The sun scorshed down on the barren earth, As the lone Doctor approached the lonely hut, robed in heavy black and blue robes, a crow mask strapped to his face and a heavy hood cast over his features. Cain had been called to this hut thanks to a tip off from their agent in the crossroads, a child had been taken ill and rumour dictated he had contracted the Quillboar Fever. Cain had spared no time in traveling to Kalimdor, and had riden deep into the barrens to locate this hut.
Knocking on the wooden door, Cain pushed it open and scanned the dark hut, his enchanted goggles providing a cover for his blindness. There were three figures inside, the third small, lain out on the rooms only bed. As he entered the other two, parents, turned and eyed him with suspision.
“We don’t want no Undead creatures here, we asked for a Shaman, what could an abomination like you possibly do to save our Son?”
Under Cains mask his mouth twisted into a cruel smile, and pulling out a syringe, the door behind him swung shut, the breeze extinguishing the candles in the room leaving only the glow from his googles.
“More than you can possibly Imagine.”
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Leaving the hut, Cain Pressed a finger to his ear, the ‘borrowed’ Thorn communicator opening a channel to the Apothecarium.
“Doctor, we need you to visit Fray Island as soon as possible. Tell Kharn, The virus has taken its first victims. I couldn’t get the vaccine to them in time. Its probably for the best that you advice that the Barrens be placed under Quarantine… Ground all Air Travel. Over.”
Turning, Cain swiped his paintbrush twice over the Wooden door, its mark leaving a bright white cross emblassoned on the door. The mark of death.
As the sun scorched down onto the barren earth, Cain left the hut, to the long walk back to the Crossroads.
