《Night Raid and Other Stories.》 A Sedecim Story. The fire the night before had ravaged the old warehouse on pier eleven. Rumors were flying all over the Sedecim. Everything from a lazy smoker, to a Tolenite conspiracy could be heard on the lips of the attendees of the grand event. Many of the farmers who had brought their prized livestock to Wavemeet Bay were relieved when news broke that the contents of the warehouse were intact, and none of the feed was burned. Things were returning back to normal the morning after the fire. Preparations continued for the many festivities of the Sedecim. Caravans were arriving, loaded down with items for sale, and supplies for the various merchants to set up temporary stalls. The whole place was awash in activity. People of all tribes were bustling around, and languages from all over Elyria could be heard on the streets. The docks were full of busy people unloading supplies from their boats.Everyone seemed to be hard at work, except for one To¡¯resk. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking out over the water of the bay. The Crystal Palace was shining beautifully in the mid morning light. A cutlass hung from his hip, and he was clad in worn sailor¡¯s clothing, with a waist long overcoat, hanging open. A tricorner hat sat atop a bandana covering his long dreadlocked hair. He looked like a street urchin, ruffian, or beggar, if not for the weapon hung from his hip, and the heroic stance he took as he watched barges and boats in the bay. Some purple and yellow petals blew past him in a stiff breeze off the water. The flowers were everywhere, and he quite liked the splash of color they added to the festival. He turned from the water, and walked past the burnt husk of Warehouse 17. He had wandered over with the morning crowd to investigate what had happened, but lost interest when the contents of the warehouse were revealed to be animal feed and supplies. A sailor such as himself had little need for landsmenn¡¯s items. He listened to the rumors that floated through the crowd, as the Festival Guards conducted an investigation. There were many people standing around, and everyone was gossiping. A Janoa had apparently knocked over a lantern. That was his hypothesis after hearing the many theories. ¡°Ahoy,No¡¯ika!¡± a call came from across the pier in Lazu. A Dras then rushed up to the To¡¯resk sailor, and clapped him on the back. ¡°Ahoy there, Slok.¡± No¡¯ika spoke great Lazu. Slok was a tall Dras, dressed in black leather clothing, and a wide brim straw hat, which hid is pallid skin from the sun. He too, wore a Cutlass. Slok was a friend, and the two had sailed here to Wavemeet Bay together on a small boat from down south. The two set off down the pier, discussing the night¡¯s events. Slok was convinced of the Tolenite Conspiracies, and No¡¯ika entertained his ideas. They were an odd pair, to be sure. As they meandered their way through the busy streets, their conversation soon turned to that of their business. ¡°You¡¯re sure you heard right? It¡¯s here in Wavemeet Bay?¡± Slok asked. His eyes were deep violet, and his expression was lacking confidence. ¡°Aye, its here. Don¡¯t believe me?¡± asked No¡¯ika in return. He looked the complete opposite. His fierce dark eyes were a light with confidence! ¡°Well, you¡¯ve been wrong before.¡± Slok replied. ¡°I ain¡¯t wrong this time!¡± No¡¯ika chuckled at the Dras. As they continued further into the labyrinth of merchants¡¯ tents, they garnered strange looks. The two looked raggedity, and some of the merchants gave them nasty looks. It didn¡¯t help that the were speaking Lazu the whole time. The pair wandered through the maze for a while longer, before stopping at a particular tent. It was closed, and it appeared as if the merchant had set up early and was just waiting for the Sedecim to start. A sign on the tent read ¡°M?hrt¨¬r¡¯s Curiosities¡±. There wasn¡¯t any movement from inside. No¡¯ika and Slok stood outside conversing and casually keeping an eye on the tent. When a Sedecim Guard walked by, they quickly moved on. ¡°That looks promising.¡± Slok casually remarked as they passed the Guard. When the Guard was out of sight, they circled back around. ¡°Walk casual Slok, you look like you¡¯re casing the place.¡± No¡¯ika said. Slok slumped and tried to look inconspicuous, but he just looked worse. ¡°Okay okay, just walk naturally, sheesh!¡± No¡¯ika scolded the Dras. ¡°This feels strange on land.¡± Slok said. No¡¯ika was moving between M?hrt¨¬r¡¯s tent, and the one next to it. ¡°Just stand there and block the view. You know what to do if the guard comes ¡®round again.¡± No¡¯ika then proceeded to crouch down and lift the tent. It wouldn¡¯t lift high enough for him to put his head under and he sighed. He pulled a small knife from his jacket, and cut two eye holes at his head¡¯s level. Slok looked back at the sound, and shook his head in dismay. ¡°Eye holes¡­¡± He thought with a sigh. Inside, No¡¯ika could see a bunch of boxes. He smiled as he spotted what he was looking for. It was a small sea chest. It wasn¡¯t the most beautiful or ornate thing in the tent, but the To¡¯resk smiled slyly anyway. He stood up, and brushed his dirty clothes off. He then casually walked up next to Slok, and the two walked off. They made their way over to the docks, and into a tavern. Outside, the sign hung limply in the still afternoon air. It read ¡°The Fish Eye Inn¡±. Slok and No¡¯ika sat down and began speaking. The din of the crowd inside the pub was perfect for concealing their conversation. ¡°Was it there?¡± Slok asked. ¡°As I said, it¡¯s here. I saw it. That means, tonight, we take it.¡± No¡¯ika was smiling, and his sharp teeth creeped Slok out. Slok had always found To¡¯resk teeth to be strange and almost unnatural. He shrugged his shoulders and nodded at No¡¯ika ¡°What¡¯s the plan then?¡± Slok was trying not to look at No¡¯ika until he stopped smiling. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Got something in me teeth?¡± No¡¯ika jabbed a finger into his mouth and began picking around his teeth. ¡°No no, just get on with it and stop picking your teeth!¡± Slok shuddered. ¡°Alright, well the plan is this. Tonight the crowds will be gone, and the two of us will look right out of place hanging around the merchant tents. So we¡¯re going to get us some Guard¡¯s uniforms, and walk right up to the tent, cut a hole where I did earlier, and take the chest. No one will be the wiser.¡± No¡¯ika seemed to know what he was doing, so Slok nodded in agreement. ¡°Where are we going to get Guard Uniforms?¡± Slok stopped nodding, realizing they didn¡¯t already have the most crucial part of No¡¯ika¡¯s plan. ¡°That, my friend, is already taken care of, and let me tell you, it wasn¡¯t easy..¡± No¡¯ika slapped two small notes on the table. ¡°Let me just say, there are two guards that won¡¯t be showing up for duty on time, or in the proper uniform¡­¡± He and Slok chuckled. The two of them finished off a round of drinks and headed out. They made their way to the tailor. The Neran Tailor looked up as two vagrants entered her shop. She frowned, but got up to greet them. No¡¯ika shrugged at her, and handed her the notes. The Neran woman eyed the pair suspiciously for a moment. ¡°You and the Dras are guards?¡± She asked in Neran. Clearly, she had her doubts. ¡°Aye! We are. Just came in from down south. Me friend here, he doesn¡¯t speak Neran.¡± No¡¯ika said. The seamstress peered at the pair for a moment longer before getting her tape, and measuring first No¡¯ika, and then Slok. She then disappeared behind a stack of fabrics, and was out of sight for a time. Slok shot No¡¯ika a worried glance. As time went on, he looked even more nervous. Finally, the seamstress returned with two navy blue uniforms, and gave one to each of them. ¡°My, he¡¯s looking rather sweaty. Is everything alright with him?¡± She asked, looking at Slok. ¡°He¡¯s just nervous for his first day on duty! That¡¯s all!¡± No¡¯ika replied, with a sharp toothed smile. His demeanor put the Neran in a more relaxed state. She sighed at the two and stood expecting them to change in the nearby fitting room. ¡°Something the matter?¡± The Neran asked as No¡¯ika and Slok stood by idly. ¡°Uh, no! Not at all!¡± No¡¯ika quipped up, realizing, and he gave Slok a nudge toward the room. Slok looked at No¡¯ika, then went into the dressing room, and was soon dressed as a Guard. He held his old clothes in one hand, and his cutlass in the other. No¡¯ika was soon likewise attired, and the pair took their belongings, and left the shop. ¡°Great¡­ I didn¡¯t expect her to make us change right in there¡­ Now we¡¯re looking like guards, and people may expect us to do guardly things!¡± No¡¯ika complained to Slok as they ducked in and out of alley ways, trying not to be seen in the main streets. As they dipped in and out, they heard some scuffling and a muted scream from the alley they were just about to duck into. They rounded the corner to see a Brudvir with a Kypiq on her shoulders, hands clasped around her mouth, a Kypiq down behind her with a sharp dagger sticking into the back of her knee, and a third Kypiq with a longsword poking her in the gut. They were silent, and their faces were masked with a strange visage No¡¯ika never saw before. Clearly, they were mugging this poor Brudvir womann. No¡¯ika and Slok did not really stop to think about it, and just reacted. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. With raised cutlasses, the two charged the three Kypiq! There was nothing stealthy about it! The sight of two guards rushing them caused the Kypiq to flee in a hurry! The three Kypiq deftly leapt from the scene, and escaped by climbing the nearby buildings and dispersed. The Brudvir womann looked at No¡¯ika and Slok with grateful eyes! She started speaking in Denh?rt, and No¡¯ika raised a hand. ¡°I¡¯m not so good with cold language.¡± He said in very broken Denh?rt. The womann looked at him, and just shrugged before patting him and Slok on the back and running from the alleyway. ¡°What was that about¡± Slok pondered allowed. ¡°Who knows. Some kind of mugging, but those masks. Must¡¯ve been some organized group.¡± No¡¯ika said as he sheathed his cutlass and the two turned to venture further into the alley. ¡°Tolenites!¡± Slok said. He was sure that had something to do with the warehouse burning the previous night. He told No¡¯ika all about it as they carefully made their way to a rather desolate part of town, with a side stop at the docks, to put their belongings in their tiny boat. They sat down on some crates behind an old building, and discussed the events of the mugging. The evening was upon them, and it was getting dark. The streets were clearing out, as people were heading indoors to rest up for the beginning of the Sedecim. Most of the merchants were set up, and many of the performers were prepared for the coming event. It was very peaceful, and the sounds of busy hustle and bustle were no longer dominant in the still evening air. As Slok and No¡¯ika sat quietly in the dark alley, they noticed a tall cloaked figure drift by, silently, like a specter! Slok nudged No¡¯ika and the two froze as still as statues. They watched, from the darkness, as the cloaked figure whisked right by them! They let a sigh of relief escape as the figure turned the corner and disappeared. They got up, and headed for their target, hoping not to run into anyone else. The remainder of their trip was uneventful. M?hrt¨¬r¡¯s Curiosities was still closed, and there was no sign of life from inside, or around the tent. They walked up and down the narrow walkway, acting like guards on patrol while they cased the tent. When they were sure no one was around, No¡¯ika went into the small area between the tents, and Slok stood in front, standing guard and blocking the view. A building behind the tent concealed No¡¯ika from the otherside. No¡¯ika then produced his small knife, and cut a thin slit, right between the eye holes he had cut earlier in the day. He parted the cloth, and entered the tent. The inside of the tent was dark, but the oil lanterns from outside cast just enough light through the slit that No¡¯ika could see. There were some stands with oddities from across Elyria on them. Jewels, strange bones, gems and stones were scattered across the display cases. Strange chimes and ornate decorations dangled from the tent¡¯s ceiling. He honed in on the sea chest, and grabbed it. On his way out, he also took a few pieces of jewelry on a display stand. He exited the tent, and held the chest up for Slok to see. Slok¡¯s eyes lit up! ¡°Great, now let¡¯s get out of here!¡± he whispered. The two then scurried away quickly, half hiding the chest between the two of them. They snuck their way down to the docks, and made it safely to their boat. It was rather easy, as the streets were nearly desolate. The odd guard was posted, but they were mostly on the main streets. Once in their boat, they got out of their guard uniforms and donned their regular clothes. They tossed the uniforms over into the water, and the two grinned at each other. The chest was theirs! ¡°Should we open it?¡± Slok asked, looking at No¡¯ika with an eager grin. ¡°Let¡¯s get out into the water first, I don¡¯t want to be caught on the docks with it!¡± No¡¯ika replied. As they shoved their tiny boat off, some guards came rushing down the pier toward the docks. Someone must¡¯ve spotted them stealing the chest! No¡¯ika grabbed the tiller, as Slok started unfurling the tiny sail! Slok looked back at the approaching guards and realized, they were, in fact, not guards! ¡°No¡¯ika, look!¡± Slok said as he pointed toward the approaching group. No¡¯ika glanced up from the tiller, and gasped. There was a small group of cloaked and masked people rushing down the pier. They were just about to the docks. No¡¯ika and Slok were well away from the wooden pier now though, that none of the people could touch them. An arrow whizzed by and sliced into the water near their boat! ¡°I think you may be right Slok, these guys are Tolenites and they want our chest!¡± No¡¯ika said as he started to turn the tiller into the open water. Slok was trimming the sails, and keeping the wind full in the sheets. They were experienced sailors, and they made it safely into the channel. ¡°How¡¯d they know about the chest?¡± Slok asked, as the group of Tolenites started running toward a boat to give chase. ¡°Maybe they don¡¯t know about the chest, but they remember us driving off their Kypiq muggers!¡± No¡¯ika replied, recalling their earlier run in. Now the group was in a boat bigger than theirs, and shoving off from the pier. No¡¯ika and Slok looked at each other with widened eyes. ¡°They¡¯re pursuing us into the harbor!¡± Slok said. ¡°Just keep the wind in the sheets Slok, don¡¯t let up! We¡¯ve got a head start!¡± No¡¯ika said. The small boat was picking up speed as the wind grew stronger on the open water. They were heading for the sea, where they hoped to lose the pursuers in the dark of the ocean. Wavemeet Bay was growing smaller, but the pursuing ship wasn¡¯t! No¡¯ika couldn¡¯t imagine what these people wanted. There was no way they knew about the chest. Was there? No¡¯ika still thought they wanted revenge for the failed mugging of the Brudvir womann. ¡°No¡¯ika, the ship is gaining on us. She¡¯ll be upon us if we don¡¯t do something fast!¡± Slok yelled over the sound of the waves crashing into the bow. The chop of the water was getting bigger, and their small boat lost some speed to the collisions. ¡°Slok, ease up on the main, and trim to Portside!¡± No¡¯ika shouted, as he turned the tiller to the angle the boat south. The wind would now be coming from their Starboard side, and the boat would be traveling south along the coast. No¡¯ika hoped this would counteract the wave action, and increase the boats speed. He was right! The little boat began chugging along through the water at a slightly faster pace. It wasn¡¯t enough to outpace the larger vessel though, and it continued to gain on them. No¡¯ika and Slok looked at each other with exasperated looks. ¡°Time to row!¡± Slok said as he tossed No¡¯ika an Oar. The two then began rowing, with breaks to adjust the tiller or keep the wind in the sails. It wasn¡¯t difficult for the two experienced sailors. The bigger boat kept up though, and soon it was a cable away! ¡°Slok, we gotta do something!¡± No¡¯ika and Slok were both frantically rowing, adjusting the tiller, and fixing the sails. They were desperate to escape the suspected Tolenite pursuers! ¡°Lets drop some weight!¡± Slok said as he cut the rope to the anchor and hucked it overboard. No¡¯ika nodded, and he began tossing small boxes of supplies over. It was just enough weight to give them a little more speed! They began pulling away from the pursuing vessel! Combined with their continued rowing, and expert work on the sails, they soon pulled ahead! Wavemeet bay was now just a sparkling dot behind them. The Tolenite vessel was growing smaller, and No¡¯ika and Slok sighed in relief. ¡°I think we¡¯re going to make it, Slok.¡± No¡¯ika said as he continued to row. Soon, they had lost the Tolenites, and were safely concealed in the dark. They moved their boat closer to the shore to shelter from the bigger waves, and stopped rowing. Slok halved the sail, and the two sat for a moment, catching their breath. No¡¯ika lit a small oil lantern they had kept, and they both looked at the chest. It was locked, but that wouldn¡¯t stop them from opening it. Slok grabbed the chest and sat it on his knees. He pulled out two thin sharp metal tools, and picked the lock with ease. Clearly, this wasn¡¯t his first lock picking. The lid opened, and a soft blue glow emanated from within, as the lantern¡¯s light reflected off the contents. No¡¯ika and Slok peered inside the Sea Chest. There, sat the prize they had been after. An Illuminated Hrothi scroll. No¡¯ika picked it up, and held it out. Slok gazed at it in amazement. ¡°What¡¯s it say No¡¯ika?¡± Slok asked eagerly awaiting. He had never actually seen an illuminated manuscript before. It was quite beautiful. ¡°Let¡¯s see.¡± No¡¯ika unrolled the scroll, and looked it over. He frowned as he attempted to read it. ¡°Well?¡± Inquired Slok. ¡°What I can make of it, it¡¯s certainly what we wanted, but I can¡¯t read all of it. Its written in Denh?rt. Looks like we¡¯ll need to find someone to read it for us.¡± No¡¯ika frowned and rolled it back up. He replaced it inside the chest and Slok closed it. The sea chest was then stored forward the mast under the small seat in the bow of the boat. The scroll was certainly a prize. They were both very glad their hard work had paid off, and that the Tolenites didn¡¯t catch them. Still, they didn¡¯t know exactly what the Tolenites wanted with them. After all, they had been disguised as guards when they ran the muggers off. Were they being watched the entire time? Did the Tolenites really have eyes everywhere? No¡¯ika thought they were just a story. Slok seemed to believe they were real. After this evening, both knew for a fact there was some sort of secret organization at the Sedecim. The masks, cloaks, and their seeming omniscient presence made that clear. They had also heard rumors of the warehouse fire that made much more sense now. Slok had even said that Lord Ardyn was somehow involved. They had only heard rumors of course, but they both knew Ardyn was a Noble, and if he were involved, no one would really be able to do much about it. Did the Tolenites know who they were? It wasn¡¯t likely. No¡¯ika and Slok were not very famous in this part of Elyria. It¡¯s possible their names could have made their way to Wavemeet Bay, but not their descriptions. Either way, they had made it out of the Sedecim Festival and had their prize. The two settled down for the night to rest and think about their next moves. No¡¯ika sat quietly thinking about their predicament. He did want to go back to the Sedecim, but it would be highly risky of course. He was always a curious type though. Perhaps next time. He turned his mind to the task of finding a translator. He would need someone they could trust of course. That made things difficult. Not many people he knew, and trusted, could speak the Northern language. As day broke, Slok and No¡¯ika set to work preparing for the next leg of their adventure. The Sedecim had brought them fortune and excitement, but what lay before them would promise even more. As they sailed away from Wavemeet Bay, and the large gathering of Diplomats, Merchants, Performers, and visitors, they couldn¡¯t help but wonder what other adventures were unfolding for the various individuals attending the great event. They, of course, would never know. Perhaps those are stories for another time. Whaleback鈥檚 Curse The dark cloaked the cemetery nicely. The old To¡¯resk gravekeeper, Sajoa?ar, liked it this way. The port town was a rough place, and he didn¡¯t like to stand out. He managed the cemetery, and his carpenter¡¯s shop, and that was it. It turned out that most of his work was related to two things: Boat repairs, and coffins. This naturally led to him becoming the keeper of the Gull''s Rest cemetery. Sajoa?ar was sitting on the back porch of the shop, looking out over the graves. He thought it was ironically funny that the cemetery started behind the ruins of an old church, but quickly grew and expanded to end up right in his backyard. It wasn¡¯t like the ruffians of the town cared about any churches though, so it didn''t really matter. It also made it easier for Sajoa?ar to bury the bodies of those who ran afoul of the pirates in the town. As he sat there, smoking an old pipe, he noticed a dim light in the far distance. The cemetery itself was rather large, and housed more bodies than the town had citizens. So he quietly watched. The light grew bigger, and seemed to have stopped at a particular grave. Sajoa?ar squinted his eyes and peered at the light. It was a lantern. He got up and slowly walked over to the rows of gravestones, and quietly maneuvered between them to get a better look. He grumbled quietly to himself, thinking some street urchins were trying to camp out in his cemetery. He was going to tell them to scram. He eventually came upon the light, and like a phantom, stayed just out of sight. What Sajoa?ar saw was quite interesting. A pirate with a shovel, was digging a grave up! Sajoa?ar grew red with anger, but seeing the cutlass on the brigand¡¯s belt, he stayed quiet for now. Grave Robbers in his cemetery! How crude, he fumed. He would go to Mayor Adrianovic Von Hagemeister and complain in the morning. For now, he just watched. The Pirate, who Sajoa?ar did not know, was busy digging furiously. It was as if there was treasure in that very grave! The old Gravekeeper knew there wasn¡¯t anything of value in any of these graves. Pirates never left valuables on the dead. He continued to watch. The To¡¯resk Pirate hit the coffin with a loud thud. He tossed the shovel over his shoulder and awkwardly began using his hands to scoop out the loose dirt. He then, having cleared the dirt off the top, used the shovel to smash open a hole in the coffin. The Pirate stood up, and removed his hat to wipe some sweat off his brow. He then leaned down and pulled out a sea chest! Sajoa?ar was stunned. There was treasure in that grave! Or so he thought. Why else would the Pirate be here, digging up an old grave? The Pirate grinned and tucked the chest under his arm. He grabbed his shovel, put his hat back on, and hurried off. Once the Pirate was gone, Sajoa?ar moved to the grave, and read the stone.It belonged to Joris Mullica, or Whaleback, as he was known in life. Mullica had died defending Gull''s Rest from the invading army of the Mad King, many many years ago. Sajoa?ar recalled an old tale he heard in the tavern once. It was said that old Whaleback had, in the course of his journeys, found a map to long lost treasure. A map to an unknown island, with so much treasure no ship could return with all of it. Of course, such tales are regarded as fake when told by old sea salts with too much rum in their blood. No one had ever given it thought. Besides, Whaleback¡¯s grave was dug up by the town years ago, and nothing was found inside. What changed? Sajoa?ar couldn¡¯t say. He had never believed the tales in the tavern. Sajoa?ar went back to his shop, and headed upstairs for the night. Morning came, and as he promised, he went to the Mayor to complain. Mayor Adrianovic Von Hagemeister was in his office, inside the manor. The manor was the only nice building in the entire shanty town. He described the scene of last night¡¯s events to the Mayor. Von Hagemeister furrowed his brow for a moment. He grumbled something under his breath. He then looked at Sajoa?ar and told him he would send some menn over to help repair the grave, and not to worry about it further. Sajoa?ar sighed, shrugged his shoulders, thanked the Mayor for his time, and headed back to his house. Adrianovic scowled as Sajoa?ar left. He wasn¡¯t mad at the old Gravekeeper. He was mad at the Pirate who wasn¡¯t stealthy enough to conceal his activities from the old To¡¯resk. He left his office in a huff, and charged down to the docks. Seabirds cried as they fluttered overhead. The sun was rising higher in the sky, as mid morning took over from dawn. The wind was still, and the air was hot. Adrianovic stomped on the docks, and stopped in front of a Cutter. It was an old ship, with some splintered wood on her deck, and patchy dark sails. The name on the bow read ¡°Belligerent Bivalve¡±. Adrianovic scoffed, then boarded the ship. Onboard a few sailors were milling about. A large Janoa was high in the rigging, patching a fresh hole in the sail. He brushed past a Kypiq that was swabbing the deck, and went right up to the wheel, where a To¡¯resk in fancy, yet weathered, attire was standing. He was holding a map up to the sky, and squinting. Adrianovic grabbed the To¡¯resk Captain by the collar and pulled him closer. He whispered in his ear. The To¡¯resk Captain looked at Adrianovic for a moment, blank faced. Then, with a wily smile, he showed him the map. Adrianovic looked the map over. His jaw dropped for a split second before he regained his composure. He clapped the To¡¯resk Captain on the back, nodded at him, then disembarked the ship. ¡°Right boys, hop to! We¡¯re shovin¡¯ off by noon!¡± The Captain shouted. He looked at the map again. It wasn¡¯t a map in the traditional sense. It did not have features found on land, nor islands, nor shorelines. It was a jumbled mess of lines and shapes. The Captain smiled though. He knew how to read it. ¡°Captain, did we retrieve the item?¡± A Neran asked. He was the First Mate, and privy to the knowledge which was kept secret from most of the crew. ¡°Indeed, Chickle. We did. Have a look.¡± The Captain showed the map to Chickle. Chickle gasped. ¡°Sir! The curse! Whaleback¡¯s Curse! Did you do the proper ritual!?¡± He squeaked, quite distraught. ¡°I did some sort of ritual. I mean, I got the map didn¡¯t I?¡± The Captain smiled, although Chickle did not look convinced. ¡°Sir, if you left out any small part, the map will still appear, but so will the curse! The Dras Shaman was explicit in his instructions! I hope for all our sakes you did it right.¡± Chickle said, as he walked away from the Captain. The Captain raised a brow and went through his memory. Did he do it right? Now that Chickle mentioned it, he could recall! ¡°I¡¯m sure it''s fine.¡± He mused, as he rolled the map up, and tucked it into his coat. The ship set sail, and the journey was underway! The Captain couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the grave of Joris ¡°Whaleback¡± Mullica though. The voyage wasn¡¯t across the deep ocean, and no one expected there to be any problems. The ¡°Belligerent Bivalve¡± sailed smoothly through the afternoon. Over the horizon, dark clouds were gathering though¡­ The menn that the Mayor promised to send help Sajoa?ar never showed up. The old Gravekeeper was out there, fixing the broken coffin, and refilling the grave with dirt. It was back breaking work. Sajoa?ar sighed, as he stopped for a breath. The gravestone looked odd. It was as if it were reflecting the sun¡¯s light, but there was a storm out at sea, obscuring the sun from view. Sajoa?ar shrugged, and thought there must be an explanation for it. He continued his work and was finished well after dark. The gravestone never stopped gleaming the entire time. Sajoa?ar didn¡¯t care. He finished the work, and went inside for some well deserved rest. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The next morning, Sajoa?ar was at the docks, repairing a boat when he overheard some news. A ship named the Belligerent Bivalve was sunk overnight during the squall. Apparently, no one survived. The ship hit the rocks just off the Lighthouse, and the Keeper witnessed the entire thing. Sajoa?ar wondered if the Pirate who had stolen the chest was on that ship. He recalled how the gravestone glimmered in the dark. Huffing, he brushed the thoughts aside, and continued his work. It wasn¡¯t any of his business, and he didn¡¯t want any curses, bad luck, or other superstitious stuff happening to him! He, after all, kept the graveyard! The dark cloaked the cemetery nicely. The old To¡¯resk gravekeeper, Sajoa?ar, liked it this way. The port town was a rough place, and he didn¡¯t like to stand out. He managed the cemetery, and his carpenter¡¯s shop, and that was it. It turned out that most of his work was related to two things: Boat repairs, and coffins. This naturally lead to him becoming the keeper of the Gull''s Rest cemetery. Sajoa?ar was sitting on the back porch of the shop, looking out over the graves. He thought it was ironically funny that the cemetery started behind the ruins of an old church, but quickly grew and expanded to end up right in his backyard. It wasn¡¯t like the ruffians of the town cared about any churches though, so no one really cared. It also made it easier for Sajoa?ar to bury the bodies of those who ran afoul of the pirates in the town. As he sat there, smoking an old pipe, he noticed a dim light in the far distance. The cemetery itself was rather large, and housed more bodies than the town itself. So he quietly watched. The light grew bigger, and seemed to have stopped at a particular grave. Sajoa?ar squinted his eyes and peered at the light. It was a lantern. He got up and slowly walked over to the rows of gravestones, and quietly maneuvered between them to get a better look. He grumbled quietly to himself, thinking some street urchins were trying to camp out in his cemetery. He was going to tell them to scram. He eventually came upon the light, and like a phantom, stayed just out of sight. What Sajoa?ar saw was quite interesting. A pirate with a shovel, was digging the grave up! Sajoa?ar grew red with anger, but seeing the cutlass on the brigand¡¯s belt, he stayed quiet for now. Grave Robbers in his cemetery! How crude, he fumed. He would go to Mayor Adrianovic Von Hagemeister and complain in the morning. For now, he just watched. The Pirate, who Sajoa?ar did not know, was busy digging furiously. It was as if there was treasure in that very grave! The old Gravekeeper knew there wasn¡¯t anything of value in any of these graves. Pirates never left valuables on the dead! He continued to watch. The To¡¯resk Pirate hit the coffin with a loud thud. He tossed the shovel over his shoulder and awkwardly began using his hands to scoop out the loose dirt. He then, having cleared the dirt off the top, used the shovel to smash open a hole in the coffin. The Pirate stood up, and removed his hat to wipe some sweat off his brow. He then leaned down and pulled out a sea chest! Sajoa?ar was stunned. There was treasure in that grave! Or so he thought. Why else would the Pirate be here, digging up an old grave? The Pirate grinned and tucked the chest under his arm. He grabbed his shovel, put his hat back on, and hurried off. Once the Pirate was gone, Sajoa?ar moved to the grave, and read the stone.It belonged to Joris Mullica, or Whaleback, as he was known in life. Mullica had died defending Gull''s Rest, then called Gull¡¯s Rest, from the invading army of the Mad King, many many years ago. Sajoa?ar recalled an old tale he heard in the tavern once. It was said that old Whaleback had, in the course of his journeys, found a map to long lost treasure. A map to an unknown island, with so much treasure no ship could return with all of it. Of course, such tales are regarded as fake when told by old sea salts with to much rum in their blood. No one had ever given it thought. Besides, Whaleback¡¯s grave was dug up by the town years ago, and nothing was found inside. What changed? Sajoa?ar couldn¡¯t say. He had never believed the tales in the tavern. Sajoa?ar went back to his shop, and headed upstairs for the night. Morning came, and as he promised, he went to the Mayor to complain. Mayor Adrianovic Von Hagemeister was in his office, inside the manor. The manor was the only nice building in the entire shanty town. He described the scene of last night¡¯s events to the Mayor. Von Hagemeister furrowed his brow for a moment. He grumbled something under his breath. He then looked at Sajoa?ar and told him he would send some menn over to help repair the grave, and not to worry about it further. Sajoa?ar sighed, shrugged his shoulders, thanked the Mayor for his time, and headed back to his house. Adrianovic scowled as Sajoa?ar left. He wasn¡¯t mad at the old Gravekeeper. He was mad at the Pirate who wasn¡¯t stealthy enough to conceal his activities from the old To¡¯resk. He left his office in a huff, and charged down to the docks. Seabirds cried as they fluttered overhead. The sun was rising higher in the sky, as mid morning took over from dawn. The wind was still, and the air was hot. Adrianovic stomped on the docks, and stopped in front of a Cutter. It was an old ship, with some splintered wood on her deck, and patchy dark sails. The name on the bow read ¡°Belligerent Bivalve¡±. Adrianovic scoffed, then boarded the ship. Onboard a few sailors were milling about. A large Janoa was high in the rigging, patching a fresh hole in the sail. He brushed past a Kypiq that was swabbing the deck, and went right up to the wheel, where a To¡¯resk in fancy, yet weathered, attire was standing. He was holding a map up to the sky, and squinting. Adrianovic grabbed the To¡¯resk Captain by the collar and pulled him closer. He whispered in his ear. The Captain looked at Adrianovic for a moment, blank faced. Then, with a wily smile, he showed him the map. Adrianovic looked the map over. His jaw dropped for a split second before he regained his composure. He clapped the To¡¯resk on the back, nodded at him, then disembarked the ship. ¡°Right boys, hop to! We¡¯re shovin¡¯ off by noon!¡± The Captain shouted. He looked at the map again. It wasn¡¯t a map in the traditional sense. It did not have features found on land, nor islands, nor shorelines. It was a jumbled mess of lines and shapes. The Captain smiled though. He knew how to read it. ¡°Captain, did we retrieve the item?¡± A Neran asked. He was the First Mate, and privy to the knowledge which was kept secret from most of the crew. ¡°Indeed, Chickle. We did. Have a look.¡± The Captain showed the map to Chickle. Chickle gasped. ¡°Sir! The curse! Whaleback¡¯s Curse! Did you do the proper ritual!?¡± He squeaked, quite distraught. ¡°I did some sort of ritual. I mean, I got the map didn¡¯t I?¡± The Captain smiled, although Chickle did not look convinced. ¡°Sir, if you left out any small part, the map will still appear, but so will the curse! The Dras Shaman was explicit in his instructions! I hope for all our sakes you did it right.¡± Chickle said, as he walked away from the Captain. The Captain raised a brow and went through his memory. Did he do it right? Now that Chickle mentioned it, he couldn''t recall! ¡°I¡¯m sure it''s fine.¡± He mused, as he rolled the map up, and tucked it into his coat. The ship set sail, and the journey was underway! The Captain couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the grave of Joris ¡°Whaleback¡± Mullica though. The voyage wasn¡¯t across the deep ocean, and no one expected there to be any problems. The ¡°Belligerent Bivalve¡± sailed smoothly through the afternoon. Over the horizon, dark clouds were gathering though¡­ The menn that the Mayor promised to send help Sajoa?ar never showed up. The old Gravekeeper was out there, fixing the broken coffin, and refilling the grave with dirt. It was back breaking work. Sajoa?ar sighed, as he stopped for a breath. The gravestone looked odd. It was as if it were reflecting the sun¡¯s light, but there was a storm out at sea, obscuring the sun from view. Sajoa?ar shrugged, and thought there must be an explanation for it. He continued his work and finished well after dark. The gravestone never stopped gleaming the entire time. Sajoa?ar didn¡¯t care. He finished the work, and went inside for some well deserved rest. The next morning, Sajoa?ar was at the docks, repairing a boat when he overheard some news. A ship named the Belligerent Bivalve was sunk overnight during the squall. Apparently, no one survived. The ship hit the rocks just off the Lighthouse, and the Keeper witnessed the entire thing. Sajoa?ar wondered if the Pirate who had stolen the chest was on that ship. He recalled how the gravestone glimmered in the dark. Huffing, he brushed the thoughts aside, and continued his work. It wasn¡¯t any of his business, and he didn¡¯t want any curses, bad luck, or other superstitious stuff happening to him! He, after all, kept the graveyard! The Searing Plague A Plague Doctor¡¯s Account of the ¡°Searing Plague¡±. By Lesudo Alimar, Dras Plague Doctor. Circa 229, 4th Age. Entry One, I was sitting in that drab room with the poor Neran. He was burning alive, yet there were no flames. I had been caring for him for a few hours. He had advanced symptoms of the Searing Plague, as we had begun calling it. When I first arrived, he was sweating profusely, and he was so hot it was uncomfortable to even shake his hand. He was shaking, weak. He could barely speak through his parched throat and cracked, dry lips. I was very concerned with his state, and I immediately began treating him with an herbal tonic and cooling salves. They seemed to work at first, but a few hours into the treatment, he took a turn for the worse. I covered him in cool wet cloths, and applied more cooling balms. Nothing reduced his temperature. His skin was turning red, and before long, he was in his death throes. There was nothing I could do but wait with him, and see him to the Queen¡¯s Embrace. I offered him solace, sang songs to him, and spoke rhymes of gentle console to him. I tried everything to alleviate his pain. Numbing tonics and ointments along with the tried and true cooling salves. Nothing worked. His skin burst open, and oozed pus and small streams of blood. He screamed, coughed, and sputtered. His eyes bulged out of his head, and then¡­ He died. I sighed as I rose, covering his corpse with a blanket. I walked out of his house, and flagged down the nearest Corpse Taker. His cart was overflowing with the dead. I was appalled. This Searing Plague was devastating the town I had come to save. It was my hope that I might soon gain some insight in how to combat this deadly outbreak. The Neran was the fourth patient I had tended to since arriving two days past. All of them died in the same manner. The symptoms progressed slightly different with each. Some burned up faster. Some slower. Some seemed to show no symptoms until everything happened at once, in an explosive outburst of burnt skin and bursting eyes. It was brutal. It was violent. It was death. One side of the Coin. It was overtaking the natural balance set forth by the Queen. We Dras, despite having had an entire village murdered by the Janoa at Quone, needed to mobilize and help where we could. My village sent out our best Sages, Herbalists, and Doctors. I was sent to this town, on the fringes of the swamps, alone. When I first arrived, I had hope. People had died, but not in the droves that had perished over the last night. I had tonics, salves, balms, ointments, creams, teas, and a myriad of herbs and spices we Dras use in the swamps to cure visitors. Nothing seemed to work. All my years of treating the sick, and nothing compared to the devastating effects of this Plague. As I walked back to my temporary quarters, I thought about the reports I had heard. Something about how the first death recorded was in the Menas foothills. A wedding. People had taken to calling it the ¡°Blood Mark Wedding¡±. What could have been at that wedding, that unleashed such a blight onto the lands? I couldn¡¯t think of anything off the top of my head. It was truly a mystery. One I had to get to the bottom of, if I were to save anyone. Entry Two, Dawn broke. Fifteen more people had died over night. The Cemetery of this settlement is overflowing with corpses. It¡¯s a breeding ground for the Plague. The undertakers are now showing symptoms. Soon there will be no one left to ferry the bodies out of the settlement. It will lead to the disease spreading faster, as bodies pile up in the streets and homes. I am determined to find a way to combat the plague. This town is depending on me, as I am the only Doctor, and Dras, here. I am the only one immune to the effects of the disease. I have a small team of Nurses, Herbalists, and Sages to help me, but they can not get close to the patients. Only I can care for them in any meaningful capacity. I instructed my team to mix together various concoctions to test the mixed effects of the herbs and spices. I had them combine these mixtures into the cooling salves, and tonics I had brought. The most promising was a tonic brewed with lavender, yarrow, and elderberry. I then proceeded to the next patient. A Hrothi merchant who had advanced symptoms and was dying. I knew I might not save him, but I had to test my theories and mixtures. When I arrived at his house, his family was gathered around him. His wife, and three sons. They were young. It brought a tear to my eye for a moment, but I had to remain confident and strong in front of the youngsters. I instructed the family to leave the room, and wait outside in the backyard, where they might not hear the Hrothi mann¡¯s screams. The family was white with terror, and begged me frantically to save their father. I assured them I would do my best, but gave them no promises. My fellow healers remained with the family, checking them over for signs of the Plague, while I took to the patient, mixtures in hand. I entered his room, and he was already writhing in pain. His skin was red and splotchy, and near to splitting open. This was a sure sign he was Plagued. I had to work fast. I applied the new salves all over his body, and then gave him the tonic mixture. He immediately spit the tonic out, and heaved and coughed. He couldn¡¯t have kept it down if he wanted to. I looked on in observance, as I comforted him in his dying minutes. The salves seemed to have had some sort of effect! He relaxed slightly. His skin was still hot, but it appeared as if he had no longer the feeling of it! Perhaps mixing the numbing salve and the cooling salve with the other herbs was the trick to at least ease their pain. Half an hour later, he was dead. His skin still cracked open, but it is my belief that he was dead before the final stage of the sickness took him. Perhaps, I had found a way to ease the suffering of the dying. I would need to apply my new mixture a few more times before I would know for sure. I covered the Hrothi in the blanket, and sullenly walked outside to deliver the bad news. I reassured the family, that despite the pain of the other victims, their father had not suffered in the same way. I couldn¡¯t bear to look at them, as they broke down into fits of hysteria. My team of healers said they were not displaying signs of Plague, so we left. Once more, I signaled the nearest Corpse Taker. I had lost another victim, but perhaps gained some insight into how best to ease the Plagued¡¯s pain. Entry Three, The town was dwindling. Over the course of four days, they lost twenty-nine people to the Searing Plague. I had lost two of my team. An Herbalist and a Nurse. I suspect they had contracted the Plague from their contact with the Hrothi family, who had also all died. My work is never ending by this point. The town is desolate now. No one dares venture outside other than the Corpse Takers, who collect the dead in their wheelbarrows. The silence of the town square speaks volumes of the town¡¯s despair. The market is empty. The streets are barren. The Searing Plague is destroying this place. The Virtori here have taken up the practice of Flagellantism. They march down the main road at midday and whip themselves for penance of their sins against the Virtues. They chant prayers and dress in rags to display their devoutness. Their parades are a macab display of an appeal to their religion for rescue. I¡¯m constantly pulled in many directions at once. Everyone is appealing to me for help. All I can do is help in order of severity. The town has few doctors, as most had died of the Plague already. Regardless, I carry on. I have been trying to heal the sick all through the night. I¡¯m only now, able to sit down and add to my account. Twenty-nine people in four days. This disease is fast acting, ruthless, and terrible. So far, it seems to run the same course. First, the victim is tired, with dry eyes and an extreme thirst. They then develop a fever, weakness, dry, sore throats, and red patches on their skin. As this stage advances, their fever spikes to unusually high levels. Their skin gets so hot that its hard to touch. Finally, in the last stages of the disease their skin blisters, and cracks open as if burnt, and they writhe in pain until death. There is something else too. Some of the Afflicted seem to go crazy. In their delirious states, people would leap up and dance or sing despite the pain of their searing flesh. They might act feral and attack those around them. The effects of the disease are truly bizarre. I suspect the advanced fevers are searing their brains and scorching their senses. It will take many more patients before I can determine the causes of these oddities among the rest of the symptoms for certain. In the end, the Searing Plague is a terrible way to die. My soul aches for the infected and their families. Suffering of this scale is truly difficult to endure. Today, I plan to try and create more mixtures. I have a tincture in mind that might slow the progression, but I don¡¯t know. I will brew white willow, peppermint, and black elder flowers into a tea, and let it cool in the night. I hope this will stem the fevers and cool the patients off. I will continue to use the salve that was made from charcoal, ginger, and aloe. I think that, if I can cool them off inside and outside, we stand a better chance of reducing these intense fevers. All of this, I do while tending to those I¡¯m able to. Much of my work is simply monitoring them. Bloodletting and leeches seem to have little effect on the progression of the disease. I still apply a leech or two, as I believe the pressure build up inside of the victim is causing the skin to crack open. I also quarantine all patients and disallow anyone to contact them. Anyone who must come into contact always has to wear a heavy apron, oilskin gloves, and a mask containing a bundle of sweet smelling herbs to prevent contracting the disease. I plan on going to the Mayor¡¯s Manor tomorrow. His wife has started complaining about a dry throat. She isn¡¯t showing any other symptoms yet. The Mayor has personally requested me to check on her. Let us hope the Queen has graced her with life over death. Entry 4, I arrived at the Mayor¡¯s manor this morning, only to find that one of his servants had been killed overnight. Apparently, one of the Mayor¡¯s sons thought the maid had symptoms of the Searing Plague, and ordered the guards to kill her so she might not spread the disease to the family. I examined the body, and sure enough, she did show some signs, but I couldn¡¯t determine conclusively. Poor thing. She wasn¡¯t even given a chance. Perhaps she was perfectly healthy. We¡¯ll never know. The threat of death by painful diseases does things to the minds of Menn. Surrounded by death and decay, they cower in fear at the slightest signs of danger. Some Menn react with violence, as is the case with the Mayor¡¯s son. Others turn and flee. Some freeze up, unable to act upon the situation. I don¡¯t pretend to know what the Queen is doing, but I do my best to keep the balance. I suppose in another part of the world somewhere, there are people living in a boon time. I can envision the lavish parties and abundance of food they must be enjoying. The good health of their kin. The lives they are creating and furthering. All the sunshine and good fortune anyone could want. I can only hope that the balance swings in our favor again one day soon, even if it is to the detriment of those poor far off peoples enjoying the good times now. That¡¯s a bit selfish, I know. I suppose I should get back to the account. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. I arrived at the Mayor¡¯s Manor and it was in such a state! Fancy furnishings were strewn about, and the entire family was holed up in the main living quarters. Guards were posted at the doors. No one was allowed to enter, save for myself. I entered the room, and sure enough, the Mayor¡¯s wife was laying in a bed with a cloth over her forehead. She looked serene, but that wasn¡¯t going to last. They Mayor was a stern Neran man, with a sharp nose for detail and a shrewd business air about him. I could tell he was a no-nonsense mann. He looked at me with pleading eyes when I first entered. He asked me to ¡°please save my wife.¡±. It¡¯s hard to console the families of the afflicted, when the mortality rate of this Searing Plague is almost certain death. No matter what you say or do, the family knows deep down that there¡¯s nothing to be done other than to ease the suffering. There were four guards posted around the room, mainly near windows and doors. I suppose to keep the sick from trying to gain audience with the Mayor, and infect him. I set to work. I administered the new tea I had brewed, the tonic, and salve. Then I waited. An hour or so passed, and the Mayor¡¯s wife seemed to remain stable. Her skin was hot and blotchy, and she complained of thirst, but she did not seem to be advancing into the later stages of the Plague. I held my breath. Then it happened. It was mid morning, and she leapt from the bed in such a rage! I fell over and turned around just in time to see her grab the shocked guard¡¯s sword and thrust it deep into his stomach! It was madness! It took two guards to wrestle her back into the bed, but as soon as they did, she started howling like a feral animal! The Mayor was there, watching the insanity alongside his sons. They were horrified! He screamed at me that my medicines were doing this to her. I sighed and got up. Brushed myself off, and calmly walked over to the bed, where the poor girl was thrashing about under the steel grips of the two guards. The last guard was busy dragging his wounded comrade out of the room. I never had a chance to look him over. I took out a vile of Lemon Balm and Lavender oil. These herbs were well known for their calming effects. I rubbed the oil onto her top lip, just under her nose. I then applied more salve to her forehead to try and cool her off. Clearly this outburst was a sign the Plague¡¯s heat was scorching her mind. She would descend into further madness before death, I was sure of it. Regardless, I worked. I gave her more tonic, held her hand, and sung to her in a low, deep tone. The song was one my mother used to sing to me when I was a child in the village. It was a low mournful song, about the migration of the Dras from the wetlands. How our people had been searching for a place we belonged. I sang it in Lazu. I know she didn¡¯t understand the words, but they still seemed to have an effect on her, and I was pleased to see the calming oils working. I smiled gently at her, and reapplied a new cool wet cloth to her forehead. An hour later, and she was doing much better! I was shocked. This was the first patient to have shown improvement. My methods were having an effect. It was not impossible to save these people. Before noon, her skin had cooled, and the red blotches were gone. She was going to make it! I stood up as the Mayor grabbed me. He hugged me tightly. I could see the blood spots where the guard had been stabbed behind him. No doubt, they would blame the Plague for his death. In a sense, they wouldn¡¯t be wrong. I suppose that wasn¡¯t for me to worry about though. I gave the Mayor some of the tinctures and salves I had used to heal his wife, and instructed them all to remain inside, with sweet herbs in masks on their face to prevent reinfection. I then pleaded with the Mayor to instill a curfew and quarantine law to keep the afflicted away from the healthy, and decrease the chance of spreading the Plague. I then left the Mayor¡¯s house in search of something to eat. It had been a while since I last had a meal. I felt vindicated though. For all the death around me, I finally managed to save someone. I didn¡¯t just ease her pain, but I saved her life. As I walked down the road the Virtori procession was moving down the main street. They chanted an eerie prayer, and whipped themselves with cat-o-nine tails, and paddled themselves with large flat boards. Their rags were shredded and many were bleeding. They rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Entry 5, Ten more people died over night. Yesterday afternoon was slow going. The death toll seems to be slowing down though. Perhaps the Plague is running out of bodies to infect. When I first got here, the town was madness, but over the course of the last week and a half, I¡¯ve been able to learn so much of this Plague. The Mayor has been wonderful as well. He listened to my request, and imposed a curfew as well as making it mandatory that all citizens showing signs of Plague be quarantined. My hope has been reassured. Late last night, a courier brought me a book as well. It was a book on Treating Disease and Balancing Humors. I knew a little bit about humors, but this book was pretty comprehensive. This would come in very useful. I took the book and my supplies to the next patient. This was another Neran man. He was one of the Undertakers at the cemetery. His job was very important. The town had since switched from burying the bodies to burning them to help stop the spread of the Searing Plague. The joke was ¡°Let¡¯s Sear the Searing Plague¡±. Maybe a bit macabre, but these people needed to laugh at something. It was having an effect, but the Undertakers were at most risk. They were the real heroes of this epidemic. Many had died already, but the survivors remained loyal to their duties. The Neran, named Marl Windsheer, was looking bad. He had been brought to the makeshift hospital, which was really just the old tavern, by his nephew. I looked him over, and consulted the book I had. It proposed the idea of balancing the four humors of the body. Now, I knew about the humors of the bodies of Menn, but I didn¡¯t think to try hot cups (Which was a common way to balance humors). It seemed like the wrong approach, to heat someone who was already burning up. I, however, had an idea. Cold cups. I instructed one of my nurses to fetch me anything small, round, and metal. She came back with two tin candlesticks. It was fine, they would work. I put them in water to cool them down. I then applied the usual salves, and administered the tonic. Then, I placed a candlestick on his head, and the other on his bare stomach. I then applied a leech to his right arm. I prepared an emetic of saltwater and mustard while the leech bled his arm. This, to purge the bad humors. After a while I took the candlesticks off of Marl, and gave him the emetic. I then got a bucket ready, to catch the bad humor as he spewed them out. He wretched and wretched and soon there was a bucket full of yellowish foul smelling bile. This of course was one of the four humors. Tainted by the Plague no doubt. I then set the bucket aside. I would later have an alchemist run some tests on it. By this point, I was getting pretty thirsty. I brushed the thought of catching Plague out of my mind. We Dras *do not* catch diseases. I removed the leech from Marl¡¯s arm, and squeezed the blood into a glass bottle. Another of the four humors. With these two samples, I might be able to find an alchemist to analyze them and see if there were some sort of properties the Plague had that we could use against it. I still wanted to get the other two humors from him, but he required rest now. I reapplied the ointments and administered more tonic. Once more, I was surprised that a patient turned back toward life! Marl, who had been in the middle stages of the Plague, was getting better! My tactics were working. I had saved two people now. I was pleased. There was more good news. Several people in the Hospital who were showing early symptoms of the Plague were getting better. Their fevers were reduced, and their red dry eyes were returning to normal. With a renewed hope, I had decided to step outside for some fresh air. I was feeling a bit warm in the Hospital. So I went out and to my amazement, there was a small caravan stopped on the main road. I walked over to it, and as I approached a Kyqiq in a fancy hat leapt off the back of the large cart and motioned eagerly for me to come over. When I got to him, he started chattering quickly about cure alls and health protection. I didn¡¯t catch a lot of what he said, but he held up a bottle labeled ¡°Crushed Emeralds¡±, and said that they were a great way to fight the Plague when eaten. I raised a brow at this. Crushed emeralds? That was certainly not something healthy to be ingested! That would be like eating crushed glass, and would certainly cause some internal damage. I opened my mouth to explain this, but before words could leave my lips, he was on to the next cure. I sighed, and turned to go. Even with my back turned, the Kypiq was still jabbering about his fake cures. He was scum in my opinion. Taking advantage of the desperation of the sick... Entry 6, I lay in a bed in my own makeshift Hospital. I¡¯m burning alive. Turns out, Dras are not immune to the Plague. I¡¯ve caught it. This is a clue though. We Dras have developed immunity to diseases due to our lifestyle living in the swamps. Disease is common there. This disease though¡­ Its not like the ones found commonly in most of Elyria. This disease must have come from much farther away, at least from the warmer climates. I can¡¯t help but to think of the ice at the wedding where the Plague first broke. Writing is difficult. My head feels like there is a carpenter hammering away at it. My skin has the red blotched, but I still feel a bit of strength. I¡¯m not weak, and my thirst is not extreme. I can¡¯t tell how far I will advance. I¡¯m treating myself the best I can. I¡¯m using the salves and tonics I¡¯ve used to great effect. I feel the effects of their cooling. If I survive this, I will have a better understanding of the illness. I hope the Queen sees fit to keep me alive so that I may continue to help other afflicted souls¡­ I cannot write much. I need to rest. If I do not make it to the next day, I wish my family back home a long healthy life, free of this accursed Plague. The Queen wills what is though, and I am resigned to her judgement. Perhaps I was tipping the balance to far in favor of life, and now I must be sacrificed to maintain that same balance¡­ I¡¯m growing tired though, the strength I began this writing with is fading. We shall see what happens next¡­ For now, let it be known that Doctor Lesudo Alimar did all he could to help the suffering, ease the pain, and fight the Searing Plague. This is a chronicling of the Plague Doctor Lesudo Alimar, of the Dras. These are his exact entries, thought for thought, of the events he was a part of and his role in the Searing Plague. His journal was uncovered more than a century after the Plague devastated Elyria. Through his texts, and the texts of many others we continue to learn about this terrible disease.