Because Heroics Don't Have to Be Big and Loud and Dramatic

[drehnifusbahi]

Here's a face that hasn't been seen around the Nexus in quite some time - since the mass de-aging event, in fact. But that's long since passed, and the Dragonborn is back to his usual self, if a little more warmly dressed in deference to the autumn chill. (Armor without true sleeves is perfectly fine for Snow Elves, not so much for southborn Imperials.)

He's currently seated at a Convenient Nexus Table&trade, on which he's set up his alchemy equipment. There's a satchel full of ingredients on the bench-like seat beside him, which he dips into every now and again, grinding and blending and decanting in fluid, repetitive movements. He works steadily for a while, by all appearances absorbed in his task, churning out potions to cure disease, along with more general healing potions.

After a certain point, though, he sits back, idly rubbing feeling back into hands that are starting to cramp. "I can't promise they'll be entirely effective against diseases that aren't actually of Tamriel," he says, addressing the Plaza at large, "But I've potions of Healing and Cure Disease, for any who need them, and also a healing spell I could try."

[So, as stated, Van's brewed up some healing potions and is also willing to make with the Healing Hands for anyone who spoke to -or just got too close to- Rotund'jere. But it'd be a little boring if he could just fix it all in one go, right? So to make this a little more interesting, and avoid god-modding on my part, I figured we could let the RNG decide how effective his attempts are or aren't on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being 100% healed and 1 being a complete failure.]

Comments

[deathpulse]

And here comes someone in all his resplendent green glory, the curved scythe in his hand clacking on the ground with each step as he uses it more as a walking staff. He gives a cursory look over the arranged bottles and potions, tapping a clawed finger against one and making a small 'hm' to himself before looking over the man at the table. A drawn-out up and down look, in fact, ending in a sly smile.

"Hard at work, it seems. And what might you be peddling, my son?" Rotund'jere's tone is silken and calm, a ghost of an amused smirk still on his withered lips.

[drehnifusbahi]

And as the man in the green robes looks Vanyel over, Vanyel looks over the man in green robes; his, however, is a decidedly more brisk and business-like assessment. There's definitely an odd air about the man, and combined with that slight smile, it's enough to put him on his guard. He's not so sure he appreciates the rather familiar address, either.

"Potions to cure disease, mainly," he replies, his own tone polite and even. "And a few more for general healing. I noticed quite a bit more sickness going around than normal, you see, and thought I'd do what I could to help."

[deathpulse]

The mention of 'cure disease' causes a barely suppressed grimace. It takes a moment to try and coach the expression off his face, but even with that, it leaves Rotund'jere's voice a little flat. "Aren't you helpful."

He picks up one of the bottles now, turning it over and watching the contents move. "And how much are you selling them for?"

[drehnifusbahi]

It doesn't go unnoticed; Vanyel is more observant than he might seem. He says nothing about it, however, just replies in the same polite tone. "I try."

At the question of price, he hums thoughtfully, ending on a light cough into his fist. "Well, they're generally worth seventy-nine septims a piece. But given the nature of the Nexus and the likelihood of anyone else having Tamrielic currency on them, I'd probably be willing to negotiate."

[deathpulse]

"Ahh. I'm glad you see you're willing to be enterprising about this. Charity isn't going to put food on the table." A little weird for a priest to be saying, but okay!

"Of course, I say that as soon as I find myself deeply inspired by your altruism! Would you accept a humble monk's coin to take your current stock off your hands? Say, a 100 pieces of gold for each bottle? I've found in my missionary work that it's best to travel to spread your efforts. I could set about to distributing them to those in need were you to turn them over."

Or dump the lot of them into the nearest dumpster or lake. Whichever comes first.

[drehnifusbahi]

Well, being willing to negotiate doesn't necessarily preclude giving them away to someone who seems particularly in need, with the agreement that they can pay him back in kind in the future.

He thinks over the offer - a process which is interrupted by a fit of stronger coughing. He can certainly make more potions, and the gold will buy local ingredients, if it turns out his potions aren't entirely effective in their base form.

And, of course, the man may well leave if he gets what he wants, and take that oppressive aura with him.

"At that price, seems the least I could do is test one out before the sale is finalized, to be sure the batch came out as intended. I wouldn't want to be smote for cheating a holy man, after all." The last is said with the most winsome smile he can muster.

[deathpulse]

"Oh, do you intend to use yourself as a guinea pig? I hope the ingredients aren't too volatile. I'd hate to see a pretty thing like you worse off from a bad mixture." He even reaches across the table to try and softly touch a hand to Vanyel's arm. Said hand, if successful in contact, may also drag leisurely down the remaining sleeve length before withdrawing. All while wearing a knowing smile. Flirt alert.

Rolled a 5

[drehnifusbahi]

He's been flirted with enough to know it when he sees it, though admittedly he doesn't know quite how to take it in this case. Which is why that touch does indeed land, though it doesn't get to linger too long before his own movement dislodges the priest's hand as he reaches for one of the bottles.

Even through his sleeve, he feels a sudden chill, and tries to surreptitiously tug his coat a little tighter around himself with his free hand. "No, not too volatile at all. At worst, it won't do anything at all, and at least you'll have found out they were duds before you actually spent any money on them."

He drinks the red liquid in a few quick gulps, and frowns thoughtfully. "Well, they aren't the strongest I've ever made, but they'll do in a pinch - though I would, of course, understand if you didn't want to pay the full proposed price for potions that promise to be half-effective at best."

[deathpulse]

Rotund'jere watches the drinking with vague...disgust? Unease? It's not a terribly pleased expression like he'd been wearing when he pulled that arm-touching business. Maybe he's just worried the guy's going to poison himself right in front of him.

"Oh, bravo!" The results still illicit a smile and a polite, brief clap. "I can barely mix a decent drink on the best of days. Or nights." Was that a wink? "And here you are, whipping up healing potions like it was nothing! I'm very impressed."

Vanyel might be thankful (or bewildered?) to feel that strangely chilling aura withdrawing ebbing. Maybe it's his potion working its magic! Maybe it was just a bad crossbreeze earlier.

"Lucky for you, I'm a man of my word. If I said 100 coins, I shall pay a 100 coins." Necrophos pulls a richly embroidered purse from his sash, pulling the ties and beginning to count out the gold on the table.

[drehnifusbahi]

He may not be a master alchemist, but he's definitely not going to be poisoning himself with a potion whose main ingredients are wheat and mushrooms.

And it does come as a relief to feel that chill ebbing somewhat, whatever the reason. It even relaxes him enough that he can smile wryly at the clapping (and flirting).

"Lucky for me indeed," he agrees, tucking his hands into his sleeves as he watches the monk count out the coins. And that too niggles suspiciously at the back of his mind; the clergy are rarely that well-payed, in his experience.

But he's not about to make an issue of it; he knows better than to bite the hand that feeds.

[deathpulse]

What the heck kinda wheat are they growing in Tamriel.

The priest does indeed seem to have a surplus of money; he's counted out several hundred in denomination now for all the bottles. And he still has plenty left over by the time he cinches the purse closed again. "While not a hundred actual coins, per se, I assure you they're worth that much back where I come from. I'm not in the habit to cheat handsome merchants, especially if I hope to do returning business."

Though Rotund'jere pauses, tapping a long finger against one cheek. "Are you terribly familiar with this place, by the way? Been here long? I'm a fresh arrival myself and now I worry I won't know my way around as best to help others." Where is he going with this.

[drehnifusbahi]

Well, there are those rumors about Daedric sacrifices out in Rorikstead...

And the money -both coins and not coins- is swept neatly into a satchel he hauls up from under the table. The Nexus being what it is, there's sure to be someplace that'll accept it as currency.

He thinks he might just see where this is going, actually. "I'm a fairly frequent visitor, but I've not explored as thoroughly as I ought. I have too much on my plate back home to justify staying here indefinitely, no matter how interesting it is."

[deathpulse]

"Maybe all the more reason to have a look about together? I'm sure your table and belongings will be fine for just a short walk." Is there an anti-theft field? Here's hoping. Protect the wheat!

"If nothing else, there's a lovely place down the way that serves a marvelous mulled wine. Quite nice with the growing cold."

[courtofmurk]

It may just be the number of shiny new things the mortal has left out, but there's soon another visitor to his stall. Three, actually, but the first two crows are just there to peck at things and they scatter when a bigger, glossier bird flies down in their midst, cawing sharply at them.

Once the troublemakers are dispatched, the remaining crow hops closer to where Vanyel's latest potion is in progress, cocking its head to study it and the mortal with bright black eyes.

"You, featherless." The bird's voice is rough and croaking, but surprisingly soft. It sounds like she might be a female. "You are a mage, yes?"

[drehnifusbahi]

He sets his current potion-in-progress aside and moves to shoo the two cries away, but the third beats him to it, and the other two take off.

The remaining crow steps toward the potion he'd put aside, but rather than pecking, it seems like it's... examining it?

Then the crow speaks. He's seen enough strange and wondrous things in the Nexus that this should hardly rate, and yet... "Ah... yes," he answers automatically.

[courtofmurk]

"Good, good." She takes no notice of his shock, head tilting at the ingredients laid out for preparation. "You must be an able one, to have found your way here. It has been long since we have seen mortal alchemy. Long from our perspective, that is. Hmm. Let me see... ashes of Bal-spawn, and..."

She cocks her head at some of the powdered mudcrab chitin, blinking rapidly. "The shell of a mortal sea-beast? How curious."

[drehnifusbahi]

In an odd way, that actually helps, in that it buys him a few moments to work past the shock and recover his somewhat scrambled wits.

"A mudcrab, yes. When combined, they form the base for a potion that can cure any disease." Though you'd never think it to look at them... but her earlier words register then, and he takes the opportunity to ask a question of his own.

"Have you been here a terribly long time, then?"

[courtofmurk]

"Disease? Ah, yes." She snaps up a fragment of shell delicately and crunches it in her beak, head tilting in thought.

"Not here, no. I am Magister of the Blackfeather Court. Our home lies in another realm, the Evergloam, and few mortals visit us." She looks up at Vanyel closely. "But then, even you are not wholly mortal, either."

[drehnifusbahi]

He just keeps working and makes no move to stop her; he has enough chitin that he's not fussed over the loss of one small piece.

The name 'Blackfeather Court' doesn't ring any bells, 'Evergloam' certainly does. Raised as he was by priestesses, he got a very thorough education regarding Daedric Princes and why he shouldn't trifle with them.

So the glance he shoots her before he replies is assessing now in a way it wasn't before. "No, I suppose I'm not."

[courtofmurk]

His assessment is returned in kind by the bird - though by now Vanyel can guess that she only has so much in common with the ordinary birds of Tamriel.

"And why are you making so many elixirs all alike? You doubt their efficacy? You mean to exchange them for gold?" She's been watching for a while, though she sees no importance in saying so.

[drehnifusbahi]

He can indeed, and guess from that comment that she's probably been watching for at least a little while, given that he just sold all the complete potions he had.

"A man's arrived recently who can make people sick with his very presence," he replies. "I thought I'd hand these around to try and counter his magic." He sees little point trying to lie; a servant of Nocturnal isn't likely to care what he does or doesn't do to someone who falls more under Peryite or Namira's sphere of influence.

[courtofmurk]

"So you want to test your skill against his power, yes?" Vanyel guesses right: she seems merely curious about the possible conflict. It's questionable if she'd interfere even if he was up against a servant of Nocturnal, but there's even less concern for those allied with other Princes. "An odd choice of weapon for one like you."

[drehnifusbahi]

"There's magic at work here that prevents anyone from actively attacking another, whatever their intention," which rules out most of his usual means of of dealing with threats. "So I can't move against him as directly as I might like. But I can't let him just do as he likes, either."

For much the same reasons he couldn't have let Alduin do as he liked, or Harkon. Not least is the distinctly dragonish one that slips out before he can stop himself. "This place, these people... nust dii." They're mine.

[courtofmurk]

She tilts her head, clearly considering his words. The dovahzul seems neither to surprise nor confuse her, and she confirms her understanding when she comments, "A large realm to claim for one so small. How well do you know the planes of Oblivion?"

[drehnifusbahi]

He shrugs, the movement kept slight so as not to disrupt his work too much. It's a little silly, he knows, to think any one person or being could claim the Nexus in its entirety - but feelings are rarely logical. He knows that better than most.

"Not very well at all."