Fantasy Red Fever

[Crumbli]

The year is 714 R.C (Revised Charts). The world of Maerl has experienced a long calm with the major nations across its lands focusing more on calming themselves than expanding their borders. Despite the vast size of the major nations, many lands remain unexplored and most who dwell within them unenlightened to the methods of refinery and magics. Some would argue their ways of life are traditional and in touch with the land, others that they’re savages. For most they remain ignored and little more than myth with the trials of daily life holding their attention. And for good reason.

As of 4 short months ago the Brolla Imperium came into contact with what is commonly known as red fever. The disease’s origin is still unknown with each community blaming its diseased neighbours for it. The Imperial body did little to stop the spread of the disease holding each county, duchy, and barony responsible for their own quelling of the plague.

As of now the disease has spread to the farthest coast of the Brolla Imperium with its corrupting touch seeping into the empire’s neighbours. The county of Pendine, a decently sized land with a renowned port, has felt the hands of the red fever clasp firmly around its throat with few feeling brave enough to leave their homes. Out of sheer desperation the count of the region has made an official decree to enlist the aid of anyone brave enough to search far and wide for a cure to the disease. The rewards are plenty for succeeding but the interest garnered isn’t small. Many far and wide have come for all motives. Be it for fame, fortune, or fear.

In the county of Pendine above the city of Newport the clouds loom ominously overhead, heavy with rain and dark in colour as a consequence. The sun's yet to rise or if it has its rays are too weak to penetrate the grey blanket above. Chilling winds wash over the city from the sea beyond with the smell of salt doing little to help mask the scent of burning flesh and rotting meat. Too many have passed from the red fever and with the sisters of the local abbey growing ill themselves, proper cremations are a luxury the survivors can't afford. Piling the dead on wagons and setting fire to them has become common place with many wondering if there'll be any wagons or people left once the fever dies down.

Despite the doom and gloom of the fever and its impending demise of the surviving few, people still hold out hope. Inside one of the remaining inns of Newport gather adventurers, aspiring heroes, grieving souls, and frightened townsfolk. The natives of region being observed exploiting the low price of alcohol to drink away their suffering. The inn's wooden floors and closed windows retain the heat well, with the upper floors of the inn being rented by trapped passers through and the refugees of neighbouring holds unwilling to part with their rooms.

For those just arriving, the majority of people within gather around two of the long tables seated farthest from the door and closest to the wall of casks. The taps of the mostly filled barrels stop only for a few seconds to allow the next mug to get into the right position before flowing again. Beyond the sounds of quiet murmurs, trickling drips of ale, and tapping of mugs on the wooden tables there's little to speak of. That is until the next bard begins playing a song. Many of the songs so far have been about loss and pain, topics very familiar to most present, though a change in mood seems imminent.

 

[Petroshka]

After a few days on a merchant ship both being a passenger and working as a guard against could be pirates, luckily or perhaps unluckily the trip was peaceful without fault, gathering her things loksha said her goodbyes to the merchant captain and got her payment for her job. Walking out of the ship she looked at the port city, it was very apparent that something was wrong with most of the merchants rushing to get their goods sold and leaving as soon as possible. Loksha herself felt a sense of unease from the situation and waited for her companion, Lezhin who was supposed to be her guide at least until the ship leaves. She had with her a large round shield on her back, a bag of personal belongings over her shoulder next to a halberd and a traditional spiked mace/sword hanging from her hip not unlike how one would carry a sword.

"Ah, Loksha there you are!" Lezhin 'waddled' out of the ship, he was quite short even for a dwarf but from Loksha could tell he wasnt a child, "i was looking all over the ship for you! now come on i dont wanna stay in this city for too long les' i catch the fever" he gestured for her to follow and showed his disgust at the idea of staying there for more than a few days.

"What is this fever you speak of?" Loksha asked him, she knew that there was a plague going about in this country but she didn't know much of the details however she could get an idea looking around at the natives. "oh, the red fever is nothing to play around with, even someone like you might catch it!" She shorted at this suggestion but kept it in mind. "It kills with in the week!" As soon as he said that they passed by an alleyway where she could see some folk throwing bodies into a fire. But now tghe dwarf had slowed down to get closer to Loksha, and lowered his voice so no one else could hear it "and.. there are rumors about the dead still spreading the plague." She paid that last part little attention only looking up to the dark sky spotting a few smoke trails that melded into it.

On their journey throughout the city was quite a gloomy one, she watched rather apathetically as wagons of corpses passed by and paid no attention to glares that the natives gave her. No doubt they had never seen anything like her or anyone from her species let alone a warrior caste. Judging from their looks though was a pleasant surprise for Loksha, they seemed curious and in awe rather than disgusted or afraid. Lezhin himself seemed to pick up on her surprise somehow and spoke up. "The people of the Brolla Imperium are more accepting than most, a shame the Red Fever decided to decend on them really." Loksha only gave the dwarf a grunt of agreement. "It seems this plague is unnatural" The people could not have upset the gods have they? "Hah!"

Once they reached their destination which Lezhin opened the door to, a rush of alcohol filled Loksha's nose as both walked in. Shady figures and sad folk were all around the inn it seemed her appearance silenced the room from what she could only assume was foreign gossip. Lezhin though was the only voice that was loud enough speaking in a foreign tongue and acting friendly with the barkeep/owner. He explained to him that 'the big lizard' was looking for work and needed a guide 'cause he wasn't gonna sit around with the red fever scare being rampant and all. Loksha herself understood none of it and simply stood next to the dwarf.

Crumbli

 

[Probably George]

"Ceriv" [Thank you] Jüldraich said to a loyal merchant who regularly buys his collection of rare mushrooms. Most people would get away with paying the dragon 1/5th the price. But since Jüldraich had became a great source of income and a friendly face, the merchant started paying more for the mushrooms. So that only he would buy them from the dragon, but under the pretense of "Better sales." And "supply and demand." Jüldraich didn't understand what the small man meant by any of that, but he was more than happy to sell to a friend.

With the extra money he had, Jüldraich decided to go to a tavern for a drink and something to eat. Specifically cheese. Edible gold. While sitting and enjoying his meal, he saw a very strange couple of vagabonds. The big one caught his attention. Dragon born? No, "Hallasemu" [Lizard man]. He said to himself. What was one doing here? Then again, you could ask the same of him. Either way, he was determined to find out why they were here. Jüldraich got up to get a closer look. Yup, definitely a Lizard man. It would be very unlikely it was another Dragon Born based on their size.

Cautiously, Jüldraich approached them. He over heard the short one. "A guide? Jüldraich is happy to assist another hard skin." He turned to the much larger one. The clothing she adorned was very exotic, so it was obvious she wasn't from anywhere around here. "Gelt miton ulamete at moh?" [Are you on a mission?]

​

 

[KindlyPlagueDoctor]

Arcemides had been informed of the fevers presence in the city of Newport. He wasted no time in assembling a team of other doctors and surgeons, in hopes that they would be able to help the city. Their journey felt long, the atmosphere that encompassed the fever started to set in. The clouds and lack of sunlight allotted them little in the way of enthusiasm. Yet they remained hopeful, after all, they had to believe they could assess the fever, and thus help those suffering from it.

The congregation of beaked doctors left their caravan of wagons and supplies, looking for a decent place to set up shop. Archimedes noticed that he and his fellows where already getting looks from the people around him. Not looks of fear, but almost ones of disbelief. Perhaps they didn't expect the doctors to be here so soon? or where they perhaps too late? The latter thought scarred Archimedes.

He turned to the group of doctors "Stay here, get yourself situated and aid any who come to you" He knew all these men, trusted them like they where his sons or brothers "I will head to the nearby tavern, ensure our presence is known to the people" he said, looking over the group of men he had once viewed as students. He nodded his head before swiftly departing the group, making his way towards the tavern. He continued to get looks from people, many even walking up to him. Many of which he directed to his colleagues.

He entered the tavern, his eyes momentarily caught on the reptilians. They where indeed fascinating, and something he would have to examine, to better understand how he could prevent or cure the fever in them. He made his way towards the barman “Greetings my friend. I would ask you inform anyone who asks that me and my colleagues have set up shop here” he said, nodding his beaked head.

Crumbli

 

[Shireling]

Aldous Underhill
​

"I'll wager you a bet, chaps," Aldous said through a mouthful of tart green apple. "I can shoot the locket off of Miss Aubrey's neck and leave narry a scratch on her.

A small crowd of halflings and dwarves who had crowded around the forester as he leaned against his bow laughed and shook their heads good-humouredly. "We believe you, Aldous, no need to go around frightening elvesses to death with yer shooting," spoke up one.

"Perhaps you're right," at this he leaned against the table to drink deeply from a beer stein made of tin. All of the diminutive folk, him included, turned at the arrival of the doctor in his cloak and mask. A shiver ran through the party, and they remembered the dread fever. One dwarf looked at his feet solemnly as he held his hat against his chest.

"I should go home and help Martha with the kids," he said. Some of the others offered similar sentiments. The small crowd dispersed leaving Aldous by himself. He approached the doctor tentatively. He was dressed in a richly-appointed forest-green jacket with gold embroidery and small epaulets, a black tricorn, a white cravat, and black cuffed boots that looked tailor-made to his small feet and legs. The halfling carried a quiver of arrows by a strap across his chest and a yew bow almost his height which he carried like a staff. An dagger, of manish smithing rather than elven craft, hung from the belt girded about his overcoat like a sword would hang on a soldier of average height.

"Pardon me, I'm a representative of the Count Vayner," he said in brief introduction, "I want to... Welcome you to our city in this, most dreadful of times."

KindlyPlagueDoctor (Archimedes)

 

[KindlyPlagueDoctor]

Archimedes looked down at the halfling, almost admiring his outfit. Indeed it was interesting. Archimedes was always a fan of tricorn , although he most often had to wear his wide brimmed hat, as his uniform required. The Doctor of course stood in his long, waxed coat to prevent any sort of infectious substance from getting into him. He bowed his head at Aldous "Ah, it is an honor to meet a representative of the count, i should hope he's in good health" he said, his voice calm and gentle.

"I am Doctor Archimedes Veneter. May i ask of your name, my friend?" he asked in a polite tone. He knew that being friendly and more approachable would help the appearance of the doctors, but he also did it more out of a common courtesy, and respect for those around him. He planned to ask the halfling to inform the count of the doctors presence and services, but he didnt want to go making demands from the count as soon as he arrived.

He kept his eyes on Aldous, the wide brim of his hat casting a shadow over his eye lenses, giving him an unintentionally eerie, and appearance of large, unblinking black eyes. Each time Archimedes took a breath he smelt nothing but the dried flowers, vinegar and mint he had stuffed into the beak of his mask. The mint, being one of his favorite herbs, primarily used to mask the stench of the vinegar.

Shireling (Aldous)

 

[Wandering Grim Hollow]

Imelda Kerrigan​

"Hey Miss, remember what I'm paying you for!" Imelda jolted awake from her nap with a minor hangover as the innkeeper dumped the small sack of coin onto her table in the corner of the inn. Groaning as she rubbed her temples, she fumbled around her belt for her flute. Reaching for the half drained and warm tankard of ale, she downed in and gagged slightly at its staleness. Still, a drink is a drink, she thought to herself shoving it towards the small pile of empty tankards on her table before taking a look around the inn. So far nothing much has changed exc- Are those giant lizards?

".... Not something you see everyday..." Imelda shrugged off the sight before raising the flute to her lips. A few test blows and adjustments later, she started playing a soft, gentle song. Its soft, melancholic tunes played over the mummers of the inn's crowd and carried Imelda's mind back to when she first arrived in Brolla. If she thought her own tribe's sick colony was a sad sight, what greeted her was worse. Carts full of dead, the sick stench of death and decay, the downtrodden expression on everyone's face, and worse... spotting a cart that contained bodies of children. That one sight alone was enough to steel her will to continue. To imagine that happening to her tribe back home would be a nightmare. Unable to focus now, she abruptly stopped her song.

"...... I need a drink...."

 

[Crumbli]

Marian Vesta DeChaut.
Petroshka KindlyPlagueDoctor Probably George Wandering Grim Hollow Shireling

The darkness of the day and the chilling breeze of the water were two things that put Marian at odds with the world. In her abbey the winds carried a chill but one much more mild in nature and lacking in the overpowering scent of salt. Though, the more she tread the cobbled path that lead into the city's small exterior wall, the more she realised how much of a blessing that smell was. The crematorium located nearby had been closed with corpse wagons lined along beside it. Most of them recent as far as she could tell. A thought crept into her mind, one that sent chills down her spine. All the corpses she'd sent down from the abbey's care to the town, were these those? Had there been so many that even the crematorium itself couldn't manage it? Her heart sank. "Seems none of us were made for this," she murmured with her gaze fixed on the small building.
She tried to pull away from the image but can't. It scared her. She saw all her failures piled up right in front of her. Failures that could have been successes if only she knew how. She closes her eyes and pulls her head away from the scene, opening them once again to stare at the cobbles before her feet. Mud filled the cracks between the stones and despite the traffic in the city the stones seemed somewhat jagged. They weren't smoothed out yet. By ignoring the world around her she could avoid her fears, the scary things outside the abbey that seemed to only be growing.

Looking was inevitable but she put it off for as long as she could. When she did eventually break she was greeted with gloomy expressions of working men and an air of pain. Those that had to handle the dead were the makers of it. She could see it on their faces. Some teary eyed as they threw corpses into mass fires in vacant spaces beside marked houses, and others stoic in nature with only grunts escaping their lips. Even when they lifted the bodies of what she could only pray were halflings. The city had been sold to her as a place of bustling merchants and joyous chatter but it was clear that time had already passed. Things could be worse. At least that's what she told herself. While she still had legs and a will to stop this, she would find a way. That way would have to begin with finding the largest body of activity within Newport.
She looked around and found nothing that resembled a tavern or an inn. Just houses and small store fronts. One of which appeared to be a barber. He looked down at her from his elevated store window with a frown behind his large moustache. It seemed to her that he'd already lost faith in what her armour represented. She looked away from him to walkers by and settled upon what appeared to be a rather stout group of people leaving the city as a group.

With little time to think, she called out to them as they walked up the road past her. "Uhh ex-excuse me! Sirs! Can I borrow your time?" The group of dwarves and halflings came to a slow with one of them calling back to her, "Aye. Yer using it, lass. What's it?"
"I'm looking for an inn or a tavern. Can you give me directions?" Two of the group shrug her off and start walking again. One of them calling out as he does, "Find it yerself, elv. I've gotta head on home to me wife." The member she'd originally addressed remains behind with a roll of his eyes. "It's right 'round the corner. No signs but it's pretty obvious if yer look in the windows. The 'Bowing Oak Inn'."
"Uh thank you. Thank you. Uthar bless you."
"Maerl bless yer too, lass."
With the directions she'd just been given she made her way around the corner and peered into the room of the inn's lower floor. Inside were a fair share of people. This had to be it. She took a deep breath to brace herself for what would come and made her way over to the doors. Placing her hands on their thick wooden bodies, she gave a forceful push and flung them open. The entrance gained attention but not nearly as much as the two lizards speaking to one another in front of the bar did. She places her hand on the hilt of the mace that rested at her side and walked inside. Her shield firmly to her back. Her armour, silver and gold in places, stole the candle light of the inn and sparkled.

She ventured well and truly inside of the inn to one of the empty tables before climbing on top of it. She cleared her throat and let out a loud call to inspire the tavern. "Attention everyone! Yes. Hello~" Or not. Not seemed the more likely option now she thought about it. "I've heard that Count Vayner is offering rewards for those brave enough to explore the far reaches of Brolla to find it and I wanted to form a band of adventurers and heroes who wanted to search for the cure just like me. S-so uhhh. Who's in?" She paused a second looking around the inn. Most of the patrons gave her their attention for a second or two at most before returning to their own discussions. Her heart felt heavy again. Her hopes being crushed far too quickly for an aspiring hero. She hung her head low and began to climb down from the table, her hand still clutching onto the handle of her mace. If anyone wanted to speak with her she'd be there at the table.

 

[Petroshka]

"i dont know of any work for it unless it wants to cart corpses all day"
"oh come on look at her maybe you can vouch for her when work comes up?"
The bartender only stared at the little dwarf sitting on his chair and not buying anything.
"are you buying anything?"
At this point the short tempered dwarf was getting quite annoyed probably more so than the bar tender. "Look, the big o'l lizard said there was something about some Count out any about around here"

As Lezhin was arguing with the Barkeep Lokshka on the other hand was busy glaring at some male lizard, judging from his darker skin, horns and... hair strangely enough. That he was not part of her kind, that assumption was only further proven when it tried to speak something to her in a different language than what Lezhin had spoke to the barkeep. She Growled at him in annoyance and watched him speak the language of this land to Lezhin. He looked behind only for his eyes to fall on another lizardman who seemingly appeared out of no where (he wasnt paying attention) "What?" He stared at him for a few seconds processing what the other lizard said. "yeah she needs a guide, whos' askin'?" He took a glance at Loksha who doesnt seem to be enjoying any of whats happening and an angry lizard fighter is not a good one. "Shes looking for work and not some of that odd work you find lifting stuff."

The Barkeep was about to say something to Lezhin but before he could do that he was interupted by someone had gotten ontop of a table before the two of them noticed, she was shouting something about a Count Vayner, immediately he told the troublesome Dwarf off. Lezhin being the quick little thing jumped off his seat and quickly walked over to the little elf before him gesturing Loksha to follow, which she complied ignoring the strange lizard speaking more nonsense. As Lezhin got to the table he put an arm down on it "Oi there, my big ol' friend here is looking for work and she caught wind of a Count looking for brave souls and this thing is the biggest sellsword you'll find! You are in acquaintance with this Count yes?" Loksha herself only stared at the elf who had introduced herself rather unceremoniously to the whole of the inn.

Crumbli Probably George

 

[Probably George]

Jüldraich didn't think much of the bigger lizard's snarl. Probably didn't understand him. As lizardmen are much more abundant in cultural and enthical diversity. He caught word of her short companion. "Work? Hmm... Jüldraich does-" he was going to talk about getting help clearing caverns, but was interrupted by an announcement from a rather loud elf.

After her little speech, he walked over to her, still slumped and with hands dangling past his oddly angled arms. "Jüldraich may be interested in young elf lady's proposal, if Jüldraich is to be welcomed. Very in touch with mother nature. You never get lost or endangered with Jüldraich around." His poor speech was almost childlike. It has its charm though.

 

[Shireling]

Aldous Underhill
​

"The name is Aldous Underhill, good sir. I'm one of the count's rangers," he explained, leaning against his bow. He nodded as the doctor told him that he needed to inform the Count of the arrival of his band of doctors.

"Yes, I was planning on going up to the castle after this, I can--" he was interrupted by an elf woman dressed in armor who attempted to get the tavern's attention. After a short and sloppy speech, she moved to dismount the table. She struck Aldous as an heiress or perhaps the daughter of a sellsword playing costume theater as an adventuress. He had never heard of people making grand speeches on tables except in those childish tabletop games that some of the men from the wizard's college up north played. He turned back to Archimedes.

"If you'll excuse me, fine sir, I will inform the Count of your arrival today, and may Uthar keep your path." He said to Archimedes as he was naturally drawn to the table with the elf, now crowded with two lizardfolk (one with a dwarven guide) that he had never seen before, the Halfling unable to distinguish between lizardmen and dragonkin. He approached as both began offering their service, a little surprised. Does cold blood make people volunteer for foolhardy errands?

"Hail elf," Aldous began, "Count Vayner has indeed offered a reward for the cure..." He let a pregnant pause pass, "But you're no adventuress. What business have you leading such an expedition?"

KindlyPlagueDoctor Crumbli Petroshka Probably George

 

[Kokurai Gaisgeach]

Gérard mac Archibald

Seated on the bartender stool lies a handsome knight clad in a dark teal outfit, his hand holding a tankard filled with the Tavern's sweet and tasty ale. His red spear leaning beside him wrapped in a layer of linen cloth as instructed by his former master years ago in order to avoid 'complications'. His ears picked up a soft, gentle song amongst the chitter chatter of the people in the tavern that he decided to rest in, the song reminded him of his home, ravaged by the dreaded plague and lawlessness, but before his mind wandered to a daydream, the song abruptly stopped as the flutist seems grim and thirsty for more Ale.

"By Uthar... This town is depressing... most of the jobs here pay little as well..." Gérard muttered to himself before placing the empty tankard on the bar to be cleaned up by the Bartender later.

Gérard planned to leave and find other places to get some work after seeing the town is filled with misery and sadness, thinking that this isn't the place that the light directed. Putting a small sack of coin on the bar spending some of the coin that he had earned from a duel from earlier, he picked up his spear to leave before a beautiful young Elven girl caught his attention. The young elven girl told about the Count issuing a reward to whoever who could find the cure for the plague, this intrigued him. more than the two lizardmen posing by the table near the elf.

"Its starting to come down..." He said to himself, walking towards the commotion brought on by the young elven girl.

 

[KindlyPlagueDoctor]

Archimedes nodded, at the halfling he now knew to be called Aldous, watching as he lent on his bow, that could have doubled as a staff. His attention, along with Aldous' was shifted to the elf. Who was now standing on a table and trying to get the tavern attention. He recognized something about her. It took him a short while, but he came to recognize her tattoos that decorated her face. He knew that was meant to show she was raised by the abbey.

He pondered on her speech, a cure? He was already in search of that, such an adventure, supported by even more socially important folk and a group of people was something invaluable. He nodded at what the halfling said, trailing behind him to the table with the Elf. He approached, once again noting the lizard folk. He would be lying if he said they didn't intimidate him. "Greetings, sister of the Abby" he said in a polite manner as he gave her a bow "I am Doctor Archimedes Veneter, i too am in search of a cure for this plague" he said explained, hoping that the others around him where as keen on this mission as he already was.

Crumbli

 

[Wandering Grim Hollow]

Imelda Kerrigan​

"Can't stay here for too long..." Imelda muttered before draining her fresh tankard of ale and exuding a hearty belch. Sighing, she pushed the drained tankard aside into the steadily growing pile before morosely picking up her flute. She was about to start playing another song when a young looking woman, an elf seems like, walked into the inn and climbed onto one of the many tables to address the people gathered there. Imelda watched on with mild amusement and listened on, initially out of boredom before the elf mentioned that she wanted to form a band to look for a cure to the plague.

"Well now.... This seems interesting." Imelda chuckled as she stood from her seat and stretched. Watching as the lizards, a particularly small person with a snazzy hat, and a doctor went up to the table to offer their services. Figuring that it might be easier, Imelda decided to walk up to the table.

"And count me in too, little Sister." Imelda smiled as she gave a short curt nod. "I offer up my bow and my flute to your little.... band, was it?"

Crumbli Petroshka KindlyPlagueDoctor Shireling Kokurai Gaisgeach Probably George

 

[Rumble Fish]

Nairna MacCinidh
Interacting with: (Open to interaction)
Mentions: Almost everyone ​

Nairna’s dark tail swished lazily behind her as she made her way down the street, a long strand of wheat hanging from between her teeth as she chewed on the end of it. The street felt strange under her pads and she could feel the looks from those she passed. Not that it surprised her. From what she had heard, her kind were not common in the Brolla Imperium. Despite this, she continued walking. The ears on the top of her head flicked around, taking in every sound. It had been a long walk to Newport and she was now craving a place to sit and rest her feet for a while.

“'S ann a gheibhte 'n taigh d'athar-s', Cinn is cnamhan an éisg, Hì rì hoireann ó, hì rì hoireann ó…” she hummed under her breath as she looked around more. There was a heavy sombre dullness within this town and no wonder. The plague was tearing it apart one by one. The Wulver huffed and shook her fur out again in an attempt to shake off the stress from travelling. As she continued, she could not stop herself from thinking about the plague. She had only just learned of its existence and how little was known about it right now. It worried her terribly, the thought of many dying from this terrible disease. She could not stop thinking about Kensuke, whos health had been in decline when she had initially left to drift. Could it be he had it? What about her own kind? Nairna had not seen another Wulver since she lost her parents at fourteen but still, the troubling thought remained.

Her troubled train of thought was broken by the unmistakable sound of her stomach rumbling, forcing Nairna back into reality. She paused in her walking and glanced down with a look of annoyance at it rudely interrupting her thoughts.

“Gu dearbh? A-nis? (Seriously? Now?)” She grumbled, not caring if anyone heard, “Tha fios agad nach eil airgead agam. (You know I don't have money)” as if in protest, her stomach continued to rumble.

“Faic? (See)” She fetched several coins from a pouch from her belt. It was hardly anything, Nairna let out a deep sigh, “Is e stamag dona bochd a th 'annad… (you are the stomach of a poor Wulver)” she huffed as she put the money away and continued wandering. After some time, she came across a certain building that caught her attention. Her nose twitched as she could smell the ale. She pinned her ears on her head with a frown. She wanted ale. Having that in her belly was better than having nothing at all but she could not even have much. Licking her chops, she huffed deeply as she pushed the door open and stepped in slightly.

Walking in, her hawk yellow eyes looked around the room. It was darker in here than outside but she could still see quite well once her eyes had adjusted. Inside, she could see the people within its walls. All of them were different from each other. There was a couple of reptilian looking folk which Nairna had never seen and… a bird man? Well, it looked as though he had the body of a man and the face of a bird. Interesting. Among them were Elven looking souls. The tall Wulver bit her lower lip as she went to the bar, ignoring the barman’s slightly alarmed expression.

After ordering her ale (In what could only be described as a slightly larger shot glass) her ears flicked back and forth. There was one voice that caught her attention. The one talking about the plague. Her ears erected and she turned her head fully to look at the table where there appeared to be a gathering. Was this the one that she had heard about? Nairna wanted to simply walk over there and volunteer but even the thought of a simple interaction such as that sent her hackles up. She had to be smart about this.

Taking her ale, she grunted as she took one of the seats nearby, close to the table. She opened her maw to say what she had planned but she could only get out an “Uh-” before shutting it again. With a frustrated growl under her breath, she drank her tiny amount of ale in one go. Even that tiny amount was enough to make Nairna’s head feel three stone lighter. Once done she took out one of her dirks, intending to polish it.

“Beathach tiugh…(Thick beast)” she mumbled under her breath, “B 'e droch bheachd a bha seo. (This was a bad idea)”

 

[Crumbli]

Marian Vesta DeChaut.
Petroshka KindlyPlagueDoctor Probably George Wandering Grim Hollow Shireling Rumble Fish

The frumpy sister plants herself on the bench beside the table with a pout upon her face. She lets go of her mace and raises her hands to her face. She pulls at her cheeks in an attempt to reinvigorate herself. Her eyes close for a moment only to be pried open by the pulling sensation of her hands on her cheeks. She shakes her head side to side when she hears a voice addressing what she could only assume to be her. She turns her face towards the voice and notices a stout man approach. His face covered in tattoos and his beard incredibly long. Clearly he was a dwarf. He asks of her affiliation with the count to which she replies truthfully.
"I've no association with the count, sir. Not yet at least. Sister Sylvia would know - No. Does know him well. Or at least well enough. She said she'd send word to him of our abbey's support and our me."

Without time to properly process her thoughts she was already being approached by the other lizard. He spoke of a 'Mother nature' of whom she could presume to be Maerl given the foreignness of the man's accent and simplicity of his sentences. She searched as deep as she could within the corners of her mind to put a place to the lizard's accent but finds nothing. His origins seem a mystery to her. "Are you asking to join me? I think that's what you're asking. My answer's yes if so. I'd be delighted to learn more about you as we-," she pauses a moment looking at the halfling who approached from the gap between the lizards and greeted her by race. She stands from her seat and looks down at the short figure, his intentions yet unknown to her. His addressing of her was odd, to be sure, but she couldn't feel any malice behind his choice of words. She loosens her posture and places her race being important down to formalities beyond the abbey. Ones she'd never experienced before.
His pause prompts her to begin, "I kn-," but she falls silent once he speaks a second time. His doubt in her abilities wasn't uncalled for, and she knows it. She barely knows how to handle a weapon and this mace of hers, she trails her fingers over the handle of it, was the weapon she found herself most confident wielding. She wasn't sure how to respond to the question. What did make her more qualified to lead this expedition than anyone else?

She falls victim to her thoughts. Trying to justify her own leadership to herself without words. Her inner conflict carries to her eyes as they wander the room. They fall upon the quiet figure who approaches the group lingering just behind the lizards, and then again on the masked man who stands above all but the lizards. She feels a chill wash over her by his presence. Both a feeling of dread and one of relief. It reminds her of watching the morticians enter the nursery of the abbey. She swallows hard and stares up at the expressionless mask. "Archimedes, I'm sister Marian and I'd be delighted to share your company. I pray us success and nothing less. The people need it." She turns her gaze back to the halfling. The answer now calling out to her. "You asked my business in leading before. I'm no more fit to lead than yourself. All I have is my faith, the armour of my sisters, and an understanding of what's at stake. I know we'll find the cure or at least help someone to find it. Maerl will ensure this. I vow it to you. All of you."

With barely a second's notice after her second attempt to be inspiring to those around her she notices the bard approach her. With a flute in hand and a bow somewhere out of sight, she offers much needed aid that Marian feels would be foolish to pass up. She offers a small smile, one that radiates warmth and positivity, and dips her head slightly with a nod. "Our band of heroes. Like in the songs and stories." Her hopes had returned and in high spirits she looks at the group around her. A bunch of misfits gathering together in a tavern to fight a great curse and lift it from the land. Just like all the songs and fables of ancient heroes in times long past.
The halfling speaks up once again and her smile remains. His doubt in their group was refreshing and with her hope restored came about as a challenge to prove him and everyone else who doubted them wrong. They'd find the cure and set things right. "No sister turns down a chance to help the injured. I won't be the exception to that rule. We'll go and find the count and then we'll go and find the cure." She looks at the group around her and begins walking towards the door. Along the way she stops and notices a hunched figure who'd sat beside the group while she was talking. A figure with fur all over, a thin figure, and barely any clothes. With a quiet gasp the phrase 'Lycan' escapes her lips. She'd never seen one in person but there it sat. She turns her head from it as not to stare in disrespect and continues on out the door. "You know the way to the count's estate, Mr?"

 

[Petroshka]

The Dwarf listened to the elf quietly as she answered both his own and the intruding others questions. When she started another rant about trying to inspire the little group they had, Lezhin turned around to Loksha. "A-la-swal Ick-Toni (These are the people you were looking for)" Loksha nodded to the old dwarf, "Is-qal (farewell)" Lezhin started to walk out of the door "Well, my time here is over! the lizard will follow you, Her name is Loksha, dependable fellow she wont understand you but she'll get the gist of orders and such." Loksha only observed their interactions, she supposed she would just have to follow them, this reminded her of the first time she worked outside the tribe when she realized she couldn't understand the language of the world around her village. Loksha puffed up her chest at the memories, she would have to do it all over again.

 

[Kokurai Gaisgeach]

Gérard approaches the group, he was interested in this mission that the elven girl has spoken highly about. A noble quest to save the Imperium and its people from the malevolent plague, going beside the Flutist Archer, he was about to introduce himself when the mead scented bard archer spoke first, cutting him off. He kept to himself for a few minutes, listening to her introduction until he realised that the elven sister is about to leave.

"Hey. Let me accompany your group, Sister of the Abbey. As much as I want to earn coin, this noble quest of yours intrigued me." His red spear in his hand, Gèrard smiles as he lend a helping hand in this quest to remove the plague.

 

[KindlyPlagueDoctor]

Archimedes offered a bow if his head at the sisters words, he respected her will to gather those to aid the people "I will be sure to make my company as delightful and useful as possible" he assured her, smiling. Although his expression was hidden from those around him. He took a moment to examine those who had also chosen to join, many interesting folks and new faces appeared. This did serve to boost his confidence.

Conveniently one of Archimedes students walked in, searching for his teacher "Ah, Victor. You come baring news?" he asked the other beaked doctor "Yes, many have flocked to our presence. We will certainly be here for a while" he explained, also looking at the folks around Archimedes "Good, just as i had hoped" he said before clearing his throat "I have agreed to join this sister of the abbey in search of a cure, with permission from Count Vayner. Let the others know of my choice, and that my colleges resources our at disposal for this" he said before giving a nod, which was returned by Victor, who looked to the sister and bowed "Blessing upon you, sister" he said before leaving.

Crumbli

 

[Probably George]

Jüldraich caught on that Loksha and him didn't speak any shared languages. Luckily, he's good at speaking with his hands. He grabbed her attention, tapping her shoulder. His 'communication' went as such. He pointed at her, and then himself, clasping his hands together. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small chunk of cheese, puting it in her hand, as was tradition to gift another dragon born. Afterwards, he gave the similar notion, but this time pointing towards everyone, clasping his hands together again. "Yes?"
He was communicating that they are kin, but now, the group will be kin as well. And as such, defend them like kin.

Once more, he circled all of them, slowly saying. "Kin." He then reached out his hand and pointed to himself. "Jüldraich." He then pointed towards Loksha, awaiting her answer.

 

[Shireling]

Aldous Underhill
​

Aldous sighed and nodded towards the group. "If you are all hellbent on this expedition, then you had better to see the Count himself."

That was all the stranger said before beckoning them to walk with him towards Castle Vayner. The way out of town was on a long and dusty road, which the ranger had trodden many times before. The road snaked through affluent marketplaces devoid of people before winding towards the lower quarters of the town, towards the harbor where the smell of fish permeated the air. As they walked, they mounted a high bluff where the road skirted the cusp of the cliffside. Below, the sails and flags of a hundred nations flapped in the light gail, under the auspices of a high stone lighthouse built when Pendine was but a mere trading post on the western coast, the resting place of the sun.

The docks below were crowded with workmen, and even beastmen in heavy leather harnesses as they worked to drag cargo from exotic locales onto dry land. One of the most impressive examples was a team of minotaurs that, by means of ropes and chains, dragged blocks of ice weighing tons off the deck of a decrepit foreign galleon. The smell of salt, fish, and the sound of gulls faded as they walked through a low gate guarded by soldiers of the Port Authority of Pendine in their blue gambeson and menacing halberds. They descended then into the slums.

Along the way, the carnage of the fever was evident. Dead bodies were lined in neat files across the side of the road, the eyes covered with coins and the arms crossed for burial. The sounds of priests muttering the last rites and the agonized wails of the dying came through the open windows of the hovels like ghosts on the wind. A man with a horsedrawn cart clattered up the road, ringing a bell and exclaiming, "Bring out'cher dead!" Overall, the street had an unnatural and oppressive air and the stench of death was unbearable. The crowds of mourners were thinner than the ranks of the flagelants who wore sackclothes and went about beating their breasts to the Divines and tearing their hair in self-immolation for the sins that had brought about their wrath.

The slum silently passed by and, after passing through a wooden gate, they strode out into a well-manicured forest with pastures adjoining every several hundred yards.

"Castle Vayner is through these woods," Aldous breathlessly muttered recovering his breath from the stench of the slum.

 

[Petroshka]

Loksha watched as the dwarf was talking to the woman who obnoxiously yelled something out that caught Lezhin's attention and appearently turned out to be what she was looking for, she wondered if it was common custom to do so in this land or not. 'cant be' she shook her head at the thought. However her inner thoughts were interrupted when she felt something looking at her, facing what was disturbing her senses she met the eyes of the male lizard. he was simply pointing at her then handed her some kind of unusual gem of some sort, it was dirty and disgustingly soft with an unusual scent. She was somewhat enthralled by this new development and observed the gem thoroughly, ignoring what was happening around her. But it stopped when Loksha squeezed, it practically melted in her hands, a little disgusted by it she grunted and wiped it off her hand and continued to look forward.

Their journey across the city was, unpleasant at best. Watching the dead rotting in the streets or being gathered was something no natural being would find not disturbing even if they were different. The unnatural cold chill did not help the situation that had befallen this city either, or perhaps it did, the people wore heavy clothes and that hid their wounds scars and possible bruises and bloatings from the dying to the normal folk. It didnt stop until they were on the outskirts of a forest or perhaps a man made woods area, it seemed the aesthetics were not affected by the plague, yet.

Probably George

 

[Probably George]

Jüldraich wasn't fond of the area they were in. All the scents in the area was burning his hose. He took his scarf to his nose to hopefully muffle some of the smells. Aside from the smells overwhelming him a bit, it was all fascinating. Flags he had never seen ans beings that seemed unreal. He resisted the urge to splurge at the stands.

When they went through the clearing, Jüldraich took a moment to check the area. Being unfamiliar with these woods, he didn't feel safe until he checked for tracks or signs. After uncovering his nose, he started sniffing around. The earlier smells were still there, but might lighter. Eventually, he caught a different scent. "Hold!" He wasn't sure what the smell was, but it was strong. "Small human, what ventures here?"

 

[Rumble Fish]

Nairna MacCinidh
Interacting with: (Open to interaction)
Mentions: Crumbli KindlyPlagueDoctor
​

Nairna kept quiet as the group continued to converse. Her grey ears flicked back and forth as she tried to decipher what they were saying. Their language made no sense and she had the feeling that if she were to speak, they would not understand her either. But she heard the word “cure” from the medicinal looking gentleman and her head erected. She knew that word and what it meant.

“Leigheas… cure… Leigheas…” she mumbled under her breath, trying to figure out if she had the actual right word. After a moment, the Wulver grumbled in frustration. She could not be sure! And if she was unsure how was she supposed to communicate with this group? As she pondered, she just caught sight of the Elven woman looking at her and the pair made eye contact. Nairna blinked a few times, grinding her teeth together as she tried to pick up the courage to attempt to speak.

“...Cure-?” was all she got out before the woman suddenly turned and left, along with the group. Slightly alarmed, Nairna shot to her feet, hitting the back of her head on the wall in the process.

“Gah! Mac a-! (Son of a)” She growled before grabbing her things together and clumsily left the tavern, looking around for the direction in which the group had gone. Once she caught sight of them, Nairna took a moment to think of what to do. She could not just join them and she did not know enough words to attempt communication. Maybe if she tailed them for a little until they were in a less crowded area? Yeah, that sounded like the best plan for now. Nairna started walking in the same direction of the group, making sure that she kept a fair enough distance that she hoped they would not notice her presence. At least not yet.

As she followed them, Nairna took in everything around her. As they grew closer to the harbour, the scent of fish found its way into her snout. The pungent and salty scent drove the Wulver mad, as it had been a couple of days since her last proper meal. As if it agreed with her, her stomach started rumbling, louder than before. As she walked on, she put her hand (paw?) against it in a futile attempt to shut it up.

“Stad e! stad e! Stad e! Stad - bidh iad a 'dol a chluinntinn! (Stop it! stop it! Stop it! Stop - they're going to hear)” She grumbled under her breath, almost digging her claws into her abdomen though the odds of that actually working was practically none to none. All she could do was attempt to ignore it as she walked along.

"Dè bha mi a 'smaoineachadh gur e deagh bheachd a bha seo? (Why did I think this was a good idea) Bidh iad a 'smaoineachadh gur mise biast no amadan ... no an dithis! (They will think I'm a beast or a fool ... or both)" She mumbled under her breath, too quiet to be heard by others. Though her stomach was another matter, which continued its racket with no mercy. "Chan e ... Bidh mi a 'faighneachd dhaibh. (No... I will ask them) Dìreach ruith ma thèid e gu dona ... dè nì e. (Just run if it's bad ... Which it will be)" She had to at least try, if not for herself then for Kensuke who (for all she knew) could have possibly been inflicted!

The group moved past the harbour and towards the outskirts of the city. The further along they moved, the more grim the atmosphere became. The smell of fish faded and the unpleasant stench of corpses overwhelmed the Wulver and made her intensely uncomfortable. She could only hope that she was indeed following the right people. If not… she did not know what to do. People were dying all over and there was nothing that could be done. Their only hope was to find a cure, if there even was one.

As the group came to a stop, Nairna stopped along with them. She breathed in deeply and walked up to them, desperately trying to find the right words to speak to them.

“Um… Looking… cure… for?” she finally managed to get out, only to realise that made no sense, “...Daingead! (Damn it)” she hissed under her breath as she took a step backwards. No, this was not a good idea. What made her think this was going to work was beyond her!

​

 

[Crumbli]

Marian Vesta DeChaut.
Shireling Rumble Fish

Marian leaves the tavern with haste and keeps a careful eye on her newly made skeptic friend. She looks over her shoulder at those that were leaving with her as a newly banded party. She stretches herself upward to try and see past the enormous lizard woman who the dwarf informed her would be accompanying them along their quest. She struggles to make out much of anything behind the woman but from what she could see there was a distinct lack of furred bodies. She takes this as the suspected lycan leaving the tavern or being a trick of the eye and lets out a small sigh of relief. She returns her attention to the halfling and follows close behind.

She manages to keep her mind relatively void of ideas and thoughts for a moment or so before they returned to her. The amount of death that filled the city was hard for her to truly comprehend. She always wanted to experience the world and see things she rarely saw but this was never something she even fathomed a possibility. As they head into the market place and over the mixture of cobble stoned segments and general patches of dirt she can't help but try to imagine the scene before the fever. The bustling bodies, the shouting that would have happened, the short tempers of fishmongers as they attempt to pass off old fish as new, the imagery's enough to bring a smile to her face.
Snapping back from her thoughts she notes two lone merchants set up and working on cobbled sections. Their stalls held little of note with the most stocked being a fishmonger and the other being some sort of travelling trinket seller. Hanging from a wooden bar that moved horizontally across the front of his stall were a number of necklaces. Among them a large many appeared to resemble Divinist iconography. All of them were wood and from the distance she was at appeared flimsy and easy to burn. To see people profit from this horrible event was sad but still filled her with hope. Hope that when they were done people would recover and the market place would return to its former glory.

The group arrives at the gates to the slums where the guardsmen of area give them all a stern looking at before silently blessing their passage. Their professionalism in these trying times didn't provide comfort for Marian. It made them seem cold. Colder than men should be. She feels the gaze of one of the guards pierce her armour as she passes. His intentions were likely pure but that didn't make her feel any less uncomfortable. She breathes in through her nose, soaking in the smell of salt and fish before they enter. By the time she inhales again the scents of before, though overwhelming and unpleasant, were replaced with new smells that were even more so. She swallows hard to avoid throwing up at the drastic change and keeps her eyes peeled for the cause.
It takes little time for her to identify the reasons for such odours as men and women in priestly garbs tend to the lined corpses. Much like when she first entered the city, the bodies were far too many for her to even attempt counting but judging by the plumes of blackish ash that rose from afar the crematoriums on this side were still working as intended. She looks at her brothers and sisters who risked their own well being here to ensure the dead passed with respect and their last rites.
As they continue walking through the slums she feels her armour catching many stares. Especially from the brothers and sisters present. She knew of some of the sisters present but for the most part these people were city locals or from neighbouring provinces who were caught up in the mess. She nods to each one she passes by but few return the gesture. The lack of return saddens her but she doesn't struggle to understand their reasons.

Pushing through a group of self abusing peasants she hears the weeping and other disheartening sounds of the slums fade out into distant ambience. Her attention turns now to the forest before them and with the halfling's heavy breaths she takes this as a sign for the group to gather themselves before continuing on. She places a hand on the halfling's head and gently pushes his hair around in what she assumed was an affectionate and assertive manner. "Let everyone catch up first. Then we'll keep going." She looks behind to the group and then again to the halfling. "You still haven't given me your name, sir. Do you intend to or are you the mysterious rogue in our band?" She smiles endearingly at the man, showing her comment to be in jest and little more.
She looks back again at the group to take a head count on who was actually willing to follow where she saw the unmistakable furred figure from before. She whispers beneath her breath, "The lycan follows," before straightening up and preparing herself for its moves. She watches as it comes closer and closer to her, growing increasingly more nervous as it does so. Then it speaks. She's stunned at first. From what she's heard, Lycans rarely retain their ability to speak and those that do are often newly afflicted. She loosens up slightly, answering the suspected lycan with as stern a voice as she can manage. "We are. We're looking to cure the fever. Or are you asking if there's a cure for your disease? If you want to be cured I'm sorry. I really am."