Paracelsus was picking through poisonous plants and fungi at the edge of the Weald. She'd filled her satchel to bursting with as much of the materials she could gather. She had been out there since early that morning, hoping that the usual occupants would not be stirring near the edge of town.
She straightened, still on her knees, placing her hands on her knees as she took a deep breath of her incenses at the end of her beaked mask. The sun was setting in the distance and her eye caught the ruins of the manor up on the cliff, the jagged, stone columns poking out of the ground like a skeleton hand, clawed and deformed. A shiver of apprehension crawled down her spine and she averted her gaze.
There was a lot of work to be done before she could consider herself ready to leave the Hamlet. She had so much to do that she couldn't even think about going on an adventure yet. She got to her feet and grabbing her overstuffed satchel, made her way back to the barracks.
She needed a laboratory to distill and brew her poisons. Where would she find that—the Heir. She stopped trudging her way to the barracks and turned her head towards the bloated dead tree where the small cottage that belonged to the Heir stood by its lonesome. The Heir would know where she could find a laboratory for her poisons.
Paracelsus changed her route and was walking deliberately towards the Heir's house. She straightened before the door and raised a gloved hand to knock when the door opened. The Plague Doctor had to crane her head back to look up into the bronze mask of the Leper. She pressed her lips together from behind her own cowl and slowly lowered her hand.
"Uh...Hi!" she piped up, "I was just… well you see…" she rubbed her hands together as the man remained silent, "Uhm… I need a…" she made a circular motion with her one hand near her head as though trying to get the words out faster, despite the fact that she was tripping over her own tongue, "A-a place for my poisons! Yes!" her voice raised, "I need a laboratory to mix my poisons and toxins and serums and…" she trailed off as the Leper continued to stare at her in silence. "Is that a no?" her beak tilted up even higher as she shrunk back.
"Who is it, Baldwin?" the Heir's voice floated from another room, the Leper turned his head to glance at the Heir (Paracelsus couldn't see into the house so this was assumed).
"A Plague Doctor is seeking aid, Madam," he responded politely, his voice low.
"Aid?" the Heir appeared at his side, and looked outside to see Paracelsus wiggling her fingers at her awkwardly in greeting, her satchel at her feet. "Oh… hello."
The Heir stepped around the big man (though he stayed exactly where he was) and came to stand in the entrance of the door. She wrapped her black shawl tighter around her small body and smiled hesitantly at Paracelsus.
"Do you know where I could find a lab to craft my poisons?" Paracelsus asked, trying to ignore the large man hovering.
"In the basement," the Heir began, "There might be something like that in the cellar…" she turned and almost walked into Baldwin who hadn't moved. She patted his bronze cuirass instead and walked around him, inviting the Doctor to follow her.
Paracelsus did not hesitate and grabbed her satchel and almost ran after the Heir as she paused by a door beneath some stairs. No words were exchanged as they made their way into the basement of the little house. The Doctor found all manners of weird and odd things were crammed together but once her eyes landed on a long counter covered with delicate apparatuses, glass vials, beakers and anything else she could ever need.
"Yes!" she squeaked happily and hugged the Heir impulsively. "This is exactly what I need! Thank you!"
The Heir looked stunned for a moment before she gathered herself and nodded. "I'll leave you to it then," she smiled at the Doctor and left her alone.
Paracelsus did not hesitate and placed her satchel on the counter, taking out all her ingredients. She grabbed a mortar and pestle and began the painstaking work of concocting her special brews and toxins. Flames reflected off her goggles, and the fumes filled the basement with an odour that would have probably put anyone not wearing a special mask in the medical ward for a couple of weeks.
She didn't know how long she was down in the cellar, but when she was done, her satchel was full to the brim with vials and bottles and potions. Her supply had been fully restocked.
A slow smile spread across her hidden face. She could travel again.
She was staring at the posting board in the barracks when she overheard Dismas talking to Reynauld about the Bounty Hunters from before. One had died in the old Ruins, and the other had gone Irrational and had almost killed William the Houndmaster (his dog had almost killed the Hunter).
Paracelsus turned her full attention towards the pair. "Are they back?"
Dismas smirked at her and shrugged while Reynauld remained silent. "Oh they be back," the thief nodded, "I'd stay away if I was you."
"You're not me!" Paracelsus countered and ran for the door. They were back from the Ruins, which meant either the Church or the Tavern. Church was empty save for the old Abbott and the Sisters of , and the Tavern was utterly deserted except for the usual harlots (where were they hiding?). She was standing outside the Tavern when she spotted William the Houndmaster making his way towards the training ring. She bolted after him.
"Hey!" she yelled, racing up to him. He stopped and she noticed his dog barking, her tail wagging playfully. The dog wasn't hurt in the scuffle.
"Yes?" William queried as she stopped in front of him.
"Where are the Bounty Hunters you traveled with earlier?" she wheezed, out of breath.
"Graveyard," he answered pointing towards the giant cemetery that overflowed into the Weald.
"Both of them?" she gasped, suddenly disappointed she didn't get to properly introduce herself before they died.
"Yeah," William harrumphed, "I still can't believe he dragged his buddy out of there…"
Realization dawned on her, so only one died… she thanked William and bolted for the graveyard. She made a point of ignoring all the Plague Doctor masks hanging off rickety wooden crosses and made for the only person she could see. She recognized the hunter that had made eye contact with her and noticed he stood in front of a plain, unmarked monument with fresh dirt. There was a helmet on the stone.
She slowed her pace and stood quietly for a moment, not wanting to intrude just yet.
"What do you want?" his voice startled her and she squeaked as she jumped out of her skin.
"To say I'm sorry for your friend," she licked her lips and then cleared her throat as he remained silent, "My name is Paracelsus," she introduced herself, "I was wondering if you'd join—"
"No."
"You didn't let me finish," she clicked her tongue, "I wasn't going to—"
"No," he repeated, he hadn't even turned around to look at her.
"You know," she began, "Cutting people off is—"
Instead of interrupting her that time, he'd turned around and his big hand had placed itself over her mask where her mouth was, folding her beak against her chest almost. Her eyes widened in behind her mask in outrage. How dare he!?
"Hey!" she squawked, her voice muffled. She tried to wrench her head out of his grip, but his fingers tightened painfully about her mouth. She felt like she'd have five little bruises across her face in the morning.
"Shhh," he raised a finger to his mask where his mouth would be, "Just be quiet." He released her face and walked out of the graveyard. She glowered at his back and huffed angrily as she stomped after him.
"That's not a nice way to treat someone!" she raged at his back as the iron wrought gates closed behind her. He said nothing as he made his way towards the Tavern, she followed, bound and bent to get an apology from him.
He made his way towards the back of the bar where the gaming hall was kept and sat down at a table with a deck of cards. She sat down beside him. "You won't be rid of me that easily!" she snapped, "I deserve an apology!"
"Wait a while and you might get one," he muttered, shuffling the cards absentmindedly. She believed him and pulled out a chair beside him and sat down with a huff. He stopped shuffling and glanced in her direction before shrugging and dealing her in.
She glanced about the room and then down at the cards on the table. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Dealing you in since you insist on keeping me company," he glowered, glancing down at his two cards and then turning his helmeted head in her direction. He tapped her two cards with a finger.
She grabbed them and frowned behind her mask. Two red aces. Was that good? What were they playing? "What is the object of the game?" she asked, eyeing her cards thoughtfully.
"You've never played poker?" he snorted, his voice muffled. She shook her head. "Tell you what then, you win, I'll listen, you lose, you leave me alone, sound good?"
That got her attention. "A wager then?" she grinned and then her shoulders drooped, "How am I to know you're telling the truth?"
"You have my word," he spoke solemnly. She jumped excitedly in her chair and clutched her cards to her chest.
"Okay!" she beamed and then giggled to herself, "So if I win you're mine and if I lose, you poof! Got it!"
"Then let's begin," he drawled, not explaining the rules to her, figuring she'd lose. He cut the deck and flipped the three top cards. An ace of spades, an ace of clubs and an eight of diamonds. He smiled from behind his mask, a slow deliberate smile. He had a full house (his cards a pair of black eights). The odds were in his favour.