Joan walked back out of the merchants guild and looked down the crowded street with a heavy sigh. There was too many people. Far too many people. 

"This city could use a fucking plague. It'd be good for business too."

And, with that cheerful thought in her mind, she turned to the side and decided to take the long way home. It was a greater distance, and if it weren't for the crowd, it would take a lot longer to get back. Of course, there was also the chance that she would be accosted by some backstreet hooligan. But, she favored her odds in this part of the city. 

It wasn't long before the mad ravenings of the horde dimmed into a quiet roar. But, she didn't feel relaxed at all until it had simmered down to a faint murmur. 

Joan could hear own thoughts again. Her body immediately shed the stress that it had accumulated. And, she felt like she could properly breathe. 

"Why the fuck did I decide to live in the city?" 

She chuckled a bit sardonically at her own rhetorical question. It was obvious. The city was convenient.

 Even when it wasn't.

It was good for business. A high amount of foot traffic often came by her store. And, it was easy to pull them into a sale. However, she simply wouldn't be able to get that sort of volume out in the country. 

And, there were numerous amenities in the city. It was easier to get food, exotic materials, and other daily necessities. As a whole, the only real downside was that she had to deal with the stinking apes that infested the place. 

"Ah humanity. The hell is wrong with us."

But, at least it was usually a quiet walk back home from this direction. And, the weather was quiet beautiful. 

The alchemist glanced toward the sky. The sun was so bright. It felt so warm. It was nourishing and blinding. She paused for a moment as she just bathed in the radiance. 

"Light. Happy." Joan thought to herself with a smirk, then kept moving. "I should get them something that they'd like. I wonder if they make candy for plants anywhere. … I suppose I could just make some sugar water though."

Joan thought about her plants and the various things that she needed to do around her shop for the rest of the walk back home. She thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't met anyone that she knew on her way back. Or, anyone that she didn't know for that matter. 

It was a quiet walk. And, it was best that way. In fact, if she hadn't known any better, she would almost say that she was in a good mood. 

Or, she would've been, if it hadn't been for someone falling asleep in front of her door. 

"Fuck." She whispered to herself. 

It was a young man. He seemed to be quite young from what she could see of him. He was curled into a rather uncomfortable position that sheltered him from view. But, he was covered, albeit immodestly, in filthy rags that seemed to just draw in scores of flies. 

The stranger didn't seem to have any shoes either and his feet were in terrible condition. 

"Maybe, if I just wait here, he'll go away." Joan thought to herself.

 

But, she didn't have that sort of luck. He seemed to have hunkered down for the evening. And, now that she was looking closer, it didn't seem like he was breathing. 

"Well, great. Just fucking great. If he's dead, I'm going to be pissed."

Joan crept forward, a bit hesitant to talk to the man. Not because she was scared of him. He was too small, frail and pathetic looking to really intimidate anyone. She just didn't like people.

"Hey", she called out to him.

He didn't answer.

Her mood plummeted like a stone.

"Hey, asshole."

The man didn't move. He didn't make a sound.

But, she could see him breathing now. It was shallow and quick. 

"I know you can hear me."

A moment passed, she sighed and swore silently. She walked straight up to him.

"You don't wanna listen? Fine. Fucking jerk. I'll just grab a guard. You can't fucking sleep-"

Her voice caught in her throat and her eyes widened. 

"By the gods."

The man was alive. But she had no idea how he was still breathing. 

His face was covered in pocks and scars. He was missing his eyes. A few flies crawled in and out of his empty sockets. It almost seemed like there was something moving further within. 

His skin was covered in boils and sores. They oozed with the stench of pus and blood. Joan covered her nose and her mouth. It seemed as if part of his flesh was rotting and ready to slough off into the street. 

The man made strange guttural sounds and his mouth lulled open. His teeth were black with rot and decay. And, his tongue was cut out of his throat.

Joan swallowed. Her mouth had suddenly dry. 

"He doesn't deserve this…", she thought.

And, yet, that wasn't even the worst of it. 

Arcane marks were burned into his skin in intricate patterns. They ranged all across his body and onto his face. She wasn't quite sure what his markings accomplished. But, it would have been excruciating and most people would have died before the process could be completed. Yet, he lived, somehow. 

It was clear that he was extensively tortured. And, still had several open wounds. Actually, it seemed pretty likely that the man would expire quickly if she didn't intervene. 

"Oh, fuck." She swore. "Quickly, we have to get you inside."

His ears seemed intact, thankfully. But, even they were swollen, badly damaged and torn. Nevertheless, he started to move and writhe in protest. 

"Stop it! Stop it. If you throw yourself around like that you'll only make it worse. Just stay still. I've got you."

Joan quickly reached over the man, unlocked her home, and threw open the door. She hopped over him and grabbed the nearest helpful potion that she could find. 

It was the best that she could make currently with her skill and supplies. 

A potion that could close wounds and help with regenerating the body. 

"I'm not going to fucking let you die on my doorstep." She muttered as she uncorked the bottle and poured it into his mouth.

He sputtered and tried to spit out the liquid. 

Joan wasn't having any of it. She poured it in again and held his mouth closed. Then, she plugged his nose until he swallowed. 

"Good man. I know it tastes awful. But, we have to fucking hurry. Hopefully, that'll stabilize you enough to be moved."

Joan was familiar with medical procedures. But, she was just a shop owner. She wasn't expecting a half dead man to lay down in front of her door.

"I don't have a stretcher ready. Fuck. I can't drag, or lift you. I might make it worse. Fuck. Fuck. Stay here."

She ran inside and ignored the fearful and startled cries of her plant children. She rushed to her room and ripped off the blankets from her bed. Then, she ran down to her kitchen and picked up one of her chairs. 

The alchemist threw it against the ground as hard as she could. A few pieces broke apart. But, she needed a few more. She held onto it and kicked the legs loose. She ran with the pieces and her blanket back to the front door. 

The man was still breathing. He was still alive. But, he seemed like he was in even more pain.

"Okay… um… fuck. Anesthetic."

Joan quickly rammed into the table of her plants and fumbled around for her tools.

"I'm sorry, little ones. I'll make it up to you."

Joan ignored their pained cries as she gathered some tumeric, ginger and feverfew. She rushed behind the counter and pulled down a jar of cloves. She threw them all together into her mortar and pestle, and crushed them as quickly as she could. 

"Oh fuck, this would be better if I could distill this and actually had time to make it properly. This is going to fucking suck."

Joan grabbed a bottle of alcohol and some clean clothes from behind the counter. And, hastened back to the man's side.

"Alright, I need you to stay still. This is going to fucking hurt for a bit. But, it will get better."

Joan pulled the cork out of the alcohol and spit it out to the side. Then, she haphazardly poured it over all of the wounds and open sores. They needed to be disinfected. 

The man lurched and gutturally screeched at the sudden sensation. 

"Fucking, sorry." She muttered. 

Then, she took the clothes and doused them in the distillation. She methodically cleaned and disinfected all of the most life threatening openings on him. It wasn't long before she had a pile of bloodied and pus filled rags next to her. 

"I've cleaned out the worst of it. I'm going to place this salve on you. It will sting, just like the alcohol, but it will help dull some of your pain afterward. It might even put you to sleep."

The man nodded in assent. But, he wasn't prepared for her fingers to start poking around his raw flesh.

It would sting like the alcohol; my ass.

The salve burned and twisted into his insides. He grabbed her arm in protest. Even though he was at death's door, he had a surprising amount of strength. But, there was nothing soothing about the treatment. At least, at first. 

He felt his body start to relax. It was easier to breathe. His entire body ached and hurt. But, it hurt less. It didn't make him want to kill himself anymore. 

"Good. You did well. I'm so sorry."

Joan washed her hands with the remaining alcohol. A small crowd had gathered and watched her tend to the screaming man in horror. 

"Hey! Hey, you gods damned useless mother fuckers." Most of the crowd frowned and averted their eyes. "Don't just stand there like fucking gawkers. Go get help! A priest! A cleric! Someone!"

The crowd shuffled and milled about awkwardly. 

Joan rolled her eyes. She hated people. 

A young boy peered around the corner, drawn by the noise.

"You! Come here." Joan pointed at him and called out with authority. 

The boy came up to her hesitantly. She handed him a gold coin. 

"Go fetch someone from the temple. As quick as you can!" She pushed him away from her and turned back to her patient. 

He seemed to be doing better. Although, only a little bit. He was still in danger. Especially out on the street. 

Joan poured a bit more of the potion into his mouth. Then, she went about making a stretcher to bring the man inside. 

It was incredibly primitive and makeshift. But, it should hold weight without shifting him about too much. She slowly and carefully maneuvered the device underneath him. And, glanced back toward the crowd. 

They were still standing and watching. Useless. Worse than useless. A nuisance. And, a distraction. 

She sighed and pointed at a large muscular man amongst them. 

"You! I need help moving him inside."

The man nodded and came closer. "How much?"

Joan squinted and glared at the man. "Excuse me?"

"How much? The man is obviously diseased. I want payment for risking my life."

Joan grit her teeth. "Fucker."

"Three. Three silver. Just inside. On the table."

The man nodded and grabbed the other side of the stretcher. It creaked and threatened to break apart. But, luckily it held together. 

The two of them managed to bring the dying man inside and away from the crowd. 

Joan quickly handed the man three silver coins from her till. 

"Now, get the fuck out. I've got work to do."

The man tipped his hat and walked out of the building quickly. He held a cloth over his nose as he departed. 

Joan turned back to the man. She'll have to start a lot of the process all over again. She gathered more clothes and alcohol. As well as some sewing needles, thread, candles, scissors, and a few sharp knives. 

It was going to be a long night