Date: Wed, 8 Jul 1998 13:06:58 -0400
Subject: [ffml] [MW]  In Cold's Clutches

From: druidkaitlin@juno.com (The Druidess Kaitlin)

Kaitlin shivered.
She had tried to ignore the cold, and had even used her magic to counter it for a while.  
But the KinSlayer, while dead and long gone, was more powerful then she imagined . . . it's 
cold, icy magic touch had left her battling her body for control of the numbness that was 
engulfing her ever-more-frequently now.  She convulsed in pain.
She should get help.  She knew she should.  And yet even while she thought of attempting 
to stand up and seek out one of the healers in camp, she was chiding herself for not 
brushing up on her own white magic skills every so often.  It was very difficult for her, 
anymore, to use the white magic.  Druids hadn't always been so adept at it, but she was a 
gifted one, and now that had been drained in order to heighten her other skills.  If only 
she had been more prudent with her decisions, she wouldn't be in this mess.
Kaitlin waited for the cold to go away so she could walk with dignity.  It crept up her 
spine now, and didn't fade.  She brought up a hand against her brow and was surprised to 
feel how icy cold it was.  If she looked in a mirror, she was sure there would be little 
color left in her skin.
The KinSlayer was killing her, even after its death.
And she didn't want to die.
She stood up with difficulty, and straightened, setting the
expression on her face to one that wouldn't tell what she felt.  Yet another thing the 
Druids had been trained to do, so no one would worry.  After all, Druids were just 
mortals . . . extremely long-lived mortals, but mortals nonetheless.  They could feel 
pain, and they could be injured--they could even be killed.
Kaitlin walked up to the nearest soldier she saw, looked him
straight in the eye, opened her mouth to say something, and
collapsed--out cold.


Date: Sat, 11 Jul 1998 02:49:35 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: [ffml] Re: [MW]  In Cold's Clutches

From: Sky H Ainsworth <uainss00@umail.ucsb.edu>

(Note: I am still a little behind and will post more stuff
tomorrow. But this takes place before the attack on Nikeah, heck, even before the recon of 
the town. And after the duel between LP and Bacca.)

The guard arrived and his message carried urgency.
Bacca stood up and pulled on his clothes, unsure of what exactly had happened. Lady Paladin 
did the same.
Rushing through the camp, they entered Kaitlin's tent. A few
healers were in the tent, examining the druidess.
"What happened?" asked the High Lord of All That Kicks Ass.
"She came out of her tent, went to a soldier, and fainted," said an officer. "She was 
brought back here and the healers summoned. We are not sure of what is afflicting her, but 
she is deathly cold. Also, the healers say her mind is waning."
Bacca turned to Lady Paladin. "Can you help her?"
The healer nodded, not taking her eyes off of Kaitlin. Stooping down, she waved off the 
clerics and did her own examination of the druidess.
"There is something wrong in her mind," said Lady, concern in voice. "Almost like a 
disease of the soul. I am not sure of what it is. This will take some time to figure out, 
and I will need all my concentration, so please, if you could all leave the tent."
Bacca nodded and waved everyone out, except for the two healers. Giving Lady's shoulder a 
reassuring squeeze, he left.
Walking back to his tent, Bacca contemplated what was going on.
"Siran and Lorinan are gone, Kaitlin has taken ill. Wars are being waged all over. This is 
not going to be easy," he muttered the last with a spit.
Bacca entered his tent. He laid down and tried to sleep, but
images of a deathly white Kaitlin haunted his mind's eye.