That Spell That Turns People Into Sheep

[2B]

A small island slightly off the coast of Kalimdor, aptly named Theramore. Such was the place that Jaina Proudmoore, the sole daughter and last living child of the once great Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, had begun to call her home. With her father’s influence and status, her childhood had been a privileged one, alas similarly a harsh one. Daelin had always instilled his military understanding upon her daughter - especially so after her brother’s death.

Of course, the girl had had her own aspirations as well; she could still remember the childlike fascination and sense of wonder she’d felt toward the tales and legends about the Guardian of Tirisfal, Aegwynn. It seemed only fitting that she’d developed a potential for magic, and as such had been carted off to Dalaran, home to some of Azeroth’s greatest mages and Kir Tor, to learn how to utilize her newly found talent.

Past the rose tinted glass of her tower, her eyes saw not the storm raging outside. Rather, the days which seemed to be now naught, but distant past. Those days that she had used to hide away, tucked under the comforting shade of an apple tree with a musty tome in her hands. Together with the soft, verdant grass beneath her toes and the overflowing, bristling magic in the air. All she had wanted to do, was to study. Magic had always fascinated her, driven her to understand the nature of it, to study whether it was in the beautiful, lively plazas of Dalaran, or hidden away in the highest of towers with the most precious of tomes. She missed it. She missed him.

A spiderweb of cracks appeared to the rose tinted memories before her eyes, shattering as the raging, pouring storm revealed itself once more. The sea churned, wallowing unhappily, its wrath unleashed upon the ships, swaying the constructs in its unforgiving caress. The howling wind cut through the stone towers of Theramore, chilling its residents down to the very cores of their bones.

There was something about the display of natural wrath that felt so very wrong. The air hung heavy despite the blasting gusts and the grass seemed to be dying of sickness, rather than displaying its lush green hues. It was of magical nature, the sickly taste of evil spiking her senses. The frozen winds of Northrend were once more reaching their icebound tendrils to Theramore.

But little did she know, she wouldn’t be there to witness it.

[2B]

Confusion.

The pitch black darkness began to lift itself with the pace of a glacier, revealing a brightness that did naught but scorched its viewer. Confusion was the only word Jaina found to describe her current state as her senses suddenly flared to life like a wildfire in the summer-dried grass. The fiery sensation exploded from within her core, pushed through her veins and muscles with the subtlety of an avalanche, forging a painful awareness of just how her body was composed. Every fiber of her being roared to life as her brains restored the link to her limbs, a twitch of curious intrigue drawn from them.

Alive.

The brilliant illumination shattered with explosive revelation, a picture painted before her very eyes. A canvas that brimmed with curious treats and snacks for one’s imagination to gobble akin to a starving man, to gorge and get lost into. A vision that could never have been reality, such was its bizarre nature. Stairs that descended upwards, fountains constructed out of sturdiest water and flowing the fluidest stone. Houses where the walls were doors, and doors were walls. A most befuddling of sights, disarming even. Up, left, down, right? Pup, theft, clown, night? A fight? For all one’s might, such was the sight.

Perplexion.

In darkness, a light. A fish, a tackle, a madness of the cackle. Crackle. The weight of a shackle. Light. Light. Remember the light. Follow, don’t you dare go hollow. But to follow, one must face the gallow, tread the shallow. The clown is a nasty fellow. Steal the key and lock the wall, crash the door and take the fall. Feel small? Mayhap dropped the ball? Touch, taste, make haste. Time you mustn’t waste. A hallway, a doorway, this way, that way? Nay?

Insanity.

Utter vanity. Mundanity. Light, there! That gap so tight. Squeeze through, see the blue? Stand in queue, in the zoo. What if you knew, the casket that blew? Seams cracking, sanity lacking! Are you here? Are you there? Have you gone anywhere? A flash, a bang, it’s time to dash. Swords clash. Sudden parity, similarity. a sense of hilarity. A noble charity?

Finally, clarity.

[2B]

As her eyes snapped open a hand instinctively came to shield her eyes from the brightness that threatened to rob her sight once more. Her movement was sluggish at best, the quivering muscles of her arm hidden away beneath the sleeve of her robes. A lost battle, as her arm slowly slumped down upon her eyes.
Breathing heavily, Jaina huddled closer to herself within her cloak. A low whine escaped from her lips, forcing the magus to halt her movement, shivering ever so slightly. Closing her eyes, the magus made an attempt to mutter an incantation.

“Hhhhh..!”

As her voice hung within her throat, leaving only wheezing to come out, a tinge of magic crackled at her fingertips, before fizzling away with a quiet sizzle. Breathing deeply, the sorceress caught her breath before gritting her teeth together and forcing her muscles to act, if only to flop on the ground and lay on her side. Reeling from pain, she could feel herself tapping out as her hand clenched into a fist, her nails digging deep within the soft flesh of her palm. If pain would keep her attached to the moment, she was willing to accept it, even inflict it upon herself. As blood trickled onto the plain white ground of Nexus, her lips curled into a wry smile just as her body was torn by a cough. It seemed like there would be pain whether she hurt herself or not.

Battling against the haze of pain and the fog of unconsciousness, Jaina spearheaded herself to a momentary clarity. Her muscles and were sore and her body was burning. Fever, over exertion. With her momentary clarity, the magus dug her nails deeper into her palm and forced her head to move, eyes taking in whatever little she could. Nothing! There was absolutely nothing anywhere she could see! Just white, followed by more of the same blankness.

Magic didn’t work, and even attempting such rewarded her with mind numbing pain. Magic, it had to be magic, a curse, something that distorted the flow of arcane energy within her. Her mind racing as her clarity wore thin, Jaina realized that whatever spurt of adrenaline had granted her with the momentary functionality, had come with a cost. A pained groan escaped her involuntarily as her muscles all contracted, drawing her into a fetal position, before she fell completely slack, nothing but shallow and ragged breaths indicating that the sorceress was still, for better or worse, alive.

[2B]

Drifting between the land of the living and the dead, the magus stared blankly ahead. She didn’t know how long she’d been like this. There was no day, no night to tell her how much time had passed as she laid there, her consciousness reeling.

An armour clad foot stomped down before her eyes, before it lifted from the ground once more, drifting toward her shoulder, pushing her once more onto her back. Wincing from the pain, her arms coming up sluggishly to protect her head, before slumping down in defeat. She had no strength to move, much less to fight.

“Jaina!” A voice called out as her eyes slowly focused upon the figure looking down upon her.

“A….s?” The girl attempted as her voice faded and the figure knelt down upon her. Squinting her eyes, the sheepish sorceress attempted to focus her blurry vision, confusion dawning upon her.
“C...n’t…You…” she blabbered softly, as a gauntleted hand reached upon her golden locks, brushing them aside, tucking them softly behind her ear.

“I’ll always be there for you, Jaina. I came here just to visit you, just like in Dalaran, remember?” the looming figure whispered.
“Now, come with me…” he said, a dark shadow brushing past his fine features, the golden locks upon his head slowly fading, the colour draining from his beautiful features, until nothing but a pale shadow remained.

“N….. Can’t...watch this….gain...” the magus wheezed, forcing whatever strength remained to come forth and aid her, as her muscles tore her away from his grasp, slowly winching her to face away from him.

“Jaina..? Jaina!” she could hear him calling out as she painstakingly turned away. Tears of anguish rolled down from her eyes, as the mage sobbed quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” She could remember the night vividly, the promise she’d given.

Don’t deny me, Jaina. Don’t ever deny me. Please.
I never would, Arthas. Never.

The shattered promise burned within her mind as he left her to lie on the colourless ground despite her wounds. The magus sobbed, each contraction of her muscles sending a further jolt of pain to her core. And once more, the darkness laid claim upon her.

[Undyne]

A figure materialized against the gates leading to the Pale Moors, covered in swamp tar and dirt as was usual for anyone who spent more than a few hours in that area. It was riding a Speeder - a hoverbike designed for rugged terrain because it could hover slightly above ground, and a vehicle that had gained popularity especially in the Endless Dunes ever since the Stormtroopers had introduced it there - to cross the Nexus swiftly. The job was done, nothing left to do in that area... it was time to return to the Dunes.

The Pale Moors’ Gate was the one directly opposite to the Endless Dunes one, meaning that the swiftest road was straight through the Nexus, with a slight detour to circumvent the Nexus Fountain. There was always some Prime or another around, whether a new arrival or a respawn after some or another gruesome death... speaking of which, there appeared to be someone by the fountain, the figure took note as it drew closer.

Normally people around there were fresh and alive... this person on the other hand seemed near death. Observing through a pair of binoculars revealed that there was blood on the ground. Not much, but there was no hint at a fight either. Its curiosity piqued, the figure adjusted the binoculars as it came closer, but ultimately could not see anything else without being in a more direct range. A few hundred meters away, it dismounted from the Speeder and tapped its helmet, switching to Infrared vision and sound amplification. Nothing. Outside of the ragged breaths of the woman laying by the fountain the immediate vicinity was clear, as far as a rapid sweep could reveal. This was too elaborate and opportunistic to be a trap. Regardless some caution would be in order. As they came closer they pulled the Speeder along with a rope so as not to leave it behind.

It was questionable whether the woman could notice the figure stepping close, kneeling besides her and placing down a white box on the ground. But she would likely feel the medical syringe shooting a burst of adrenaline through her system when the figure stabbed it into her exposed arm. At least it made her gasp, cough and jerk upwards, before crashing right back down. The figure was quick enough to catch her, preventing any further injuries that would've come with hitting her head on the hard rock.

“Ar... thas...?” a question voiced with a raspy tone came from her mouth. The sort of raspy that was the result of someone having had a dry throat for a while now.

“No, my name is Ghost. Don’t move”, replied the figure. Their helmet, outfitted with a voice modulator, obscured any signs of their identity or even gender.

Though the blonde-haired girl did not reply, nor did her eyes indicate that she had understood anything that was going on, she moved less as the adrenaline shot set in and numbed the pain, if only for a time. How strange... she looked healthy on the surface save for the wounds on her hand yet she was nearly as pale as the ground she was laying on and was possibly hallucinating. Ghost carefully laid her back on the ground and grabbed the flask of water from the Speeder. The Moors were a nasty place, but there was water aplenty... as a result there was plenty left in the flask that they opened and placed against Jaina’s lips.

“Drink”, they simply muttered, before inclining the flask just enough to have a tiny mouthful wet the other’s tongue. She coughed and spilled nearly everything, then Ghost passed their hand around their back once more and lifted her a little, which made the task of swallowing the cool water easier. Ghost fed her four or five mouthfuls that way before withdrawing it again. “Feverish... but this isn’t just flu.” She needed medical aid, in any case. Ghost had no way of telling a Secondary from a Prime by just looks and appearances, so the risk was present that this girl would not respawn if she died out here. And provided that no Prime came around to nurse her to health, chances looked grim.

“Well... I’m not leaving that job unfinished then”, thought Ghost as they lifted Jaina as carefully as they could and put her on the Speeder. Luckily those things were conceived for two people... by using some spare clothing as improvised belts they tied Jaina’s feet to the footrests to give her some rudimentary stability in the saddle. Far from ideal but better than nothing. Ghost themselves climbed into the saddle behind Jaina, letting her lean against them and viewing the dashboard and the path ahead over her shoulder. “Easy now”, mumbled Ghost while starting the machine up again. “We’ll see if the Doc can’t help you out.” Then the Speeder took off, resuming its course straight towards the Endless Dunes Gate.

[2B]

Her golden locks flowed in harmony with the wind as she swayed upon the horse she’d been tied upon. Of course, the magus was much too out of it to realize that she wasn’t riding a horse, and probably wasn’t at the moment even aware of the rider behind her. In front of her, lingered only the sight of Arthas spurring his steed to greater speeds. They had been riding in the cover of the night for hours now. The depth of her exhaustion only making itself known when she found herself barely hanging upon the steed.

But instead of yanking herself back up or bringing the creature to a halt, Jaina found that someone else tugged her up, a mutter heard from behind her. “Careful. Try ‘n stay on.”
Confusion muddling her mind, the magus snapped back into reality. Whether they’d been hallucinations or dreams, Jaina wasn’t certain.

“W...o?” she muttered beneath her breath, trying to understand the confusing sight of blinking lights, gauges and monitors before her eyes, and the weird spear-shaped tip of whatever she was sat upon. The howling sound of the engine didn’t exactly calm her fever-addled, pain hazed mind either as the panic induced adrenaline made her yank her legs. Wincing in pain, the magus realized that for one, her muscles were still in a rebellion against her body. When combined to fact that her feet were tied down, not in a painful manner, but securely enough that she couldn’t fight her way out of it, the feeling of dread crept upon the magus.

Had she been kidnapped, captured?
By whom?!
This was not a good day for the sorceress, not in her own mind, at least.