Plague Of Horror

Chapter 1: Death

The stench. At least, the cloaked doctor would call it that. All he could smell was herbs and other purifying plants so intense that he grew to despise the pleasant scent, stuffed into the nose of his long mask, a heavy mask causing much discomfort to his neck. What added to it was his own poor vision coupled with the restrictions of the glass eye holes of the mask, which repeatedly fogged over throughout the day of work. He was unable to clense them for he would risk exposing himself to the sickly, horrid air. He couldn't possibly risk the chance of infection.  This troublesome problem kept his eyes completely hidden to the viewer, taking more and more away from his doctor title and adding a menacing, eerie feeling.
His attire consisted of full black leather tied firmly keeping his skin sealed away from the diseased air. He also donned a black cloak, which had seen its fair share of trouble from angry townspeople as well as the sudden increase of vermin that accompanied the terrifying sickness that ravaged through Europe. His long cane grew to be more helpful to him as days went by, once defending himself from a pack of rats which oddly wished to claw through his clothes and to attack his skin. The rodents never breached his leather as he defended himself well, truly showing how deeply he valued his own life. A new instance more recently saw the doctor requiring his cane to ward back a mob of angry villagers, after leaving the previous village he'd visited, Fogwood.

Any who saw him did not see a savior nor a doctor from the church. All they saw, was death. He was a living symbol of the great sickness, any village cursed with his presence would soon face loss of a large number of their people. Many despised him, saw his necklace which held a cross, a holy symbol proving his affiliation with the church. They scoffed, not believing such a fowl man could ever be seen as a doer of good in their god's eyes.

The masked doctor stepped into the village of Welk, tilting his broad hat, as a great sadness befell him. He clutched his cross gifted to him by a maiden of the church, so pure and young. She had blessed the jewlery with a prayer of luck, fortune and love. He had promised a safe return as the maiden had shown distress from his departure. He held back a tear and continued through the village.