After their many ooze adventures in the Marsh Flats, Zarius and Caedes' managed to hitch a ride on a wagon. Shortly after they secured transport — with some assistance from Lloyd, surprisingly — Zarius started to have sudden fits of coughing and his dizzy spells became more frequent despite not having to walk as much.

One did not have to be a physician to tell the tiefling's condition was worsening. While he had recovered a fair amount after dealing with the Elder Ooze, he had developed some new symptoms. His physical strength had greatly diminished as he would stumble when getting out of the cart and struggle to pull himself back up into it. His tail started to drag when he walked and his smile became more forced. 

Zarius knew things were getting bad. He focused on resting as much as possible but the infection coursing through his arm had gotten to the point of releasing toxins into his bloodstream and weakening his immune system overall. The wet weather didn't help as it made everything perpetually damp and a perfect breeding ground for bacteria. He felt chills and often would break out in a cold sweat on the journey. The coughing worsened each day. His appetite had lessened as well, though he forced himself to eat and drink to keep his strength up the best he could.

He tried to keep preoccupied with writing in his notebook, but there came a point when he could no longer even hold his quill steady on the page. Keeping up a conversation was also becoming difficult for him as he would have lapses of confusion. Despite all this, he still hide it all behind a forced grin. Though soon he couldn't even manage that. As the delusions became worse, he would mutter to himself in Infernal. Sometimes he would have strange moments of clarity and apologize to Caedes for the trouble, though he no longer had the energy to banter with the changeling. Other times he would stare off into space as if seeing something that was clearly not there.

It was worse at night. His breathing was irregular, interrupted by mutterings and wheezes. He was restless and often woke up multiple times throughout the night as his tossing and turning shot waves of pain up his arm and into his brain. By morning he was exhausted and sluggish, like a dead man walking.

By the time the wagon rolls up to the base of the pathway leading to the Witch's house, the tiefling is barely able to muster enough strength to sit up on his own. As the wagon comes to a stop, he tries to push himself up to stand. His good arm shakes and buckles under his body weight making his face hit the wooden planks with a dull thud. He groans and rolls back over onto his back before bursting into another fit of coughing.

The driver glances back over his shoulder at the sound then looks at Caedes with an apologetic smile. "Sorry I can't take ye up to the front steps, lad. This is where you and your friend have to get off. The witch's house is just up that path, hanging between the hills. You can't miss it."

It doesn’t look good.

They got a ride to the Moonglade, which might have been Zarius’ saving grace… if his condition wasn’t worsening so quickly. There is a certain feeling of helplessness that comes with watching Zarius’ state of being deteriorate: it’s true that he’s not responsible for the tiefling; it’s true that he’s a trained killer; and it’s true that death is something he’s intimately familiar with.

It’s different, though, watching it happen in slow motion. It’s different knowing the conversations they’ve had, and knowing that Zarius was willing to entertain the possibility of helping him even if it came at a price. They’re not friends; nor are they allies except in promise.

He doesn’t need to keep track of the tiefling’s new symptoms; he doesn’t need to tend to his wound; nor does he need to keep him company on this journey to the Moonglade. It’s not his responsibility; and he could, arguably, leave at any point and allow fate to take its course—

— fate is not always set in stone,

It’s clearer day by day that Zarius is gradually becoming a dead man walking. It starts with the coughing, then the chills, then the lack of appetite. The forced smiles, and the burdened movements. The restless nights, the dizzy spells, and the confusion. Murmurs in a language he can’t understand, and apologies from seemingly nowhere—

— but the threads can only be pulled so far before they snap.

Caedes opens his eyes as the wagon rolls to a stop.

The scent of sickly copper permeates the air. He’s sitting across from Zarius; gazing quietly at the ailing tiefling while he lies. At this point, he’s stopped putting Zarius’ medical kit back into the tiefling’s bag; and so, it sits against the wall next to him. The supplies have started to dwindle by now— by a few days ago, if not more, really.

Zarius tries to sit up.

He can’t.

Sympathy flickers in the assassin’s pale eyes for a moment as the tiefling drops; but it disappears as the driver speaks. He closes his eyes, beginning to collect their things. “I understand,” he remarks; he grabs the medical kit by its handle as he rises to his feet. He feels the motion of something invisible scurrying around by his ankles. “We appreciate all the trouble you took to bring us here, even if it was on your way.”

He does his best to be polite and grateful, or at least sound it; he stoops down and opens Zarius’ bag, slipping the medical kit back inside where he’d found it. As he stands, he slips Zarius’ bag around himself, and looks at the tiefling while he lies on his back.

He breathes a steady inhale; Zarius is in no position to walk.

He’s known this for days, as Zarius got weaker and weaker.

“I should be able to manage him from here.”

---

Damn Witch of the Moonglade and her damn set of gods-forsaken infinite stairs— did she really think this was a good idea?

Caedes takes a sharp breath, stopping mid-step to adjust the weight of Zarius on his back. The tiefling is like a deadweight at this point. He’s keeping him afloat by hooking his arms behind the man’s legs, and arching his back just enough to provide some angle of leverage for Zarius, so that he doesn’t need to hold onto him in any capacity if he can't.

The sacrifice is that it is greatly uncomfortable to do while climbing the steps.

"A little longer," the encouragement comes between stifled attempts to even his breathing out. "Just, hang in there a little longer."

He closes his eyes for a moment, before he looks over his shoulder past the tiefling’s dangling, bandaged arm. Zarius’ body temperature is scalding against him— partially because he lacks his own— and partially because the infection is surely making him feverish.

Charlotte appears a few steps above him from her prismatic state, and looks back at them.

He ducks his head, breathing heavily as he jostles Zarius only enough to readjust his hold, before continuing the seemingly endless trek up the steps towards the witch’s home as smoothly, quickly, and carefully as he can possibly manage— but between Zarius, their combined belongings, and the posture in which he's carrying the man...

Well, it's easier said than done; fortunately, he is quite determined to reach the witch's home.

Hopefully, with the tiefling still alive.

The stone seemed to have jumped out of its way to forge a path upwards and around the hill, as if Ginma himself willed and the stone followed his command. Similarly to it, an structure that resembled to a stable sat at the base of the staircase, almost like a cave, despite its very unnatural and clearly sculpted look. The river provided fresh, humid air, but there was also stactic in the atmosphere and dark clouds on the horizon. Another storm, probably the last one of the season around there. It would be a cold night, regardless.

The house itself looked very simple, with the stone staircase opening up in a small area filled with several pots of plants, including a small, potted tree that looked pretty dead, with its naked branches shooting out in every direction. Upon one of its branches, there was a black bird. The raven seemed to be having a blast, bouncing up and down the branch with an utterly annoying creaking noise they could hear before seeing it. The tree resisted.

When the duo came into sight, the raven stopped for a moment and eyed them intensely, with what appeared to be a coin safely kept on his beak. His twinkling, beetle eyes appeared to let some sort of intelligence shine through as his small brain processed the scene.

"CAAAWWWWWW! VISITORS!"

Without releasing his coin, the bird went inside through an open window, his caws following him around the house as he pestered someone with "Visitors! Visitors!". Some movement could be heard inside, some soft shuffling, irritated cursing and gentle rustling before the door swung open with a loud bang. On the doorway stood a half-elf woman, her black hair pulled back in a messy braid, wearing a silk, purple robe. The look on her face was of utterly annoyance, but it probably had more to do with the fact the raven was on her shoulder yelling directly into her ear about visitors. She opened her mouth to say something - probably something silly - but that was before her cobbalt eyes actually registered the scene in front of her. There was someone she didn't know there, buried beneath the weight of several bags and an aditional body, but she definitely knew the charcoal tiefling on his back, and her eyes widened with recognition - and then, worry. All the sillyness evaporated from her demeanor in an instant, as well as the blood from her face, giving way to an urgency of someone who went through that situation before and quickly recognized its gravity. Her voice had a much more "no-bs-no-time-to-waste" tone than what would be expected at first glance.

"Come inside, now. EDGAR! ALLAN! COME HELP! Poe, prepare a tray for me, NOW!"

Quicker, heavier steps came from inside as the Witch urged the changeling to enter without the minimum pleasantry. There would be time for it later, but now, as she opened way for them to come into her house, two other man came into view to help Caedes carry Zarius to the dormitory. The two man were also half-elves, and despite the rough looking exterior, dressed in black leather and deep scowls, they seemed careful and gentle enough to know how to carry Zarius safely into adjacent room. Which would be about time something peculiar about the place could be noticed: it was much, much larger on the inside than it let on from the outside view. Proably - no, certainly - some space magic was responsible for bending the fabric of reality around that place, for the interior of this living room was far too luxurous for a simple cottage, large enough to be compared to the inside of a castle. The marble floor was black and white, resembling a chess board, and if there was any more doubt it was the den of a mage, the books and scrolls that covered the walls also threatened to take over the rest of the room: they were on the couch, on small surfaces and just laying on the ground too. A nice, reserved gazeebo-like structure sat to the side of the room, and opposite to it, a fireplace with a big couch and fur rug before it. The raven's perch sat to the side of the fireplace.

The men called Edgar and Allan would try to release the tiefling from Caedes' back and onto the back of the tallest of them, Edgar. Well rested and not having recently endured the gruesome flight of stairs up to the Witch's doorstep, Edgar would be able to quickly take him to the dormitory, where his situation could be assessed. The Witch and another woman that carried a tray of what appeared like several asorted potions and pots followed suit, with quick, urgent steps. Whether he followed or not, Allan would remain by Caedes' side.

"What about you? Are you okay? What is your name?"

The dormitory was another impossibly large room, with at least a half a dozen beds lined up in two rows. All of them had curtains for privacy, all pulled back, indicating none was taken at the moment. With the help of the Witch, Zarius would be gently laid to the bed so she could make her first assessment of his wounds.

Zarius does his best to hold onto Caedes as the assassin hauls him up the stairs. His good arm trembles from even the minor exertion. His breathing is shaking and he mutters something under his breath. As for his injured arm, he has lost most feeling in it and the skin past the bandages is discoloring from necrosis.

He drifts in and out of consciousness during the climb. There's stairs. So many stairs. There's a noise. A caw. It's loud. Caedes said something. What was it? He's struggling. His leg got stabbed right? He remembers that happening...right? He shouldn't be carrying him then. He is though...he hopes he doesn't fall.

How much further was it? Seems like Caedes has been climbing endlessly. He must be tired...Zarius certainly is. He can't fall asleep though. He shouldn't fall asleep. If he does...he might not wake up ever again.

He doesn't want that. There was too much left to do. His family was depending on him and he had promised to help Caedes. No. Wait. They hadn't actually finalized that yet. That's right. He had refused. That was stupid...he didn't think he would regret it...but now...

Oh, someone is shouting...that sounded like Kamille. That was good. Maybe they made it in time...just maybe...

The tiefling wheezes and coughs as Edgar loosens his grip on Caedes and is transferred onto the half-elf's back instead of the assassin's. His body is radiating heat from the fever and he's barely holding onto consciousness. He does catch Kamille out of the corner of his eye and he lifts his head a little in an attempt to say something but another fit of coughing interrupts him. He turns his head away to not cough right into Edgar's ear. 

As he's laid down on the bed, he feels a wave of dizziness wash over him. He fights to stay conscious but his head was swimming with fatigue and delusions.

Taking a closer look at his arm, Kamille would be able to quickly discern that the arm was on the verge of being unsalvageable. All the ick from the infection has soaked through the bandages and the flesh has taken on hues not normal for healthy organic material. It reeks of rot as the bandages are removed. 

Beyond the arm, Zarius was sweating a lot from his body fighting off the infection. His temperature was dangerously high and his lungs had minor damage from the acidic air he breathed in during the Elder Ooze situation. Kamille would suspect that he was suffering from pneumonia due to the wet weather and the rattle in his breathing.

^{"CAAAWWWWWW! VISITORS!"}

Caedes jolts; the exhaustion, the stress, and the anxiety all blur the experience of the endless stairs in his point of view. The scenery is the same, each step never seeming to bring him closer to his destination… until he’s almost there. His chest rises and falls; strained with each breath. His pale eyes shift upwards and follow the raven as it swoops down and through the open window of the witch’s home further above.

“Zarius?” his voice shudders between breaths; he strains to keep his pitch even. Shadows lap at the edges of his vision, a wave of light-headedness washing over him as the strum of fingers dragging across cord scratches so distantly in the back of his mind.

Not yet.

“We’re here… don’t you dare close your eyes.” He adjusts the tiefling with a grunt, angling his back to nudge Zarius further up his shoulders for a better grip on him. He exhales shakily before he continues up the last few god-forsaken steps to the witch’s shelter.

You still have people to live for.

He doesn’t see the witch when she first comes out, head tilted towards the ground as he scales the last few steps; and then he hears her shouting. The unfamiliarity with her voice makes him flinch. He looks up, pale gaze exhausted yet wary when he lays eyes on the complete stranger that Zarius had so much faith in.

He could say any number of things to her, but he feels a bit fuzzy from the climb.

“He… he said you could help.”

The words come out breathlessly from the changeling after the climb; and no sooner than it does, the witch starts trying to usher him inside. He does his best not to shy away from her unfamiliar presence; but he also can’t stop moving, because he’s pretty sure he’ll just drop himself and Zarius if he does.

He looks uneasily at the two men who come into view as he passes through the threshold of the witch’s home; he’s almost reluctant to hand the tiefling over to them, but Zarius trusts her. So, he trusts these people? Caedes stamps out trained habits of skepticism and paranoia, knowing there’s no time for it, and just closes his eyes with a shaky exhale as Edgar and Allen pry Zarius from around his shoulders.

He cautiously releases the tiefling’s legs, assisting in the transfer as carefully as he can— and then Edgar hurries him off. Caedes steps off to the side to make room for the witch and the other woman as they pass, and then he moves after them— one hand supporting himself against the wall.

They disappear into an adjacent room, and that’s where he aims to go as well.

He pushes off the wall, dragging himself quietly into the dormitory behind them; he uses the threshold as a support as he passes, and keeps to the wall nearest to the door. He looks to where Zarius has been laid, surrounded by the witch and her aides, and— and his injured leg buckles.

Gravity finally drops the changeling onto the floor of the dormitory; every muscle aches; his wound has re-opened, a hap-hazard bandaging job that’s loosened around his leg stained an unnaturally dark red through the visible rips in his clothing.

“Caedes. I’m fine.” he answers between breaths, looking at his trembling palms, before glancing to Allan from the corner of his pale eyes. “I’m not the one dying.”

He blinks, looking at the witch and her aides. “The wound came from an ooze; nearly took his arm.” he states before they can ask about it, loud enough for them to hear. “In the Marsh. We’ve been there for weeks; the infection is at its worst— there was no way to keep a wound that bad dry in those conditions. We tried.”

For a day that started as another utterly uneventful one, her guests caught her by surprise. One minute she was ready to finish dinner, and the other there was a wounded tiefling at her doorstep. The Witch was quick to jump into a trained course of actions, a protocol, barking orders around and being immediately answered with hurried steps and silent compliance.
For his size and grumpy expression, Edgar was surprisingly gentle with the tiefling. Zarius was gently laid on one of the beds in the middle of the room, and Kamille pulled up a small stool to sit by his side as she started to assess him. Soon, the other woman came with the tray of potions, laid them to the side of the Witch and went away to get something more. It didn't take a genius to understand most of Zarius state came from the infection of his wounded arm - or what remained of it. Kamille had her encounter with those oozes, she knew what they could do but hoped she wouldn't have to witness it. Her frown only became graver when she started to unravel the bandages of his arm, very carefully as to not damage it even further, focused intensely and entirely on the task at hand. There was some acknowledgement to what Caedes was talking, but she didn't raise her eyes from Zarius.

It was a surprise Zarius was still fighting it - should they be a couple of days late, they might not be able to save the tiefling, given his condition. Kamille placed a hand over his infected arm, and another over his chest, feeling the wave of heat coming from him. The Witch closed her eyes and started to whisper a few words of power, as she focused on the task at hand. The flow of power that gathered at her hands slowly seeped out of her fingers in the shape of a very fine mist, instantly disappearing once absorbed by the tiefling's body. As the spell coursed through his veins and countered the toxins and bacteria from his infections, it gave off a slight heating feeling, like an unnatural fever that was far more gentle than his own feverish state as he stepped into her house[1]. And when it stopped, the relief that washed over was one compared to a cool, gentle rain after an oppressing day of intense heat.

But work was far from over. There was so much healing potions could do, and she knew her potions alone wouldn't do the trick here. As Caedes buckled over, Allan promptly steps closer to help the changeling at least sit on a bed nearby.

"Once your friend is better, she'll give you a look. Everything is gonna be fi-"

"MISCHIEF!"

As she shouted, the raven that alerted to their approach came flying to the Witch. She spoke in a hushed tone, but it would still be clear for anyone around.

"Go fetch a druid. Or any other healer. I heard Beist is around. A healer, Mischief. Go, quickly!"

The raven named Mischief stopped to look at her dead in the eyes as she spoke, and seemed to be understanding what was asked of him. As she urged for the bird to go fast, she raised a hand in his direction, whispering a quick word of power. Mischief wasted no time, taking flight immediately and going out through the window - surprisingly, his flight was unnaturally fast, and in the blink of an eye, with the speed of an arrow, it was gone[2].

The other woman came into the room again, carrying a lot of bandages and a bowl of water. The fact Kamille didn't shy away from the gruesome state his arm was probably indicated she had some kind of experience in healing, regardless of not having been blessed by Solaria. She didn't even bat an eye, even as the acrid smell of a few days old infection and necrosis filled the air. It was stomach turning, and even one of the men, the one that carried Zarius to the room, went to open one more window to let the fresh air come in. The Witch gave the other woman one of the potions, instructing her to give it to Zarius while he was still awake, hopefully. With an uncharacteristic gentleness and care, the woman raised the tiefling's head just enough so she could press the flask of the potion against his lips and try to have him drink [3].

While Poe was busy with that, Kamille took another flask, one that swirled with a dark, green liquid. Carefully as to either not waste the liquid and to make it as effective as she could, she poured it mostly around his worse wound and a bit over it too, hoping the feeling of numbness would set in quick enough [4]. With the feeling of his arm being as numb as possible, she would carefully work to clean it with fresh pieces of bandages, leaving the nasty, drenched in pus ones to the side of the bed. Edgar, who had been paying attention, quickly got out to get another bowl of warm water, as it would be needed.

Kamille barely acknowledged Caedes yet, so focused as she was in what she was doing, but Allan was keeping him company.

"You did what you could with what you had. I've heard the oozes are becoming a problem these last few days, yes. Lady Kamille herself said she found one terribly old and big, but the researchers urged her not to kill it, so they could study it. Go figure..... She ended up having to freeze it."

Clearly, out of them all, Allan was the chatty one.

[1]Remove Condition
[2]Quicken
[3]Healing Potion
[4]Numbing Poison

Beist sat in his wagon, his head in his hands and his elbows on the counter inside the window of his mobile potion shop, Beist's Travelling Tinctures. A little drool dripped onto the counter. Even without it, it wasn't hard to tell the big beast man had dozed off. His eyes were closed and he let out a rumbling snore as he sat there, unmoving except for the rise and fall of his breath. He'd fallen asleep in the middle of manning his shop. Honestly not an unusual thing for him to do since he had hardly any customers come to his window.

Dora, the huge griffin, was also dozing off in a nice, sunny patch of grass nearby. She stretched her legs out on occasion and her tail flicking around, like a giant house cat lazing about. Bull the vampire bat also slept hanging from the ceiling of the wagon, as he usually did during the day. It was a blissful, uneventful, lazy moment for them all. It suddenly came to an end when a loud caw made Beist awaken with a startled jump. He looked about for a moment, his eyes a little hazy from sleep.

"Welcome to Beist's Travelling Tinctures, what can I help you with?" he recited sleepily before looking down and seeing the crow on the counter right in front of him. A very familiar crow. "Ah, why, if it isn't little Mischief! What are you doing here? Is Kamille here?" he said cheerily as he rubbed his eye, still waking up.

Dora's head rose up to look over at the noise. She was enjoying her catnap and didn't appreciate the sudden interruption. She stood up and stretched before walking over to the bird and the beast man curiously. The griffin had never seen the bird before, having not yet been taken in by Beist when he had encountered Kamille and her avian familiar.

The spell Kamille cast worked in subtle ways. It definitely would have a more visible effect over time with the infection no longer able to cause further damage. The damage that has already been done remains, but Kamille is nothing if not thorough. 

Zarius' body did relax from the relief, though his breathing was still labored and raspy. The fluttering movement of Mischief draws the tiefling's exhausted gaze towards the witch. So this is how she got her reputation. She was like an entirely different person, dependable and direct. The memory of their first meeting when she refused to prove the effectiveness of her potions crosses his mind. Guess this would be the first real test of if she is as skilled as everyone claims. 

Poe moving next to him catches his attention as she is passed a bottle by the witch. Under normal circumstances he would viciously reject being given any liquid, but if it turned out to be poison then at least it would kill him quicker than his injuries at this point. In all honesty, he wouldn't even be able to do much to stop the half-elf anyway. The fatigue had long since set in and he didn't have any strength left to move. 

He doesn't try to stop Poe at all as she tips the liquid into his mouth. The taste is pretty awful to him, bitter and medicinal with an intense herbal scent. The effects of the potion takes effect pretty quickly, easing the pain in his throat and lungs making breathing less painful. It unfortunately had the side effect of repairing some of the damaged nerves in his arm which starting to sting intensely. 

Kamille was already addressing that though, and quickly applied the numbing agent which counteracted the pain effectively. While a part of him wanted to watch Kamille work, another part of him didn't want to see the extent of the damage. If the witch decided that there was nothing she could do for it, he would prefer not to watch.

Glancing about for Caedes, he spots him sitting over by the wall. The changeling looks exhausted. He really did lug him all the way up those stairs...and keep him alive all the way through the Marsh Flats and Moonglade. It was either remarkable or foolish. He couldn't decide. Though he also couldn't criticize considering the risks he took that put them in this predicament. If anyone was the fool, it was himself. 

Hopefully Kamille would have something to help Caedes as well. The tiefling would owe them both his life after this. 

His eyes drift back to the ceiling and he takes a deep breath now that he is able to breath much easier.

"Thank you." He manages to say quietly to Kamille.

It was all he could really muster for the time being before he closes his eyes to rest.

He winces, shooting Allan a look that seems to read as a slight warning; after a moment, he allows Allan to assist him— but he wears an expression that says he’s not particularly happy about it. “I don’t need her to look at me.” he states in a breathless answer— which makes the entire phrase a lot less intimidating. With Allan’s assistance, he’s able to sit on a bed; the exhaustion washes over him all at once the moment he’s dormant again.

He looks up when the witch shouts, his tired gaze following the motion of her raven, as another motion shuffles about next to his thigh. He turns his eyes down, meeting the invisible gaze of Charlotte as she joins him on the bed; there are small imprints of her eight legs in the sheets next to him, but at the wrong angles, she’s nearly invisible.

She doesn’t seem comfortable making herself known, so Caedes draws his eyes away from her, hoping she’ll simply go unnoticed for the time being.

There’s nothing he can do.

Nothing except watch while Kamille and her two aides work to save not only the tiefling’s arm, but his life. He’s not a medic, and he’s not about to try and jump in the way of someone trained to be one.

Still, he feels a gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach… which is strange, because he hasn’t really known Zarius long enough to feel more than a surface-level attachment to the tiefling. He has seen so many people die. He has felt the embrace of death. He is not a stranger to this in the slightest… but Zarius is his only real connection to Darkveil.

He’s also one of the only men who should know about him, if Caedes has exhibited his training correctly. If he dies now, his existence is safe; but he’s back to square one, floundering in the dark.

…and for just a moment, he’d felt some semblance of normalcy in himself, from a reality that had begun to feel so disconnected from the person he’d once been.

He sighs. The changeling looks up from where he’s been idly massaging the bloodless palms of his hand; he can see Zarius’ mouth move, speaking to the witch, just before the tiefling closes his eyes. He can’t hear him from where he’s sitting; but he can hear Allan very well, and he seems to be trying to make him feel welcome, or… something.

Caedes looks off to the side while he talks; he still remembers the pain that came from the ooze clearly. He can’t imagine how Zarius has been faring with any semblance of grace over these past few days.

His brows furrow slightly at the mention of researchers…

“...It wasn’t Lloyd, was it?”

Mischief looked unusually speedy, diving for his cart while cawing desperately at Beist. She said Beist could help too, right?

"Cawww! Hello! Shinny?"

The raven danced happily before Beist for a moment, hoping to receive a shinny. When the griffin made her way towards him, he immediately froze, eyeing Dora with suspicion. It was known Mischief trusted people more than other animals and was fairly jealous, but he was also smart enough as to not buy into fighting someone as big and gorgeous as Dora.

When Beist asked about Kamille, Mischief stopped, looking directly at the beast man in front of him, holding an unusually significant silence for a whole minute. Beist could almost see both of his only braincells fighting each other to find the information he was supposed to deliver.

There was a message to deliver, right? It was important. What was it again? Oh, yeah, it was....

"CAWWW! HELP! HEEEEEEEEEEEEELP! HELP HELP HELP HELP!!!!!"

Once again the raven took flight - but only after rudely yelling at his face for help - flying in circles above him, urging Beist to follow him, no doubt. It was evident, once again, he seemed to be under some spell that left him quicker than usual - possibly a testament to the urgency of the situation. Kamille's house wasn’t far.

---

It would seem that for the moment Zarius' condition was stabilized, and even if work was far from done, he would be able to hold on for long enough. At least until a more powerful healer could arrive and basically reconstruct his arm. Kamille had already learned to not let the gravity of the situation shine through her expression, and the tiefling's arm really put that to the test: she remained serious and focused, not letting anyone know how horrible of a situation that was. Only when all the bright greenish pus was gone it was possible to see the whole extent of the damage done.

Once all the pus and muck and ooze was neatly cleaned from what remained of his arm, she made sure to apply another coat of her numbing agent, just so he could hold on a bit longer without feeling what would certainly be agonizing pain from his wound. There were a few times she'd seen exposed bones and the effects of all kinds of acids, but when the person was still alive and suffering through it all was fairly different. It was always horrible, in fact. Kamille deemed herself done with the cleaning, putting a clean bandage over his arm just as to not allow him to see the extension of the damage done. She couldn’t even imagine the kind of pain he endured on their way through the marsh and into the forests.

The Witch shot a quick glance to Allan and Caedes, only now noticing Caedes looked hurt too. She whispered to Poe.

"There’s another healing potion at the cabinet. Go offer it to that gentleman. He is welcome to stay the night too."

Silently, Poe got all the dirty bandages and one of bowls of water to take it elsewhere: it reeked of disease and death, and once those went away, finally the air on the room became a bit lighter, with a cool breeze coming from the open windows. Kamille got the remaining bowl of clean water and drenched a piece of cloth with it, proceeding to use it to wipe all the sweat and dust and dirt from his face, as gently as she could.

"Zarius, I need you to answer me this."

She leaned over to whisper in his ear, with a grave expression.

"Who... is.... Mr. Handsome over there?"

Kamille tried to keep a serious expression, but as she leaned back, a joking smile broke her grave expression.

"Try not to move your arm. I'm done here, but you'll require more help. While they are on their way, let me know if the pain comes back. Would you rather rest first or eat first?"

As instructed, Poe came back with another tray, this one much better than the last: several bowls of a steaming stew of meat over some roasted potatoes and a bit of bread and cheese.

"Uh........ I guess they were.... Lloyd's disciples? I guess? But, yeah.... Lloyd was definitely the main reason of the whole ordeal. Do you know him? You don’t mean to tell me....?"

While Allan was chatting with Caedes, he didn’t seem to notice the signs of his companion on the bed, but as Poe was about to lay her tray on it, she hesitated for a moment, squinting her eyes. Whether she truly noticed it or just had a hint of something weird happening, she didn’t mention. Poe left the tray on the corner of the bed, and among the bowls of food, she got another flask. This one she offered Caedes, while Allan was already helping himself to a serving. Edgar still didn’t look too keen on eating just yet.

"Lady Kamille is extending her hospitality and care to you as well. Please, take this, as it will help with your injury. Despite what people say, I can assure you no guest was ever poisoned under this roof. The commonfolk say the Gods hate those who kill guests brought under your roof." 

Beist was a little surprised when he understood the raven's cawing as words, but he supposed he shouldn't be. He had somehow gained this ability to speak with and understand animals with the deepening of his connection to the Earth domain, and not to mention-

"Oh, kill that bird and  shut it up!" another voice called into his ear. A little while snake with a pair of gold colored feathery wings emerged from the thick fur around his neck, looking annoyed and groggy. His new familiar, the spirit of the winged snake that had also been lulled to sleep by the lazy afternoon around them and had been rudely awoken by Mischief's cawing. The snake looked up at the raven circling overhead, still half asleep.

"No, that bird is the pet of a dear friend and she must have sent him here to request my help with something urgent." Beist said calmly to the snake, but was moving quickly to pack the wagon up and attach the harness to Dora. This seemed important and time could be of the essence. He wanted to get there as quickly as possible. The snake grumbled, but didn't do anything to harm the bird. They may once have been a great and powerful celestial being, but now they were reduced to this fraction of their former self inhabiting the body of a beast man that refused to live up to their full potential. They'd only chosen him as a vessel because of how powerful they appeared, but they hadn't anticipated him to be so... gentle.

Once everything was ready to leave, the wagon rolled along quickly, following Mischief. When the wagon arrived at the bottom of the stairs leading to Kamille's house, Beist stepped down from the wagon's front seat and unharnessed Dora.

"We will have to leave the wagon here. Bull is still asleep, but I'm sure he'll be fine." Beist said before sighing. "Kamille, you know I am your friend and I say this with love, but damn you and these never ending stairs!" he muttered under his breath before starting his ascent. Dora screeched at him from behind and rolled her eyes.

"What's wrong, Dora?" Beist asked as he turned back to look at the griffon with concern. She gave another short screech in reply.

"Oh. Oh! Yes, you're right! Let's do that then!"

Beist closed his eyes for a moment and focused. After a moment, their form shifted. Their form was overtaken by a wave of white and grey feathers that covered their whole body and their clothing. After a moment, a beak emerged and then eyes, their body reshaped, and talons emerged. Instead of the giant beast man in green and brown robes stood a giant harpy eagle, the winged snake wrapped around their neck.

With their transformation completed, Beist and Dora took flight, ignoring the horrible climb of the staircase, and landing in front of Kamille's front door. He almost immediately transformed back and let out a breath. He could transform into animals, but he couldn't maintain it for very long. Thankfully, it had lasted long enough to reach the top of the stairs. Dora landed in front of the house, not far away.

Beist knocked on the door before backing away from it a bit and leaning down so that whoever opened it would be able to see more than just their robe.

Zarius feels Kamille's breath on his ear as she whispers in it. He cracks one eye open and looks at her. Really? Right now? Guess she was done taking things seriously. She must think he's not going to immediately die then. That is a relief honestly. He breathes and manages to respond to her question, though it does take some effort. 

"He needs to rest too."

Hopefully that excuse would keep Kamille off Caedes' back for a bit. He certainly didn't want the witch to scare him off with her 'friendliness'. Caedes didn't strike him as the type to be okay with people in his personal space. 

He glances over at the changeling. Seems like they were going to address his wounds as well. With any luck, the injury wouldn't be as dire as his own. 

"Rest."

While he was hungry, he was also nauseous and would very much rather not throw up.

He closes his eyes again. Part of him did worry that if he fell asleep he would wake up to find the assassin long gone. Thoughts like that were hard to stop, especially since he's starting to recover from the delirium thanks to Kamille's spell. Still, he was exhausted and the numbing potion was doing a good job keeping down the pain of his arm, so sleep wasn't too far off now. He at least wanted to stay awake for a moment or two longer. 

Not that he could participate in any of the conversations or hear whatever Allan was talking to Caedes about. 

Caedes exhales through his nose when Allan confirms it was Lloyd who had sent even the Witch of the Moonglades on a wild goose chase for a bunch of ooze… that damn bestiary he’s putting together had better be worth all of the hassle. “The man himself,” his voice cuts a fine line between jovial and sarcastic when he confirms Allan’s suspicions. “He wanted us to play the Marsh Land’s deadliest game of tag with it despite his condition; he’s either foolish, or stupid. I might even say both.”

Caedes’ pale gaze follows Poe as she approaches with a tray; they narrow as she pauses above Charlotte. The spider remains stock still while Caedes continues— he remains neutral, training his expression to remain unflinching as she passes by. “I suppose he hailed a wagon as thanks, though.”

His opinion of Lloyd is, quite obviously, not the most positive— but given his implication— and the state of the tiefling he’s arrived with… it could, perhaps, be understood. His eyes turn upwards when Poe offers him a flask; he feels Charlotte shift a little on the bed while Allan leans past to get a serving of whatever stew had been set on the bed with them. Two of her legs creep up against his thigh, and she rests her head slowly against his leg— leaving the rest of her body awkwardly angled while she tries to get out of the way.

He doesn’t react to the motion, but nods hesitantly after studying the contents of the flask for a moment. “Good to know I should keep my eyes open after I leave.” It’s a joke, but the exhausted Changeling doesn’t actually hit the right tone for it to sound like one. He takes the flask from her anyway, “Tell her I said thank you.”

The words are spoken as he turns his eyes towards Zarius and Kamille for a moment.

Zarius looks like he’s about to pass out; it concerns him, but the Witch doesn’t seem perturbed by it in the slightest.

He lowers his eyes as he pulls away from the woman with the bottle, uncorking the vial with a hint of still-skepticism behind it; eventually, he does take a hesitant swig of it, but… frankly, he doesn’t feel any different, even when he’s downed the rest of it.

Whatever the potion is trying to do, it’s… slow.

Slower than it probably should be. ⁽¹⁾ Still, Caedes murmurs a grateful response to Poe before she leaves, when someone suddenly knocks on the door.

The sudden banging makes him tense.

---

^{(1) Partially Sun-Cursed — Now reliant on drinking blood, your body has become weak without it and is actually unable to heal itself without the blood. You no longer benefit from healing spells from the Light domain (or similar specialty spells) and will actually start to feel weaker if in direct sunlight.}

Kamille visibly rolled her eyes at Zarius remark about Caedes, clearly trying to steer her away. Interesting... This would only work to further her curiosity, really. The Witch would allow him to rest, though she did make a mental note of the glance the tiefling shot at the other man. Well... There would be time to pry...

She seemed about to say something when she heard the knock on the door.

"Let me. Must be the druid. Rest while you can."

With that, Kamille got out of the room to go open the door for Beist, and Edgar accompanied her out. Some druids were still a bit uncertain about the Black Quills, so she would rather greet them herself. She thought it would be a druid to arrive so fast, at least, but when she opened it and faced the giant beast man, a wide smile lightened up her face, and almost as quick as that, an expression of surprise took her, with widened eyes. Beist was... a tad taller than she remembered... And were those extra arms?!?! Oh, she would need to talk to him to learn what happened, like the inconvenient curious one she was. And speaking of inconvenient, Mischief had just perched up at the top of his head, in one of his horns.

"Beist! What a pleasure to see you around still! Come in, please! I need your help... There is a friend here that is hurt, and my potions will not be enough to heal the extent of his wounds. He is stabilized, but... Well, you'll see. You can stay for dinner if you'd like. Stew and roasted potatoes."

Kamille led Beist into her house, which was much - much - larger and luxurious on the inside than the outside let on. Edgar went to the kitchen while Kamille was greeting and pulling Beist inside, and while he and Allan, who was making small talk to Caedes, seemed both blissfully unaware, Poe was different. The woman wouldn't say anything, but Caedes would notice how her gaze was trying to find something around him. And on top of that, her eyes also squinted as she realized the healing potion wasn't taking the effect it should.

Curious.......

Poe's sense of humor was also dry, but she chose to take Caedes' comment to the letter on purpose. She took a bowl of food to herself, once she

"That won't be necessary... if you're a friend."

As Kamille entered the room once again, she was shadowed by the giant, four armed beast man, who would probably need to lower his head to go through the doors. The person in need of healing was evident, as Zarius was the only one laying on a bed in the middle of the dormitory. With six beds cramped together inside the room, it was easy enough for most of her guests to walk around, but Beist would probably find a bit more difficulty in doing so due to his size. The tiefling's arm was covered by a piece of bandage, and though it was cleaned and not infected anymore, it was clear why she had to call for someone's help. One's arm was supposed to have more meat than that.......

Beist returned Kamille's smile when she opened the door, though he was a bit sheepish. He had certainly been a bit smaller the last time the two had met and was still a bit embarrassed about the whole cause of his changes, but he was happy to see her nonetheless. He looked back to Dora who stretched out a bit before plopping down onto the ground outside. She clearly didn't care to enter the house, so Beist just gave her a wave and a whispered that he'd be back soon before ducking down to enter the front door.

He was impressed by how much larger the home was on the inside than it appeared from the outside, but he wasn't surprised. He had been here before, invited over shortly after delivering some bandits to justice, and some to the afterlife accidentally, but mostly to justice. The winged snake on his shoulder looked around as he walked and chatted a little with his friend and fellow alchemist.

"It's a pleasure to see you as well, Kamille. I received your call for help from little Mischief here. It seemed urgent, so I came here as fast as I could! What could the Witch of Moonglade possibly need this old man's assistance with?" Beist said lightheartedly, but still with a clear urgency. He knew panic wouldn't help the situation, so remained calm. His experience as a medic and alchemist kicked in and made him act for more professional than his usual jovial self.

Soon, he passed through the entrance and into another room, ducking low again to pass through the door. He didn't like what he saw. The grey Tiefling was certainly a dreadful sight. Beist immediately stepped over and examined his arm carefully, removing the bandage gently. The arm looked awful. All of the skin and a fair amount of the muscle beneath was just gone and what remained appeared as if it was partially digested. Beist cringed. It must have been horrendously painful. There was only one creature the creature researching beast man could think of that could do something like this.

"This is too severe for any potion I know of." Beist muttered under his breath before looking at the winged snake that was also staring down at the Tiefling. "I'll need to use some of your power for this."

"Hmph. Fine. Do as you please." the serpent scoffed directly into Beist's mind with as haughty an expression as a snake could make before burying itself in the thick fur around the fluffy beast man's neck. Beist just smiled knowlingly. The snake often tried to act tough and indifferent, but he could tell they had looked at the arm with concern. They were a surprisingly caring creature.

Beist leaned down and placed a hand lightly on the injured arm. He chanted some words quietly, and a vibrant green light spread from their palm and enveloped the injured arm. The muscle slowly reformed, the partially melted meat being molded back into its proper shape. More muscle knit itself onto the form, nerves and blood vessels weaving through it. Finally, dark grey skin regrew atop it all until the arm looked as if it had never been injure in the first place.

Beist sighed in relief as the spell finished. He was glad it had been successful. However, there was another injured person in the room. With the most concerning of the two healed, Beist turned to look down at the pale man with the injured leg. He smiled warmly and stepped closer.

"My apologies, his condition seemed a bit more dire than yours, but now that he's taken care of, let me take a look at that leg."

---

Massive Healing