadow fell across him first. Only then did he turn his gaze in her direction. He could see nothing of his friend behind the dead eyes, the hungry cant of mouth, her usually clever hands bent to claws. It felt as though the moment dragged, when in reality it was likely less than a second or two.

I'm sorry, he thought for the last time. He exploded into motion, both arms sweeping up and together in a lethal arc of daggers crossing blades. He shoved back outward and felt them connect in flesh with a meaty "thock". The force of the thrust severed muscle, tendon, and bone alike. He was already rolling away by the time her head was falling; he was on his feet before she began to lose hers in a fall to the side.

He exhaled harshly. He looked at her only long enough to be certain that was enough, that the body wouldn't stay on the attack without a head to guide it. The one sound he made was equal parts pain and fury, an inarticulate growl. He had no words.

Turning his back, he closed the few paces to her staff and shoved it into the back of his belt. Others in this place had returned from the dead. There was a chance she might, although there was no way to know if it would be whole or like this again. He couldn't dwell on that. He had other people he had to look after. This very long night was just beginning. No one could mourn if they didn't survive it.