[ IP ] Doctor

By the beak of my mask and the flowing of my shroud you know of my profession, my `` mission'' as it were. 
 
 I am a humble Plague Doctor. 
 
 From many a house hold I bring care to those afflicted by this dark plague, to ease the suffering of the common man, or a noble, should the pleasure allow it. Unfortunately my many `` works'' and `` miracle'' are nothing but jargon and fantasy, for I, for *we*, are no Doctors. 
 
 We let blood, we open sores, offer our so called remedies, but in the end, we are but cunning scavengers in this pestilent apocalypse, a conman to the poor. Some may get better by some miracle, others within a household may not get sick at all, but at the end of our days, we know nothing of this horrible curse we supposedly fight. 
 
 Back when I was still a priest, when my cross had more meaning, I gave last writes to towns worth of bodies, hopeful that my prayers would give them safe travels from this ill realm. But, as the months went by, the count of afflicted began to swell, and with them those who would succumb to the Plague. The churches started to make accusations, claiming those who were sick had sinned against the father, had received the Lord's judgment for their earthly crime. 
 
 I knew not whether it was true, if this was a sign of a sickening rapture, or a new flood with sickness as it's water's, but regardless my faith wavered. With no word of my leave I left the church and began to look for a way to help those in way my god had not showed to us, a cure or treatment that the Doctors of now would surely have.I know now, after my many years as a liar, that the cure we claim so vehemently to have was never even a possible reality. 
 
 The smell of Posies and Clovers that we believe to stave off the disease, are now to keep the stench of the smoke that litters the air. There have been burnings in hopes of killing off the disease as well as have the ground to the `` naturally'' dead. I see the flame and it reflects to me the end of days, the great fire the good book had prophesized would end man kind. 
 
 Were I to know the truth behind this madness? Surely not. Could I help the sick as I'd been want to do in my youth? Perhaps a vial of Fox Glove and Night Shade to ease the pain, but I am but a man, even more a heretic for putting my ephemeral wishes ahead of my church's teachings. But I do know one thing I am now, that for better or for worse I can claim as my imperishable epithet. 
 
 I am the humble Plague Doctor.
