Death, Death and sickness was the only thing that mankind had known for the last decades. No matter who you are, rich or poor. Strong or weak. It can get you and kill you in months, even weeks. Nobody knows who started it, how it began or even when, but what we know is that this 'plague', this disease, is weakening us, and will be the death of us if we don't do something. And soon. Sarl moved quickly between the streets, stained in blood, tainted of darkness and shadows. The heavy essence of death filed the air, and the poor cleanliness of the streets only fueled the disease. A thin brown coat covered his simple clothes, and as for undeliverable as it seemed, he walked blindfolded and barefoot, allowing him to feel the earth surrounding him, since he was blind. Blind, but not unseeing, since he was able to see what lay around him trough his touch, a strange skill that few had. Serl was an adult, of about 25, maybe 30 years old, amagician, handler of earth and healing magic. Although at first glance, anybody who saw him would guess that he was a priest, what in part, he actually was. Finally, he made it to the cathedral. The cold floor of the place sent chills to his bones, but coldest thigs he had to endure before, so Serl quickly got used to it. The mild light of the candles poorly illuminated the cold area, and only another person was there, standing on the other side of the huge place. Sarl got next to the figure, noticing that it was a woman. “You finally came, Sarl.” Said the voice of the woman. She emanated a strange, yet relaxing warmth. In her relied a great power, that sadly, had also fallen into the dark hands of the disease. “You've asked for my help, and I came, High Priestess.” Said Serl in a calm and monotonous tone.