GRAPHIC | Johnan Mitchell
Doctor Thore took the satchel and basket placing them on the counter while she pulled out a teapot. It was a simple tin pot with a stamp of an elven rune. Embith watched as she placed tea leaves with different spices and herbs. From the smell of the pot, he could tell this was lavender tea. She placed the tea on the fire and set on the smaller chair opposite Embith. According to the traditions of the Plague Doctor, only a select few could see their face. They must complete a ritual and have been aligned with the Doctors in the past. Embith was one of the select few.
During his adventuring days, he had helped a caravan of Doctors make a trip from across Dragon’s Ledge to the lower valley to supply the village with medicine during the Red Death. That was almost five years ago. According to the House, due to this service, Embith was allowed to see Thore. She carefully undid the straps of her mask to reveal her soft round face. Her dark blue eyes shone with a glisten that would make the jewels of the Emperor’s crown look dull. Her pink thin lips were a little dry from always wearing her mask and her short, stubby nose had a small indent from where the beak rubbed against it. Her cheeks had a sparkle of freckles. Her red hair matched the fire in the hearth.
Thore smiled sweetly at Embith, “ I am always glad when you visit when I have no patients. This dreadful mask gets so stuffy sometimes. Doesn’t help that I have to fill the beak with different herbs every day.”
He nodded, “ Looks like it would become very uncomfortable quickly, especially in the summer.” Thore nodded her head in agreement, “ It’s been really busy this time of year. Everyone is getting sicker with the air becoming colder.”
The teapot hissed as the tea reached its boiling point. Thore rose from her set and placed two teacups on the counter. Embith watched as she bent over and carefully picked up the pot. She carefully poured the hot liquid into the cups and placed the pot on a small metal rack to keep it from burning the wooden counter. Thore carefully walked over and placed one cup in front of Embith. She gently set down her cup and smiled, “I hope you like it. It’s a staple drink for my colleagues and me. We call it the Raven’s Brew and it helps to calm the mind. It is also a welcome sight after a long night of potion-making.” Embith took a sip of the drink. It was a sweet tea with a hint of bitterness. It was a welcome taste to the body after the chilly morning near the lake. Embith answered, “ A very confronting brew, but a little sweet for my taste.”