faderift | [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

The compliment provokes a pleased though quiet noise from Garahel, who wags his tail enthusiastically as Inessa pats him, speaking with quiet pride. "Mabari are magically-bred war hounds, extremely intelligent and sociable. They bond with a single person, who they remain with for life. It's ironic that their origin is Tevinter, in ancient days, but now they are essentially the national mascot of Ferelden."

"Mabari," he repeated, and gave a brief snicker.

"...It is fitting."

He looked between the two, a little more at ease now that he was certain the bear dog wasn't going to start a ruckus.

"When did he choose you?"

Garahel yawns and plops on the floor for the time being, still somewhat waking up. As long as he leaves room for others to step around him, Inessa won't mind. "After my Joining, when he was just a pup. There was a mabari kennel at the keep, and I wanted to just have a look. I certainly didn't expect one to imprint on me. Circle mages don't really have interaction with animals unless it's the tower's mouser, certainly not large war hounds. But a lot has changed since that time, a mabari companion being one of them."

She rubs his belly with a foot, causing him to wiggle happily.

What a display. Garahel got the side-eye from the Medicine Seller as he writhed around in delight.

"Your joining?" He asked, turning his head back to Inessa. "What is that?"

"The ritual undertaken to become a Grey Warden. I'm not at liberty to give details, unless you were to undertake it yourself." Inessa smiles a little, making it clear that she's not looking to recruit. "At any rate, that was only a couple of years ago, but I can't imagine my life any different now." As a Grey Warden, and as a mabari-owner.

Well far be it for the Medicine Seller to butt into what was clearly none of his business.

...Which is exactly why he decided to butt in on something that was absolutely none of his business.

"Is that what is behind Grey Wardens being the only ones who can kill an Archedemon?"

Inessa smiles a little, admiring that curiosity and persistence, but she made oaths and those must be kept. "Those aren't details I'm at liberty to part with, either. You can speak with those who rank above me...but do not be surprised if they fail to share such information as well. The order has persisted at least partly because of our secrecy."

Oaths were other people's business, not his.

"Because of or in spite of," he mused. But only the Wardens could know that.

"Given how vital Wardens are in holding back the Blight, it must be something the Chantry would find too dreadful to even contemplate."

But that was neither here nor there. And he wasn't about to talk in circles if Inessa was not keen on sharing.

"What are you able to share about the Blight and Darkspawn?"

Noting Garahel fidgeting a little, Inessa crouches to pat him and thus keep him appeased while she speaks.

"Beyond what Chantry lore might have told you already? The taint darkspawn carry is potent; you must never fight them up close unless you are a Grey Warden or you are sufficiently covered. If their blood gets into your mouth, eyes or any other opening, you will stand a strong chance of becoming tainted. The taint is strong and often kills; those it doesn't kill become ghouls, mindless tainted beings who are hostile to all others."

"A peculiar illness," he said, head and eyes lowered in thought. "As though they had become rabid - but they are not mindless, diseased beasts, are they."

He spoke it again, not as a question, but a statement. Rabid animals didn't require an entire order to fight them. The darkspawn were an army - organized, efficient, and very, very deadly.

"The average darkspawn possesses a simple animal cunning, though they have no language. Instead, they are all connected through the taint, which serves as a hive-mind. Emissaries are more intelligent and can cast spells, tapping into their taint rather than the Fade as mages do. Fortunately, they are also rarer. Most who are not Grey Wardens or travelers of the Deep Roads will never encounter one outside a Blight. Without an archdemon to lead the darkspawn, the chain of command -such as it is- falls to whatever alphas survive the fights for dominance. Emissaries keep them focused on searching for Old Gods to corrupt into archdemons, thus eventually beginning another Blight in due time."

Garahel whines at mention of emissaries, still remembering the last time Inessa and other Grey Wardens encountered one. It's possible that some of his scars belong to that incident.

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

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