Date: Twenty Seventh of February, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

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The party gathered around Index, talking excitedly. A mistake it may have been, but it was not an unwelcome one. Index responded by hugging her friends and trying to explain what it felt like to be transformed. Words failed her, and any thought of weighty philosophical debate retreated in the face of revelry and growling stomachs. Unfortunately the party were not the only hungry ones about that night and Index’s lightshow was not enough to frighten away unwanted, starving, desperate guests.

Job Arseoth had his nose pressed to the bottom of his bowl, licking away the last drops of the stew, when Baar’Miin’s scream of agony interrupted. He dropped the bowl to see her wings being torn apart by a pair of red-eyed wolves. Index surged to her feet, only to be yanked back to the ground by her ankles, red sap spilling in place of blood. A Ray of Frost met one wolf as it leapt over the fire, its body extinguishing the flames as it hit the ground.

Light lit up one end of Job’s staff, letting him see the wolves again. But it was too late to prevent the bites to his hamstrings, nor the jaws pulling him to the ground. Job’s staff bounced away, the light going out as he lost hold of the spell. There were more screams in the darkness, high and piercing. Enra’s cut off in a bloody gurgle as teeth found throat. Sly, cursing and ranting, cutting at nothing. Baar’Miin, trying to call on Bahamut, cut off mid-word.

Job rolled onto his back and threw a Scorching Ray at the red eyes in the darkness, but if he hit anything it didn’t burn. Teeth came for his throat, and the darkness took him.

Baar’Miin was in agony, but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Her mace found the side of the wolf on her chest and she surged to her talons. He stance was short-lived as the wolves at her back switched from her shredded wings to her ankles and threw her back down on the ground. Armor and scales alike failed her, her blood pouring freely into the earth. The Dragon-master was down, his throat a bloody mess. She tried a healing prayer, but the words would not come. The wolves tore at the arms, pinning her down, and opening her up for a killing bite.

Sly Malon was used to working in low light conditions, but fighting in the darkness was absolute madness. She had managed at least one hit on something, if the blood on her blade was any indication, but the wolves kept coming for her back and her flanks. She couldn’t see them coming, not untill it was too late. Enra her lover was down, hurt badly, but Sly couldn’t get to her to help in time. The wolves kept coming, the nicks kept stacking up, her blood kept draining away. She was forced back by a lunge, managing to bury her dagger in the flank of the wolf as it passed, and then clipped by another wolf at her back. Sly went down with a crash and this time she couldn’t stand up in time.

Index felt her new blood-sap leaking away, felt her wooden muscles tear as the wolves savaged her legs, and for the first time felt the fires of rage. She lashed out, grabbing one wolf about the neck, and squeezed. Something popped and the wolf shook itself free from her now limp hands. The popping sound came again, and Index felt her head roll free of her neck. The animating magics kept her alive long enough to see the blood-sap gushing from the stump of her throat before here eyesight vanished.

Enra Thallia clutched to her bleeding throat, unable to speak or cry out through her pain. Her one free hand scrambled at the SiDiabolo Deck box, desperate to make a draw that just might save something from the madness. Fangs found her free wrist and tore it away from the box, another set tearing at the hem of her dress. She was dropped onto her back, sprawling in the bloody mud of the campsite. Teeth found her belly and began to chew.