An Herbal Magick (Open)

The small bell above his door chimed as the miner stumped out, already breathing easier after quaffing the potion that he had purchased from Nevin. The alchemist groaned and rolled his shoulders - there had been a steady stream of customers coming in for that potion after the first couple tentative purchases had proven at least somewhat successful. The redhead was always very clear with his customers - while the potion would ease the symptoms of the "miner's lung", an illness borne of breathing in too much dust and grit in tight confines, it couldn't completely eradicate the problems. For that, they'd need to spend a fair amount of time outside of the mines. Of course, he knew exactly how useful that advice was. Not at all. At least two of the miners who had come in so far had literally been working day in and day out to keep ahead of their debts, and could not afford the time it would take them to recover from the illness. People in that situation.... he tended to give discounts, quietly. He knew what it was like to be stuck somewhere with no choice but to keep going.

But ruminations aside - Nevin was actually feeling quite pleased with himself, in spite of his soreness. Opening up shop had gone over surprisingly well - in fact, when he had explained to the landowner that he was an alchemist, and confirmed that he knew how to brew that very potion, he had found himself almost rushed through the process of acquiring the title to the small building, and with several hefty discounts on top of the speeded purchase. Of course, now seeing just how many people needed that potion - and he had had to give a few test runs to the previous owner as 'good will' - it was obvious why people were so pleased to see an alchemist opening up shop. So. He had his shop, a small building with two rooms, an attic, and a tiny basement barely large enough for his workstation. He had his shop.

It didn't have much for sale at the moment - a few minor rejuvenating brews that could keep the drinker awake (he had to figure out a way to make these drinks less bitter), a set of rolled up tubes that had an ointment in them that promoted healing when applied to burns, a set of pastes in small earthenware jars that could reduce joint aches, and a couple salves that could help scars to fade. These at least, were his standard wares that were out on shelves - easy enough to replace if something happened to them, and no one could hurt themselves accidentally with them. There was a recessed groove in the counter where he had a ready supply of the Miner's Delight, though a quick glance down told Nevin he needed to bring more out from his stock. In a locked cabinet behind the counter where he was standing though, that was where the more.... problematic items that he sold were. Antidotes to some of the venoms of local animals, locked up because if taken improperly they could be almost as bad as the venom itself. A sedative, one that could in improper doses keep someone out for days, or outright kill them - he had just the one bottle of that, thank you very much, and it cost a pretty penny.

And then his two, currently, healing potions. The most problematic of his wares currently - though he was working on some other products that might displace these, simply due to their danger. But for now, the healing potions were dangerous because they were difficult to produce, and necessitated a hunting trip all on their own - and while he could normally acquire other herbs while out on these trips, he'd decided that leaving his store unattended with these around would be... bad. So for now, he would keep just the two on hand - not actually for sale, but for emergencies. And he'd said as much to anyone who asked about them. These potions could reinvigorate the person who drank them, and would promote healing over all - cuts would scab over far faster than usual, and if applied to the site of the wound instead they could close the wound all on their own.

He was working on other alchemic experiments, of course, but for now this was what Nevin was showing to the public. He sneezed, and grumbled to himself about the dust the miners brought in with them, and went to get himself a mug of tea before returning to watch the shop for the next customers.

Arden walked through the streets of Stonevale with a fond memory of his youth. In another life, he had been apprenticed to a smith here and learned how to forge weapons and repair armour. Although he had forgotten most of it, a smattering of skill remained and he had used it to forge the blade that hung at his hip and craft reliquaries with which to house the blood of those he held most dear. He had turned an art of war into one of healing, and hoped amongst the bright eyed and bushy tailed next generation to find someone to pass on his knowledge.

The sun struggled to pierce the clouds but Stonevale was warm and tranquil. The sound of hammers on anvils and idle banter filled the streets, peppered with miner’s sons and daughters playing whilst their parent’s forges were prepared for an afternoon’s graft. Arden through the crowds gathering at shop fronts, rifling through the weekend’s production acidly, and stopped outside a shop front lacking in character but exciting all the same. It was new. The swordsman raised an eyebrow.

He pushed against the door and entered, a little bell chiming to mark his arrival. Inside the shelves were sparsely stocked, and the counter still showed signs of previous occupancy. A battered, dusty banner still offered cut price swords and repaired armour to the ‘discerning gentleman’. Arden chuckled, shut the door, and presented himself to the young man behind the counter.

“Morning! Welcome to Stonevale, I’m Arden.”

Nevin quirked an eyebrow upwards and shook his head slightly, clearing away the fog of boredom that had begun to hang around his mind in the last... he had no idea how long he had been staring into space absent-mindedly, actually. He'd been crafting mental formulas, running through reactions and effects in his head, so this individual who had come in had actually caught him somewhat by surprise. The alchemist focused his gaze on the individual who'd come in - Arden, he called himself - and smiled politely. He wasn't the first person to come in and greet him, though the other shop keeps had all had a predatory look to them, probably trying to make sure he wasn't going to be infringing on their sales. This man did not have that same air about him, though... there was something that pricked Nevin's senses for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that he carried a sword on his hip? Most of the people in town here didn't bother with that unless they were a member of the guard, and those men preferred truncheons and clubs.

"Is it morning?" That... Now he knew why his knees were so sore. He'd been standing around for hours - a quick glance showed nothing missing at least, but he would have to figure out some way to keep himself from getting that deeply lost in his own thoughts in the future. "Ah, it is. Sorry, my manners elude me at times. I'm Nevin, welcome to Herbal Tonics. What can I do for you today sir?" Arden did not have the air of a miner about him so Nevin doubted the man needed Miner's Delight. Or maybe he was just greeting the new face in town?

"NO, NOT DEVIN" Zeph said in frustration, the crumpled paper clutched in his right hand, "NEVIN! YOU DEAF OLD DOLT!"

The deaf old man sitting at the pub counter looked at him excitedly. "OHHH, YOU MEAN TEVIN!"

Zeph massaged his temples, giving himself a moment to think. He'd been staying the night at a pub outside of town when he'd heard the travelers at the next table over talking about an amazing alchemist in the town of Stonevale who could create potions to cure any kind of illness. Apparently, according to them, he could even make a potion to shoot light out of your eyeballs, and a draught to allow you to see in the darkest night. It sounded far-fetched, but Zeph had promised mom he would do some study on herbs, and he had wasted most of the last month chasing someone who had stolen his third dice cube.

A tall, greasy-haired gentleman on his other side at the bar said, "Aye, I know Nevin. But I also have an empty cup." The unsavory man slid his cup across the counter towards him.

Zeph looked at him crosswise in disdain. He opened up his belt pouch, looked inside, and huffed. "Well then refill it bud." He'd spent his last few coins on a collapsing grappling hook from a trader on the road, and he was wondering if he'd made a mistake. He turned and walked across the uneven wood floor, and out the door into the open pathway.