[hr] [center][h1][b][color=skyblue][u]Amarysah Snowden[/u][/color][/b][/h1][/center] [hr] One could feel the stickiness of humidity in the air even with the cover of night. This summer had been unusually cool, and the ever-present humidity subtly signaled that rain was fast approaching. Even the animals seemed to sense it as they scurried to their hidden homes within the city walls. Volenstul, the capital city of Vradia, was bustling with life, despite the impending storm. While the nobles slept comfortably in the Upper Ring, many were breaking legs and deals in the shadows of the Downtown markets and backways of the Harbor. One establishment, known as Sanctuary, stood out amongst the wretched living conditions one would experience. The Sanctuary, nestled between the outskirts of the Rosebud District and the beginning of Downtown, serves as the only pub where both wealthy merchants, nobles, and the poor working class can meet. Many organizations use Sanctuary as a place for business deals, legal or otherwise. The Obsidian Crows are one of the most notorious groups, a Thieves Guild built to support those trying to survive Downtown and the Harbor District. A woman with long ivory tresses twisted back into a long braid entered Sanctuary. Her icy gaze scanned the boisterous crowd, zeroing in on a man with dark features, olive skin, and dressed in fine clothes towards the back. He was doing his best to appear like a commoner; however, the design in his clothes gave him away. She lowered the hood of her dark navy cloak and weaved her way to him like a feline prowling towards prey. Her worn-but-well-cared-for leather boots barely made a sound on the wood floor of the pub. A smile formed on the half-Elven woman's lips with didn't quite meet her eyes. Amarysah sat across from the nervous low rank nobleman as one did not call upon the Obsidian Crows lightly, much less for her services. [b][color=skyblue]"Count Rolof, I presume? The Obsidian Crows have reported that you need assistance on a matter."[/color][/b] She propped her left elbow on the table, placed the left side of her jawline and cheek into her hand casually. The nobleman fussed with his cloak for a moment before meeting Mari's gaze. He seemed shocked, and most people did, meeting her for the first time if they were nobles. She carried her father's piercing blue eyes that anyone would recognize as Grand Duke Viktor's bloodline. [b]"I-I was told that you deal in poisons,"[/b] he finally managed to stutter out. [b][color=skyblue]"Among other things,"[/color][/b] Mari purred in a bored manner. What was this man's deal? He seemed more jumpy than the normal nobles who contacted her for Crow services. Count Rolof glanced around, and a sheen of sweat began to appear on his forehead as he raised his forearms to the table. Once it appeared that the man was satisfied with the obscure nature of the table in the corner, he sighed softly and began to roll up his silken sleeves. [b]"Could use please tell me what poison would do this?"[/b] Rolof asked as his forearms were littered with pus boils in some spots, and those that popped the skin were infected with signs of starting to decay. Amarysah immediately jumped to her feet and took a step back upon seeing such a symptom. [b][color=skyblue]"Have you traveled outside of the city recently?"[/color][/b] She asked as Count Rolof gulped and nodded. Mari sighed in an annoyed tone. [b][color=skyblue]"Where exactly?"[/color][/b] [b]"Somerset. About a week ago."[/b] [color=skyblue][b]"Any contact with someone who may be carrying Duskrot?"[/b][/color] She asked as she thought Rolof's eyes were going to pop out of his head with the look he gave her. [b]"D-Duskrot?"[/b] Amarysah nodded in confirmation. It was surprising that even a low nobleman had caught such a terrible disease. Such cases mainly resided in communities with low to poor living conditions. [b][color=skyblue]"Only those who come into contact with the Duskrot disease will get the beginning of necrotic tissue that fast,"[/color] [/b]she explained as Rolof quickly covered his forearms back up. [b]"I-Is it curable?"[/b] Amarysah studied the man for a moment and nodded. [color=skyblue][b]"Yes, there is one way to protect oneself."[/b][/color] She flipped up her hood and gestured for the man to follow her into the back hallway of Sanctuary. The count did so until he realized that they were in the stone warehouse of the pub. He gingerly walked to the middle of the room to gaze up at the full moon shining down from the roof window. Mari had seemingly disappeared until daggers pinned his cloak in the cracks of the stones. [b]"W-What is going o-on?"[/b] Rolof yelped as he tried his best to tug his cloak free. [color=skyblue]"I'm sorry, Count Rolof, but once one's skin becomes necrotic. It's only a matter of time before they succumb to the worst of the symptoms and finally turn,"[/color] Mari spoke as she entered the ray of moonlight. Rolof's eyes widened as he realized what Amarysah was suggesting. [b]"No, please, I can pay you! I truly can! Please, just tell me the cure!"[/b] Rolof begged. [b][color=skyblue]"Unfortunately, to cure the disease in an area, those who contract it must be killed by steel and their bodies burned to ashes,"[/color][/b] Amarysah explained as she produced a dagger in her right hand and a small potion bottle in the left. [b][color=skyblue]"Downtown and Harbor Districts experience enough hardship from your lot. They don't need a disease to quarantine them to death,"[/color][/b] she added with a glare. Before Rolof could grovel some more, Mari swiped her dagger across his throat and jumped back as she tossed a bottle of Devil's Fire at the dying man. Setting him a blaze on the spot. She sat on a barrel and waited for the man and his clothes to burn away. The only sign left of Count Rolof was the five gold and three silver coins that he had intended for payment. Mari stared a bit longer at the pile of ashes before she took an empty vial from her pack, collected some, and corked it. She examined the ashes briefly before carefully dusting off the money; this man wasn’t going to need it anymore. Plus, the count had been a bachelor, and from what Mari could dig up, he was lucky to receive the inheritance that he did. Regardless, it was one less useless noble in Vradia, something that the half-Elven woman could get behind. Once the pile of ash was cleaned and all evidence of Count Rolof was washed away into the sewer below, Amarysah paused a moment before leaving through the back door. Fronk, the head healer for the Obsidian Crows, was headed to Somerset about a month ago as a favor to a sister faction in the Ellezag Plains. [color=skyblue][b]"First, report in. Then head out,"[/b][/color] Mari muttered to herself before she flipped up her hood and disappeared into the night.