Plague Doctor [open]

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Disease runs rampant throughout the slums. There were too many people packed too closely together and too much filth lining the streets. Outbreaks were not an infrequent occurrence. Otsoa held some fear and nervousness regarding the city, but went there due to necessity. Purchasing supplies and selling goods were best done in the capitol.

His visit to the slums was initially an accident. Otsoa meant to go to the Merchant District, and took a wrong turn somewhere. However, their desperate condition forced him to come back. He sits in the middle of the street, handing out potions. Bad water, he thinks, causing the fever, pain, diarrhea, headache, and cough. He couldn’t fix this part of the city’s water problems, but he could help with the disease. However, he tries not to think about how much money that he is losing in making these vials.

An elderly woman, carrying a small child about four, walks over. The child reaches out for one of the bottles, and he carefully hands it to the young girl. “Gods bless,” says the older woman. “What do you say, Alice?” “Gods bless,” repeats the young girl. Otsoa smiles and nods. He’ll be running out soon though. He may have had, what? Ten left. And the crowd was more than forty. He grimaces before addressing the crowd. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t have enough for everyone. Who here… who has someone who is really sick?” The crowd roars. Evidently, most of them did. Otsoa panics. He isn’t exactly sure what to do now.

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Today had been Irena's third visit to these slums in as many weeks. This was the most successful visit she had ever had. Before she had met an interesting family that were experiencing unusual symptoms to this plague. She's tried to buy the youngest daughter of the family, but they had seemed to get rather upset at the idea and refused, her in what had seemed to Irena to be quite a rude way, all for such a little thing of buying their child for experimentation. She'd returned that day with a new offer, twice the gold for just a limb, truly a steal, however when she arrived at the home she'd found the entire family dead from their disease.

Naturally she was delighted at this turn of events.

Some time later Irena left the dark house, her purse now full of the various parts of the family she had chosen to harvest, her only regret is that she had so few sample flasks to force the various bits from the family. All that was guarding these flasks was her trusty guard-rock that would give anyone who wasn't her a nasty bite, if not completely severing their finger with his obsidian teeth. Her head bobbed back and forth as she hummed a little tune she remembered her mother humming to her when she was little, or maybe it was one of the people at the academy.

When Irena came to the crowd near the centre of the slums, she felt the need to know what was happening at the front of it. Slowly she managed to push her way through so many people, all of whom were becoming more agitated as time passed. She walks up to the man at the centre of the mass of people and sees the vials of blue liquid that seem to have a light glow to them. She plucks one of them and unstops the cork and downs the entirety of the potions. She can feel tingling going down her spine as her mouth is assaulted by waves of bitter and sour so strong that tears start to well in her eyes. After a moment she gives out a gasp of joy at the sensation.

Irena sticks her hand into her bulging purse, her hand slipping past the guard-rock that slept in there, retrieving one of the coins that she had brought with her to buy the girl and flicked it at the man, not realizing that one coin was worth more than many of the people in these slums would see in an entire months, or in far too many cases an entire year. "That's enough for another one right?" She asked already reaching to take another one, paying no mind to the people behind her who were now on the verge of rioting.

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Otsoa blinks as a young woman comes and takes the bottle right from his hands. He thinks that she might really need it for someone, but then watches, what appears to be a perfectly healthy woman, drink it all in one gulp. “Ah! No, they aren’t beverages!” He can see the crowd growing more angry as the one woman drinks one of them so carelessly.

He shakes his head as she tries to hand him a coin, and shoves the potions further behind him. “No, I’m not selling them. I’m giving them to people who really need it. They’re to heal the sick. However, when I finish handing them out, I can teach you how to make them yourself. Just wait outside the… ummm… line… and I’ll talk to you when I’m done.”

Otsoa turns his attention back to the crowd. “I’m sorry about that! I still have nine more. I promise to come back soon with more.” He grabs one out of his bag and hands it to a man in front of him. However, with that gesture, the crowd starts pushing forward and shouting louder, trying to reach him. A few people get knocked to the ground, and Otsoa takes a fearful step back.

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As her money is refused and is informed that it was in fact not a drink Irena looks reproachful. She looks around when Otsoa tells her to step to the side and sees that there's nowhere for her step to without the use of a broom.

Irena does her best to keep a little distance but a moment later people pushing her from behind cause her to be thrown onto Otsoa. She reflectively grabs onto him for support. She looks up at him and then glances back at the crowd who are little more than a tinder box. "Uh, I think this is the part where we run away." She offered in a soft voice, with a tone that lacked the concern for her own safety.

She reaches around him and into the bag, producing four of the vials, two in each hand. She snuggled into his chest for a moment enjoying the warmth of another person before looking back up at him. "So I'm going throw a couple of these drinks in the air, and then we're going to run, you good with that?" She asked, a sing-song quality to her voice.

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Otsoa catches the young girl as she is pushed into him. At this point, his ears are flat against his head, and his tail is tucked between his legs. There were probably few things as frightening as a panicked mob of people. Otsoa was already slightly frightened of people in general. He gives a nod at the girl’s suggestion. They probably should leave before being attacked and/or trampled.

He stares anxiously at the crowd, as she grabs vials into the bag. He’s not sure what to do about the sudden snuggling, but it doesn’t do anything to reassure him about the situation at hand, being far too scared out of his mind. It takes him a few moments to register what she is saying. “Uhhh… alright.” At least the girl had some kind of plan, which was far more than what he had. He waits for her to throw the vials before preparing to run from the area with her.

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Irena gives a look around, trying to figure out the best way to go, after a moment she spots it. To her right there are less people then just about anywhere else around them. She looked back to Otsoa and gave him a devilish smile.

Without a word of warning she threw up the four vials into the air, above them. A moment later she was running in the direction she had already decided. In her right hand she was holding Otsoa's hand while her left hand was keeping the flap on the top of her bag secured, all the while distinctly aware of just how high her skirt was rising as she ran.

Behind her were ever rising shouts from the people and the occasional sound of shattered glass, three times so far. It wasn't long before her legs were burning and she needed to stop, though it seemed like the crowd had already forgotten them and were in the process of begining to riot.

She looked back at the man. "Are you alright?" She asked between deep breaths of air. Clearly even getting out so much, this girl was still not a runner.

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Otsoa returns her smile with a nod but his expression still remain fearful. He watches the vials get tossed in the air, thinking about what a waste it would be if one got broken or smashed.

Otsoa let’s the girl drag her out of the crowd, but not without giving a sad look to the mob as they run away. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He just wanted to help. No one ever seemed to come to the slums to help the people there. All they ever did was set up those makeshift jails now and again.

He’s able to keep running, but stops with the girl, who possibly rescued him from that mob of people. He nods to answer her question before asking, “How about you?” He looks at the rioting group. His ears perk up to listen to the group. “I don’t think we need to run from them, but we should leave this part of third district.”