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[Arakad]

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The wind rustled quietly over the leaves; gently brushing against the grain of the dirt road that outlined the streets of Zento. Yet, regardless, the wind felt like pins and needles against the now tender flesh of the man cloud in shadows. If it weren't for the magical nature of his clothing and armor he feels, that too would bring him intense pain.

"Tatiana..." was the whisper on his breath, barely he had left the girls unless it was to seek out more supplies, and then he put his trust with the Ninja and ventured into the city to seek the herbs and balm he needed for his remedies. Since that evening of leaving the poor girl in the care of Soke` Bishimi and his faithful, he himself had been feeling under the weather. Coughing until his lungs felt they had collapsed, his brain catching fever until he fell to seizure. Waking up hours later not knowing what had transpired.

Circling around the center bank, he leaned heavily upon the staff a cough racking through his system nearly causing him to stumble to a knee. Bring the sleeve of his robe up he wiped the sweat from his brow and continued south to the provisioner whence he had been getting the supplies the last few days.

Stepping into the hut, the lights had dimmed and not a soul were present. At mid-day he would assume the merchant would have taken her place outside bartering her wares with the rest of the cities populace. But this day he found her huddled in a corner in pain.

The staff striking the floor boards with a soft thud as he approached the womans whimpering form, he crouched on one knee - once again he surpressed a cough that got caught in his throat.

"M'lady - are you well?"

"C..curse you and all mainlanders - for that is all that you bring us!" she stuttered out as she mumbled in her huddled ball.

He couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman, that which once was good in the man, kind, actually reached out for him to aid the woman in despair. But he had more important issues to tend to. Pushing himself back to a stand, or a lean rather against the shadow staff. The figure took a step backwards and turned from the exit. One couldn't help but notice the drop of his head beneath the cowl, and the obvious aura of despair. Stepping into the open air a whisper escaped his lips.

The whisper joined the rustling wind, the grain of the dirt road, and the disease that cast its dark shadow over the town of Zento...

Three mere words; that spoke an untold evil. "it is spreading."