Welcome to Gaia! ::

Dagon was starting to doze when the delicious fragrents of cooked food reeled him from the world of perpetual sleep. Almost like a zombie he dragged himself to the table and took a seat across from Claire. He didn't look particularly interested in anything but sustenance and food at the moment, though he did give a respectful nod to Claire, having not notcied the sword at her waist. Would he have seen that...his attitude might be a bit more icy. He took her for a hardy bar maid...or perhaps a traveler...he could afford respect to travelers and bar maids...the pretend female warriors however...now that was something he was adament about.

((I'm going to be VERY busy for a while. Cut me out of the rp if you have to, Gale.))

"Take this packet of starwort, Allenberry leaves, and stranglevine root, and a few ingredients of my own-" Kel shook a small white packet of folded paper in one hand. "-and mix it with this packet of fireroot." She indicated a smaller packet in her other hand. "But only when you're ready to use it. It has about five minutes of potency." She placed the two packets on her counter. "That will be seventy-five zeny." Her eyes swept up to watch her customer with a carefully blank gaze. Never let a customer go unwatched. In her line of business and her clientele, it was common sense.

The unidentified man across the counter from her nodded, and fished for the payment in a coinpurse from his belt. He placed it on her counter. "Troh Natob appreciates your skills. He goes to no other apothecary." He nodded to her, and turned on his heel and left, smoothly tucking the packets into a hidden pocket. She watched him go, not acknowledging the praise. Let them play their games of favor if they wish, but they should know by now that she does not play favorites.

She glanced around her frontroom, which was as plain as a board. Nothing here for a foolishly enterprising thief to lift, so all was as it should be. She retreated behind the ragged curtain to her workroom. Here was where all the accoutrements of her trade resided. Myriad jars, pots, bowls, baskets, even a few cages adorned the old, gnarled shelves that covered the walls. A large worktable filled the center of the room, still scattered with the ingredient containers, now tightly closed after use, she had needed for that order. She returned them to their places on the shelves.

There were very few ingredients here that a common person would recognize. The so-called "colored" herbs had little place on her shelves. Those groups of plants, named for their common colorings of leaf or stem or flower, were reserved for a class of potions she did not specialize in, and therefore kept none in stock. If they were needed, she could take an afternoon walk outside the city walls and gather as much as was needed; they were quite common. No, her ingredients were a bit more obscure, and some were quite difficult to find. And not a few of those jars on her shelf contained various poisons and other lethal mixtures.

She swept the floor assiduously with a soft broom, which she rinsed afterward. No sense in keeping any stray ingredients on the floor to mix by themselves. With that, she took the money she had made that day, and closed shop. There was no sign above her door, no words printed on a window (in fact, there was no window on her shop), nothing to mark that an apothecary shop was here. She liked it that way. Her services were known in the circles who required her skills, and that was all that was needed.

The shop door now locked behind her and the doorknob coated with a bit of blackhood powder to make sure lockpicks didn't make it to her merchandise inside, she turned and strode off down the darkening street. She usually stayed open late into the night, but after doing business with a so-called ganglord's man, she'd prefer nobody knew where she was. Her earthy-colored clothes, mostly brown leather and dark cotton, blended in well to the growing shadows of the streets, and she quickly disappeared.



((Er, now that I think about it, I'm not sure I'm allowed to have all that stuff in her apothecary shop. It's not stuff that's listed in her inventory, which is the stuff she carries with her. None of that stuff in her shop is anything she carries on a regular basis, but I just want to check to make sure it's okay to have all that. I mean, an apothecary shop wouldn't be much without ingredients, I guess, but I don't want to overstep. sweatdrop Let me knw if I need to change it.))

((Everything is fine, and nothing seems to be wrong, but I did stupidly forget to give you a list of all the herbs and stuff that can be found in Midgard. x.X Whatever, pm me later for them. Just waiting for a few more people to post.))

((Um... crying I guess I'll try to put up a post tomorrow, but at the moment I'm not sure Kel can do much with all of you guys inside the inn getting ready for dinner. Maybe she can sneak in or something, but I had pictures of her encountering the other characters a little later...))

(Cobalt, my second character's profile is just about done. I'll have her interact with you as soon as I send it in. :3)

Dream was walking through Prontera, as he did every day. After he had finally graduated from the Church of Prontera, he had spent his time trying to rid himself of what he believed to be pointless religious junk. He was probably the only Acolyte who was devoid of religion, and had to fake his way through the Church. All to become a healer. It was funny, because his beliefes, apart from the lack of a God, were much more holy than most of the Church members. He smiled. If their religion was actually true, he had a better chance of going to Heaven than a lot of devout followers did.

Most people thought that it was a Divine Power that allowed Alcolytes to use their powers. But Dream had found an alternative possibility: The power was gained from the strength of the belief, not their god. This might have been wrong, but he had found that he could use his power just as well by believing strongly in anything at all. Preferably, he tried to believe in his power itself. There was something that could work very well, because the stronger he believed in them, the stronger they would be. This simple principle allowed him to practice without having to fake a belief, which would have resulted in some pretty pathetic magic.

Anyway, he had disliked the mace of most graduates and asked for a sword instead. The Church didn't like that, though, but since he was apparently a good and holy person (they didn't know he didn't believe), they decided to give him something else, a Mage's Rod. He had liked that. He would have loved to be a mage, and had a natural talent for it, but he wanted to be a healer even more. It seemed more important to him. So now he was able to heal very well, and use a limited amount of mage power too.

He looked in his pocket, and saw that he had only 200 zeny left. Pitiful. He was also hungry, which to him seemed a bit more important. So he continued onward, looking for a cheap food parlor.