A very sick man.

((WARNING! Graphic descriptions of disease and decay follow, reader beware!))

Sure enough, Fabian's expertise paid off. He successfully disabled a tripwire, picked several locks, and navigated the trio around a hidden pit trap. After an hour of careful advancement through the underground tunnels, they came to an abandoned warehouse in a larger chamber with a vaulted ceiling. Lorna wrung her hands with glee at the sight of it, and Fabian cracked his knuckles as he approached the large, iron door.

"What is this place?" Althea asked, giving the large building a once-over. Ignoring her question, Fabian produced his pack of thieves' tools to once more pick the lock. But this puzzled the acolyte. Clearly the tunnel continues forward, so why was he straying off the path? Lorna peeked down the tunnel before scurrying up beside her bald friend. She brushed a scarlet dreadlock from her face. "Is there something we need in there?" Althea asked, brows knit with concern. Lorna and Fabian gave each other a smile before nodding.

"Uh, yeah, we need to check that your artifact--relic thing isn't stashed away inside," Fabian said, "Thieves will steal anything, you know." He set to work picking the lock, and Lorna gave a snort before leaning against the wall. Althea nodded and smiled as well, happy to see such enthusiasm and proactive thinking on the part of such a grim mercenary. For a brief pause only the clinking of Fabian's tools could be heard in the quiet chamber. And then they heard a cough, followed by a wet splat.

Lorna pushed off the wall, brandished her battleaxe, and peered into the dark beyond the torchlight. Stumbling out of the shadows, a man in a dirty, haggard cloak fell to his hands and knees, wheezing with each breath. "Stay away, stranger. We got no business with you," she growled, twirling her battleaxe fiercely. The cloaked man raised his head, and Althea recognized the telltale signs of sickness.

"Wait, don't hurt him, please! He looks very ill," she called out before approaching the man with open arms. Althea flipped through her small prayer book, "I can help him," she added in a calm, soothing voice. It took all her resolve to maintain an air of calm. Deep down, Althea felt a chill run up her spine. Certainly she knew the arts of medicine and many treatments for common illnesses, but she began to feel a looming sense of doubt upong closer inspection.

Althea eased the man to the tunnel floor and leaned his back against the wall. After uttering a brief prayer of protection for herself and pulling aside the man's cloak, she was met with the putrid stench of decay. Dark, wet patches stained his tunic, all but adhering it to the soft, spongy flesh beneath. Coagulated blood, she surmised. Donning a pair of gloves and drawing her ceremonial dagger from her belt, Althea cut away the soiled shirt and gasped at what she saw. While his complexion was pale and sweaty, the skin on his chest was bone white and utterly gaunt. More disconcerting were the numerous pustules. The large, polyp-like lesions were filled with a foul, black ichor. Even more unpleasant was the shudder the man uttered when Althea accidentally popped one of the polyps. Vile, inky pus streamed down the man's chest. Overwhelmed, Althea stumbled back and scrambled behind a corner of the storage building. She thought that vomiting would help, but the cloying, rancid stench lingered.

"You all right, lass? Not catchin' his ill, are you?" Lorna asked. She took Fabian's torch and approached the sick man, brandishing the small flame in front of her. The man recoiled at the flame and scrambled back a few feet. The effort elicited a rattling cough, followed by another splash of dark ichor from the man's lips.

"Hey! You want me to open this up or not?" Fabian barked after Lorna stole his lightsource. When she ignored him, he returned to the lock in the dim light, but muttered a soft curse to himself when one of his tools snapped. He tossed it to the floor and rose to his feet. Unsheathing his longsword, he followed after Lorna.

"By the gods... Fabian, this fellow looks like shit," Lorna said, a sober expression across her face.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," Althea said softly, rejoining her companions while wiping clean the corner of her mouth. This just made Fabian scratch his head and tighten his grip on his sword.

"Look, girlie, if you can't help him, I can," he said, raising his weapon to demonstrate his point, "A clean ****, put him out of his misery," he concluded with a somber nod. Althea gnawed at her lip and unconsciously folded her hands over her heart.