[Location] The Apothecary

[Cayenne]

The Apothecary For the most part, the living on Black Rock are unconcerned about their own mortality. Death, after all, comes to everyone eventually, and it is but the next great adventure. Illnesses, accidents, and so on that happen and speed up the process are simply part of the cycle. Regardless, not all sicknesses will kill you, but instead will just make your life miserable - hence the existence of the Apothecary on Black Rock. The outside of the Apothecary makes it look like all of the other buildings in the commercial district, but the inside certainly sets it apart. Dusty shelves are lined with labeled, but undated, bottles and tins, many of which have dust covering them and need to be cleaned before they become readable. The smells are overwhelming, and rarely in a good way. Herbs and plants, some fresher than others, dangle from the ceiling in varying states of dryness. At the right side of the store is the counter and workspace, looking like something out of a nightmare. Tubes, some coiling, some straight intersect and drip their contents into beakers, vials, and jars. Projects are in different stages and scattered randomly over the long counter. This is where Mortimer Hamilton, the apothecary, does his mixing as well as examining patients. He is the closest thing to a doctor that Black Rock has. Mortimer keeps his prices simple, as he is not particularly well-organized in that regard. As such, a week's supply of basic remedies for most maladies (like cough, chills, fever, and so on) usually costs an Ashl. The NPCs Secret : Mortimer Hamilton: Apothecary Mortimer Hamilton is the eccentric apothecary of Black Rock. He tends to have a short attention span, sometimes, and people joke good-naturedly that Mortimer's concoctions are more likely to kill them rather than cure them. However, he does have a good deal of respect for his knowledge. He allegedly went to Taloba to learn about the plants in Falyndar from the savage Myrians. There's little proof to it, and many will say that it never happened, but it is instead a figment of his imagination. He trades with the Myrians for plants and other materials, and the traders seem to like to watch him work. Occasionally, but not always, Mortimer dons strings of beads he claims were blessed by Myrian shamans, a poorly carved wooden mask that looks frightening more by accident than by design, and a skulled rattle that dangles bones, leather, and beads as he chants in what he claims to be the spirit tongue. The ghosts, however, claim he is talking gibberish for show. He constantly argues with the spectres who show up to watch his so-called antics.