The "doctor" swept into Duskmoor years ago with a trunk of bottles, powders, and promises, clad in attire more suited to a carnival conjurer than a physician. Her tonics gleam in curious hues, and whispers call some no better than snake oil. Yet, through steady hands and a knowledge not easily dismissed, she has stilled fevers, mended bones, and soothed aching lungs. The folk grant her a wary trust, for results speak louder than rumours. When dusk falls, she is often found at The Gilded Claw, her laughter mingling with the rattle of dice and glasses.