Author Topic: "Black Curse of 1316": Plague & response centered on Ile de France (ORP)  (Read 792 times)

Alexander VII

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  • When sinking, PRAY! -While good hands bail water!
Any player may write here if we have had contact regarding the recent plague on Denmark, England, Flanders, or France. You may keep your portions to yourselves or you may involve others, including me. Otherwise I will allow you to apply my church, myself, and the violet potions as you see fit....atheist or Theos follower. Please be courteous about me and the church by asking a few questions of how it should be. Thank You, and good wishes.  :o

The light through the stained glass of the Cathedral Notre Dame was shadowed. Dark clouds skidded across the sky and the winds could not decide which way to blow them. All these were remnants of the terrible events of the night before.
Father Janus Valerius was discomforted and could not find peace today as a dark foreboding was upon his mind.

The night before:
   There had been a dream, a stark and surreal vision; had been a nightmare.
 In it he had seen people  walking along the grande avenue of Ile de France. People wearing cowls and bonnets that shielded each face. He was there, walking along in the sunlight of a warm afternoon with all of these people and at peace. Then he saw a image...glimpsed it only from the corner of his eye and before he could blink it was gone. Somewhere near the apple seller's cart. He did not know why it had drawn his attention, but it had.

  Everything appeared normal and he continued his walk toward the bishop palace. His monarch had summoned him to meet there. At least, in the dream he knew that to be the truth. Now that he was awake he could not recall such a thing ever happening to him. In that memory of this vivid dream he also recalled a moment when a sudden chill ran down his spine. He had paused in the street and took a moment to look around. Something was ...odd. he could not guess what, but he was certain, something was not correct. as he surveyed the street scene and its occupants he saw the back of a robe, one that appeared to smoke as if on fire. No flames, apparently but it was again just a glimpse, of somebody's back as they walked unhurried into an alley.

  Father Janus had to help him. Maybe the man in the robes did not know he had an accidental fire upon him! Janus strode quickly to the mouth of the alley and as he approached a smell assaulted his nostrils....the smell of stinking burn of wet woolen. There was something else, but he recognized the heavy acrid scents of wet wool and charr. He paused before entering, just a fraction so his eyes could adjust to dimmer light within. He could not wait longer. The burning man needed his help. Three steps later he tripped over something and caught himself from falling by pushing away from the closest wall. He turned to see what and saw a blackened and swollen face if a child, an orphan by the clothes, lying across the narrow stretch.

  "Help! Help! For the Emmanuelle's sake come with some water!" His voiced stopped many of the passing figures but he was already looking down at the body of the child and checking for the pulse of the blood within. It was there but the skin was so hot to the touch that Janus recoiled. He could not stay away though! He swept his arms underneath the body and carried it back into the light. The chest rose and fell with a rattling breath in this small figure. The hollow hiss of a bellows that blew o aflame that might soon vanish. It blew a fetid stench of rotten meat and warm vapors come from some drowned marsh. He laid the figure down so he could better exam it. The milling crowds gathered around. Then they all froze.

  Janus had  eyes only for his charge laid before him. He began to pray but stopped to call out to these silent strangers: "Bring me some water. Please." Then he returned to praying and examining the poor wretched child who now looked even worse , since Janus could see more. The skin was a painful and infected black and yellow. He opened the ragged shirt that hung like a shroud on the small child. A gourd, with the water he had asked for, was presented over his shoulder from behind him. He looked up to thank the helper and his words came out as a choked unintelligible oath as he nearly backpedaled away in sudden shock, almost forgetting his patient and his faith.

  The citizen holding the water to him was also a blackened face of sores and ooze, the hand swollen and red and the hair matted   from sweat plastering it against the skull. The eyes in that skull were fevered but vacant. Janus quickly stood up looking around. He finally had noticed the chill that crept across the stones and withered grasses of the avenue. His eyes now looked into the faces that all those hoods, hats, and bonnets of the people around him had concealed. Faces he thought he should know but were unrecognizable. He grabbed his Holy symbol and began to pray. The gathered throng began to grow and slowly press in around him, each new spirit suddenly focused on him. Each new face, now turning with blood wept sores and frantic eyes locked upon him.

 Janus began to weep now as his prayers whispered across his lips. His voice began to get louder as the crowd grew larger. He grew calmer as the mass of rotting people grew to encompass the entire width of the street and beyond.  Janus was scared for his life but walked with a purpose now toward his church again and not to the bishop palace anymore.

  Some of those around him reached out to touch him. He did not draw away. His Savior and The Logos wear as real to him as these souls. The ones that touched him, they were suddenly free. Their bodies were healed and they collapsed there in the street, each glowing. The others walked around them now as if they were not there....each healed now dissolved to mist and a faint glow. the remainder he lead toward his church, a mass of people with no more purpose but to follow this one healthy man, a priest, who walked through them, undaunted. The numbers grew though. By the time Janus was across the plaza from the church he was being jostled by the mass. His senses assailed by the smell of fire smoke, wet wool, and sickness his eyes becoming clouded from a rising grey and black vapor that hung like a cloud above all this.

  The central fountain! He could rest at the central fountain, before this press of spirits would crush him. The church was so close and yet he felt it was leagues away.  Suddenly, as he reached the fountain, all of the crowds drew back. Out from among them stepped one of the Four Riders. Janus knew him from the luminaries sketches in his sacred texts. Pestilence. Pestilence had come to walk among them and to take France away from him. This drove Janus to a white hot righteous anger! How DARE this filth steal His Flock! How DARE it wreck the joys of life with fear, distrust and terror!
The skinny priest strode forward with a terrible resolve looking to confront this spectre and to rend it with his bare hands! A shout of battle rose from his core all so unlike the quiet minister of the church was normally expected.

It was there the dream had ended. Janus had woken up sitting rigid in his bed. A clap of thunder ringing across the sky, but finding his own throat raw from  his own shouting. Janus was breathing heavily and sweating but otherwise felt fine. It had been a dream. A horribly vivid dream. He had prayed after but had not gone back to sleep. The storm and his need to be doing something would not let him.
He had gone to vespers and nothing during the service had indicated anyone else was remotely concerned. No, the rest were all just drowsy but sincere penitents who came, were blessed and left. Janus was certain it had all meant something though.

That was where his mind was all that day while he waited for answers and prayed he was wrong.

Faith Defines All Things; their remembrances clearly defined make them living custom.

Konrad Von Glehn

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Sun is showing her last rays to sign the end of the day while Konrad Von Glehn is riding his horse trough France to finally reach Savoy for cure for the Black Death.
He dranks water from his bottle and hopes and prays for fast arriving to Savoy already. His skin is covered with dark stains and his fever is raising with every day.

Few days earlier.

"Oh great Zuperius, ruler of the seas, please let this ship with me and all sick with the plague reach the coast of France safely!"
"Smart Maia, watcher of Earth, please give the captain and crew of this ship enough wisdom and courage to lead this ship to the coast of France!"
"Beautiful Ana, goddess of Beauty and Love, give the peoples soul salvation who has lost any of their loved ones!"

Konrad prayed for more then 1 hour as he didint even know what to do.
He went to the first plague ship the moment he was diagnosed as having the Black Death.
The ship has traveled for many days already and only thing that is keeping Konrad alive is the supply of healing pills what his generous king Harald gave him before starting the traveling to Savoy. Savoy is the place where he is heading cause its one of the last places with pagan shrines and priests.
He had a plan to travel to French with the ship and then riding to Savoy with his horse. His trusted horse who has been with him from the start of times.
With this horse he has traveled to Pagan holy places and across most known europe. The horse is named after an old and great Leader named Lembitu.

After long prayer Konrad goest to sleep, if you can call it sleep cause thanks to the plague his skin is itchy as hell and stomach is feeling like its being stabbed.

 We shall go back where we were at the start of the story.

Konrad is galloping with his horse on the dusty roads of France. Both are tired, but they cant stop cause the more longer stops they make, the more chance there is for Konrad to die. The first stop they are allowed to make before city of Savoy is before French and Savoy border. 

Konrad misses his home, Sweden. Its the only home he had after getting to adulthood and moving to Austria. He left from Austria cause of war and many political changes. His house and home was burned there cause he just was in the way for the bigger and "greater" kingdoms. Before Austria he lived in Firenze with his mother and two younger sister. Lucia and Francesca where his sister's names. They were the sweetest girls in the whole Firenze and maybe even Northern Italy.
Oh my sweet sisters, they insisted for me to not leave home. I havent visited them for many many years. After I get rid of this nasty plague, Im sure I will visit them, tought Konrad in his tired mind. He coughed another piece of blood to the ground. He passed out. Hopefully the horse will carry the road like is needed.

He woke up and saw that it was morning again. But he was not in France anymore. The horse ran all night towards Savoy and there he was. Konrad found himself next to city of Savoy walls. The horse was sideways on the ground and Konrad was few meters away from him. Konrad got up quick as he could and ran to Lembitu. Lembitu was still alive. Thank gods. He took his stuff and headed trough the city gates. He quickly founded a tavern and paid them to go and send somebody to take care of the horse Lembitu. Konrad bought a room and put all his stuff in there and ran out on the streets. The streets was smelling like pile of corpses. Corpses were tragged out of the city. Half of the citys population has dies he heard from a guard going pass him. The guard was wearing a defense mask against plague like was every other person who was not infected. Konrad found quickly the priest Desmond and gave him the potion required for getting cured.

Konrad was cured from plague and he started to head back to Sweden. In the middle of the road he got a letter. It was from Firenze. In the letter stated that his sister Francesca has died from the plague like many other citizens of Firenze. Konrad's heart almost stopped. He was raged and sad. He didin't even know what to do. Konrad stopped his horse and just ran towards the forest what was close to the road like he had never before. He just ran without knowing where he is going. He ran until he fall onto the ground. He cried. He cried like he had never before. It was the first time he cried after 20 years. He just did not know what do to anymore. " My sister, my dear baby sister.........", he cried to his black and untrimmed beard. "WYE, WYE!!!!" he yelled until his voice was almost lost. "Wye Abner, god of death, have you taken my sister already. My young and innocent sister!" he cried to his beard. 

After few hours he went back to his horse and turned him around. He started heading to Firenze. His childhood home and place where his sister Francesca shall be buried. Under the olive trees where Konrad and his sisters played and growed up as little children.

The end