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."

[drehnifusbahi]

Well, that didn't go as planned. Not in the slightest. It's probably a good thing he'd already paused in his potion-making, actually, or he might have dropped something. Possibly several somethings.

In truth, he can think of few things he'd rather do less, but it doesn't strike him as terribly wise to say as much. So he's left casting about for a suitable excuse.

"Ah, well, I'm flattered, but..."

[auspex_caelo]

It's fortunate for some that the nearest thing to an anti-theft field is headed towards the new stall. Stratos only intends a friendly check in, of course. Happening to spoil someone's fun along the way is merely his natural gift.

Either way, there's a Legion officer strolling over to inspect your new commercial enterprise, Vanyel. He nods politely to both Dragonborn and customer; he may be gauging their interaction before interrupting, but he does have the air of expecting due attention...

[drehnifusbahi]

Praise the Eight! Which isn't a thought he's ever had about an approaching legionaire before (save Hadvar), but. Given the alternative...

The actual transaction being over, he sets the money pouch aside and slides the existing bottles toward Rotund'jere. "But it appears I have other business to attend to, at present," he finishes smoothly, and scoots down the bench so that he's no longer directly across from the monk.

"Good afternoon, Tribune." This is the point where Stratos might note that the Dragonborn seems... distinctly relieved to see him.

[auspex_caelo]

Relieved, hm? That's... not an unusual reaction, from fellow legionnaires or nobles hoping he'll take a problem off their hands. Stratos's eyebrows rise for a just a moment, but he smoothes his expression before he takes another glance at the robed... mage? High priest? Vanyel was serving previously.

"And to you. It's been a while since we last spoke; I'm glad to see you looking more yourself." Last time, after all, Stratos was rather shorter. "This is a new side-venture, I take it?"

[drehnifusbahi]

It's not so much taking a problem off his hands as it is giving him a graceful out from a terribly awkward situation. Either way, though, Vanyel is now in his debt.

"I could say the same to you." Vanyel recalls; so was he, though admittedly not to the same degree.

"Well, something like that. I couldn't help but notice that quite a few folk are suddenly taking sick, and since I have the means to do something about it..." He waves a hand at the equipment.

"The good monk there," he nods in the green-robed man's direction, "insisted on paying me for my work, but it wasn't precisely intended as a for-profit venture."

[auspex_caelo]

"Quite." Stratos smiles a moment. He does approve of those willing to take responsibility and act to help the people around them. Even (and especially) in smaller, less glorified ways. The means matters less to him than he claims.

Further comment is put on hold though, as he pauses at Vanyel's latter words. He gives a distinctly puzzled look after the departing... well. "Monk? Are you sure?"

That's a... very ostentatious monk.

[drehnifusbahi]

"So he said," Vanyel replies, momentarily distracted by the need to search through his ingredients - he's not at all sure Rotund'jere intends to hand out the potions as he said, so the sooner he can replace some of what he sold, the better. "Though I've never seen a priest or monk so well off in my life."

Mudcrab chitin and vampire dust retrieved, he sets about preparing them - though in truth, there's not much that needs to be done to the dust. "He called himself Rotund'jere the Necrophos, and evidently he's a new arrival," he continues in the same conversational tone as before.

It's also worth noting he seems to have relaxed considerably with the man's departure.

[auspex_caelo]

"Would that I could say the same," he notes quietly, mouth twitching in a little grimace. Not that every well-provided-for priest or priestess he's met got that way illicitly, or even by breaking their own tenets. But that level of wealth certainly hints at some power and connections that, in the tribune's particular experience, say nothing good.

There's also the sharp look he gives Vanyel at that title. Looks like he likes the sound of that no better than the Dragonborn does.

"Interesting name. He certainly leaves an impression," he says, then - and he doesn't look like he's teasing, "Was he a pleasant customer?"

[deathpulse]

Felix if you cockblock this I swear to god(s).

"But? Oh come now, life's too short for 'buts'. I'd simply like to hear a bit more about you and what you do! A name would be nice as well, all things considered." Eyebrows raised expectantly.

[drehnifusbahi]

"Vanyel," he replies, inching his way down the bench. "And as much as I might like to continue this conversation, it looks like I have another customer. So, if you'll excuse me..."

And though he does a decent job looking like he means it, it must be note that he's been inching down the bench in Stratos' direction the entire time he's been talking.

[deathpulse]

Well, he's been playing this game long enough that he's not going to get upset. Instead, he takes up a satchel (sorry, Vanyel, he's borrowing this) and packs up the health potions he'd purchased. "Oh yes, don't let me keep you if you've more business to run. An industrious man is always an attractive quality." Lay it on thick, even when things are coming to a close.

"Should you wish to find me, simply ask around for Rotund'jere, the Necrophos. I'm sure I'll turn up, especially if I hear your name in turn. Until then..." Another knowing smile as he turns and swishes away, his scythe tapping with his steps. Now, where's a good place to destroy and/or dump out these potions...

[drehnifusbahi]

He's not even going to quibble about the borrowing of the satchel; Rotund'jere is more than welcome to keep it, even.

That title -Necrophos- has his brows rising for just a moment. The same root as necromancy, from the sound of it, which makes him all the more glad for a decent excuse to turn down the man's invitation. Still, all he actually says is, "Rotund'jere the Necrophos. I'll be sure to remember."

He watches surreptitiously as the old monk -if indeed he is a monk- walks away, and only once he's out of sight does he allow himself to relax.