Thieves were not the only ones in animal masks. The Medicine Seller had donned a yellow fox face that other Rifters from Earth might recognize it as a mask for Noh and Kyogen plays. Despite being an exquisite and detailed piece of craftsmanship, the mask is nothing like the fennecs and foxes anyone would be familiar with. There were hungry wolves that looked less ferocious, with the fox's yellow teeth bared in a hungry snarl, and its eyes like red hot coals set in black pits.
The Medicine Seller had laid out his usual wares along the fringes of the celebration among the other merchants selling food and drink. However, among his packets, powders, pills, poultices and potions, there were also rows of little silk pouches.
"Omamori," he said to a prospective customer who'd picked one up curiously. "A charm to protect from misfortune. By all means, take one."
The Haunting
There had been a familiar rattling in his pack from the sword when he'd been heading back to the Gallows. He was well past his curfew and twice had slipped his chaperone to go stick his nose in some demon-y business earlier. Not that rules ever stopped him from doing his job. He was a medicine seller, after all.
By the time the person playing guard dog caught up, the Medicine Seller had already paid the children with a few silvers and a pouch of sweets, and was stepping over the threshold into the gloom of the dilapidated old building.
There was a crash as a flying pot smashed against the door, right where his head had been not half a second before.
Medicine Seller - Open
Thieves were not the only ones in animal masks. The Medicine Seller had donned a yellow fox face that other Rifters from Earth might recognize it as a mask for Noh and Kyogen plays. Despite being an exquisite and detailed piece of craftsmanship, the mask is nothing like the fennecs and foxes anyone would be familiar with. There were hungry wolves that looked less ferocious, with the fox's yellow teeth bared in a hungry snarl, and its eyes like red hot coals set in black pits.
The Medicine Seller had laid out his usual wares along the fringes of the celebration among the other merchants selling food and drink. However, among his packets, powders, pills, poultices and potions, there were also rows of little silk pouches.
"Omamori," he said to a prospective customer who'd picked one up curiously. "A charm to protect from misfortune. By all means, take one."
The Haunting
There had been a familiar rattling in his pack from the sword when he'd been heading back to the Gallows. He was well past his curfew and twice had slipped his chaperone to go stick his nose in some demon-y business earlier. Not that rules ever stopped him from doing his job. He was a medicine seller, after all.
By the time the person playing guard dog caught up, the Medicine Seller had already paid the children with a few silvers and a pouch of sweets, and was stepping over the threshold into the gloom of the dilapidated old building.
There was a crash as a flying pot smashed against the door, right where his head had been not half a second before.
"My, my. A noisy one."