Back in Emlocke...
Darren figuring that Mel probably has a good reason for running like that, ducks right into a nearby wall. Moments later, he sees a man with a giant bladed arm, a dark blue armored robe and an axe in his hand run his way! He is accompanied by a rather well-groomed rottweiler!
The two seem totally oblivious to his presence. Ah, optimum ambushing conditions! Now, what to chuck? Ooh, there's a large wooden column over there! That could work!
[Telekinesis roll: 2]
Sadly, Darren can't seem to pull it out, as it seems to be wedged in tight. The man and his dog run like the wind, speeding right past Darren as he futilely tries to execute his master plan, disappearing around the corner. Moments later, there is the sound of a man hitting the ground, metal cleaving flesh, a scream that is undoubtedly Mel's, then a loud boom, then nothing.
Well, crap.
On the second floor of the Yaleson house...
Morton, radiating an aura of pride in his handiwork, slowly ascends the stairs, thinking to cheer up his fine masters with this... art. He's not sure you can call it tea anymore, really. It may have transcended its liquid roots and become something greater entirely.
Unfortunately, his mental balance is quickly disrupted by a bout of hysterical yelling from upstairs that is undeniably Master Scott. Oh dear, what's going on up there? Morton sets down the platter with the tea and goes up the stairs, throwing open the door to the master bedroom.
Oh my. Master Scott looks to be... what is it he's doing, anyway? Is he trying to chew out a piece of Master Gary?
"I-I heard yelling, is everything a-alright?" he asks, though the scene isn't one that inspires confidence in decency, humanity, or anything of that sort. Scott looks at him, a panicked look in his eyes and a dark brown paste covering his teeth. Did he drink the infusion? What's going on?
"Oh, would you look at that! Is that the man of the house?" Morton hears from behind him.
"Gotta say, that's the second worst I've ever seen a man look."
"It'd probably help his odds if a zombie wasn't currently trying to chew out his kidneys."
"Man, look at him. His left kidney is gone. Damn!"
"The future does not look too bright for him, no."
"Hey, we work miracles for a living! I bet we could help him with his problems or something. Right, Erin?"
"Oh, totally. Could fix him right up. No sweat."
Out in the woods...
Mark sets his cup of tea down and heads over to pick the battleaxe-sized mushroom. As soon as he touches it, though, the mushroom convulses, releasing a cloud of something all over the hapless skeleton. Damn, man, can't you trust anything in the woods?
He grabs the mushroom and pulls it out of the ground. It seems to have shrunk quite a bit. Man, that cloud maneuver must have taken a lot out of it. It proceeds to quickly begin to envelop his fingers, bits in it parting, then clamping over Mark's hand. That's some mushroom.