The hyur refugee was walking up the road towards Ul'dah, sweat still running down his brow, despite the late early night's cool wind. He had been working all day and would be doing the same tomorrow. And the day after. And the next.
The man sighed. Life outside the walls of Ul'dah was harsh, but inside the refugee camp it almost seemed harsher. Many of his friends were dying due to a disease that left them shrieking and foaming at the mouth. The infected numbers came and went, sometimes no one died a day, other days there might be as many as twenty. And there was no warning, no symptoms, not until it was to late.
The hyur refugee was saving his gil to move himself and his family away, maybe of Limsa, where he might work as a fisher. Ul'dah was the city of lies and false promises. And now death.
The hyur refugee was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not notice the two men in black robes that suddenly moved out from large rocks behind him and rushed him, seizing him and shoving a cloth smelling of a sweet liquid to his face.
Chloroform.
The man struggled but the two men in black were strong and they spoke to one another as the refugee began to drift into sleep.
"How many is that?"Â the first asked.
"Makes nine refugees and three thaumaturges."Â answered the second.
"Think that should be enough?"Â replied the first as the refugee went limp.
"For tonight."Â The second said as he slung the sleeping man onto his shoulder and began hurrying away, casting looks around to make sure they had not been seen.
"How many does the black mage of Jin'li's need and what the hells for?"Â the first muttered.
"As many as it takes to get the job done. As for why, it's a black mage, do you really want to know why he would need living beings?"
The man sighed. Life outside the walls of Ul'dah was harsh, but inside the refugee camp it almost seemed harsher. Many of his friends were dying due to a disease that left them shrieking and foaming at the mouth. The infected numbers came and went, sometimes no one died a day, other days there might be as many as twenty. And there was no warning, no symptoms, not until it was to late.
The hyur refugee was saving his gil to move himself and his family away, maybe of Limsa, where he might work as a fisher. Ul'dah was the city of lies and false promises. And now death.
The hyur refugee was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not notice the two men in black robes that suddenly moved out from large rocks behind him and rushed him, seizing him and shoving a cloth smelling of a sweet liquid to his face.
Chloroform.
The man struggled but the two men in black were strong and they spoke to one another as the refugee began to drift into sleep.
"How many is that?"Â the first asked.
"Makes nine refugees and three thaumaturges."Â answered the second.
"Think that should be enough?"Â replied the first as the refugee went limp.
"For tonight."Â The second said as he slung the sleeping man onto his shoulder and began hurrying away, casting looks around to make sure they had not been seen.
"How many does the black mage of Jin'li's need and what the hells for?"Â the first muttered.
"As many as it takes to get the job done. As for why, it's a black mage, do you really want to know why he would need living beings?"
