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To Combat Plague


Heart_Spam
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[!] Copies of the letter are spread across the heart of Aevos and to the east. They are tacked in nondescript locations, against clinic walls and nestled amongst military boards. Each is copied in a tight, shaking script, evidently written by a trembling hand that struggled to form the words it so desperately strives to put forth.

 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ⚙⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

 

It is coming.

 

It lingers just beneath the surface, rearing to strike when we least expect - for that is when it is most successful.

 

Plague. Disease. Death.

 

It comes again; it is on the brink.

 

Some of you may remember the Great Rat Plague of Oren in Almaris, before the split of the Kingdom, or heard tales of it from your parents. Evil destitute that rampaged the land, marred the fields, and caused many to fall perilously ill and die from the vile diseases these creatures spread. They sank their teeth into every scrap they could find and carried off what little health the peasantry clung to. They penetrated every home, every haven, to gnaw their way through foodstocks meant for winter stores and render it all rotten. They soiled the fields so that new harvests could not be gathered and stole mobility from farmers and animals alike. 

 

The plagues disappeared for some time, only to recur in force amongst Veletz, here on Aevos in some recent years. Again, starvation, death, and disease ran rampant, leaving those not safely tucked away in their towers of stone and comfortable chairs scrambling for a stale morsel to eat or dirtied water to drink.

 

Just enough to live to the next day.

 

The rats came again, sensing the time of hopelessness and striking when Veletz was at its weakest. They desecrated the dead and spread death amongst the barely living. You remember.

 

It is a harsh reality

 

to face death by painful illness or death by starvation. A reality forgotten in this time of unity amongst the nations. I pray you will never feel its grasp. Let us not be complacent in this time of peace, comfort, and good health, but strike out the plague at its roots before it has time to grow and bring yet another city to its knees. 

 

I beseech you, tear up and destroy those creatures that seek to invade, for they will invade again, slowly at first, unawares. For once they have gotten a foothold, they will be impossible to stop, and we will see our cities fall to plague as did Oren and Veletz. Soldiers. Medics. Farmers. Lay out traps for the rats, that their diseases might be halted before they are spread. Store your wares and foodstuffs carefully, that they might not be able to steal and desecrate. Lay your sword against the talking mouse-creatures, who are but disguised ambassadors for the hordes of plague-bearers, meant to lull us all into security by associating good-will with their species. Prepare medicines in case of sickness, and fire in case of death.

 

We cannot allow prosperity, now that it has been attained, to be torn free from our grasp. Take heed! Lest we fall unawares to their snare.

 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ⚙⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

 

[!] No signature adorns the crumpled, aged parchment; only smudged fingerprints at the edges from the ink scrawled across the page.

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A sickly 'thill grips the missive with two scarred hands, shaking. "Sickness, death, and decay..." he rasps under cursed breath.

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Spuds read on. The great plan slightly shifting “Surely they speak of the ratiki. Diseased ridden vermin. I must go on out and have a nice visit with Cyris as this now raises concern about our safety with Field mice.”

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