Night Ambulance (Chyril 22nd, late GT)

[Morg]

(OOC: Continued from the Punt Den. This thread remains impassable.)

It was a carriage that Madam Panicci, Piedro Hansati and the whore Sarah had managed to procure for the badly wounded Darug Sorghat, a wholly inappropriate conveyance for the task. Its owner grumbled about the blood, but would ultimately take no action, for he recognised the brothel madam and knew that her influence was far-reaching. Instead he simply urged his horses onward, and the carriage clattered through the empty streets toward the Prodesse Dominicus in the old city centre.

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A great cathedral measuring over a thousand paces long, the cathedral was both a monument of architectural pride as well as religious. With its high, narrow towers pointing regally into the sky and its carved statues and pillars that decorated every face of the magnificent building, the citizens of the city spared no expense to express their deep spirituality to the One with such a magnificent construction.

No buildings were built within a hundred paces of the structure, and few were built that close, for the grounds surrounding the church were as austere as the building itself. Paths of carefully cut stone wound around fountains and gardens, each tended carefully by those that sought to earn the One's favor or blessings. Trees, a rare sight within the city itself, were planted and maintained, giving the grounds an almost lush appearance yet never blocking the view to the great cathedral's glory. The highest point of the city was at the top of one of the cathedral's high parapets, a point topped with the holy symbol of the religion.

And the doors, famous for never being locked, were just that. Visitors came and went at all hours, travellers in need of spiritual guidance, holy inspiration, or just a hot meal. The church never closed its doors, a policy of the current Archbishop, and one that lived today.

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It was the time of night that no one would willingly be up and about on the streets if they could possibly avoid it. Only the city's well-maintained oil lamps provided any light, and otherwise the darkness was absolute. It was said by the more superstitious of Mouthies that dark creatures roamed the streets during the dead hours: malevolent sorcerers like the Lich of the Gibbets, and ferocious beasts like Darug himself. And they were more or less right.

The carriage rattled up to the door of the cathedral, and Madam Panicci was the first to dismount, with unladylike haste. She rushed up to its still-open doors and knocked loudly upon them. "Is anyone within? We need a healer, urgently!" she cried.

Piedro was left to settle the "bill" with the irate driver, while Sarah remained in the carriage and tended to Darug's wound as best she could. It was not only a coldness that the orc could feel now. Even the inside of the carriage was becoming hazy to him, and strange images played upon his senses.

[Morg]

Archived without skilling due to player inactivity.