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

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

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

"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?"

"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."

"That is very diligent," he remarked. He could only assume from context that Garahel was some kind of pet. He hoped it wasn't one of those massive dogs that looked like someone had crossbred a bear with a wolf.

"I am not sure about particular," he continued, pausing thoughtfully. There was no specific book he had in mind as he was unfamiliar with this world and its prominent writers. He couldn't even claim much familiarity with writers in his own world (though he had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of which woodcut artists did his favourite kind of erotica. Priorities.)

"...I am looking for more information on what you call the Fade. And the Blight."

There had been a considerable quantity of information. Types of demons, histories of various circles, dates and locations of various Blights, famous battles - all were readily available. But the quality of information was lacking. To the Medicine Seller, it seemed like a great deal was simplified, glossed over or outright omitted - often, it seemed, for lack of concrete information. It left him with many more questions than answers.

What made the Grey Wardens so special that only they could halt the Blight? What was the Veil and why did it exist in this world? The Blight seemed to be born from the Fade - how did those Magisters spread it? Why were Darkspawn compelled to awaken gods? What was the Rite of Tranquility?

His mind was abuzz with questions. Perhaps the answers could be found among the dry, crackling pages of these books? He doubted it, but it was worth a try.

"Ah, then you'll want Fade and Spirits Mysterious and The History of Grey Wardens in Ferelden, by Genitivi. It's one of his best works. I'm a mage, as well. I don't have as much expertise as some, but it's part of my background, so I might be able to answer some questions." Then she pauses, choosing her next words more carefully.

"I am a Grey Warden, as well, so the Blight is a known topic to me. That said, I'm also of low rank so I'm not privy to all their knowledge, and some of what I do know is not for me to pass on to others. I will share what I can, however."

"I will certainly seek out those books," he said, glancing over to the pile. Genitivi's works seemed to be required reading and it was no surprise. He seemed to be the most thorough in documenting these things.

"Still, it is odd..."

The Medicine Seller turned his rapt attention back to Inessa.

"...That only a small group of people have the capacity to halt a terror that has swallowed countries. May I ask you... is it something inborn?"

Ah, that. Inessa shakes her head, able to share that much at least. "No, indeed. No one is born with such capacity. I can't divulge specifics, but fair to say that what happens binds one to the order of the Grey Wardens, and we pay a high price to become what we are. Joining the Wardens is not a decision to undergo lightly."

It's said with all the gravity of one who's lived a lifetime in the order, and yet despite the white hair, she doesn't seem that old. The contented snoring in the background continues, for now.

"Something the Chantry would... vehemently oppose, then?"

He wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but there was little other explanation than a political institution with extensive power that could not grasp the concept of necessity.

"In death, sacrifice," he quoted. The mantra of the Grey Wardens was one of the first things he read about.

"But that too seems to be the nature of your lives."

Inessa raises an eyebrow as part of the Grey Warden motto is quoted back to her, a small smile reaching her lips.

"You've done your research.

And to answer your question most likely, yes. Suffice it to say those leading the order do not see fit to entrust it with our secrets. It's quite true that our lives are those dedicated to a single goal. Even outside a Blight, it's our sworn duty to fight the darkspawn."

This seemed to confirm his suspicion - the Blight was linked to the Fade and all the trappings thereof. Ergo, the methods of combatting the Blight were also tied to the Fade. If the Medicine Seller were to hazard a guess, it was likely some manner of magic. The Chantry made its stance very clear on all things Fade-related, and was in a position to hinder and halt such things.

Necessity dictated secrecy. But secrecy also meant a stagnation of ideas. Politics always made things so unnecessarily sticky.

"The Wardens' position simply seems... precarious. The one called Corypheus threatens all."

He was quiet for a moment. Beyond the vague idea of the magisters that had entered the Fade, there was no specifics surrounding these figures or their motives beyond a cautionary tale about lust for power. But there was, in some sense, truth to the tale. Corypheus's existence was proof enough of that. But where did the truth end and pass into legend and propaganda?

"Are you able to speak more freely about him?"

"The Wardens' position is always precarious. We endure, regardless." Inessa shrugs, then gathers her thoughts. "Corypheus is -or claims to be- one of the original magisters who entered the Fade to reach the Golden City. While this can't be confirmed, it is evident that he is an ancient and powerful darkspawn. Most darkspawn are not intelligent or capable of speech, yet he is. Most darkspawn would never have a following, yet he has gained the full support of both the Venatori and the Red Templars. What we do know of his plans is that he wishes to enter the Fade once more, which is what resulted in the destruction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the creation of the Breach and the rifts. I shudder to think of what will happen if he makes another attempt, and what might result from it."

"Most," the Medicine Seller repeated.

"So there are others."

The Medicine Seller pondered this for a time.

"If he is what he claims to be, then entering the Fade brings only disaster. Why is this?"

"Entering the Fade in the flesh, you mean. Mortals enter the Fade in their dreams every night, though only mages are lucid dreamers. Entering it via those means is relatively harmless. But the magisters of old entered via mass-blood sacrifice, and blood magic is already reviled in Thedas, for good reason."

Inessa looks as though she could rant about blood magic all day, but that's getting off track. "There is a difference from passing through the Veil and tearing it asunder. Doing the latter can cause irreparable harm; the world of the Fade and the physical world aren't meant to mix in this manner. Even in places where the Veil is merely thin, much harm can come in a place where spirits -and demons- can freely interact with the mortal world."

The Medicine Seller's opinion on blood magic was on about the same level as his opinion on kumquats. He had a vague idea about what it was, had never pursued it, and saw no reason to go out of his way to do so.

He decided to keep that to himself. Inessa seemed a bit... impassioned on the matter.

Besides, he had a more pressing question.

"How did the Veil come into being?"

Inessa frowns in thought. "The Chantry teaches that the Maker created the Veil before He created mortals. Others may believe differently, but in any case, it happened so long ago that the actual facts of the matter aren't known. I should state, though, that the Veil is not an object, but more a magical vibration to repel the Fade. Where that is diminished, you have tears. Where it is gone altogether thanks to Corypheus' actions, the rifts."

"How cruel of him," the Medicine Seller said softly, more to himself than Inessa. Whether he meant Corypheus or the Maker, it was hard to say.

"What are your own thoughts on the matter?"

Historians and religious organizations had their own agendas to push. In this case, the Medicine Seller would rather hear the thoughts of others.

A little surprised to be asked that particular question, Inessa mulls it over before answering. "I wonder if there was even a time before the Veil, if perhaps instead it always existed. Perhaps the legends of its creation are only that; we have no real proof that the world was ever any different. Even if it was, our priority has to be on the state of the Veil as it is now. Corypheus' actions have severely damaged it and mortals and Fade inhabitants alike will continue to suffer if it's not mended. Not all rift demons were such before they crossed; the creation of the rifts, being drawn into our world, has driven spirits mad, warping them into the forms we have already seen. And their suffering only spreads to others, when civilians stumble across such rifts. If there is a way to safely mingle across the Veil, this...is not it."

"Like the unexpected breaking of a dam," he mused, his usually detached expression softening somewhat. "Everything suffers."

There was nothing like the Veil in his world - while there were clear cases of spiritual and physical, the line between the two sides was incredibly blurry. Many spirits mingled with humans and visa versa, sometimes without either party being aware of the other's nature.

Inessa was right - if there were a way for things to be like that here, this wasn't it.

"How did Corypheus manage such a feat?"

Inessa nods solemnly at that assessment, glad to see that a newcomer grasps what is important about the situation. Most don't even have any equivalent about the Fade, let alone the Veil. She tilts her head, staring off.

"An ancient artifact, I was told. Some kind of orb? It's difficult to discern more when it hasn't let his side. When he destroyed Haven, Corypheus had it with him...I was told, at least. I wasn't yet part of the Inquisition, at the time."

He rested a finger contemplatively on his chin. Unusual orbs and orb-shaped jewels were not uncommon in tales back home. But that didn't seem particularly relevant for now.

"Has any such thing appeared in documents here?" He gestured to the library as a whole. "Or does its nature remain a mystery?"

Glancing around the library, Inessa shakes her head. "It must predate Chantry records, which makes up the vast majority of our tomes if not all. There is one person who might know more -an elf hedge mage named Solas- but he has not been seen in Skyhold for some time. If he was, you would know it; he dwells in the area just below the library, and is responsible for the frescoes."

"A fine artist," he remarked off-handedly, thoroughly convinced that the murals had a distinct lack of cephalopods and bare bosoms, but that was the unfortunate oversight of the artist and really there was no accounting for taste.

"But where would he have learned such things?"

To that, Inessa can only shrug. "Not in a Circle. Hedge mages often have magical styles from civilizations that predate the Chantry, so they could have been of some influence. More than that, I can't say. He was too busy researching for the Inquisition to teach me rift magic, so I began learning from another. Our paths have not often intersected."

"Hedge mage. Rift mage."

He repeated these things, more to personally memorize them.

"I take it these things are not one in the same?"

She shakes her head, quick to clarify. "No, not at all. Hedge mages are those not trained in a Circle. Rift mages are those who learn a specialized form of magic, Circle-trained or not. My trainer is Circle-trained, and I find that to be the best situation for me. Circle mages tend to have training and techniques in common, whatever the particular Circle."

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