THE SQUAD'S SPA RETREAT ON WEATHERTOP [log post] [free-for-all] [modplot]

[wildermods]

THE SQUAD'S SPA RETREAT ON WEATHERTOP
OOC POST
The hills the squad travel through make an undulating ridge, often rising almost to a thousand feet, and here and there there are low clefts or passes leading into the land beyond. In the low-lying areas there are the ruins of walls and other buildings, and on some of the hills lie the ruins of different forts and watchtowers.

The highest hill in the area is Weathertop and this is where the squad will make camp on the fifth night of travel. This hill will provide them refuge but no refuge can truly keep them safe. As the crows said, they are the ones that were Chosen by the Green and the darker forces of this world have already found out about their existence.

However, the night starts normally. They make camp and set up watch and the hours pass without much reason for worry. A waxing moon rises into the sky, casting a gentle glow on the world. There is a light chill but nothing insurmountable due to their campfires. All is calm and peaceful.

That's why what happens next probably seems strange at first. Even those who aren't on watch may find themselves suddenly jerking out of sleep due to strange feelings of dread seemingly coming from nowhere. Those with holy magics, blessed weapons, or banked holy spells will find themselves feeling some kind of evil approaching. Those with cursed weapons or unholy powers will feel a sick sort of welcoming feeling, like something dark is approaching, yes - but that they should be glad.

Then the feeling of dread reaches them all, regardless of powers or weapons, clutching at every heart. Even those normally immune to fear may find themselves feeling the cold reaching its way inside them with prying fingers.

That's when the calm, misty night is shredded by the first screech, something inhuman, half-animalistic, half metal scraping over concrete. Another screech answers it from a different side of the hill, like the sources of the screeches are pack hunting and slowly closing in. More cold rolls in and the feeling of despair deepens as the sky starts to blot out with floating shadow shapes. The dementors aren't the source of the screeches but they're being spurred on by them, as if the unearthly shrills are calling out orders of some kind. The cold that sets in makes those that can feel cold feel as if they'll never be warm again.

But that isn't the worst of it. There are loud pops as living human figures pop in around the hilltop and its various trails downward. The ceramic and metal masks of dark wizards glint in the moonlight and spells start sparking from their wands as they start firing at the group - and at the dementors and approaching Nazgul. Cackles and sadistic laughter fill the air. Their leader is a woman with a cackle that sounds more mad and more sadistic than the others.

As the first of the cloaked Nazgul approaches from beyond the ring of stones, practically exuding darkness, one of the Death Eaters steps forward. She is shaking and though she pretends it's all rage and the thrill of potentially killing, at least some of it is fear. Even the Death Eaters can feel the chill from the Nazgul and dementors. Lestrange tries to cover that up with her usual sadistic glee.

"Naughty naughty, trying to steal my mistress' prisoners out from under her nose," she crows, flinging curses. "They're not your toys to play with and we'll send you back to your pathetic formless master with your tails between your legs. You may not be able to die for good but we'll make you wish you have!"

She cackles with shrill laughter and the fight begins in earnest. The Nazgul and dementors descend on the group and the Death Eaters do as well - and both sides attack each other, too, not caring who's in the middle. In the space of minutes, the Squad is in the middle of a deadly battleground.

Fortunately, the hill isn't the worst place to make a stand with its ruins providing cover and good vantage points and there are woods to escape to in the lands below if they make a run for it. Maybe, if they're very, very lucky, they might survive the night.

But their odds aren't great. The Death Eaters are a sadistic force to be reckoned with, and the dementors are no less horrifying for having changed sides to work with Sauron. If anything, they're even worse now, and their orders are that only a few need to be captured for Sauron and the Nazgul - the rest can be killed or have their souls sucked.

And many have fallen at the hands of the Nazgul and all flee before their faces - save the one who desires to have the Nine deliver the Squad into his hands, where they can be broken in the deep dungeons of Barad-dûr, where no light has ever touched.

---

NOTES
✦ Post in actionspam format. Plots and mod-run events in the game are meant to be in actionspam format to keep a brisk pace.

✦ Free-for-all Post. This event will be in "free-for-all" format, meaning that threadhopping is encouraged and that threading should be treated in the same conversational way as network posts.

✦ NPCing. Players can feel free to godmode the Nazgul and dementors in their own threads, as these npcs don't talk, and have very little personality beyond being pure evil. Please just make them realistically difficult to drive back as they're very powerful, unkillable enemies. However, the mods will npc the Death Eaters since they're intelligent speaking people. A thread will be available in the OOC post where players can link to their threads to request a Death Eater npc to participate.

✦ Fairy Swaps. Now that the fairy swap mechanism will be in place, players can make their quest characters and Brugh characters magically swap places whenever they want, including during the event itself.

✦ When it Takes Place: ICly this is 5 days into the Squad's journey through the hills.

Comments

[somnioergosum]

Stay out of my way.

[Ronan turned to see why Dixon wasn't leaving. He shifted his attention then and not just because he wanted the man to leave him the fuck alone already. More important than that, he didn't want either of them to die.]

There.

[It was little more than a whisper but his patronus responded, turning back, and that was when Ronan noticed the leathery wings blur.

This was too much. It wasn't like a hand to hand fight, when he could let his thoughts die and body take over. That brief moment of frustration created a fissure in his concentration, one that broke open. His night horror faded into nothing.

The cold hit him first but it soon morphed into the mild chill of an early summer morning. He saw flashes of his home and the charcoal BMW parked in the driveway, next to his brother's car.

Dad?

Ronan pressed his hands to his head.]

No. Stop. Stop!

[awfulcer]

[Dixon's world seems to take a second to catch up when he turns his head to watch Ronan's patronus collapse in on itself. The magic that was only recently coursing through him has left him heady and slow, and the skin around his hands is starting to redden and peel back like the world's worst sunburn.

He sees Ronan crumple on himself from the corner of his eye and whirls around. It doesn't take a rocket genius to realize that whatever's happening to Ronan, it's got him in a state unable to combat the coming sprawl of Dementors and Nazgul.

Dixon feels those cold hands on his heart, the Dementors drawing close and eating away all the good memories - the car he got when he was sixteen, the Dixie Chicks concert he went to with his dad in Topeka, the times his momma put mint leaves from the backyard in the lemonade shakes - but some part of him has been ready for it. He's been stewing in misery a little while; this is like accidentally stepping off the curb when you think you were on flat ground, not like tumbling off a cliff. A stutter instead of a collapse.

On some level, he can put together what's happening to Ronan, all the bad memories hitting like a truck.]

Fuck me.

[He throws himself on top of Ronan, taking them both to the ground in the hopes that the Dementors will just stampede over them in their scurry away from the Nazgul. He doubts Ronan's going to recover well from the world's worst trip down Memory Lane pinned to the ground under a drunk guy with a heavy metal shield, but the alternatives seem thin on the ground.

The Dementors do trample over them, as much as levitating ghosts can bear down on someone, but the Nazgul is more focused in its target. It comes for Ronan, the more incapacitated of the two at the moment. Dixon gets onto a moment to react, shielding Ronan with his body.

He activates the shield a moment too late, and the swirl of pearly magic takes away the pain of the Nazgul blade sinking into his back, but not the blow itself.]

Son of a bitch- [The Nazgul pulls the knife back- a thin arc of blood flings out across the battlefield from the tip of the blade. Dixon tries to shove both himself and Ronan back, earning a little space between them and the enemy. He bats Ronan in the face.]

Hey, shithead, snap out of it! I need you!

[somnioergosum]

[Opting for self-preservation, or perhaps she was simply startled, Chainsaw took off into the sky and away from the fighting. Ronan didn't notice. His fingers dug into his skin as he covered his eyes, as if that could stop the images flashing through his mind. His father dead. His body mutilated. And his face...

When Ronan hit the ground, instinct took over. He was still mostly stuck in his memory and he shoved at Dixon, and tried to strike him with his shaking hand.]

You fucking psychopath!

[awfulcer]

[So much for that. Dixon grabs Ronan's wrist to stop the blow to his face, trying not to let that distraction pull his attention away from the Nazgul approaching with its sword pulled.]

Just saved your ass... [He gets to his knees and gets the shield propped at an angle between them and the Nazgul. He doesn't have the time or space to get to his feet.] You want psychopath, you get your magic voodoo back and take out this guy.

[He feels the back of his undershirt getting damp and instinctively checks it with his palm; it comes back bloody. He meets Ronan's eyes, the panic there, the glassiness.]

Get out of your head and do some fucking magic!

[somnioergosum]

[The voice he heard wasn't Gray's. But, he hadn't known Gray had killed his father then and he'd been long gone by the time Ronan stepped outside that morning. When his father's bod shifted and broke apart until it turned into the scattered remains of his mother, Ronan knew that this wasn't real.

He finally registered Dixon's ugly face. The asshole was, he hated to admit it, right, but Ronan couldn't remember a time he'd ever been happy now.

He shook his head, then noticed the Nazgul.]

It doesn't work on those.

[awfulcer]

[Dixon grabs a stick on the ground and gets up, knees to the shield - with his invulnerability kicked in, so long as he has physical contact with the shield at all he doesn't have to worry about physical blows - to give Ronan more space to shelter behind it.

Good. At least Ronan seems to be lucid again, not in whatever dark eddy had ripped him under. The sight of a man trapped inside his own head was somehow more unsettling than the dark, blade-bearing thing coming at them.]

Can you run? [He grips the stick and stares down the Nazgul. Stick vs. sword, let's go.]

[somnioergosum]

[Even on the ground, Ronan felt unsteady. But staring at the Nazgul, the adrenaline came flooding back. It didn't free him from the effects of the Dementors, but it gave him enough strength to move in spite of his shakiness.

He nodded, then looked at Dixon ad noticed the stick.]

Fucking really?

[Even Ronan wouldn't use a stick. His fists, sure, but not a stick.]

[awfulcer]

Yes, fucking really! Now move!

[It is, despite definitely being a stick, at least a relatively thick one, and Dixon's familiar around a truncheon and figures it can't be that different. He doesn't need to parry or protect his body, he just needs to get a few good clubs in and buy them some time.

He shoves Ronan aside, grabs the shield and charges the Nazgul.]