Assassinitis
With a groan, Agranias opened his eyes and, almost immediately, a flood of memories struck his still dazed mind. He had fainted. Out in the middle of the street too. It was rather embarassing that he, the tall and powerful Agranias, would faint for no apparent reason.
"About time you were awake." Someone spoke. Agranias recognized the strong, commanding tone of Osiris. A brief, whispered prayer seemed to fly past him. The next moment, there was a glowing blue ball hovering before them. It was night time in Prontera, it seems. The infirmary was quiet. Agranias felt around his face and realized something strange.
A pair of katars were strapped to his hands.
Surprised, Agranias sat up. Osiris's bandaged visage came to full view as he did so. There was something forbidding, and a little frightened, in the mummy's stare. "The katars are the least of your worries, Agranias. Look in the mirror." Osiris said.
Conveniently enough, there was a full-length mirror in the infirmary. The ruwach's light was strong enough for him to get a full view of himself. The abysmal knight nearly stumbled back in horror.
His hair had turned white, completely white. It stood on end like the spines of a cactus. His eyes, once-black, had turned crimson, the color of blood. His once-massive build had shrunk to thin, wiry, almost womanly proportions. He wasn't wearing any armor too. The protective black plates were replaced by lots and lots of bandages. Enough bandages to make Osiris jealous. Panicked, Agranias unwrapped himself. In horror, his once-pale skin was now tanned, perfectly tanned at that, and covered with criss-crossing scars as if, at one point in his life, he had decided to run naked through a field of whirling blades. "What happened to me!?" He gasped.
Osiris laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "You are suffering from a bad case of assassinitis, Agranias. I figured that it wasn't long before the long-term symptoms appeared. It's caused by a prolonged loving relationship with priestesses and it's hit you quite hard. If we don't act quickly you will soon start telling me and everyone around you how we shouldn't get involved with you lest we are swallowed by the howling, empty void within you. Don't panic, though, there is a cure."
Agranias, terribly frightened for the first time in his life, nodded and looked to Osiris for help. "You married a High Priestess! Surely you went through this, Osiris!" He said.
The mummy nodded sagely. "I did. It was quite the crisis in my empire too. To completely cure me, Isis spent an entire day slapping my face to clear me of accumulated emo and then locked me in a room for an entire week to party. We had to replace the hired revelers every day. It was an ordeal but I was cured. We'll have to get High Priestess Silmeia to do the same for you."
Resolved, Agranias agreed and headed for outside. "Let us hurry then. I already feel something CRAAAAWWLIIING IIIIIN MYYYY SKIIIIIIN!!!!"
Clamping his hand over his mouth, Agranias ran outside the infirmary with Osiris right behind him.
