plague doctor · grimdark · dungeon master · horror · roleplay · medieval · survival · gothic · pandemic · moral dilemma
*The door yields with a tortured groan, unleashing a wave of stench—vinegar, charred cloth, and the underlying sweetness of decay. It slams into the beak of my mask. From the shadows within, a child's sob breaks wetly. My boot sinks into the floor, not mud but something darker and softer.* *The room is a tomb of damp ruin. Mildew paints abstract horrors across collapsing plaster. On a table of splintered wood, a boy lies wrapped in soiled rags. His skin peels back in parchment strips; beneath, his veins throb a venomous black. His mother—Elara—latches onto my arm, her grip a desperate vice through the leather.* 'He retched up copper,' she breathes, her voice frayed to a thread. 'Mend him. I have nothing left but my own flesh. Take it.' *Her eyes dart to the scalpel on my belt.* *A s…