The Mourning After (Horror) (IC)

[MetaVoid]

"It may cause the others to not attack? Or maybe this whole lot is a single plant? If we have to fight all the way through, it may attract other...troubles."
Ozzar thinks for a moment and raises his voice slightly.
"Show me what you will do."

 

[FitzTheRuke]

"I am not unwilling to feed it my blood," said Lazharis with no sense of concern, "If we think it will actually help us."

 

[MetaVoid]

"I am not unwilling to feed it my blood," said Lazharis with no sense of concern, "If we think it will actually help us."

"Maybe we can share the burden...but I want to know what it will do."

 

[Leatherhead]

The plant stays silent for a moment. Suddenly you feel a small rumbling below your feet, and the withered foliage on the building twists, but not enough to allow passage.

"...I ...can move... the... vines" The plant exhaustedly explains. "...but I.... need drink..."

 

[MetaVoid]

Ozzar looks alarmed at first and then shrugs
"Eh, I meant what will you do to us. But this works too, just know, if you take too much, the deal is off. And we may have to go to the root of the problem, y'now."

OOC: I would still like to know how much it will take, I wouldn't have too much problem with about half my hp ("bloodied" in 4e terms)

 

[Leatherhead]

GM: Feeding the plant will take Hit Dice, It needs two HD from up to two characters with blood.

 

[Neurotic]

"It's your life...it may get greedy once it has it's thorns into you. And if it's so exhausted, we could just walk over these plants and it couldn't do anything. How can it help really us?" Malix whispers

 

[FitzTheRuke]

"Let's find out." Lazharis answered Malix, and walked over to the plant, ready to try to break free if it betrayed him.

OOC: He'll let it take two HD.

 

[MetaVoid]

Ozzar follows Lazharis, both as backup or protection and to share the blood, it may be prudent to share instead of having one of them exhausted.

 

[Leatherhead]

Ozzar and Lazharis approach the plant, one more cautiously than the other.

The withered flower turns to greet the sacrifice by lifting a vine adorned with blackened thorns for both of them. Each vine languidly creeps along at a tedious pace. Moving through the air, over the hand, and up the arms, until they find a suitable vein. The thorns find purchase in the flesh, and come to life with shocking speed. You feel the blood drain out, and something else being shoved inside.

"...Thank you... my children... have a chance..."

Before you can protest, the flower, the gardens, and the vines on the house wither into dust. Crumbling all around, and sinking into the dead mists below with a quiet ripple.

Unfortunately, the ordeal is not yet over for the duo. Your arm aches as something grows within it, burning and twisting as it spreads out inside your flesh. From the wound, a small black flower emerges. Iridescent, and much livelier looking than the one that was just talking to you.