|The Noble Madon Brinkley|
Gloved hands clutch tightly at the polished handle of his cane as he hobbles along, his weight bearing heavily on his left leg. A charlatan grin meets the gaze of any who look his way.
Occasionally, he straightens his collar and smooths the grey fabric of his suit lovingly. It's an old suit, a little frayed at the edges and the sleeves seem to be missing their lace. It seems to have withstood some gained weight, if the paunch over his belt is any indication. Truth be told, the suit has lasted him longer than his last three bondings combined -- and treated him better, too -- he just can't bring himself to rid himself of it.
If one lingers near him for too long they just might hear him bark out, "Madon Brinkley’s the name and I’m here to cure what ails you! Ache, pains, hair loss, weight gain, weight loss. Do you have an ailment? I can fix it! Potions, salves, electroshock therapy, and leeches!"
He seems to have nicked a stepping stool from somewhere to elevate himself during that peddler's call.
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