A dragonborn in an apron stands in front of a stone clinic building in a medieval town street.

A meticulously clean stone and mortar building stands out sharply amidst a surrounding slum of weathered, grimy structures. The clinic’s windows are frosted to obscure the interior, with bundles of drying herbs hanging inside. Midday sunlight casts soft, natural light across the scene. A tall, black-scaled dragonborn man, Seyrix, wearing a pristine blood-repelling leather apron over simple clothes, steps purposefully from the clinic’s open door. His expression is focused and cold, deep in thought about a recent surgery. He is not carrying any weapons or cloaks. Around him, a few locals from the neighborhood watch quietly — their faces showing a mixture of respect and wary fear. The street is worn and grimy but still bustling with subtle life. The mood is clinical yet tense, blending professionalism with an edge of unease. See more