Untold Tales RPG

Aragorn pulled on a non-descript tunic and pants, and a ratty old cloak he had no particular attachment to. Pulling a mask up to conceal the lower half of his face, he slipped out his window, and descended into the city. It was quiet, save for the bayiing of dogs. It was dark save for the lamps, and soft candles in the occasional window.

The first circle, however, was anything but quiet. The smell of sickness and death could be detected even through the mask, and he made his way to the guard barracks that had been set aside as a sick ward. Pulling on his gloves and reaching into his pouch with herbs, he entered. He did not know if he could save anyone, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try to ease some suffering and help save those he could.

And maybe, to those who felt no hope, they might have felt the eyes of a king settle upon them, and had hope again.