capeandcowllogs | Time to make the doughnuts

Entry tags:

Time to make the doughnuts

WHO: OPEN
WHERE: EVERYWHERE
WHEN: between Wednesday morning (3/17) and the end of the zombie plot
WARNINGS: prolly icky violence
SUMMARY: ZOMBIE FIGHTINGS. This is an open log, like last time, so go where you will, form your own zombie-killing teams or meet new fellow fighters on the street! Tag yourself in, and use subject headers to indicate time and/or location as you wish.
FORMAT: everything.

They're everywhere.

So many people falling sick meant so many zombies suddenly flooding the streets, pouring out of the hospitals where no one could help, stumbling out of their homes, obeying their master's orders.

They need to be taken down before they kill the healthy. Before the City is in ruins and the living are wiped out. They need you, heroes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Koltira thrashed wildly on the ground; he was aware of himself and his surroundings only in a bestial sense. He knew pain crackling along every muscle, he smelled terror and decay, he felt the ghouls' claws tearing at his armor. Their weight kept him pressed to the pavement, unable to reach his runeblade, and so he fought them with his plated fists. It was a survival instinct, mindless, automatic. Because deep in his mind, he knew that he was responsible for what was happening right now. The blood of these people was on his hands.

And deep in his mind, Koltira Deathweaver did not want to escape.

Perhaps unfortunately for Koltira, though, he wasn't alone in being beset by the ghouls. If it had been possible, Jaina would have gladly teleported the two of them out of the area to safety in a second, but unfortunately her teleport spell required quite a bit more concentration than she could afford at the moment.

That didn't stop her from conjuring three thick spears of ice from nothingness and hurling them to skewer some of the zombies currently attacking her erstwhile companion, though.

Link had seen the post. He hadn't bothered to comment. There was no time. He needed to get to Jaina and Koltira's location, as fast as possible. The boy was dirty; his sword and shield were stained with flesh far-too decayed for people who had been dead less than a day. But he plowed through. His short stature allowed him to weave in and out of his enemies easily.

On the way, he saw Lady Liadrin, resplendent in his armor and light. He followed after her.

"Lady Liadrin!! Koltira and Jaina...!"

Sanji didn't respond on the network. There wasn't time. He simply ran at top speed to the epicenter of this mayhem, already wanting a piece of that damn necromancer and finally having a bead on him when that happened. Oh well. Good thing he was nearby.

Whoever was under that pile of swarming zombies, Koltira or Jaina, he didn't care, he simply vaulted up and planted his hands firmly on the shoulders of a completely unsuspecting ghoul. He was learning not to call his shots, but he still growled in mingled anger and glee as he spun his entire body around like a whirlwind, legs straight out, in a classic "Party Table Kick Course."

...god that felt good. His feet plowing through scads of zombie heads.

When Lyra saw the ghouls, she snapped into action. Her eyes began glowing brightly, as she lashed out with telekinesis towards the pile of ghouls, hurling rubble towards the pile, and tossing ghouls (or pieces of them) away. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and her eyes were glowing brightly, like her daemon's were.

"Koltira! Miss Jaina!" she shouted. While Lyra normally tended to attack at a distance, she realized faintly that she was still getting splattered with gore. She didn't really care.

When Liadrin arrived, the others were already fighting in the fray. As the elf skidded to a halt, weapon at the ready, her blazing green eyes scanned the crowd for Koltira; Once locked on his form, holy magic flared out from the tip of her blade as she slashed in a wide arc, clearing the undead as if they were nothing but branches in her way.

"Koltira!! Koltira hold on!!" she cried.

Not far behind Liadrin was Thassarian. His runeblades in hand and cutting down any undead that got in his way. Nothing was going to stop him from reaching Koltira and Jaina. And with him watching Liadrin's back, nothing was going to stop her either.

Kel'thuzad and the Lich King were known for their cruelty. They could have simply killed her, but instead they did something far worse: They had held her, helpless, and forced her to watch as they worked their nefarious plots and spread the plague.

So the normally mild-mannered sorceress found this all very cathartic in a way, as a howling whirlwind of razor ice tore through the undead, magically passing through her allies as though intangible, leaving them unharmed.

Suddenly, purple blasts of heat like the sun started raining down on zombies like rain. A line of purple energy streaked across the sky above zombie and hero alike as this happened. Even if the zombies were strong and tireless, they were no match for an aerial assault.

Nightstar's green eyes stared down at the horde, careful to aim away from allies. She ignored the screams of the undead and focused instead on the battle. She also looked for the people responsible; she wanted a piece of this Lich King and his flunky as much as anyone else.

Lyra moved toward Liadrin, shouting at the top of her lungs. At some point she had grabbed a length of pipe, swatting away the occasional ghoul that got too close to her or Pantalaimon before smashing them with the assorted heavy objects spinning around the pair of them.

Koltira could hardly see all the allies moving toward him--he was blinded by spurts of gore from the soft ghoul-bodies as he tore them to pieces. His fury was base and unthinking, but it was vicious: though Koltira's body was dead, it still wished to fight, it still struggled against the notion of non-existence.

There was no precision or strategy to Koltira's movements and thus the ghouls kept piling on, trying to suffocate or dismember him. They tore at him relentlessly, and he tore back, and to any onlookers it would likely seem that Koltira was hardly any more sentient than his opponents.

It might seem as though he weren't even trying to escape under his own power.

The sword in his hands was forged for this purpose; it blazed with Light, the pure crystalline heart of it near-blinding, purging and burning diseased flesh as he swung in wide arcs. From a distance the Paladin must seem a golden-white spark pressing forward, trailed by a cloud of ash. The dust did nothing to obscure the brightness of plate and steel; the Ashbringer moved as an extension of the Highlord's body and will. He would reach Lady Proudmoore and Koltira; he would defend them, and the Lich King would fall before them. Certainty granted him strength-- and though if he lived through this, if any of them did, his body would ache with the exertion, right now he was a vessel of righteousness and wrath-- driven toward his goal without questioning his success.

He slowed slightly as he drew nearer the proper point of battle; not tired, not fearful, but cautious lest he accidentally harm an ally in the fray. Trails of cold winds and his attunement to the Light assured him that at least some of those he sought were near-- and so Tirion continued to cut his way through the masses of the risen dead.

Link's sword, too, was imbued with the element of light; but it did not glow or shine like the others'. It simply cut through the fiends like butter. Link did not stop to fully destroy the zombies. Instead he cut them at their legs and rushed by, leaving them incapable of anything but crawling.

As he tailed Liadrin, he could feel her desire. She would be the one to save those two. The rest of them need only keep her path clear. And so Link did. He turned to face a mass of Scourge coming behind them. Luckily, the crowd was free of any allies. So from his inventory, Link pulled a blue sphere; a bomb with a relatively short fuse, made of blue papier mache. He struck the fuse on a flint on his belt and it hissed as it began to burn down.

He tossed the bomb into the horde and it exploded on impact in a ball of fire. Zombies in the immediate vicinity were blown apart; others that were farther back were burned.

Holy magic was coursing through the air, thrumming and hissing as it leaped from one shambling undead to the next. More were coming to their aid. The voices echoing just above gurgling moans and the sounds of her own fearful thoughts were barely discernible. Bestial growls from deep in her throat were released through bared teeth with each fallen ghoul. Another followed as one of the monsters latched onto her arm and tore into her skin just beneath the plate; she jabbed her elbow deep into its skull and pressed on. Just before her she could at last see the Death Knight she was so determined to save.

Liadrin couldn't even utter his name. Instead she consecrated the ground beneath his feet-- it would burn him, yes, but it would also clear a path to his blade.

Koltira grit his teeth as the ground glowed bright white; its purity seared the darkness inherent in his current form. Zombies fell all around him, burned to ash by Liadrin's power. Koltira was free to stand and take Byfrost from his back.

But he did not.

Instead, he closed his eyes, chest heaving. He did not want to fight. He did not want to be.

He waited for the tide to rise again.

Meanwhile, starbolts continued to rain down on the horde. There were so many, but the numbers seemed to be lessening, especially as many were being burned from below or burned from above. But Nightstar doesn't stop. Stopping meant a chance for the mindless to regroup, and she at least had no intention of allowing that to happen.

Likewise, Sanji simply kept kicking clear paths through the swarm, keeping an eye on everyone living and making sure none of them were being attacked from behind. He was closer to Jaina, and made his way toward her with a series of graceful jumping and whirling kicks. His legs where black blurs as he dashed his way to her and vaulted into a handstand, spinning both feet to clear the immediate area of ghouls. He moved smoothly from the stance into a stand and then a bow before the lady.

Shards of ice sliced through the air, slashing through the rapidly decaying flesh and sinew of the Lich King's undead. Jaina's magic was lethal and precise, and the moment she sensed something rushing her way she spun around to deal with the new threat before it could attack her... but then she paused, spell unsaid on her lips.

Under normal circumstances, she might have smiled. But she was in no mood for smiles at the moment. "Thank you for the aid, Sanji - I appreciate it."

Lyra ran toward Koltira, shoving, smashing, and tossing as many ghouls out of the way as she could, while screaming loudly, "KOLTIRA GET UP!"

Maybe not the sanest course of action, but Lyra had never been particularly restrained when it came to doing dangerous things.

Pantalaimon's fur stood on end, his teeth bared as he moved with Lyra as a single being, their senses and thoughts flowing together perfectly as they sent more undead flying.

He hadn't been far behind, but also removed from the battle. He had no true wish to participate in the rescue of others, particularly if they were of little use to him, which he considered Koltira and Jaina to be in the useless category. However, the Scourge and the possibility to personally burn down the Lich King himself was too great a temptation.

Therefore he came, lending what mana he could to the Sin'dorei, and keeping plenty in reserve for himself. Around him, the scourge fell in droves, the zombies not able to come close before his sheer aura of dark energy drove them back, and then he lashed out, a trail of blue flame surging from the ground in the path of the direction he was looking.

He wasn't moving. Light damn him, he wasn't moving!

Liadrin stumbled to her knees beside Koltira, slipping an arm beneath his neck in an attempt to hoist him up to his feet, to coax him from his own misery long enough to get away. It was the first time since returning that she'd been able to look upon his face and all she saw staring back at her was guilt.

But it didn't matter, she hadn't rushed here just to leave him behind. Her fingers clamped down on the back of his breastplate, snarling in determination as she began to stand. Her leg gave out just as she managed to rise a few inches from the ground; she'd not eaten, not slept, not done anything but spend and siphon magic. Adrenaline was the only thing giving her strength. Again she tugged, and this time was successful in dragging Koltira onto her back. The consecrated earth was holding the ghouls at bay, but turning back meant walking back into the battle, and it would be almost impossible for her to cast.

It had been some time since she'd barked orders, but her voice rang out clear and strong as she called to her allies, "Clear me a Light forsaken path through this mess and end them all!!!"

"It was no problem, m'lady," Sanji assured Jaina. "You seem to be doing pretty well on your own, but I would never leave a lady alone in a fight."

His head turned sharply when he heard Liadrin's shout loud and clear. It was time to up the ante. He had just been plowing through zombies to get from place to place, not really caring if his blows finished them off or not, but now they had to die. Sanji's stamina was waning, but if he stopped running and just stood and kicked with all his might, he could crush skulls and blast bodies into walls, into his allies' weapons, into the ground. And so, he started to do just that, working his way from Jaina toward the elves.

Lyra, who had almost reached the spot of consecrated ground, shouted her assent to Liadrin. She redoubled her efforts, and telekinetically tore into the zombies, smashing the ones near her with the pieces of rubble she'd gathered, moving forward until she was standing on the very edge of the consecrated ground.

She and Pantalaimon snapped their gazes to Liadrin for an instant, both girl and daemon's eyes filled with the same wild intensity, waiting for her to move towards them while they kept destroying the undead that drew near.

Toph, not far behind Lyra, slammed her feet into the pavement and flung her arms straight out. The ground itself lifted and flipped over in huge blocks, crushing any undead in its path.

Backing along to keep close to her friend, she kept at it, sometimes crushing the things with blocks of pavement, sometimes sending them flying.

Link heard Liadrin's call for aid and rushed through the hordes, dodging and diving like the lithe, fast little warrior he was. He pulled his bow from his inventory and an arrow from his quiver.

Now would be a really good time for a Light Arrow to work! he thought to himself as he drew back the arrow on the bow. He turned around briefly to see Liadrin struggling to keep Koltira in her grasp. She was tired. Exhausted really. For the sake of this City... Link turned back to the horde in front of him and the arrow and bow began to glow with a bright, holy light. Scourge in the immediate area hissed and drew back.

Then he fired. The arrow didn't stop when it hit one zombie. It didn't stop when it hit two, or even three. It cut a burning, searing swath through the masses, only stopping once it had lost most of its momentum.

He panted a bit. Using Light Arrows was a huge draw on his personal stores of mana, which were quite small. He then turned back, searching the crowd for Lady Jaina. She would need assistance as well.

"Lady Jaina!!"

Time to make the doughnuts

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THERE. FIXT. ALL REPLIES GO HERE NOW. <3

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MIND IF I CUT IN, LADIES?

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so late :<

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Also Late...

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SURPRISE CAMEO

gasp

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