[Open] the one who survives by making the lives of others worthwhile

[meds4sale]

WHO: The Medicine Seller and Open!
WHAT: The Medicine Seller wants to get his bearings. Or sell medicine. Since he’s a medicine seller.
WHEN: Feb 2017/Guardian, 9:43 Dragon
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Open starters below - message me on this journal or at GreenRivers if you want a private starter.

A. Got A Remedy For That
The thing the Medicine Seller noticed about people was that they generally saw what they wanted to see so long as it fit their personal narrative of the world. Despite his numerous tells, he'd passed easily as human in his own world. He was the right general shape, and what words couldn’t explain away, a pretty face could certainly distract from.

Here, it was even easier to go unnoticed. Most had but a passing familiarity with the Dalish and their lore, so when they saw his pointy ears and facial markings, and assumed he was just some elf who'd nicked an Orlesian noble's bathrobe and was going for A Look, it made things quite convenient. And he wasn't one to deny people their assumptions when they benefited him.

Dalish may have had a stigma, but between that or being considered the very thing he existed to fight, the former misconception was infinitely less trying.

He didn’t have a stall set up, so much as a few planks of wood balanced together to make a crude, make-shift table. Which he had then covered with a cloth. There were bottles, flasks, vials, powder packets, small, colourful silk pouches and ornate lacquered boxes, bright and vibrant against the gray winter backdrop of the fortress. He’d set a few other planks down to sit on, sparing his knees the cold, winter mud.

He was out of the way of the main hubbub of the merchant stalls and there were no signs or boards with a list of prices, but the vibrancy of his attire and stock made him and his wares impossible to miss. If one was in need of a remedy, they could do far worse.


B. The Price of Knowledge
Being a stranger in a strange land was new to the Medicine Seller, but once the novelty of it wore off, it really wasn’t so different from home. People were people wherever you went - however different their appearances, customs, and cultures, they were still driven by the same emotions.

Still, customs were important, and moreover, he hated not knowing things. Especially things that could make him seem ignorant. It didn’t do to be ignorant if you could help it.

The library had proven beneficial. At the very least he had become acquainted with the Chantry’s version of Thedosian history. He doubted it was in any way accurate or removed from bias (which the historian Genitivi had at least admitted to in his writings), but it was still useful. The more he read, the more he understood the attitudes and inclinations of this society.

The books on medicine were also quite informative - elfroot seemed to go in just about every cure for any ailment which certainly made his job easy. Deep mushrooms also seemed to be a fairly common component.

He was not particularly neat with his research - books were scattered about his work space, some half open, others in haphazard stacks. His notes on Thedas’s medicinal herbs were just as erratically spaced, though his calligraphy and brushwork copying the illustrations was meticulous and quite skillful, if completely illegible to almost anyone in Skyhold.

Still, history and medical books could become a bit tiresome after a while, even for someone with the Medicine Seller’s boundless patience. He deemed a break necessary and went in search of some fiction, leaving his mess for now.

Hard in Hightown 3: The Re-Punchening sounded like some particularly delightful literary schlock. He returned to his spot, lit the tobacco in the bowl of his kiseru, and sat back, prepared to be thoroughly entertained.


C. Curiosity Killed The Cat
Skyhold was a curiosity in and of itself, and the Medicine Seller could hardly refrain from exploring the grounds. It wasn’t often one got the opportunity to poke around a fortress, and while there was work ahead of him here, he was rather nosy.

The ramparts offered quite a view of the chilly Frostbacks. The great hall was aptly named, altogether rather grand with its high ceilings and the imposing throne. The stables held a wide variety of peculiar animals. The gardens had all manner of botanical goodies. The place was absolutely huge and, if rumour was to be believed, quite a windfall for the Inquisition in its budding stages.

Such things were very interesting to the Medicine Seller. He’d move on once he was able to play by this world’s rules and pass through society without too much in ways of questions, but this was certainly ideal for the time being.

D. Wildcard!
Is the Medicine Man eavesdropping on your business? Did you spot him petting a good cat or talking to his weird sword? Did he sell you some faulty medicine? Anything goes!

Comments

B

[kartereo]

[Waver had a schedule, and hitting the library late in the day was a key part of it. It allowed him time to relax before taking an evening meal, and then wandering back to where he was staying with Iskandar for the night. Besides, it was familiar - the same smells of musty books, the same creaky shelves, the same everything. It felt as if libraries were universal and yet--

--He sniffed the air, knowing the smell well. Curious about who else might be indulging a habit, albeit a little foolishly by doing so within the confines of a library, he followed the scent, which eventually lead him to the Medicine Seller's staked out territory.]

Ah, that's where the scent's coming from.

Re: B

[meds4sale]

[He exhaled a plume of smoke from behind the book, and peered up at the man who had approached. There was definitely the smell of tobacco from the other man which he recognized immediately. It had a habit of lingering. What he couldn't quite place was a strange undercurrent of... something else. But this world was full of oddities as of yet unknown to him.]

[He offered the long, thin pipe to the stranger.]

I am happy to share, if it pleases.

[kartereo]

[Waver responded by holding up a hand. This wasn't like him at all, but one bias did remain.]

As much as I'd indulge, I don't take risks of anything that can catch fire near books. It seems to beg for disaster.

[Although--]

That is a very beautiful device though. Where'd you get it?

[meds4sale]

[The Medicine Seller didn't seem bothered by the refusal. It was Waver's loss, not his own.]

It was... ah...

[It had been quite a long time ago that he'd taken up the habit. When and where...?]

[Ah. Yes.]

...It was borrowed for a prop in a little play. The original owner did not want it back.

[kartereo]

[Waver gave a thin smile.]

Certainly unique, I can't say I've seen something like that used at home.

[It was actually one of the reasons Waver didn't want to risk it. There was nothing like breaking someone else's thing as a first impression.]

Let me know when you run out of tobacco though. I'd be happy to point you towards where I've been buying my own supply from.

B

[circleprodigy]

Inessa keeps regular hours at the library, the Grey Warden mage preferring to do so in the afternoons once her mabari companion has been worn down through exercise. After all those games of fetch or just running around, he's tired enough to curl on the floro and nap. The small, pale elven woman always has a large stack of books at her table, though her area is neatly organized, barely anything out of place for long.

It's when she's putting away most of her tomes and looking for something to bring Nathaniel, as promise, that the scent of tobacco reaches her nose. She arches an eyebrow, not used to such scents in the library, and it doesn't take long for her to find the source of it, beyond the next stack. The elf is unfamiliar, and that book.... "The Re-Punchening? That cannot be a real title. What has the Hard in Hightown series come to?"

Re: B

[meds4sale]

The Medicine Seller peered over the rim of the book. He would never claim his English was impeccable - he'd picked up bits of it a few centuries ago from the sporadic western tradeships before Japan closed its borders. And then, with the restoration, he'd learned in a period of decades what a keen student might have learned in four or five years.

Still, he was fairly certain the book was a mess of grammatical errors and the author only had a passing familiarity of how people's anatomy worked. Some of the more graphic scenes were proving quite surreal.

He hadn't enjoyed himself this immensely since that time he'd tricked some ghosts.

"It would appear to be genuine," he said, lowering the book into his lap.

"I take it the other two are a bit more..."

He sought the word he was looking for. 'Competent' was the first that came to mind, but he dismissed it. If the author's goal had been to engage and amuse, he was a master.

"...Polished...?"

That seemed about right.

[circleprodigy]

There's a hesitant nod, but Inessa feels compelled to explain. "Honestly, I would just say the original is the only one worth reading. The writing styles from the first to the second are very different. Someone less competent has taken over, and it shows."

She catches herself, and a sheepish expression forms. "My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt you. I have a kneejerk reaction to terrible writing, but I suppose that doesn't mean there can't be entertainment found in it." Just not for her, all the grammatical errors would drive her mad.

[meds4sale]

"It's no interruption," he said, inclining his head to the scattered books, and piles of notes. The best that could be said about the small disaster area was that at least he cleaned his brushes.

"As you can see, I am taking a break."

He set aside the book amidst the pile to give Inessa his undivided attention.

"Are you familiar with this library?"

[circleprodigy]

"Oh, yes." Inessa reaches up to brush back a stray strand of hair as she speaks. "I visit as often as I'm able, usually in the afternoons. It's something of a trek, since I dwell in the valley below, but I don't mind. Garahel always needs the exercise."

Garahel is busy lightly snoring away for now, though, all that exercise having worn him out. "If you're searching for something in particular, I might be able to help you find it. Maker knows I'm here often enough to count as a librarian."

a;

[arcaneadvisor]

Not one to frequently make the rounds of the stalls, there are always things Morrigan has to purchase here and there that she can't simply send for from somewhere else or find when she takes to the woods, at least not until the weather turns or she has the time to venture further afield. So she's familiar with what Skyhold usually has to offer; the faces may change, the wares fluctuate along with the prices but often it's very much the same.

This, however, is not.

One of the boxes catches her eye because when has she not been drawn to a shiny thing, and her hand hovers over it before she glances to whom she assumes is the stallholder. "May I?" She does not assume they are for touching, and some lessons cut deep.

[meds4sale]

The Medicine Seller's first thoughts were that this was a peculiar customer. Even if he hadn't glimpsed the gold of her eyes, she had a very different bearing than those who'd been by before.

The refugees and soldiers approached with curiosity, true, but it was tempered with a caution born of years of fear and prejudice. The visiting dignitaries, if they deigned to stop by for a look at his wares at all, came with in a flurry of pomp and pretense or condescending insult.

Morrigan's simple curiosity was refreshing. And her taste was impeccable - the box was in and of itself a treasure. It was two tiers and made of black lacquer with a pattern of golden fans and the insides were red with a delicate gold trim.

"By all means. My wares are free to browse."

The contents were as valuable as the box that held them - various incense, some in stick form, others conical. The scents were subtle, lacking the cloying sickly sweetness so common in amateur blends. The top drawer contained the pre-mixed blends. The bottom contained pieces of fragrant wood, either used in a blend or burned on their own.

[arcaneadvisor]

Carefully, with the delicate touch of someone who has spent the last several years of their life handling relics and artefacts that threaten to crumble into dust at times, she lifts the box.

"You are new here." A statement, but Morrigan's voice often lilts up anyway in a habit she's never quite managed to get rid of no matter how many years it's been since she left Flemeth and the Wilds behind.

Her eyes dart to him again before she continues investigating the box, a smile lighting up her face when she finds it not to be empty at all - what a rarity here, to have something interesting, something that wouldn't be out of place at all in her quarters. Something that won't take up too much space when she inevitably has to move on again when all is said and done with the Inquisition, whenever that may be. "Do you craft all of this yourself? From incense to box?"

[meds4sale]

A statement of the obvious - there was no sense in confirming or denying such a thing. Morrigan seemed perfectly aware of what was what.

"Some," he said. His medicine pack and the case which he stored his sword for starters. But a few of the jars and boxes were of his own make.

"The box you are holding is from Kameyama. Some of the medicines are imports as well. The incense is of my own make."

He was very particular when it came to certain scents, after all.

"...Ah...."

He seemed to realize something.

"...It is Kameoka these days. My mistake."

[arcaneadvisor]

"You are a healer too then?" Or one of the Dalish, perhaps. She had known another dressed so very differently from the rest after leaving to make their own life until what she hears next changes that.

Those names certainly aren't names from Thedas, a brow arching but no more. Certainly she's met many a rifter working with them as well as her smaller project that overlaps with the research on the eluvians and Crossroads, concerning them, their legends, how they overlap with what is native to Thedas.

"And where would that be? Other than the other side of a rift though...we do not know how far the Fade might stretch, least of all after this."

A

[universal_charm]

Kirk believed, quite rightly, in the notion of preparedness. The most recent mission he had been on only enhanced that belief, and thanks to the events of that mission his pack was in need of some resupplying. Not to mention his own body could do with a few tinctures. Even with healing magic, which he disliked, bruised lungs and bones were not quick to heal - even for him.

Waling through the market, his attention is easily caught by the bright display of the Medicine Seller's make-shift stall. He couldn't recall having seen it before, and he ran courier errands for just about every stall in the market. So he was new then, or he had been a long time away from Skyhold. A small diversion wouldn't hurt, he thought, and made his way over.

"Wouldn't happen to sell healing herbs, would you?" Kirk inquired.

Re: A

[meds4sale]

There was a vast array of raw ingredients on display, interspersed between the many bottles, boxes and pots. They included siler root, oleander bark, piles of schisandra berry, mugwort leaf and all manner of other things.

Kirk's question was not unusual, if a tad exasperating. So many seemed to think that if you chopped up some herbs, you got yourself a cure-all.

"That would depend entirely on the ailment you are trying to treat," he said in hopes that would encourage this customer to be a bit more specific. He was no sense in selling a man choyoto for a toothache.

[universal_charm]

"A variety," Kirk elaborated. "I keep a pack ready for missions that has something to cover a bit of everything. Mostly I would say the priority is staving off infection, but I could always use things that help with potential illnesses and food poisoning."

So his initial question hadn't been to far off from what he actually wanted. He needed something compact and ready to go, more or less, and easily stored. He couldn't afford to be carrying about boxes of the stuff, after all.

"And if you have anything for muscle pain, I would appreciate that as an extra," he grimaced slightly and touched his side. "Not travel sized, that one."

[meds4sale]

The Medicine Seller watched him with that calculating and unblinking stare he always had.

Then, wordlessly, he began to separate out vials, bottles, pots, boxes and packets from the display, neatly arranging them off to the side.

"A moment please," was all he said as he turned to his medicine pack and opened the bottom-most drawer. It appeared to be packed with all manner of oddities and ingredients, and yet somehow he managed to produce a mortar and pestle, several identical wooden canisters, and a cup in the shape of an owl.

He poured a few of the ingredients into the mortar and then added a few lumps of some kind of resin. He then ground them down into a yellowish powder which gave off a somewhat flowery scent. Tipping the contents into the cup, he then proceeded to pour them evenly from the 'beak' onto pieces of paper he'd laid out. Each was then folded into square packets and arranged into a row with the other medicines he'd set aside.

"This - " he gestured to one of the wooden pots - "...contains a salve for infections. Clean the area with boiled water first, and apply it. If the injury does not require a bandage immediately, wait until the salve has dried."

His elegantly manicured hand moved to the small row of bottles containing a dark, syrupy liquid.

"These will treat cough and fever. And these are for food poisoning and other stomach troubles."

Finally, he put forth the packets of medicine he just mixed.

"This will ease muscle pain. Take half of one in the morning, and the other half in the evening. It is best to eat first, however."

Kirk would probably find most of the medicine would work like a charm. Partially because some of it was charmed, and partially because the rest would get anyone so high they'd forget any ailments they might have.

Good old early 20th century remedies and TCM.

[universal_charm]

The whole process was fascinating to watch. Kirk was by no means a healing expert - he could do field work on a broken leg and sew a wound quick and dirty, and that was about it. He had to wonder at the amount of skill it took to keep what every herb did on its own and when combined with others, the ratios, the shelf-life, etcetera. How he was doing it without referencing something was astounding to Kirk (but then, he had the bias of not being good at this sort of thing at all).

One by one Kirk took up the packets, pausing to take out a bit of charcoal from his pack and placing marks on them to differentiate which was which. He wasn't the sort who would be able to recall by smell or what they looked like, and an in emergency he wouldn't have that kind of time anyways. He would have to color-code them later.

Kirk took up the last one, considering the medicine seller for a moment as he tucked it in his pocket and not his pack. "How much do I owe you?" he inquired, reaching for the pouch that held his coin. He didn't have all that much, but he would be damned if he couldn't pay fair price. "I'm also willing to work off part of the sum, if you would prefer that. I work as courier around the market."

A.

[nadasharillen]

She'd seen his stall before, as she walked through the makeshift merchant's tents. The exceptionally pale elf with facial tattoos that were no vallaslin she'd ever seen before, his bright colors, and his wares. Boxes, sachets, dried herbs, and while passing by, a lingering fragrance the Dalish woman couldn't identify. She hadn't given it a second thought until the day she happened to catch the telltale glimmer of a rift shard... and then she was interested.

They'd tried most everything Thedas had to offer thus far to ease Sina's twinges of pain. The shortness of her breath sometimes. The weakness that ebbed and flowed like the baleful pulse of the shard in her chest. If this one was a rifter... perhaps he held some other world's knowledge. Could do something they couldn't.

And so, this time, Nahariel followed the fragrance to the Medicine Seller's stall. The hunter's expression was carefully schooled, but a certain hesitant hope nevertheless flickered in her eyes, sharp green against the warm chestnut of her face. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, realizing she'd not actually thought of what to ask. Finally, rather awkwardly, she settled on

"My clansister is... sick. A rift shard--it hit her chest," she gestured to her sternum. "It's doing something to her, and we've tried most of what this world has to offer to ease it... but what you have, I don't recognize. Do you have anything for clear breathing? To ease coughs?"

To take out the abyss cursed thing without killing her? Not much hope of that. But maybe something new for the symptoms.

[meds4sale]

It was rare the Medicine Seller got a customer he felt much sympathy for. Most came looking for remedies to mild ailments - colds and fevers that would pass as sure as they came. Some had entirely invented a slew of problems for sympathy. Others still were just older men yearning for the vigors of their youth after taking a bride half their age.

The Medicine Seller was not a man prone to sympathy for many reasons, most of which being that in his long life, he'd observed that people could be rather silly at times.

But sometimes he got a customer like this. A patient - or a close friend or relative of one - seeking a remedy to something that could not be cured. He did not know Nahariel, but he'd met hundreds, maybe thousands like her who were hoping against hope in the face of an unknown outcome.

He was silent as she explained the symptoms. When she'd finished, he gave a brief nod and turned to his medicine pack.

He opened the bottom drawer, producing an silver bowl with an ornate lid upon which sat something that resembled a mix between a lion and a dog. The lid was punctured by several holes.

He set it down, and then, one by one, strange ingredients, dried roots, mushrooms, leaves, flowers, little bottles of powders were brought out in varying quantities. One by one he added them to his mortar, grinding the ingredients down to a fine powder.

The mixture was then evenly poured into the squares of paper and folded into packets.

"Fill the vessel first with clean water about halfway, then add one packet of medicine and let it boil. As it does so, she should breath the vapors - they will loosen any ill humours."

He carefully stacked each packet on top of the other and tied them securely with a red thread.

"When the mixture becomes the consistency of syrup, she should then drink it. It will soothe the soreness from coughing. Do this at meal times. For the pain..."

He selected a blue silk pouch and from the drawer of his medicine pack, a rather large satchel and a scoop. He filled the pouch with some dried greenery and drew the drawstring tight, adding it to the pile of medicines.

"...Hashish from India I have found is best for the aches from the shard. If she is having trouble with her lungs, she may opt to ingest it rather than smoke it."

[nadasharillen]

As he measured, ground, poured, fingers deftly picking out herb after root after flower that she'd never seen--things like them, perhaps, but not these--Nari felt something like excitement uncurl inside her. Something they hadn't tried. Her brow furrowed as she listened to his instructions, committing the steps to memory. Boil, breathe the vapor, drink it when it thickens, along with food. Smoke, or eat.

Nahariel looked a bit longer at the neatly tied stack of packets and the soft blue shine of the pouch, then looked up at their creator with a little wonder. "These plants from your world--they can't be replaced. But you sell them to us all the same. Serannas--my thanks," she said, voice colored with respect for what that meant. After a short pause, she reached back for the satchel slung over her shoulder, "Do you prefer coin? Trade goods?" came the inquiry. By way of example, she retrieved a wooden box with rounded corners from within the bag, the lid carved with a spreading vine-wrapped tree. "I grant my work is mostly decorative, but I do some--" she trailed off, having finally noticed the makeshift plank table beneath the display, and the corner of her mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile. "How about a proper table?"

[meds4sale]

The Medicine Seller hadn't really considered that point of view before. As far as he was concerned, he was an apothecary. His job was to mix and sell his stock. If it ran out, he'd seek a replacement.

"If I hoarded such things, they would merely rot and would be no good to anyone."

He carefully wrapped the goods into a larger square of cloth. He was sure the silver vessel would catch the eye of someone with sticky fingers if spotted.

"If the medicine does as it's supposed to, return to me and I will prepare more and we can discuss a ... proper table."

That would be nice. He'd also recognized that bit of elven - often he'd hear the elves slip bits and pieces of it into their sentences and sometimes, he could discern what was meant by context.

He could sympathize a bit with missing your own language.

"Dōitashimashite," he said, lowering his head.

[nadasharillen]

She raised her eyebrows and nodded slightly, acknowledging the point. What good was medicine that went unused, after all. Irreplaceable herbs were precious but so was life--which was just as irreplaceable.

Nahariel lowered her head in return, a smile ghosting her lips to hear a new language. And then remembered how it had felt to be in Skyhold the first time, stuck in the middle of a cacophony of culture, none of it hers, until they'd carved out a space in the garden. Sina had been like a lodestone, and then there had been the Ashara, but the rifters had no-one. She wondered if the apothecary had had a family.

Oh, the garden!

She straightened up, eyes flashing brightly again with the idea. "You don't have seeds or live cuttings, do you? We've still some space along the garden wall, and a few pots unused. And if you wouldn't mind helping to restock the healing tents, I'm sure there'd be no problem if you were to want to experiment with what we've got growing here." The lopsided smile reappeared. "I mostly just turn the dirt, but Sina knows what they're all for."