Open On the Wings of Pestilence

[Paragon]

On the Wings of Pestilence... Timestamp: 40th of Winter, 512 AV The people of Zeltiva had come to recognise Maria's announcements. Ever since that fateful day, when news of the impending storm had first come to the exploratory city's shores. Today was no different. The Laviku Monument thronged with people. Sailors, students, tailors and whores alike. At the head of the crowd stood Maria, arms folded, dark ringlets rustling as she peered across her flock. Most startlingly, representatives of both the Sailor's Guild and the University flanked her, and one of the Konti envoys from Mura that had remained in the city stood by her side too. There were whispers. People knew what this was about. Vaguely at least. Disease. Sickness. Many were ill - many had died. Whatever had struck them before had returned. "Thank you all for coming, I only wish I could bear good news on this day." Maria's words were not clipped, not born of aristocracy. Instead, she spoke with her own passions, with the care had grown inside her for Zeltiva. "You will know that this sickness has returned to our shores. From where we do not know. But let me promise you, the best healers and apothecaries in this city are seeking the source. We will not rest until we find the cause of this outbreak. But until then, Zeltiva rides precariously on the wings of pestilence. Many are sick. Many have died. And many more will die." Murmurs of shock took the crowd, but as a whole, the people remained calm. Maria said what needed to be said. The people liked that she did not sugarcoat her words. But the fear was evident. Electric and palpable. A gull screeched, taking flight from Laviku's crown. "We will not hide away from this again. Not this time," she looked to the Regents and Guild members, each nodding in affirmation. The Konti remained stoic, white hair bristling in a breeze verging into a bonesnapper. "Our ports remain open, and they are open so that you may leave. If you fear for your life, leave. I cannot promise your survival. Not now. We have our suspicions. Soon enough we will know, for there is one among us that carries the will of their deity. Be that as it may. The culprit will be caught on my watch, though the death in this person's wake... that is unavoidable." Her arms folded again. The wind was cold. Too cold. "Be strong Zeltivans. May Laviku carry you."

[Wrenmae]

Kipp's funeral still sat heavy on the collective conscience of Zeltiva. After the crowd had departed, they had filled the streets at the memorial, awaiting Maria's words. Wrenmae was among them, watching as one of the head guards from the funeral approached Maria, bowed, and offered both the slip of paper Miles had presented, offering his services as a spy into the matter, and the laden coin purse of over a thousand miza, offered from Wrenmae, the Waveguard who had returned only today.

He cut an impressive figure in the navy and gold, pushing through the crowd to stand beneath Maria and salute. The people were frightened...and they should be. As they thronged together in their huddled masses, Wrenmae spread the Blight from him like a blanket of possibility. It prowled through the people, pushing illnesses into communicable ailments, and surely those who had gathered here today would earn illness as a reward.

Whether Maria chose to recognize Wrenmae for his contribution or not was irrelevant. He had arrived long after the plague had begun, at least officially. What worried him was her words, her warning of one carrying a gods will among the people. Certainly, she meant the Blight...but where did she get the knowledge? He thought he'd burned any mention of such a gnosis covertly from the library...

Damn.

It complicated matters and as the Konti seers looked on with troubled faces, Wrenmae resisted the urge to scowl. Meddlers, the lot of them...he might have to see to their extermination if he was to continue his 'tests' here.

In any case, Maria had tipped her hand...at least a fraction. She was looking for one person...only one person. Could she sense there was only one Shroud in the city? The only way she could do that was if she somehow had another to sense him.

He waited in the crowd of people, resolute, proud.


And plotting...always plotting, waiting to see if she'd reveal more if pushed to question.

[Faline]

Faline wrinkled and unwrinkled her nose as she listened to the woman speak. Though her attention was kept less by the woman’s warning and more so by her shiny hair. If she had nothing to focus on she was really quite easily entertained. For a moment she was captivated by the simple sunlight shining down upon the crowd.
She looked around herself, admiring the vast collection of people around her. Men dressed in their finest navy and gold, beggars, whores, and the briny sailors all collected into one place to hear of their predicted health. Faline didn’t mind bad news, didn’t mine being kicked out. She liked to move from place to place, always searching…She wrinkled her nose again, picking up a foul stench on the breeze. It wasn’t the best place, but she wouldn’t complain. She wasn’t one to look poorly on any situation, because every situation could be abandoned. Having no ties was a positive in many lights. If you acquired food, whether stolen or not, you didn’t have to share. If you were chased, there was no need for you to slow, as there was no one to help along.
Faline eyed a nearby woman with a pouch that bulged slightly from the contents. She studied the bag, looking at the clasped opening and wondering how easily the bag would open. The crowd was too packed though for her to slip away easily; she knew her limits, so she ceased to entertain the idea. She fiddled with the buttons on her shirt as she continued to scan the crowd, her desire to find something, anything, encroaching on her thoughts again. Oh no, being a lone observer certainly filled Faline’s needs.
She tilted her head in interest as the sea of people rippled, and a way was made through the crowd. The sea parted as a man made his way to Maria, she watched him salute her, but wasn’t close enough to pick up on the exchange taking place.

[Hadrian]

Perhaps Hadrian ought not be there, but he had already been sick once and recovered. His scarf was wrapped around his mouth and nose more to keep his face warm than than from any belief it would keep sickness away. But the Farson Home had a healer, and he was as careful as he could be without boarding himself up in his cottage or fleeing the city for his hidden refuge, but he had responsibilities and he believed that if he had weathered the illness once, he could do it again. He felt stronger somehow now than he had before. He stood near the front to listen. There were Regents watching, and Lord Maria too; also members of the Sailors' Guild with whom he was contracting to create some magical items. Finally he had found a place where he was a part of it. He wasn't going to let an illness tear down his home. His eyes widened slightly at mention of a deity. The knee-jerk reaction of any man born and raised in Syliras was Rhysol, but while there was a logic to that, there was also a god of pestilence, who was not a friend of Rak'keli. He had to wonder whether this alleged plague-bringer was among them now. There were just too many auras clustered together for him to read them with any sort of accuracy. But he sighed heavily. A few of his children were feeling under the weather, and while they hadn't wanted to frighten the other children, they could not take any chances. When Lily brought it to his attention, he ordered them quarantined from the other children and from each other. It was harsh and he felt horrible, but he had mitigated that by doing rounds with them, reading to them, playing with them, even giving them some of his animated toys to play with when he wasn't there. He hoped he was immune, having survived it once already. It was a risk he took. He waited a little to see if anyone else would speak, but he would leave ere long, not wanting to be exposed to so many people for very long if he could help it.

[Valo]

The funeral of Kip Drawlins has left the young artist numb. It was the only way to describe that feeling, a complete lack of feeling at all. As if he'd been separated from the world and suspended under water. The all sound around him seemed muffled, blocked out by his own lack of any sort of coherent thought at all. A complete numbness of a man, strolling though streets of Zeltiva with no apparent purpose. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been suspended in that state of his. Present in body, yet drowning in soul. It couldn't have been long at all. But upon final resurfacing, his senses once again becoming acute to the stimuli in his environment, Valo found him self engulfed by a crowd that gathered at Laviku's monument. Of course this was the very centre of Zeltiva and it was naturally crowded, but never was the crowd stationary and never so densely backed. People talked, whispered, gossiped with worry painted on everyone's face and so perhaps it was worth seeing what all this commotion was about. A woman stood at the head of the crowd and all eyes were on her. All without a single acception gazed upon her authority. Arms folded across her chest, she spoke precisely and concisely. And her words were honest and her manner too."You will know that this sickness has returned to our shores." Of course everyone knew who she was, Valo knew also, though he hadn't had the chance to catch a glimpse of the woman until this very day. Maria, who's unfortunate task was to deliver yet more grim news of death and disease to the city. A head of fire red in a sea of other heads not quite so exquisitely coloured, the artist stared and listened. The city seemed to have turned on more than just Kip, it was devouring their own. "But let me promise you, the best healers and apothecaries in this city are seeking the source. We will not rest until we find the cause of this outbreak. But until then, Zeltiva rides precariously on the wings of pestilence. Many are sick. Many have died. And many more will die." spoke maria solemnly and a great wave of murmurs swept across the crowd. "Dark days are upon us." whispered an old man somewhere near in the crowd. Though Valo did not turn to look at him. It was almost heart warming how calm Zeltivians could be when facing a great destroyer. A strong community. People of faith and heart. However Maria's next words came as quite a surprise to the artist. "Be that as it may. The culprit will be caught on my watch, though the death in this person's wake... that is unavoidable." she announced. But what did she mean? What culprit? Was there one person behind all of this? But how could that be? Questions swarmed Val's mind like locusts. Perhaps... perhaps if it was just one person then he could be found. Perhaps Valo could even do some investigating of his own, unofficially of course, but the overly ambitious mind of his would not let him rest so might as well put it to good use. He quickly banished that thought. A naive idea of a silly man who had yet to truly taste the hardships of life. The city didn't need him and he definitely did not need to loose his life for the city.

[Miles]

Zeltiva grew more and more intriguing. A man murdered, a mysterious sickness all enough to get the attention of the city as a whole: Miles wondered how these things can be tied together- he knew next to nothing about diseases, and even less about the Waveguard.

He had already slipped the note to the guardsmen- listening to the speech he knew somewhere that he should have regretted his enthusiasm, but he did not. He was afraid, in the face of danger only a fool is unafraid, but something even more important pushed him forward: Zeltiva. He needed this city. Leave? Leave? This was almost a laughable thought. Miles needed the University, needed the shipyard, needed all of Zeltiva for what he planned. Zeltiva would open up to him: spilling it's secrets in adoration when he was done. If he was ever done.

From the comfort of shadows he listened, watched as the townspeople were gripped in fear, understood the darting eyes and shaking- saw the determination in the eyes of the guardsmen and the sadness in the eyes of the woman as she stated "Many more will die."

He drunk it all in, the emotions and the fear, the pride of the guard, the determination of Maria and the grim satisfaction that he imagined was somewhere in the town- felt at this moment by the one responsible for Zeltiva's plight. Somewhere, everything was going according to plan.

He ached to learn the secrets buried deep in this city- and perhaps in the wake of this chaos, he would get that chance.

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

Leaning against a wall with arms crossed Sebastian watched the crowd with a heavy heart. In the predawn hours while he lay trying to sleep the groans and fever dreams of the sick could be hear through the building’s thin walls and floors. Like so many he’d held friends in his arms and watched them die. He’d seen the wretched and homeless drop dead and rotting in the street. Rats tearing their bloated flesh with a horribly focused ferocity. The plague had come so quickly, catching everyone unaware. Traditional medicines lent no power for the sick and dying of East Street. Soon it would be nothing but a district of corpses. His eyes hardened while listening to Maria’s words fall short of conveying the true horror of which she spoke. How could she ask her people to abandon their city when so many were tied here by family, tradition and pride? And what of those who couldn’t flee; the infirmed, disabled and penniless? What about the ones who had no were else to go? To them she offered patience. And what good would patience bring? Did she really expect her people to crawl and hid under the bed sheets while disease slowly rotted their bodies? Was the majority of Zeltiva truly content to watch in stillness the death of its children while a chosen few sought ‘the source’? Turning in fiery disgust Sebastian stormed away from Monument square deeper into the city. In Syliras no one would be asked to stand idly by during such a crisis. It was the right of every citizen to defend their home from threats both outside and within. This plague would be fought, its every ally stomped out, it’s source destroyed. As a Syliran and man of honor he would not stand by and watch Zeltiva decay from the inside out. East Street was his home and by Tyveth he was going to save it.

[Philomena]

The funeral had already made the day long and exhausting. She had hardly had time to remove her bright silk robes, and yet... Perhaps before, she would have hid away in her room for the afternoon, perhaps. The announcements of Maria were not subtle things. She need not go to hear what was said - she would hear it rehashed and picked over by every lip in the city the next day.

And yet...

That piece of her heart that gnawed on the bones of this plague, that piece that she caught glancing from the corner of her eyes at shadowed figures, at heads of blond hair, at the movement of quiet, narrow forms in crowds, that piece would gnaw worse at her, there, alone, unknowing. And so she had put a dress on, her bravest tartan jumper with a sash tied around the middle, and thrown together a lunch quickly - so quickly that the fish knife had cut her own hand, the taste of her own blood on the fish she gobbled up to be off to the city. She bound the hand in linen, and went off quickly, driven by that insatiable need, to know, to hear.

And hear she did. She retained her composure through most of it, but then, Maria had looked out in the crowd with her sharp eyes.

*There is one among us that carries the will of their deity*

And the last of Minnie's guards had broken down. It was Lanie. It had to be. It had to be, it was just like before. All of it fell on Minnie with a crushing, suffocating force. And the city was looking for her. Minnie looked around the crowd, suddenly overpowered with a surety, that somewhere in this city, her sister was hiding, and the city wanted to kill her.

She began to shake in the crowd - and started to push through it, trying to see, trying to get closer to the front. She squeezed in beside a tall Waveguardsmen. She closed her eyes, and thought.

And she felt it.

It was not a real feeling - it was the sort of feeling one imagines in a situation where one needs to perceive a thing incapable of perception. But she closed her eyes and felt, in her mind, something, the cold pull of the plague around her, felt the threads of it, the warp and woof of it, and felt, almost, almost... almost the hand at the head of it, the block of the bloom, pressing more strangs onto its source. She opened her eyes and looked about her wildly, scanning the crowd - a tall woman, but too stout for Lanie. There, a golden head, but it was a man, a sailor. There, a graceful step, but... no. No, no it wasn't her. The crowd began to break up, to grow loud in muttered conversations, to disperse. Minnie squeezed through it, her linen bound hand banging painfully against the others in the crowd... no. No. No, she wasn't here. She wasn't here.