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[color=lightgreen]A Dark Bog, Undisclosed Location
Two Days Prior[/color]

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[img]https://vgy.me/BC67Xz.jpg[/img]

[i]CAW CAW[/i][/center]

[color=lightgreen]"Easy Cornelius.  Easy."[/color]  The crow skittered nervously on his master's arm as the biting chill of the windy valley cut through the night.  It was a disquieting night.  Wolves howled in the distance and a light rain has given everything in the lowlands a swampy mil-dewy smell and texture.  The figure was wrapped in leathers, wearing a mask to match the crow that waited on his arm, complaining of the condition and the speed at which he was taken from his perch.  The figure however attempted to calm his friend with soft strokes to his thick black feathers before he went to his belt.  [color=lightgreen]"Your job is much easier than poor Nicodemous, our pint-sized pal has his work cut out for him.  I do hope the spread was no too concentrated.  Anyway, Cornelius, Corne- listen.  Listen to me."[/color]  The figure grabbed the crows beak between he thumb and forefinger to make him look beak to beak with his master.  The figure explained the instructions as he held up a small tube with latches on it and he set it to the crows foot.  It was a magical receptacle, while minuscule, it could hold a large bunch of parcels due to its compacting enchantments, however this time, it only held a piece of parchment.  [color=lightgreen]"Rosa Blanca.  You know, the pretty one with all the Lunar Moths you like to munch on.  Rosa Blanca.  Deliver this and fly back.  And be safe my friend."[/color]  He cast his arm and the crow took off.  [color=lightgreen]"No!  Cornelius!  No that way!"[/color]  He pointed, redirecting his courier.

And that was all for now.  The figure had followed his instructions to the T, and it was only in the most minor ways could he protest to this foolhardy attempt.

The figure picked up his lantern and made it back through the bog.  He wasn't alone of course.  He was always being watched ever since he had the nerve to speak out for himself.  His own Master had not liked that.  He could always feel her scrying magic on him, making sure he said the right things and did the right things.  It almost felt as cold and foreign as a curse laid upon him, as in essence, it was.  On the way back, he felt the Guild Mark on the back of his left hand.  Its been itchy these days.  It felt dirty, unwanted, just like himself.

He looked at the path ahead, he'd have to cater to his fellow Guildsmen and to the hired help they took with them on this job.  He wasn't well known, regardless of how odd he looked.  It was just an odd foible of House Apothecary that they dawn the beaked hoods and walk amongst those of curse and plague.  It is a lie though.  He is not of the House and to use their name is no doubt an insult.  That seemed so long ago.  How he just left them without even thinking it.  He was a young and foolish dreamer back then, and such whimsical things are hard to give up.  How many people would still be alive if he just did what he was supposed to do?

He went back to their meeting house, an inn being rented for that purpose.  He opened the door with a creak and did not dare to look in anyone's direction.  A simple [color=lightgreen]"Message sent."[/color]  Was all he needed before he rolled his shoulders.  [color=lightgreen]"If I am needed I'll be in my room.  So much to prepare, I doubt I'll get a lick of sleep tonight."[/color]  He had to be chippur.  Had to be positive.  

No one must suspect.