The moment the Medicine Seller had stepped off the boat, the rattling in his pack had grown more insistent and he couldn't be more pleased about it. He didn't need the constant rattle of his sword to tell him that something was deeply, profoundly wrong with this city. It was the sort of sensation you tasted in the back of your throat, a sharp coppery thing, like blood and bile.
This was what he existed for.
He wasn't much use with eradicating the red lyrium. He was even less use in construction.
What he was good for, however, was helping to keep the ghoulies at bay so that people could do their jobs.
He set down the scales - tiny, delicate looking things, white as snow and inlaid with precious gems. They were made to look like birds taking wing, and tiny golden bells dropped from the trays. They were laid out in small rows on the floor - far too many to fit in the single drawer they came from - and they swayed gently to and fro like weather vanes on their pointed stands. They would seem somewhat sentient, occasionally hopping out of the way and floating off to settle elsewhere if they were in a spot someone needed to work. When something unseen turned up to get a bit frisky, they would tilt in its direction, their tiny bells chiming, and the Medicine Seller would know where to send his paper talismans flying, blocking the malevolent spirits at each turn.
The talismans plastered the walls of the Gallows as the clean up team moved from room to room. When the coast was clear, they seemed only blank rectangles of paper. But when something drew near, strange black writing appeared, and then warped into some odd runic symbols, at the center of which a blazing red eye stared out.
He used these, like the scales to track the movements of the demons, though the talismans had the added benefit of acting as a protective barrier. ...At least when the Medicine Seller was around they did, anyway. And powerful as the protection was, it was not indefinite. After a few hours, or at the constant barrage of the more insistent demons, they tended to erode and he had to set up new wards. It was very tedious, but it helped to keep ghost-related accidents to a minimum.
Though for all his experience and constant vigilance, even the Medicine Seller hadn't escaped having a pot lobbed at his head by a spectre that happened to get in a lucky shot.
Helping With the Ghosties
This was what he existed for.
He wasn't much use with eradicating the red lyrium. He was even less use in construction.
What he was good for, however, was helping to keep the ghoulies at bay so that people could do their jobs.
He set down the scales - tiny, delicate looking things, white as snow and inlaid with precious gems. They were made to look like birds taking wing, and tiny golden bells dropped from the trays. They were laid out in small rows on the floor - far too many to fit in the single drawer they came from - and they swayed gently to and fro like weather vanes on their pointed stands. They would seem somewhat sentient, occasionally hopping out of the way and floating off to settle elsewhere if they were in a spot someone needed to work. When something unseen turned up to get a bit frisky, they would tilt in its direction, their tiny bells chiming, and the Medicine Seller would know where to send his paper talismans flying, blocking the malevolent spirits at each turn.
The talismans plastered the walls of the Gallows as the clean up team moved from room to room. When the coast was clear, they seemed only blank rectangles of paper. But when something drew near, strange black writing appeared, and then warped into some odd runic symbols, at the center of which a blazing red eye stared out.
He used these, like the scales to track the movements of the demons, though the talismans had the added benefit of acting as a protective barrier. ...At least when the Medicine Seller was around they did, anyway. And powerful as the protection was, it was not indefinite. After a few hours, or at the constant barrage of the more insistent demons, they tended to erode and he had to set up new wards. It was very tedious, but it helped to keep ghost-related accidents to a minimum.
Though for all his experience and constant vigilance, even the Medicine Seller hadn't escaped having a pot lobbed at his head by a spectre that happened to get in a lucky shot.