[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

[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.