He's been infected

It's clear that he's about to lose his footing entirely, so you set down your lantern as quickly as possible and leap forward to catch him before he falls. You wrap your arms around him just as he collapses under his own weight. His skin is feverish, sweaty. "Russ! What's wrong?" You do not try to hide the urgency in your voice.

When he turns his head to look you in the eyes, they appear bloodshot. "I... I'm losing," He brings his hand to his mouth as a violent fit of coughing interrupts him. You can hear something wet filling his hand. You fear it's blood, but you're unable to identify it in the dim light.

Your mind races. What could have possibly gone wrong? Did you incorrectly evaluate his wound? Could the abomination have afflicted him with some sort of poison? Of course, that had to be it, how stupid of you. "Russ, I need to lay you down." Stay calm. Take control of the situation. Rely on your training. You know basic first aid, and you'll beseech the Burning Rose for the power to cleanse this wound. She has to answer you... she must!

Your companion's skin has grown almost hot to the touch in the last several moments, and is almost sticky now from his increasingly viscous perspiration. But despite his declining condition, Russ seems to grow more resolute on his feet. He groans in pain and actually shoves you away from him. Though a trained warrior you may be, you've still got the mass of a much smaller girl, even compared to the lithe swordsman, so you stumble away from him half a dozen steps.

"He's delirious," You think out loud, and approach him again, oblivious to the way his flesh is beginning to bulge outwards in places, as if something were writhing beneath the surface of his skin. If you weren't overwhelmed by your anxiety for this man's safety, you might recognize the sense of your goddess crying out to you, warning you of the danger. Instead, the panic you feel for your comrade, for this male who has befriended you, protected you... even made you fall... you swallow the swell of emotions - they won't do you any good now. You have to focus on your objective, saving Russ' life.

This determination, to stare into the face of hopelessness and challenge it to flinch first, is truly what sets you apart from others. Even if you don't realize it in yourself, it was the quality that drew Russ to you - not your pretty face or crimson locks or tight body - it was the way you sparkled in a world filled with darkness. That was the reason he swore to himself to protect you. Irony of ironies, he realized it would be the reason he takes your life. In his last sane thought, Russ draws his dagger and presses the blade against his guts. 'I love you' are the words he wishes he could say, but how empty would they be now?

"Sabine, run..." He knows you might not understand the full emotional depth of the command, but as the last of his mind slips away, it's all he can manage. A distressingly terse end for the eloquent rogue.

You try to close the distance to him before he can plunge the blade into his belly, but he rips it across his midsection after only another step. Your eyes grow wide and you scream for half a second before you realize those aren't guts spilling out of his stomach...

All rational thought abandons you as disgusting, slime-coated appendages extend toward your body from the gaping wound of the man you loved.