Florence, Italy, 1347.
The renaissance period. A time of enlightenment and enrichment in the many arts and sciences. A lot of important breakthroughs and events happened during this period, most of which benefitted humanity. However, not everything about the renaissance was good. In fact, this chapter of humanity’s history got off to quite a rocky start. Namely, almost all of Europe was ravaged by one of the workd’s largest epidemics:
The Black Death.
The city of Florence is now a dirty, scummy mess. Many of its inhabitants consist of dead plague corpses lying on the streets. Most of its living inhabitants are dying of this disease.
Mortimer is out reaping
Æhnyir walks around the city. He was always on edge, from the mere robber to the insane cultists that lurk through out the lands, each varying in their own beliefs. He was wandering the large market streets gazing at the wares, party considering what to buy.
Arms crossed, Arkan walked through the streets, past the bodies being carted to their mass graves. He remained silent, his eyes cold, both the real one and the fake one.
An alchemist sat dead in his trashed and burning laboratory, his skull had been cleaved in twain and a trail of blood was leading out of the door
Dr. Amadeus Gregia walked out of a house after having finished examining a patient. He removed his mask, taking in a breath of fresh air. His job was an important one, but it also came with a great mental strain.
Pietro was happily working in his shop, creating a neat and artfully composed card dressed to a local noble whom he had little care for… though his client was generously funding.
He might hear Arkan cough nearby. The smell of death was starting to get to him.
Any good doctor would notice his gaunt, malnourished form, and his even thinner wrapped left arm, and any observant person could see his suspicious looking mask and carved stone eye, though he’d try his best to keep a low profile.
Amadeus turned in Arkan’s direction. “My, you don’t look too well. Are you sick?” He inquired.
He glares at Amadeus. “No, and even if I was I wouldn’t trust someone like you to work on me.” He growls, spitting venom in his words.
Depending on how attuned to magic Amadeus was, he might be able to feel something off about Arkan, not to mention the intricate blue enchantment circle carved into his fake eye
Amadeus was indeed quite sensitive to magic, and so he shuddered after feeling the rich power that emanated from Arkan. “…Nevermind, then.” He said, continuing on his way.
Arkan simply turned away and continued down the body ridden road.
Amadeus continued on his own way as well. He had a busy night full of many more patients ahead of him, and it didn’t seem to be slowling down.
Rohan hummed as he made his way through the dingy, dirty, busy streets. Despite the plague, he was in good spirits. And why should he not be? Business was good. Very good, in fact. And thanks to his powers, Rohan had no risk of catching the plague.
Arkan passes him by, and glances over in contempt as he goes.
Rohan glances at Arkan.
“Is something wrong, sir?” He asked politely.
“It’s nothing you could help with.” He spits. “Just another man trying to heal the disease.” He mutters under his breath.
“Try me.” Rohan spread his hands. “I’ve a lot more experience helping people than it seems.”
He turns towards him, glaring. “You’re just another doctor, trying to keep alive a plague on these worlds.” He says. He uncrosses his arms and let’s both fall to his sides after adjusting his glove. “I don’t know any way you could help me.”
E moved over the rooftops of Florence, keeping close to their surfaces and peering over edges with one of his eye tendrils. The people didn’t seem to be doing too well.