
[[For Those in the Weyrling Barracks]]
Some of the weyrlings had been too tired to stay long at the festival. Some had curled up with their dragonets in their new quarters either right after settling their dragons to sleep or after mingling for a while with the riders, weyrfolk and guests. The older weyrlings were out while their young dragons either slept in the barracks or on the Rim.
It wasn't until the sun started to go down that some of the weyrlings noticed a change in the barracks. It was cold. Freezing cold, and seemed to be coming from older weyrlings' quarters. Few dared peek at the resident and those that did backed away in fear. Their was one in that room who kept moaning, muffled screams could be heard, and the night rust dragon on the couch twitched as if being shocked. He would growl, whimper, then growl again. Something was wrong.
"We really should tell the WeyrlingMaster," one of the new blue riders said to his friend, the healer who had Impressed a green today. "Something is very..."
Then Tabyen Ashshadow's seal compeltely shattered and he cried out, rising from the bed as his soul began to break apart. He reached inwardly for the only thing he could cling to, hoping it was enough to keep him sane. Zontath reared back in alarm and black magic flooded the Barracks. Fighting these new insticts that were forced upon him, Tabyen rose, his black trench coat (his siguniture mark since coming to Falas Weyr) was the first thing he grabbed; and the sword. It fought him, sending his tattered spirit into a blood burning frenzy. But he won against that spirit and clung to it.
As he moved through the Barracks a few weyrlings tried to run - few that he saw lived much longer. A few dragonets leapt to protect their riders, only to die, leaving their riders screaming in agony, almost wishing this black figure (that few really knew) would just kill them. Zontath followed his rider, twitching and burning in the misery his rider was going through. Tabyen was loosing his mind. By now he did not care if these beings were friend or foe. They were food, their souls ripped from their bodies to feed his magic. Several dragonets panicked, racing for the doors - their young souls were ripped from their bodies and Zontath reared back, his scream being heard throughout the Weyr.
As the two made their way to the exit, little fire-lizards sprang up, sent by their Impressors to investigate the death of the werylings. Flicks of his hand ended their lives as well. Then they were outside. Leaping onto his young dragon's back, Tabyen Ashshadow rose into the air as the power of an Undead Lord spilled over and took hold. He wanted death. He wanted suffering. His life here the past Turn was forgotten in a black fog of pain and anger...
[[For those at the Gather]]
And as Falas Weyr celebrated, the clouds began to roll above the Weyr, blocking out the sun. At first their was nothing unusual about an evening storm. It wasn't until the lightning flickered in the sky and the temperature began to drop rapidly that a few confused gather-goers looked up. Before they could question their companions, a shriek rent the air from the direction of the Weyrling Barracks. Dragons bugled in alarm, sending S'mar racing toward to the Barracks, his face white as Troth relayed a message to his rider. Some of the new weyrlings cried out, some collapsing in their grief and pain. Dragons began to keen, confirming the fears of those close by – something had just killed the weyrlings. Panic raced through the crowd faster then Thread burrows in the jungle. None of the riders could get a clear message from their dragons and those that sent their fire-lizards to check were ether denied out right or lost a friend moments later. Eunos Kebahe and his strongest wolves were preparing to go to the Barracks themselves when a dark shape rose from the cliffs and into the cold air. All the music stopped as snow began to fall in thick sheets, melting on the warmer ground.
Fear fell into the hearts of all those watching for the aura spreading over the Weyr Bowl was terrible and powerful. ((Roll d20 for how much it affects your character – 20 is the only save 'cause he's elite boss level

A flash of dark magic came from the long, elvish curved blade as the dragon descended over the weyrfolk. The wave of power was directed at one man but others fell with him. Only a last minute shield from Ayren FireLight prevented the death of Weyrleaders and K'man. But the young wolf's demonic power was not enough. Mixuith, Ainnth, and Nysheth cried out, writhing in the same indescribable pain as their riders. For the three leaders everything was agony as if something was being ripped from their hearts and minds. Flashes of blue-red light danced around them, then Ayren fell as well, writhing in misery and anguish. Dragons either screamed in pain before betweening forever or keened at the death of one of their own. In the madness no one could discern who had died. Above, the dark figure skimmed over the crowd, flashes of light lacing from his weapon with the intent to kill.
For some of the riders and weyrfolk, this was a nightmare relived from the Tenth Pass – only far worse as what kind of weapons did they have against magic? People ran for the Lower Caverns, only to skid to a halt as a black tear in the air widened and grew until it spanned the entire entrance to the Caverns. From it stumbled the pale, decaying forms of men and animals with vacant eyes, gaping maws filled with teeth, and claws able to tear flesh from bones. But they were half-crazed and stumbled into the gather-goers mindlessly. Only a few seemed to be able to have coherent thought. They were starving not only for flesh but for the souls of the living – something that they had lost years past. Blood was their first calling.
It wasn't just these land-bound zombies that flooded the Weyr Bowl, but creatures of the sky, too. Into the air a black cloud of screeching birds rose, attacking dragons and fire-lizards with beaks of teeth and thick claws. Of all sizes they swarmed, some looked nothing like birds, but grotesque dragons with rotting flesh and wings. Dragons were unable to come to the aid of their riders, so many were the winged fell beasts. It was a fight of survival that, given the circumstances, no one was prepared to win. A few managed to send for help but even those arriving had to fight to get to the ground. ((Choose one either the Lower Caverns or Gather Grounds to fight in. GG will have much more to fight then the LC right now but these guys will spread like wild fire throughout the cavern system. Here is the map of the LC area: http://www.falas-weyr.wolf-mage.com/images/map_lc.gif ))
[[You're fights start here but I'll add the background stuff as we go along as some of it will affect you're characters.
