Jungle Fever ((IC))

This short story was a collaborative effort between myself and the ever awesome Melegerd, centered around the events of the Zombie Plague and the infection of one of the Wolfpack with the contagion.

Chapter 1: Ambush at Northwatch

Ratling.

Gerd's eyes moved restlessly under their straps. Was she dreaming, now? It was so hard to tell.

Come back to us, Rat. Come back.

Her brow furrowed, trying to remember. She'd gone to Booty Bay, spurred by a brief cry over the Guildstone she hadn't yet taken out of her pack and crushed. Something about plague. Something about cargo. She'd found... what was it, she'd found? Something that smelled familiar. Something forgotten, lost, found again.

Like death. Like coming home. She'd felt it before, this feeling. Felt it surge up into hir, felt it sink into her mind, like a cry of welcome.

But I fought it, the first time. Why did I fight this? It feels so good, to be cradled in his arms. To run alongside my mates. To tear flesh, crack bones, to welcome new flesh into the Sept.

Just like old times, Ratling. Run with us.

She did not see Eredan here. Only the Others, nameless and eager. Could she remember their names? Did they have any? Did she?

The bright red-and-gold armor protects the flesh of the shouting one in front of her. The paladin speaks a Word, and she runs, they all run, but not for long. She turns and grins at their tormentor. A name swims into her plague-fogged mind.

Aerybeth. I know you.

She summons the poison, welling up from deep inside of her, a gift from the Master, and spews it up in a reeking cloud. She groans, a deep, tolling noise, and feels the others shamble forward. The paladin stumbles, coughs, looking at her skin in surprise. Ratling looks on benevolently as the dead ring 'round the elf, rubbing against her tarnished armor eagerly.

One of us soon, one of us. Feast unending, meat and drink and the Love of the Master. Join us, join us.

The elf lunges through them, smiting in terror. Limbs and rotten flesh fly in all directions. Ratling is saddened, but nods in understanding. She fought at first, too. She opens her arms wide to receive Aerybeth's strike, letting the poison build into an all-consuming explosion of bone and skin and taint.Her mind sings with a voice not her own, infinitely crueler.

I feel it in you, sister, the Gift I give you. Soon you will join us. Forever.

Aerybeth's scream of rage and horror is the last thing she hears before the Cleansing Light scours through her.

*********

Chapter 2: Flight from Northwatch

--Flight from Northwatch--

The sound of thundering hooves echoes out over the seaside plain of the coast leading to the port of Ratchet from the Theramore fortress of Northwatch as Intrepid carried his precious cargo to her destination. The charger's muscled flanks rippling in tandem with the clash of his hooves upon the softly grassed earth. His nostrils flaring in panic with the feelings coming across the link shared by mount and Paladin.

Sickness.

Death.

...Plague.

Around them could be seen flashing bits of metal, testament to what now resides here. The swords of swarthy brigands and pirates, left unattended after falling from lifeless or fearful hands. Those who had fled had not returned to claim them, and those who had fallen with blades in hand had no use for or knowledge of the sword when they rose up again...in service to *him*.

The armored paladin upon his back sat without her usual poise, slumping forward to hold onto his neck, and thereby conserve her strength for the battle now raging within her. Intrepid could feel how much she wanted to cry out in rage and anguish, could feel even now the alien undead presence prodding at their link, and knew that if his master fell, then so too would he.

That thought entered his mind as Aerybeth, with a deep rasping cough that produced blood, slid off of his back, again offering him a small red apple as was her custom. Intrepid ate of it noncomittaly as he returned to the realm where he always waited in readiness for the call to serve and battle. The last view he had of her was a smile of thankfulness before she turned away to face and pay the windrider, her face even paler than usual, her eyes a faded and washed out blue, the silencing scar upon the front of her neck now gleaming an angry purple as the undead sickness coursed through her, the pace of the disease moving in moments that took hours before; the results of the concentrated dose she had recieved.

Intrepid looks about as his perspective changed, and knew that he was back in his home away from her. The coal black charger did not find himself relaxed or pleased by it, however. This place was now in twilight, the green grass greying and a cloying meat scented rain falling upon his place of rest as wrikled leaves began to fall from the trees. The scent of the meat in the air disgusted him and made him feel something else, as well. With a jolt the holy charger realized it was making him hungry.

We do not have much time.

Aerybeth Duskfalcon coughed blood tinted spittle out into the barrens air, wiping the red from her unadorned lips as the hot barrens air burned in her lungs. She wiped away at the blood upon her face with the hem of her midnight black cloak.

A fire raced through her veins, and she fought it, it was harsh and burning, not the pleasurable torture caused by a lover or the song of the Arcane. This fire consumed all and complimented nothing. And there was nothing further that she could do. She had already exhausted her strength and reserves in summoning Intrepid and trying to cleanse herself of the disease. --I did not see this coming. If I had been prepared, I would not be where I am now...on the threshold of *his* kingdom. -- Her mind wracked with black thoughts and dark laughter as she noted detachedly the towers of the Crossroads passing by.

-- I grew complacent. So easily before the undead fell before my gaze...I had no need before to conserve myself for purification after the battle. Little did I realize that the true fight against these husks now does not start until after blade and spell are silenced. --

The windrider grew agitated as she now sensed the presence upon her back, malignant and evil. So much the beast wanted to throw the rider from her, but the training remained firm and instead it picked up the pace, the better to be rid of the horror growing upon the leonine's back and flanks. The walls of dustrazor canyon flew by on either side as the walls of Orgrimmar loomed massively ahead.

Aerybeth opens her eyes, the blue orbs tinged in green now glowing a dark malignant purple, her smile back upon her face, the crooked grin now one of malice and evil untold as her laughter twisted into a beast unto itself as the part of her that was still alive could only silently scream in terror at what she was powerless to stop now. The chains she could feel, but not press against, and she was growing less and less aware of them, as the ideas coursing through her mind of flesh and bone, battle and blade, rending and eating in *his* name...seemed more and more her own.

-- Zeliek, Blameaux...I will be at your side soon....Aerellas...farewell. --

As her last breath caught in her chest rattling with the last beats of her heart as she collapsed atop Orgrimmar's wyvern tower, a second voice entered her mind and rang in her ears, casting aside the darkness with a force of great will and love.

"May the Light cleanse you, brave Aerybeth."