Sanity Stolen

[Caerah]

((Closed except to whichever of Cyrus's characters he brings))

Waking from her sleep, Caerah stretched languidly and wished she hadn't been awakened so early.

I suppose that's what I should have expected when I decided to sleep outdoors...

She had been staying in Radasanth for a few weeks, but not being used to a city of such immense size, she found she longed to sleep under the stars every so often. Her makeshift bedroll was nothing more than a blanket which she curled up under.

Glancing around, she found the source of her awakening. A small cat had wandered over and was trying to get comfortable on top of her feet. Grumbling at the fact she had no one to complain to, she picked the cat up and gently tossed it to the side. The wind had been picked up quite a bit since the previous night, causing blades of grass to brush against her skin.

Putting on what clothes she hadn't slept in, she packed the rest of her belongings into her bag and started to head back into town. For awhile she tried to keep her hair looking proper, but quickly realized how silly it was to try fixing your hair in this wind. Arriving at the city gates, the guard on duty looked her over.

The guard smiled and said "Sorry miss, but you'll have to keep your cat secured in the city."

Confused at to what the guard was talking about, Caerah suddenly felt a familiar form rubbing up against her leg. It seems the cat had taken a liking to her for some reason.

Picking the cat up and tossing a bit more forcefully this time, she replied "That's not my cat... It just followed me here. Anyway, I've been staying at that inn just down the street so can I pass or not?"

Realizing she may have come off a little hard, she smiled apologetically and passed through when he waved. She had not even gone ten feet when an older man ran up to her rather excitedly.

What's with the world today... Can't I just be left alone for a few minutes? Why do I sleep so often on the bare ground... I know it always puts me in a bad mood!

The old man (whom Caerah noticed wasn't nearly as old as she had first thought) looked to be in his early to mid thirties, and was dressed in rather elegant clothes which were being made slightly less elegant by the wind tossing them out of place. His frame was so slight that he looked as if he might have to strain to lift a bucket of water. His eyes had a hopeful look about them as though he expected something great. Not having the slightest clue what to say to this man, she blinked a few times and smiled.

The "old" man grinned back at her and spoke, "Might you happen to be Lady Caerah? I'd heard you fancy yourself something of a healer from some of the boys whom work for me. You certainly match their description. Chain mail and all!

Caerah was a little caught off guard that this man knew her. After all she hadn't been in town long at all really, and while she had helped a few people, she doubted she was anything all that special. Nevertheless she nodded to the man.

"Well, I certainly hold no title of nobility so I'm not really a Lady, but I am Caerah. From the looks of it, you don't seem hurt though."

The man's face grew darker as he spoke, "Where are my manners... My name is Percival von Humphrey, and before you ask, no you may not call me Percy. More to the point, I am not the one needing your help. My brother has recently come back from a hunting trip stark raving mad. We have visited all the local healers, but none so far have been of any use to us. I had heard your particular brand of healing was slightly different than the rest and was hoping you would give it a shot. Of course, there would be monetary reimbursement should you succeed."

Caerah frowned as she listened and replied, "I will gladly try to help your brother, but up until now my healing has only been practiced on physical injuries. I have no idea if they will work on injuries of the mind... Lead me to your brother and I'll see what I can do."

With that said, the man started hurrying off down the street. Caerah stood watching him for a moment, thinking about if this was even possible. A lost hat carried by the wind smacked her in the face, bringing her back to the real world and she hurried to catch up to the man.

I wish I had thought to ask if I could eat something first... It's hard to work on an empty stomach...

She caught up to him just outside a luxurious house. She nearly fell over in shock when Percival started walking down the pathway to the door.

Taking a second to look over the building she realized this man was very well off. The pathway itself was at first glance regular cobblestone, but as she looked at it she caught little flashes of light. Bending closer to inspect the stones, she saw small flecks of gold and silver in the stone. The house itself was a massive three floor manor, with delicate gilding around each window. The building itself seemed to be made of simple materials as with any of the other houses however.

Wow, this guy must be loaded! Hopefully I can help this guy out... I'd be able to eat whatever I wanted for weeks!

Realizing she had kept Percival waiting, she followed him up to the door and went inside. The interior of the house was very unimpressive. In fact there was almost no furniture around. She was led upstairs to a small room filled with plenty of little trinkets.

On a bed in the middle of the room was a large man. Tied to the man's wrists and ankles was a thick length of cord which was attached to the bed, presumably to keep him from moving about. The man on the bed was in his late twenties and was in amazing shape. His muscles were taut and straining against the ropes, which only served to tire him out.

Staring at him in amazement, Caerah turned to Percival.

"THIS is your brother? Afraid I don't see much of a resemblance... Why do you have him tied up like that?"

Percival frowned deeply. "Unfortunately my brother Gregory has lost all self control. As you can see he is a fairly strong lad. In a spontaneous fit of rage he attacked one of our servants and nearly killed him. Since then we've been forced to restrain him for our own protection."

Swallowing deeply, Caerah prepared to do what she had come here for. She slowly approached the large man, hoping that those ropes were as solid as they seemed. Arriving at his bed side, she placed a hand gently on his chest. She could feel his heart racing and his muscles tensing repeatedly. She focused her mind on his, and sent out a stream of her life essence into him. The man shuddered under her touch and then was still. Caerah nearly fell over from the exertion.

"Gregory? Are you all right?" Percival was almost in tears as he spoke. "Say something to me please, Gregory..."

The large man raised his head, staring straight at Caerah and opened his mouth.

"Filthy little tramp! Wring you out to dry in the spring!"

Startled Caerah backed away, tears in her eyes from the shock. Gregory continued his ranting, while Percival led her from the room.

"Unfortunately it seems you were unable to help him Caerah, though I thank you for trying. I have one last thing I intend to try, if you'll help me of course."

"Of course I'll help! I can't just leave that poor man in that condition when there is something else I can do. Just let me know what you need from me."

Percival grabbed her hand and held it between his own.

"Thank you so much my dear! For now, please head down to the entryway. I have someone there who will show you to the dining room, you look a tad hungry. All will be made clear later. Now I must leave you, as I have another matter to attend."

With that, he bowed to her and left her standing there alone. Her stomach growled as if to remind her she hadn't eaten, and that a feast had just been promised. Hurrying downstairs, visions of exotic food were already filling her head.

[Deadnight Warrior]

Artume Zauvir knew the difference between a lady and a harlot, but always found the eager-to-please nature of the latter kind most appealing. They eliminated the need for conversation, something he had a great skill for, yet did not enjoy using to try and goad women.

So it was no surprise to see the large, dark-haired man sitting in one of many plush seats by the stage, enjoying the entertainment provided by Radasanth's most enjoyable bordello. His eyes danced over the body of his favorite dancer, a hand supporting his chin and scratching absent-mindedly at his shallow beard.

"Ah, Ginger," he muttered, purposely keeping the volume of his voice lower than that of the music provided, a gentle swaying tune that set the hips of Ginger to dancing. She was lithe, and tinted an enchanting color due to the lights. "A lovelier whore I've never laid my eyes upon. It's a shame your affections go to whoever has the most gold, and not to whom appreciates you most. One day I will whisk you from here."

He chuckled at his own fantasy, and rose from the soft chair that had inhaled him. A man could only be consumed in such a place for so long before he lost his mind--and his wallet. The pink orbs that covered the ceiling gave way to the light of the sun, and Artume was outside, pulling up his belt and taking in a breath of fresh air.

The warrior had only recently returned from Concordia forest, where he and Arvis, a drow he had come across there, had done away with a throng of goblins and their orange-skinned leader. The adventure had filled him with a sense of pride and, more importantly, a purse full of gold.

He walked down the side street to join the main road, where human traffic perused the city. It was the height of day, when peddling was most profitable. The screams of merchants rang loud, desperate for attention toward their wares. Artume, like many of the others around him, was accustomed to the noise.

Still, the near-constant demand for him to look at whatever item a greasy old man was holding out tugged at his patience.

Several minutes later, Artume was mercifully beyond the main road and onto a grassy path, which eventually brought him to the wealthier district of Radasanth, where towering structures served as homes for the spoiled.

A booming voice echoed through the area, spouting some nonsense about a tramp and a spring. Artume looked toward its source, or what he believed to be its source, a large mansion's window. He observed it for a moment, listening intently, but nothing else came. Probably a lover's spat.

The warrior could carry on no longer before a man came to him. He was rather youthful and plain, likely a servant in one of the many homes. Looking desperate, he approached Artume with a pleading expression on his face. "Sir! Have you any knowledge of healing?"

The warrior stood languidly, both hands resting on the handles of his blades, a very slight smirk on his face. "Not that I know of."

Exasperated, the man moved to pass him, but Artume's hand caught the inside of his arm and held. "Wait, wait. Do you work for a rich home, lad?"

He nodded in response, clearly eager to continue his search, but he dared not tear Artume's hand away. One never knew what kind of person they were dealing with in the streets of Radasanth, after all. "Yes. The brother of our lord has become ill of mind, and I search for one who can help."

"Psychosis, you say?" Asked Artume, his lips pursed in curiosity. "Point me to your manor. If nothing else, perhaps I can at least take a look."

Another nod. It seemed the man was content to point him in the right direction, if only so he could be released. Artume left him, and went off in the direction indicated. Gold was one thing, but having a rich house indebted to him was another event altogether.

He was a man of many talents, but fixing the mind was not one of them. It was never too late to learn, though, and there was nothing quite like first-hand experience.