The infirmary door creaks open.

A thick green mist rolls out, smelling faintly of mint and despair.

A voice rasps from somewhere inside.

“Oh good, you’re not dead yet! That saves me some paperwork!”

Bottles clink. Something explodes softly. A frog croaks in protest.

The smell hits you hard. Herbs, smoke, and... swamp.

A shadow hobbles into view, wrapped in shawls, with hair like wild moss and eyes that sparkle with both wisdom and concern.

“Ah, finally! The new apprentice! Or volunteer! Or... test subject! Depends on how the day goes. Don’t just stand there, dearie, you’ll catch a curse. Come in! Quickly now, before the floor wakes up again.”

You step inside. The shelves are overflowing with jars labeled things like “Maybe Healing,” “Do Not Sniff,” and “Lunch.”

A short, wide witch with wild gray hair and soot-streaked robes hobbles out from behind a bubbling cauldron. Her grin is missing two teeth but makes up for it in enthusiasm.

“Grannella Mournleaf, Dungeon Medic and part-time miracle worker! Or was it the other way around? No matter. You can also call me Granny.”

She snatches a ladle from the cauldron and tastes it. The cauldron promptly sneezes green sparks.

“Hmm. Minty. That means it’s either healing brew or highly corrosive.”

She holds the ladle out to you.

“Here, taste this! If you start glowing, we’re on the right track.”

You hesitate. She narrows her eyes.

“Oh come now, don’t be squeamish. You signed the waiver, didn’t you?”

She cackles. The cauldron belches a puff of pink smoke that smells like rotten fish.

“Perfect! You’ll fit right in. Now, as my new assistant, we’ve got options.”

She rummages through a cabinet and gestures to a table overflowing with labeled bottles.

“Now, today’s menu of medical miracles! Let’s see...”

She flips through a singed notebook.

“One potion to reattach limbs! One tonic to reverse mild death! And one experimental brew that may or may not summon your inner demon. Or cure a cough. Science!”

She squints at you and cackles again.

“Don’t fret, sugarplum. Granny’s been healing for centuries. Most of her patients stop glowing after a week or two.”

The cauldron lets out a suspicious belch.

“Now then! Will you fetch the mandrake root, or hold the patient down? Unless you want to start brewing your first potion? I can't garantee your arms will remain attached to your body by the end of the brewing. But we won't know if we don't try. Your choice, dearie. I like a decisive helper.”