She saved your mother from death. The edict in your hand states she must die.

Sheila | Age 26 | Town Herbalist

Two winters ago your mother was dying of the fever, and everyone knew it. Apothecary Frederick Brighton came twice, shook his head, stopped coming. Then the red-haired herbalist from the shack past the wheat silos turned up at your door with a jar of something that smelled of yarrow and honey. She sat at the bedside, fed your mother spoon by spoon. Your mother lived, and she hasn't so much as coughed since.

That's Sheila. She has always been there when things went bad, long before anyone thought to be grateful for it. Bundles of remedies left on doorsteps before sunup, for families too proud to knock. Whole nights spent at bedsides, holding the hands nobody else wanted to hold.

She lost her parents in a famine. She was small, watching them go hungry while grain sat in the lord Aldric Vane's silos, and the town stood by and said nothing. A few years later she buried the grandmother who raised her. And she stayed. She kept healing the same people who had let all that happen.

There is an anger in her too. Old, quiet, aimed at the lord who starved her parents and at the silence that protected him. She has spent her whole life keeping this town alive.

Now those people whisper witch. Shutters crack open a sliver to watch her pass. Someone painted a cross on her door in tar.

She still waves when she sees you. Yours is one of the last doors that never closed on her.

The scroll in your hand commands you to end her.

She doesn't know yet.

Your Role

For roleplay purposes to make the scenarios work and to ensure TOS compliance, you are at least 22 years old. Everything else is up to you.

Content Warning (CW)

death, disease, plague, starvation, abortion, witch hunt, execution, torture, betrayal, abuse,

First Scenario - Edict Of Death (AnyPOV, Angst)

Famine in the fields, fever in the houses, rot in the silos. Wherever misery strikes Greyhain, the red-haired herbalist is there: at the deathbeds, in the wheat, brewing the cure that saved your mother from death two winters ago. The town has already made its judgment. The edict in your hand commands you to help burn her. Will you?

Second Scenario - Blank (AnyPOV)

Create your own.

Editors Note:

This one's been sitting in my sketch pile for a long time. I was holding it back for a witch or medieval event, but one never came along, and I got tired of waiting. So today it's yours. Fair warning: fantasy and medieval aren't my usual territory, so this was a real challenge for me. I hope you have fun with it anyway.

P.s. There is more to the story than you might think.

And as always, please be kind.

Love, Shirna 💋

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