(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

everything from her hair, to her shawl, to her robe - all were shades of gray.
The only splotches of color on her came from several strange herbs, which
were tied to her belt by their stalks. The herbs made a swsshhh when she
moved, like a broom.
The door creaked shut, and the elderly woman turned and stared at me...
and it looked as if the gray shades that blanketed her body extended to her
features as well. Her hair was a wispy gray, and her eyes were like chips of
granite. She frowned when she saw me. "And who might ye be, hmmmn?"
I mulled it over, a lie at my lips, "Er- my name is Adahn. Who are you?"
With a sly cackle, she wagged her eyebrows. "Have ye not heard of Ol'
Mebbeth then, the midwife of the Square? Have ye not now?" She
narrowed her eyes, and her voice dropped. "Well, now ye have, fer I be
Mebbeth."
"I noticed the pricing list. What do you do?"
"I set bones right, drive the cough outta the sick, yank out squealing,
stubborn babes, mend cloaks or a rag or two, make cures and herbs and
other such." She squinted at me, studying my scars. "Be needin' a cure or
three, do ye then?"
"Cures?"
"Aye, ye be needin' some cures ta lookatcha. D'ye want ta buy some, do
ye...?" Mebbeth glanced at the scars covering my body again, then
shrugged. "Too late ta be askin' for them, I think."
I looked over to Morte. He was still a bit scuffed and scratched from our last
encounter. Did he even heal? "Actually, we could use some healing..."
Mebbeth nodded. "Very well, then." She reached for one of the dried herbs
at her belt, snapped it off at the stalk, then ground it in her callused palms.
Small wisps of dust and pollen rose from her hands. She then mumbled to
herself, then blew the dust into the air...
I took a deep breath as the gray pollen swirled around the room. I breathed
deeply, taking the dust into myself, and less than a moment later, I felt
strangely refreshed. Looking to Morte, he looked like he was freshly-skinned
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