I. The Gallows The Gallows had been an ...unusual place when he'd first arrived there with the Inquisition, nearly two years ago. Between the red lyrium they'd cleared out and the troubled history that shrouded the building, it was a wonder the Veil was only thin here and that the entire place hadn't just been swallowed up by a great big rift.
That probably wasn't exactly how these things worked but explanations of the Veil and Fade could only be told in metaphors and he wasn't feeling very metaphorical at the moment.
That was because someone had thrust a broom into his arms and pointed at a mess of broken glass and rat viscera and ruined medicinal herbs and directed him to get to work.
Normally the Medicine Seller made himself scarce whenever there was a hint someone might expect him to do Actual Work, but he'd been distracted, pondering over the esoteric mysteries of the universe - (should he get his lunch at the Hanged Man or the Blooming Rose) - you know, important things; and he hadn't noticed the mess, nor the officer looking to rope someone else of lesser rank into doing his task.
So there he stood, broom in one hand, mop and bucket in the other, armed and ready for the task before him of cleaning up other people's messes. If he was in a metaphorical mood, that might have very well been a rather good one for his life.
When one of the jars started to rattle ominously, however, his lips curled into a thin, unpleasant smile.
That was more like it.
III. The Waking Sea
There was very little that could garner a reaction out of the Medicine Seller. Spiders weren't on that list. Neither were dolls. At least, they couldn't garner more than a slight lift of a solitary brow.
It wasn't as though he had no experience with possessed dolls - there was a scar shaped like tiny little toothmarks on his left ankle from a possessed karakuri that was testament enough to that - but even this was a little much.
He picked a doll off of a branch, the jostling of its home sending a fat orb weaver scuttling out of its empty socket onto the Medicine Seller's hand. Setting it down gently on a protruding twig where it scurried off to do whatever it was spiders actually did, he returned his scrutiny to the doll.
"I do not think," he said, slow and even as he turned it over and over in his hands, "that they were bound willingly."
There was a susurration as the wind picked up, the bare branches and dolls rattling as the trees swayed. ...And on the edge of hearing, a sound like a small crowd of voices whispered urgently.
The wind stilled into unnatural silence, and the Medicine Seller wordlessly pressed on up the rocky path.
IV - Send a Message [The book was a new development (or at least one he'd not been around for) and one the Medicine Seller was all too delighted to have a bit of fun with it. The first entry he makes in it is a number of doodles of several members of the Inquisition he'd seen that day as cats, along with some notes about varying ointments, disinfectants, and poultices - the kind that might be particularly helpful to any members presently in the field]
[He can be helpful. Sometimes.]
Wildcard! - By the Sea
It lay west of Kirkwall and clung to the towering bluff of basalt like a limpet to a ship in a storm. Once one part fortification, another part lighthouse, later converted into an estate for a wealthy recluse, it was now a husk of its former self. Fire had hollowed one part of the structure and the rest had been left to the whim of decay. It was a testament to old Tevinter architecture that as much of it still stood now - burnt and battered by decades of neglect, it still looked out imposingly across the Waking Sea.
It should have been an ideal hideout for bandits - or even less savory characters - but the dark stone walls were shrouded in darker rumours. No one with any sense got too close.
The Medicine Seller followed the old path to the decrepit structure. It was overgrown with roots and tangles of vines, with only the occasional patch of cobbles to suggest a narrow road had once wound its way up the craggy incline. A bitter wind blew in from the sea, whipping up ice particles into the winter air. The naked trees rattled and rustled, and the waves crashed on the rocks below. Aside from that, and the uneven footfalls of the Medicine Seller as he picked his way through the years of growth, it was silent. No seabirds wheeled or called - there was no sign of animal life at all.
no subject
The Gallows had been an ...unusual place when he'd first arrived there with the Inquisition, nearly two years ago. Between the red lyrium they'd cleared out and the troubled history that shrouded the building, it was a wonder the Veil was only thin here and that the entire place hadn't just been swallowed up by a great big rift.
That probably wasn't exactly how these things worked but explanations of the Veil and Fade could only be told in metaphors and he wasn't feeling very metaphorical at the moment.
That was because someone had thrust a broom into his arms and pointed at a mess of broken glass and rat viscera and ruined medicinal herbs and directed him to get to work.
Normally the Medicine Seller made himself scarce whenever there was a hint someone might expect him to do Actual Work, but he'd been distracted, pondering over the esoteric mysteries of the universe -
(should he get his lunch at the Hanged Man or the Blooming Rose)- you know, important things; and he hadn't noticed the mess, nor the officer looking to rope someone else of lesser rank into doing his task.So there he stood, broom in one hand, mop and bucket in the other, armed and ready for the task before him of cleaning up other people's messes. If he was in a metaphorical mood, that might have very well been a rather good one for his life.
When one of the jars started to rattle ominously, however, his lips curled into a thin, unpleasant smile.
That was more like it.
III. The Waking Sea
There was very little that could garner a reaction out of the Medicine Seller. Spiders weren't on that list. Neither were dolls. At least, they couldn't garner more than a slight lift of a solitary brow.
It wasn't as though he had no experience with possessed dolls - there was a scar shaped like tiny little toothmarks on his left ankle from a possessed karakuri that was testament enough to that - but even this was a little much.
He picked a doll off of a branch, the jostling of its home sending a fat orb weaver scuttling out of its empty socket onto the Medicine Seller's hand. Setting it down gently on a protruding twig where it scurried off to do whatever it was spiders actually did, he returned his scrutiny to the doll.
"I do not think," he said, slow and even as he turned it over and over in his hands, "that they were bound willingly."
There was a susurration as the wind picked up, the bare branches and dolls rattling as the trees swayed. ...And on the edge of hearing, a sound like a small crowd of voices whispered urgently.
The wind stilled into unnatural silence, and the Medicine Seller wordlessly pressed on up the rocky path.
IV - Send a Message
[The book was a new development (or at least one he'd not been around for) and one the Medicine Seller was all too delighted to have a bit of fun with it. The first entry he makes in it is a number of doodles of several members of the Inquisition he'd seen that day as cats, along with some notes about varying ointments, disinfectants, and poultices - the kind that might be particularly helpful to any members presently in the field]
[He can be helpful. Sometimes.]
Wildcard! - By the Sea
It lay west of Kirkwall and clung to the towering bluff of basalt like a limpet to a ship in a storm. Once one part fortification, another part lighthouse, later converted into an estate for a wealthy recluse, it was now a husk of its former self. Fire had hollowed one part of the structure and the rest had been left to the whim of decay. It was a testament to old Tevinter architecture that as much of it still stood now - burnt and battered by decades of neglect, it still looked out imposingly across the Waking Sea.
It should have been an ideal hideout for bandits - or even less savory characters - but the dark stone walls were shrouded in darker rumours. No one with any sense got too close.
The Medicine Seller followed the old path to the decrepit structure. It was overgrown with roots and tangles of vines, with only the occasional patch of cobbles to suggest a narrow road had once wound its way up the craggy incline. A bitter wind blew in from the sea, whipping up ice particles into the winter air. The naked trees rattled and rustled, and the waves crashed on the rocks below. Aside from that, and the uneven footfalls of the Medicine Seller as he picked his way through the years of growth, it was silent. No seabirds wheeled or called - there was no sign of animal life at all.
Nothing came here.
Which meant he had work to do.