Tincture

Pawl, the Court Healer and a widower, had a problem with drink for years and years until he’d recently married Lady Lindara. Now he was fit and happy, but still brewing up his tincture for those in need, like Gawain. “Bless you, Perceval.” Gawain uncorked the bottle, pinched his nose, and downed the gelatinous, repulsive fluid in one go, gagging the moment it slid down his throat. The taste and texture was that of a rotten egg. However, since this was the only effective remedy he knew of, he…