Pestilence (RP topic)

Æhnyir says,
“Why do you think that cult would be after me?”

Raphael paused, before suddenly connecting the dots in his mind.
“You, are the host of The Magician?” He questioned.

"That’s the extent that the cult knows, though the truth is more complicated…

After, I am also contracted to an angel…

This made Raphael really freeze.
“An…angel you say? What is their name?”

"I met both the Magician and this Angel when I went to hell, the inferno, the underworld, whatever you may call it, which in of itself is a very long story.

As for the Angel’s name… The angel was called ‘healer’ or Errapel."

“Errapel…” Raphael echoed, shocked.
“Did Errapel ever tell you about the others?”

“others…are you referring to the other angels or the other heavenly Kings?”

“The other angels.” Replied Saint Raphael.

Arkan would pocket a few of these bottles, making sure they were corked and wouldn’t leak, and continued searching the whole of the building.

Every so often, Arkan might spot the tiniest, faintest carvings of mysterious symbols on the wooden wall.

Æhnyir nods,
“After the first crusade I pretty much zoned out for a while and… Didn’t focus on the outside world.”

“Where have you been these past years? What drew you to Florence in the first place?” Saint Raphael asked Æhnyir.

Arkan stops and, with his knowledge of many of the magical arts, tries to decipher what style of magic they’re from and what they might mean.

It was as if a complete lunatic had carved these things. The runes said things such as “GO AWAY!” and “BEGONE DEMONS!”.
It was as if Amadeus was either trying to ward off evil spirits, or he wanted to make it seem that way…

“I’m a traveler, I don’t stick in one place at a time. I stay for a few days then leave. The last time I was here this building was still being built.”

Saint Raphael nodded in acknowledgment.
“You are an old soul, I see. Or at least inhabiting a very old body.”

“Yes, I am very old, though I stopped aging soon after my transformation… I hardly consider myself human anymore, though I am restricted enough to appear human.”

Arkan frowned. Gibberish. Insanity. No real ward, just a madman’s attempt at one. He thinks.

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As Arkan walked, he would feel one floorboard creak and sink down further then the others.
This floorboard was loose.

He only let it sink slightly, before picking his foot back up, to not make a bunch of noise. He started to slowly try and lift the board.