In the Eleventh-Hour pv ms Finished

Things went from bad to terrible. Erin could continue to retch and heave, a third and final massive, dark, wiggling and writhing creature would emerge from her mouth and join the duo already on the attack. So graciously expelled from their long-term host, they were agitated and Erin was gasping for air. Disoriented, foggy and feeling strangely empty, as if she had evacuated a major organ with her vomiting.

With double vision she saw six, rather than a trio of those dark creatures. "What are--?" Her voice rasped, confusion overwhelming an already fragile and fragmented mind. It was madness, but she had enough instinct to know that while she could not recall the circumstances that led to this nightmare but she knew danger when she saw it.

Santario and Percival, not that she recognized either were shouting. Those things were attacking and she only had the vaguest recollection of the years that had passed. Faces, times and places. Moments of relevance and mundane moments skewed by her instability. Yet no panic, no dismay, and no fear. In the absence of the worms, those gnawing slugs, the very things that made her into a hag were also the only things that also made her human. It was ironic really, how her humanity was derived from the monstrous nature of those invasive slugs.

She saw numbers, odds, facts and saw that she was outnumbered. Three to one, if she failed to count the boy laying on the ground and the girl that talked a lot. She did not know whose side they were on, be it hers or theirs or another side entirely. Then, at best one to one, but the endurance and capacity of both relative unknowns. She would follow her instinct, attack what seemed the most dangerous. That being the very thing that slithered out her mouth. That agitated, dark creature.

Erin attacks slug.
Attack 2
Evasion 11

Santario begged Percival to run. To leave through a closed door and go where? What was on the other side of the door? Erin would try to fight off the monstrosity that had emerged from her maw, only she as not ready. She was disoriented, disabled, incapable and corrupted. She was not able, she could not focus, she could barely balance.

Santario cast Finite Incantatem.
Wisdom: 1 Critical Failure

Percival would not be saved. Failure seemed to be in the cards, even the universe and the laws of luck were against them. The spell would backfire, fail. Percival would remain helpless and vulnerable. He would not feel the release of that invisible restraint., He would not earn his freedom and run. He would not save the day. This was the day that Percival Gray would fail.

Slug 1 attacks Santario
Attack 18
Evasion 9

Santario was not capable of dividing her focus between Percival and the plight before her. As one burrowed, the other attacked. She was not able to scramble away and it would take her. Painful, panicked, and at an utter loss against a superior force. This was Santario Martin's last stand.

Slug 3 attacks Erin
Attack 20 Critical
Evasion 3

The rule of three ruled here. The worm that was evacuated, found its way back inside Erin. A rattling hiss, it would come for Erin and chew its way into Erin's flank. Erin would let out a scream, a howl really. A moment of clarity far too short as what was lost had returned. Erin would crumble to the ground, a pool of blood would form beneath her.

Yet she would not fall alone. Percival still bound, his spell gone terribly wrong. he would helplessly watch as Santario too crumbled. As one of the two slugs would enter the girl. Burrowing its way inside the now unconscious world. Perhaps the only saving grace being that she would not feel it chew its way through her body.

Only one of the three would enter the girl. The third had no need for a shared host. This was how new covens were made after all, they would multiply. The power of three, the host of one.

Percival remains bound.
Erin is unconscious.
Santario is unconscious.

________________

The next round was merely an exercise of futility. As one of the slugs failed to enter Santario, she was already a host to one. He would watch the approach of the dark, slimy creature. It would let out a terrible hiss. The slug moved slowly, it did not need to rush when it had such a neatly packaged victim in wait.

There was no escape. He would feel it, the chewing... the wiggling, the slipping and the unapproved entrance inside.

Santario- you are a changeling. Symptoms include paranoia, a desire for undercooked meat, specifically vermin. A single carnal sin is often a focus. What you find vile, you would find yourself drawn to. If not cured, your birthday at midnight marks your ultimate and final transformation.

Percival- you are a carrier. You have a desire to pass on the slug inside of you to a single female (out of character accepting) host. Once passed on, you will not recall who you passed the slug onto or the events of this thread but you will remember up to a few hours prior to this thread so you would be aware of the plan, your partnership with San, just not the outcome. San will recall the events but I would not trust a crazy person. Good luck. Your character is not in peril.

@Percival Gray & @Santario Martin

Santario never had the pleasure to know Erin Ryan before she was infected and turned into a changeling. She only ever knew Nutz & Boltz Erin. Nor could she have foretold whether Erin would have helped them once she was done expelling her contents. This was another utterly horrifying aspect as a third slug slapped onto the floor like a giant fish hitting the deck of a boat. Only this was no prize that you wanted to take a photo with or even eat later at a nice fish fry. Luckily enough for the three slugs, they weren’t on the menu, unluckily, the three students were, and it would seem fate was in favor of the enemy.

Erin, regardless of why, lashed out at the slugs as Santario levied her wand at Percival, reciting the incantation, but the pain was too much. Her ability and will to concentrate were being taken away from her. Tears blurred her vision as they burned hot down her cheeks, leaving further proof of her failure. She could feel it was wrong before she finished her wand would not do her bidding; she was currently not in favor. The spell would fizzle and fail to produce anything. There would be no last sweet final moments between Santario and Percival because she would never free him. She would completely fail him and Erin just as she had said she would.

Countless times she claimed that people who got close to her would be harmed. She tried to push them all away; she tried to warn them. Was it her fault that they did not listen? They made her care about them; they made her care about other people and convinced her that helping was the right thing to do. The better thing to do. It would make her a better person than one that was just fueled by pure revenge. But in the end, what had it gotten them? A premature death at best. Again… Something she foretold many times. No one listened, just like she never listened to Vladimir. She would not be here today if she had just run and focused on herself like he told her to. She blamed everyone else. She never wanted to care about them. This was their fault, all of them. Yes, even Percival with his dumb curly hair, stupid infectious laugh, and his insufferable personality that helped numb her pain even if only for a little while. She had been selfish in the wrong ways and it would cost him.

Tears flowed unabated as she tried to get out of the way of the next slug, but she was in too much pain, and her focus was so divided that it would land its hit. Darkness ebbed at the edges of her vision as she cried out in pain; her knees buckled and hit the stone floors. I am sorry Santario thought it. She tried to say it, and her lips did move, but no voice would come out. It was an apology to both of them and all the others that she would have failed.

Time seemed to slow down even more so than it had when she was waiting for Erin to show up. If only she could turn back time. But alas, she would be haunted in her final moments as faces of those that were not there flashed in her mind, but she had failed nonetheless. Her Parents, Quinn, Alan, Bridget, Winnie, Vladimir, and last but certainly the most important Thomas. Her best friend is who stayed in her mind the longest, offering her his spectral hand. “Reaper” She whispered just before her body collided with the floor. She might have given Thomas his nickname as a play on his clothes, all black with white-rimmed shoes giving off an illusion of walking on air and expression that meant business, but it had evolved. She knew that when her time came, he would be the one to walk with her into the darkness that finally took her. And as he took her hand her eyes closed.


Time would pass as all of them lay unconscious on that floor dinner would go on below without them none the wiser of what happened here tonight for now. Santario groaned; her head was killing her, and despite missing dinner, she felt fuller than she had in days. Everything was fuzzy as she looked around without registering any of her surroundings other than the classroom.

She pulled her knees up and slowly slid her arms underneath herself to help push herself into a seated position. A hand moved toward her head, merlin it was just throbbing she required the assistance of the nur- no. The thought of going to the nurse made her wince San needed to go downstairs. Shower, maybe, and sleep, definitely. Her bed is what she needed the most right now. She filled her lungs slowly and deeply as she tried to crawl toward a wall to help her stand up, but her hand landed on something thin and hard. Stick? No, wand. Her wand? She grabbed it and finished her crawl to the wall walking her hands up to help her stand.

Once on her feet, she pressed her forehead to the cool stones, and she tried to move her tongue around her parched mouth. Nausea moved around in her stomach worse than she had ever felt before. Her free hand moved and rested against it as she started to shuffle off toward the door. A door that would not open. Locked? “Alohomora” She rasped and flinched as the deadbolt slid out of place. Santario would open the door just enough to fit her lithe frame through it before shambling down the halls towards home.

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Erin would recover some time later. As if she had fallen asleep in a place she should not, she was groggy and sore. A fresh injury where the slug had gained ingress once more already forgotten, just the ache when she tried to move. This yawning stretch of broken flesh, the tug and pull her her joints that felt swollen and ill-fitting. She would look around, attempt to regain her bearings and she would see Percival on the ground. He was not moving, not was he conscious. A terrible, foreboding sense of dread would fill her when she saw the sight.

She warned him didn't she? Merlin, she did! She new that she would hurt him, not that she remembered doing so. Regret and guilt. The scent of his intoxicating blood filled the air, no wonder she went into a frenzy. She knew that was the way but she did not like it, there was something different about knowing the meat you just ate.

She would not leave him, not right away. There was no particular attachment to him beyond the fact that he was briefly 'kind'. The sad truth was, such was rare. Aware that his injuries, all of them, were likely her fault she would shake him violently. Scream his name, she remembered it. No avail, he was too battered and beaten to rouse so easily. She only knew he was alive when she laid her head on the floor and stared at his presumed corpse to note the rise and fall of his chest.

He was alive, so she would take him. Not to her lair, she did not have one of those yet. No, she would carry him up the single flight of stairs, a boon of her strength in spite of her twisted carriage. She would carry him to the Infirmary, a glower on her filthy and bloodied face as she laid him on the first flat surface she saw. It was not a gurney, it was the nurse's desk. With a loping gait and nothing further said beyond the fact that "he is leaking". Whatever chaos would follow in response to her 'good' deed, she would walk, no run... away.

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