How Not To Heal
Behold my Lizardfolk Druid, Circle of Spores; Crunch-Bite Gizzard. Master of dead things, grower of living things from said dead things, maker of medicines the origins of which are better left a mystery.
Imagine a walking crocodile that has fungi growing on his back, carrying a stick with an assortment of bones, a human skull, moss, insect carapaces, and a hollowed out gourd full of seeds. That's the bastard.
To better blend into civilized society, he had to adopt a disguise; he wore a large overcoat, a wide-brimmed hat, and a bird-like mask. That's right! Plague doctor. It helped because lizardfolk were never allowed in, or even near, cities. That and he was nearly killed by guards a few times.
But it didn't help when people begged him for help, and being a creature of some rudimentary morality, he would oblige and offer some unorthodox medicines; slime molds grown from corpses, a mushroom off his back, an odd liquid he pours out from the skull on his stick. That sort of gross thing.
Funny story actually, he was running from some guards, and in an effort to lose them, he hid amongst a group of doctors examining a very sick and mostly dead patient. The guard came in and demanded that he be allowed to examine each doctor. The first one was human, the other 4 were Kenku, who then scattered. In the chaos, Crunch-Bite escaped.