Sick [Lion]

[Alegretto]

Turnrin walked through the desolate fields with mounting feelings of concern. There were few signs of life among the deadened landscape that should currently be teeming with life of spring. There was a town nearby, there had to be for there to be this many tilled fields, but where were the farmers? There should be people out here to manage the crops.

It wasn't long before Turnrin came into view of a small town. More of a village really. The whole thing was odd. He was still far from it, the flat landscape allowed someone to see a ways in Connlaoth, but it looked to the friar as if the village was... ill was the best way he could describe it. As he approached he got a more clear sense of what it was that he was perceiving. Several of the homes were burned wrecks and There was no vegetation in the village. Figures walked slowly around the buildings, but not with any purpose. They moved slowly and limply, a certain weakness in all of them.

Turnrin soon passed a sign. On it, written in the worst hand-writing he had ever seen, were the words: "Turn back now, plague be here." He kept walking. As he walked into the village proper, one of the citizens noticed him. They walked over to Turnrin holding out a hand in a signal for him to stop. "Didn't you see the sign Brother?" The burly man asked with authority in his voice. "There be a sickness here. Go back if you value your life."

Turnrin nodded. "I saw the sign. In fact it's a good deal part of the reason why I'm here. I am Brother Turnrin Wist, and don't worry about my safety for I have divine protection. Worry instead for this village, as I will. I'm here to research this illness," (he was now anyway) "and see if I can help you. It is my sworn duty to do the work of Ki..." Turnrin stopped for a second. "Of god, wherever I can." he finished lamely.

The man's chest deflated at Turnrin's words, all the bravado gone from his figure. He barked a short, sad laugh. "I guess God is still looking out for us after all. Well then, follow along Brother." The man started walking. The friar pulled out his notebook and began writing down any useful things the fellow said. "I'm Silas Turner and I'll give you any help you need. I already had this thing so I probably can't get it again and hopefully I can't give it to ya." The man eventually brought Turnrin to a larger house in the center of the village. "This is where the chief lives. I'll introduce you."

The friar followed the man inside the building and up a flight of stairs. He was brought into a room with a bed covered in a canopy. "Chief, this here friar is here to help us in our time of need. He says he's got divine protection and he's here on a mission to help us."

The canopy was pulled back and a wizened old man poked his head out from the folds of the bed. "So you're here to help us Brother." The old man laughed bitterly. "Well best of luck to you because I've given up on this thing. It's infected three-quarters of the village in a week and almost everyone who gets it dies of it. The monster's even claimed me."

Turnrin was doubtful. No plague he'd never heard of ever had a mortality rate over two-thirds or so. People always exaggerated numbers like this. However his doubt must have showed on his face because the old man laughed bitterly. "You think I overestimate brother, but I assure you that we have already lost a quarter of our people and the only one to survive so far has been Silas here." Turnrin's eyes widened and he turned to Silas, the question plain in his eyes. Silas only nodded sadly in response.

The friar turned back, plainly shocked. Still, he addressed the bed-ridden man calmly. "I promise you sir, I will find out what this thing is and how to cure it, for such is the will of Ki... God." That was the second time Turnrin had slipped up. He'd really have to watch himself. To cover his mistake he made a big show of readying his notebook. "Now, do you have a name for this illness? What are it's symptoms?"

The chief's made as if to respond but was suddenly seized with a fit of coughing. It was a painfully long time before his breathing finally normalized. He smiled wanly. "We call it the Wracking Death, Brother. The patient first gets a small cough. Than it gets longer, and longer, and longer. Eventually, they can no longer move at all without invoking a fit. Pretty soon after that they can't breathe. Than they die. Just like that." The chief looked away from Turnrin, towards the ceiling. "It won't be much longer for me now."

Turnrin made sure to write down everything the man said, before turning to Silas. "I need to see the rest of the town and some other victims. The more information I can get the better I'll be able to combat this thing." Silas nodded and walked out of the room. Turnrin followed behind him, leaving the chief to contemplate his fate.

[Lion]

Rohir was tired from the journey, but who wouldn't be after traveling the many miles it took to pass through the mountains of Darken Vei.  He had found little rest in his journey to Serendipity, however, which was the only regret Baeon had in returning home.  That and the fact that his homeland was fighting a terrible war with seemingly no end in sight.  The horse too could feel the tension in the air, the death, the danger as the somber wind blew their way.

The Sirantil Valley, the land of the Connlaothians.  Their homeland and here they were...spilling the blood of their brothers.  Though he was a knight, Baeon did not feel as strongly as many others did about the strife in this war.  He knew magic was unpredictable, that it couldn't be controlled as others would have liked.  And he knew their hatred was based mostly in fear than anything else...

His thoughts were drifting, for he was tired and needed rest.  Thankfully he knew this road, and there was a settlement nearby where he could do just then.  But as he proceeded down the path, the road seemed dimmer somehow, darker and he felt a growing dread begin to settle in his stomach.  "Gods...what happened here?" he breathed as the sight of the town came nearer.

He dismounted from Rohir, and a cold shiver too passed through the horse.  "Right, I feel it too," he murmured.  He walked through the town, seeing the sign, and feeling like the only logical option was to press on.  As he wandered through the town, it seemed empty, sick, and people that lingered in the streets were quick to turn away and run indoors once more.  Baeon's expression grew somber.  He saw a man of the cloth – visible by his garb – coming from the corner of his eye and he nearly bumped into the man.

"Brother...what is going on?  This place feels like death..." he said, stating the obvious.

"Plenty o' that to be had here.  Though can't say you'll find any luck sticking around.  Best just to head on your way, traveler."

"I'm..I'm afraid I cannot," Baeon admitted gravely.  "I am weary from my journey.  And...I am wounded.  This is the first town I have seen for the last three days, but I'm afraid my bindings are not holding as I would have liked..."  Baeon had been favoring his side, and it became evident then the blood soaking through his armor and dripping down his side.  "If you could lend aid...I'd be most grateful."

"There's no aid to  be had here!" the other man said defensively, though his eyes were uncertain, observing Baeon's side.

Baeon leaned on his horse for support.  "I believe I was speaking to the Brother here."

[Alegretto]

Turnrin was walking down the street as Silas pointed out certain features of the town and the sickness to him. He was so involved with taking notes that he almost bumped into a well-armored stranger. He looked up at the man, and when the fellow asked him a question he made as if to respond. Before he could however, Silas cut him off. The pair spoke for a minute, but when the man revealed his wounded side, Turnrin took over the conversation.

"To answer your first question," he interrupted Silas as he was about to add something to his closing statement," there is a plague in this town. The locals call it the Wracking Death and the mortality rate is reportedly very high. Unfortunately, there is no longer any way I can allow you to leave this town. There is too much of a possibility that you already have this sickness."

He turned to his companion. "In fact Silas, no one who has been here should leave town. We cannot allow this plague to spread. Make sure everyone knows not to leave the town under any circumstances."

He turned back to address the stranger. "To answer your second question, I can lend you aid. I have some meager training in medicine and I can dress your wound for you."

[Lion]

Baeon's eyes opened a little wider at the revelation.  He had read the sign, he knew Silas was deadset on having him leave, but to know that the plague affected the entire town and that he too could be infected, he had no words for that.  He simply frowned and held onto his side, then exchanged glances with his horse.

"Then I will gladly accept, Brother.  Thank you indeed," he replied.  "Where might we change my dressings?"

Silas frowned at Baeon, but resigned to his presence.  "C'mon, I can show you to the only tavern we got here.  It's empty most of the time anyway.  Nobody here is well enough to handle a drink.'

[Alegretto]

Turnrin followed the two men to the tavern. On the way there the monk made sure to introduce himself. "I am Brother Turnrin Wist, but please just continue to call me Brother. I am most happy to make you acquaintance."

They arrived at the Tavern and Silas led them inside. Like he'd said it was practically abandoned. One man was sitting in a corner on a stool dozing, and two other fellows were just sitting listlessly at a table and staring into the distance. Not a drop of alcohol ran in the place.

Turnrin had the wounded man sit down on top of a table and sent Silas to get some alcohol and linens. He carefully removed the man's armor to get a look at the wound. The gash wasn't incredibly deep, and the coloration was normal. Silas returned with the supplies and it was only a few minutes work for the monk to soak the bandages in the alcohol and tie it securely around the wound.

[Lion]

Baeon had neglected to follow Turnrin's introduction with one of his own, for his eyes were momentarily taken with the emptiness of the tavern.  Usually such a place was the beating heart of any settlement.  Every man - and even woman - needed a place to drink a pint and swallow the sorrows of the day, to settle and wind down, and come home to start all over again.  It was dead, and that itself sent a chill down his spine.

That's just what everything here in this village felt like, dead or dying.

He winced a little as he remembered the reason why he was there in the first place and Baeon peered down at the gash that Turnrin was attending.  "I'll never get used to that burning," he said idly.  "I am Baeon," he said at last, remembering himself.  "Thank you, Brother.  It will take a while to get used to, but what choice do I have, eh?  That and the fact that I can't leave this village..."

[Alegretto]

Turnrin shook his head. "I apologize for that Baeon, but we have little choice. From what I have seen this disease is highly lethal, and very strange. It causes no fever, no sweating, no boils or blood. It simply creates coughing, and the coughing continues until the patient can no longer breathe. And then they asphyxiate. Something this dangerous needs to be contained as much as possible. It is apparantly also highly *cough* contagious."

The monk's face registered surprise. He pulled out his notebook and began writing something. "Well that was *cough* faster than I *cough* expected." he mumbled as he wrote.

[Lion]

"Brother!?" Baeon said in suddenly alarm at his coughing.  "Are you all right?"  He put a hand on his shoulder and suddenly reared back, looking at his palm and frowning.  That was strange, he thought to himself but put his hand down as if it were nothing and looking at the priest and observed the notebook he was writing in.

"What more do you need to know of the disease?  Perhaps I can be of assistance.  It's not like I've got anywhere to go," he said pointedly.  "Though...did any of the residence say that it affects animals?  Like my horse?"

[Alegretto]

Turnrin turned to Baeon, and said between coughs: "Silas said that humans are the only ones it seems to affect. None of the town's animals have died from the dis *cough*." A serious fit of coughing suddenly claimed the monk.

Silas looked at him with concern and the other patrons looked up as well at the commotion. "This is strange," Silas said, "having a fit so fast. I'm not surprised your already sick," indeed, the only expression on the man's face was one of resignation, "but it almost never progresses this fast. The only other time the fits started so quickly was when I had the illness."

Turnrin looked up at him and managed to get out: "What happened in your case?"

"When I had it, the first cough and the last were within four hours of one another and the fits came on at an accelerated rate. Just like you..."

Turnrin nodded. He addressed both of the men with his next words. "Okay, *cough* good to know." he said totally ignoring his own situation. "Now I need you two to go out and try to find for me the first person infected. After that please try to track the infection for me."

[Lion]

Baeon covered his mouth at the sight of the Brother's coughing fit, however small it was.  At the chance to get out of the taven, Baeon leapt from the table he'd been sitting on and nodded to Turnrin to do just as instructed, pulling his tunic back over his head.  It was curious, how quickly the disease seemed to progress indeed.  Being treated by the sage made Baeon a little uneasy, admittedly, and he felt his throat itch as if a cough was coming on.

And he did, holding his hands over his mouth.  He blanched a little, but otherwise shook his head and followed Silas out of the tavern.  "Where did the first victims of this epidemic live?" he inquired, leaving the direction to the man who knew the town best.

[Alegretto]

With the other two men gone, Turnrin took the opportunity to pull his notebook out. He scratched down some notes about the progression of his coughing. Between fits, he listed time since first cough, length of each successive fit. Basically anything he could think to add. The more they knew about this thing, the better.

Like Silas said, the coughing fits starte coming faster and faster, and getting worse and worse. Turnrin found that his symptoms very closely matched exactly what Silas had described in terms of the timing and severity.

A few hours later, the last fit took him. It was more severe than any of the preceding ones, but after that his coughing stopped. He was cured, the same as Silas. Turnrin immediately began compiling a list of all the things similar between him and the other man. Something had protected them both from the disease, he just had to find out what it was.

[Lion]

What Baeon had discovered had been close to turning his stomach.  Not many things could, that was a fact.  But there was a decisive difference in the decimation caused by engines of war, and those caused by disease, especially mass disease.  He covered his mouth still, thinking that was going to help when Silas showed him where the bodies had been held, covered in sheets and stored below ground, to keep them cool.

No priests had come to town to bless the bodies.  In fact, their own town priest had been among the victims. 

Baeon coughed softly, or tried to resist the itch as best he could.  No, it was just a reflex he told himself.  But Silas looked at him with nervous eyes and kept his distance.  "Sorry," he said, his shoulders shuddering in another cough.

By the time they made it back to the tavern, Baeon was coughing much more frequently, but he tried to bite it down, keep it from showing.  "The first victim was a small child, I'm afraid.  Sally Suthern.  She'd been playing with her siblings in a field just outside of town, or so Silas tells me.  Her mother was next to be infected, then her aunt.  Her father died shortly after.  Even the Priest died of the infection I'm afraid."

[Alegretto]

Turnrin was still compiling his list when the other two men walked in. So far he had... not much.

He heard the two men come in and listened to the information that Baeon had to relay. "Do you know where it went after that? Silas, how quick did you catch it?"

Silas shrugged. "I dunno, I think I was the seventh or eighth one. After that family the priest spread it around. I got it from him. Why do you ask?"

Turnrin shook his head. "I don't know, but I need to find out how you and me are similar because we both seem to have survived." And sure enough, Turnrin's cough was cleared. "And I need to discount any factors we have in common that other victims who didn't survive possess. Any ideas you two?"