faderift | [Open] You're in control

WHO: The Medicine Seller (Open)
WHAT: He's like one of maybe a handful of people who's actually glad to be in Kirkwall
WHEN: Bloomingtide
WHERE: Various (in)famous Kirkwall locales
NOTES: Mild warning for the sale of old timey sex toys in the Blooming Rose prompt

The Gallows: Garden of Dreams
He was no expert of Thedosian botany, but he was a skilled enough herbalist that he’d picked up the basics fairly quickly. During his outings from the city to gather herbs and other reagents, he would sometimes return with seeds, bulbs, and cuttings. He wasn’t much for gardening himself (not with those nails) but he was conscientious enough to leave them labeled for the more talented botanists . Occasionally he would consult a book from the library about just what was what.

The Gallows: A Room With a View
Having been part of the initial clean-up crew, the Medicine Seller had been among those with a pick of the litter for rooms within the Gallows . It wasn’t exactly the loveliest place - the rooms were little more than glorified prison cells when all was said and done - but he liked a measure of privacy and there was far more behind the barred doors than sharing bunks with strangers.

The place was habitable at least. The various carcasses of bats, rats, mages and templars had been removed, and the years of accumulated dust and mold meticulously scrubbed out of the walls, floors and surviving furniture. It started off fairly sparse. Some shelves, a divider and whatever the Medicine Seller had opted to unpack from his own supplies. By the middle of the month, it was almost unrecognizable. ‘Cozy’ might not have been a word that could ever be applied to a room in the Gallows, but the addition of carpets and drapes had done wonders.

The shelves had begun to fill up with various curiosities he’d ~~scavenged~~ found from unoccupied rooms, or bought and bartered from traders. Somewhere along the line he’d found a suitable table low to the ground and sorted out a nice workspace for himself in the corner. Among his tools were books on Thedosian herblore and alchemy. Herbs and roots were drying on racks among the colourful paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling that cast a blue and pink glow about the room.

Among the paper charms pasted to the walls, there were a number of strange theatrical masks, carved out of wood. Some had an elegance about them, others depicted a feral sort of ferocity. The yellow fox mask in particular seemed almost alive with the way it’s lips curled back from yellow fangs, and its fiery eyes stared out from black pits.

There were a number of small crates, filled with empty bottles and other vessels. Some had been cleaned and were ready for use, others set aside for a later washing. Set in the windowsill were a variety of cushions and knickknacks; among the latter a stack of turtles, a number of odd, clay dolls, and a man meditating with an expression of utter serenity on his face. The Medicine Seller wasn’t particularly devoted to any faith or philosophy, but he was respectful enough to light incense beside the figure.

In the evenings when the Medicine Seller was around, the door was open, inviting. There was a sign hung out on the frame with a bit of paper with the word ‘Medicine’ scrawled out on it. And for the less literate potential customer, he’d inked out a depiction of herbs and potion bottles.

High Town: A Date With Rosy Palms
There is nothing like a brothel when it comes to good business for a medicine seller, and especially one located in the wealthier district of the city. Nobles had all manner of embarrassing diseases they passed on during their trysts in the local bordello, and while that didn’t put much of a damper in their lives, it could put any prostitute in a tricky situation as far as a job went.

The Madame, the Medicine Seller had learned, was a shrewd woman, but one of the better sorts even if she had initially mistaken him as a prospective employee. When he’d clarified about his business there, she was (understandably so) wary. But browsing his wares, she wasn’t about to turn her nose up good medicines that were priced on the higher end of ‘reasonable’, especially when the strange merchant had assured her she need not pay for those that did not work.

Once she was certain he wasn’t scamming her, the Medicine Seller had become a weekly regular at the Blooming Rose, and he could be found there selling and bartering various wares, including ointments, oils, incense and a number of more ...recreational items. It was an excellent source of income, and the Madame had no complaints. The Medicine Seller was quiet, polite, and discreet where necessary, and what coin he made shilling his goods was peanuts compared to the gold flowing in from the patrons who wanted to try them out. There was, indeed, nothing like a symbiotic relationship when it came to good commerce.

The Wounded Coast: A Tear in the World
It wasn’t really a Rift, at least not yet. It was just a thin, jagged strip of glowing green that hung in the air. The Medicine Seller had spotted it when he’d wandered out the city to enjoy a nice afternoon gathering herbs and acquiring fresh fish (How one could not get the latter in a port city was a mystery to him. Maybe it was something in the water, maybe it was just a general sense of decay around the city).

It was the first time he had an opportunity to really examine a Rift. Most of the time they were swarmed with shades and demons, and as soon as those were taken care of, the Rift was closed. Understandable, to be sure. Demons pouring into this world were quite the predicament. But that didn’t negate the fact he had many, many questions. there was no such barrier like this in his world and he was profoundly curious about what the Veil was, and how something like that could come into existence.

He’d laid out the scales in a circle around the gap in space, and set about, pacing around the peculiar thing. It was, undoubtedly, odd to his senses, and he could feel something on the other side pushing. Was it malevolent or just as curious as he was?

Linking his fingers and then drawing them apart, he pushed back with a wave of power.

Kirkwall: Wildcard!
Want to encounter the Medicine Seller somewhere else in the city? He can generally be found wherever merchants gather, selling his goods, or just exploring and nosing into people's business. Need a specific starter? Feel free to pm me or hit me up at

GreenRivers.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Medicine Seller had been at his workstation in the corner, trying to figure out how to concoct a potion he'd acquired the recipe and ingredients for, though apparently was short the various apparatuses it required.

He was no stranger to making do with limited materials, however, and was making notes on a potential solution with the equipment he did possess.

Inessa's voice alerted him that he was not alone. He promptly cleaned the brush, and put the cover over the inkstone so that his ink wouldn't dry, and stood to greet his guest. Insofar as much as the Medicine Seller had any definitive opinions about people, he liked Inessa. She had a very no-nonsense attitude he could appreciate, if not really emulate.

"You are kind to say so. They are used in theater," he explained without any other elaboration.

"May I offer you some tea?"

That perks her up and Inessa nods, a smile curving her lips. A cup of tea is always a welcome thing in her eyes, a simple pleasure she prefers not to do without. One of the easiest ways to get on her good side is to offer her some...or at least stay out of her way until she has her first cup of the morning.

"Yes, please. How has business been for you, here in the Gallows?" Considering the amount of spiritual unrest they had to deal with at the very beginning and even now, Inessa's genuinely curious as to its effects. Besides, it leads into what she wants to discuss, anyway.

"There is always a need for a herbalist's skills," he affirmed, not wanting to seem as though he were boasting about how quickly he'd settled in. Business was good. Business was always good, but Kirkwall in particular needed a number of remedies, and years and years of experience had taught him when to be generous, and when to be stingy.

He fanned the embers in the fire pit back to life before hanging the iron kettle over the cooking apparatus.

"...You are my first visitor here, however."

There was a rustle and a clink of stoneware as he got the teaset down from its shelf. Some of the handsomely painted tea bowls had been repaired at some point with lacquer mixed with gold dust. Pretty things, and made prettier still by their elegantly repaired cracks.

He glanced back to Inessa as he laid out the set.

"But you have not come here to admire someone's decor. How may I help you?"

"Can it not be for both reasons?" Inessa quirks a smile, but she can't deny her presence is here for work-related matters as well. "You know the state of the Veil in Kirkwall and how it wears on mages, I assume. I am no different. I used have the aid of another when it came to remedies that induced dreamless sleep, but she has left and you remain. It's such assistance I am seeking again.

In addition, any remedies to counter anxiety would be welcomed. Less so for me in this instance, but I won't say I will never use them myself."

"It could be both, yes," he agreed. It wasn't. But it could be.

As Inessa explained her situation, the Medicine Seller put three scoops of a green powder into the tea bowls, and then ladled in the hot water.

"I have a few potential solutions," he said slowly, and began to whisk the liquid. He then ladled in a bit more water.

"However, it would probably be better for you to maintain your current treatment if it was working."

He gently set the little cups on the table, and sat across from her, legs tucked neatly under him.

"Do you know what you were taking?"

He could, potentially, replicate the remedy.

"Valerian and elfroot were the main ingredients, and a touch of embrium. The precise measurements elude me at the moment." Inessa smiles is apologetic and slightly frustrated. She's not used to her memory failing her like that, but it's been a long couple of months and her workload and stress levels haven't been the healthiest. Which is a good reminder to sit down in front of him and lift her own cup. Tea is always effective at restoring her mind and spirit, at least somewhat.

There was a nod from the Medicine Seller.

"I have used Valerian root for restlessness in other remedies," he said. And elfroot and embrium were common enough ingredients and innocuous enough that it wasn't too troublesome if Inessa didn't know the exact ratio.

"Things may be a bit troublesome while I work out the correct amount. However..."

He stood and moved to his work station, his back to Inessa as he did... something. There was the sound of a drawer being drawn open and a click as it was shut, and the rustle of fabric.

He returned, proffering a small, colourful embroidered silk pouch, held shut by a red knot tied in several elaborate loops.

"If demons are being drawn to you in your dreams, this may help repel them."

"I understand." And then she raises an eyebrow as he works on...something. Of course she has to ask, taking hold of the pouch and examining it with interest. "That could be most helpful. I've trained to resist them, but that doesn't mean their presence alone isn't taxing. What exactly is 'this'?"

Taking something blindly isn't her style, she's too curious for that.

"Omamori," he explained, as if that would make any sense to anyone besides himself. He decided to spare Inessa a round of twenty questions, however, and elaborated.

"They are protective charms. There are many kinds for many situations, though this one contains one of the wards I use."

To demonstrate, he extended a hand and a folded bit of paper emerged from the recesses of his voluminous sleeves. It unfolded itself, the creases smoothing on their own until it was a flat, blank rectangle, poised upright on the tip of his delicately manicured nail.

"They are called Ofuda. I do not know if it will help, but it will not hurt."

He smiled a little.

"And even if one does not put their faith in such protections, they are pretty things nonetheless."

Onamori. Inessa repeats the word quietly as her gaze lingers on it for a moment, then she observes the Medicine Seller's work with that piece of paper with a raised eyebrow. She returns the small smile with one of her own.

"Thank you. I will be sure to place it somewhere Garahel can't reach. Ciri and I have no other pets to worry about, fortunately."

[Open] You're in control

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