(28) - Crisis In Stormwind

Griffonclaw returned to his home, and flopped down on his fur rug unceremoniously. He had returned from his fifth call in two days, pleas from lesser nobles and wealthy merchant families to heal this new malady that seemed to be affecting the upper crust of Stormwind society. They were all being refered to him by Bishop Delavey; his patients sought help sub-rosa, and used social invitations to Griffonclaw as a pretext for his Light-born healing abilities. Griffonclaw hated being used this way, as a favor Delavey handed out, no doubt earning him favors to be called in later - but he was also in the middle of his reconciliation with the Church, and didn't feel he could refuse.

And the patients needed the help, in any case. Father Barri would be ashamed of him if he would refuse to help anyone who needed healing.

Many of the calls came from the heads of household, not the victims themselves. Those afflicted were hardly able to help themselves in any matter; they shook as though with a fever, but had normal temperature. They seemed abnormally sensitive to things - colors seemed to almost burn with intensity, they heard things that nobody else heard, and their sense of touch was enhanced so that the lightest tickle-touch was painful. Some of them were having vivid hallucinations - one had mistaken Griffonclaw for a succubus, and it had been difficult restraining him long enough to examine; the fellow kept trying to hump Griffonclaw's leg.

Thank the Light he had been wearing plate. He had healed the head-wound he had inflicted while trying to heal the malady.

After a few hours, the symptoms faded, and the victims seemed to return to normal, craving both food and sleep. Griffonclaw wasn't sure that he had actually helped at all... but took advantage of the offers of money as a reward to suggest donations to the Stormwind Orphange instead.

At least the orphans might have a better Winterfest, or at least a warmer one.