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The Plaque Doctor \\ Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2018-10-27 20:37:31 +0000 UTC Not 'The Caring Dungeon'. Felt like writing this today, and I figured I'd post in here before putting it up on Tuesday. Should be banging out the next chapter of TCD on Sunday or Monday. Speaking of which the story is sitting ~68K words right now and about 70% of the way through the first Arc/book.
The first step always has to come first. It was a mantra that was very obvious and stupid, but had helped Seth through many situations in his pitiful life. Today the first step was to bring the satchel back to the apothecary and collect his pay. He had debts to settle and a thirst to quench before he dedicated himself to the services.
As the drunkard stumbled through town the scent of fish became overpowering once more. He reached into to take out some of the mint he’d collected only to find it slightly damp. He was at an impasse. There was a decent chance he knew what the dampness on this small green leaf was, but even that could not smell worse than the aroma wafting off this fishing town. He cast his glace left and right to make sure that nobody was observing him before giving the mint a shake or two and popping it in his mouth for a chew.
‘Gross, but still not as bad as trout or salmon.’
Judging by the sun, a couple hours would have already passed since the town started its hustle and bustle of the day. He made his way straight down the winding cobbled roads with no doubt that the old hag would already be awake. The old lady types around here always woke up first thing in the morning to try and buy the seagulls the kids managed to kill with their slings as the sun rose, while the birds were still resting or groggy. The early bird specials, they called it. As far as Seth was concerned any bird thats diet consisted of fish probably tasted like one too, and so he’d avoided them. Plus he’d been told it was a bit gamey.
The apothecary was located in a rundown part of the town a bit farther from the pier, her neighboring buildings all proudly sporting windows with the glass shattered and walls with pocketed walls and missing bricks. The real estate was probably cheaper here, which is why she set up shop. He approached the deteriorating oak door of the shop and pounded loudly.
As distasteful as the lady was, at least her shop smelled of something other than rotting fish gut or stagnant water. She kept him waiting on the doorstep far longer than he’d really wanted her too, and after a few minutes of hearing shuffling behind the door he lost his patience, not that he’d ever really had a hold on it.
“Let’s go, Baba Yaga! I don’t have all day here.”
There was a clunk that sounded a lot like something being slammed on a wooden shelf, or table most likely, and the woman could be heard making her way toward the door.
“Who in the f- Oh. It’s just you Breath, I didn’t recognize your voice without the disgusting odor.”
Breath, just one of the many nicknames the locals had for him. It was short for Bad Breath Seth. I know, real creative types here. What can you really expect from a bunch of back water eel slurpers though. I decided not to deign her with a response.
“Ugh! Your jaw is shut and I can still smell you from here. What happened to you, and I expected my herbs yesterday!”
The crotchety old lady seemed intent on not allowing me into her shop in my present state, and I’ve got to admit I didn’t blame her. On the best of days I smelled like an unwashed bar fixture wearing clothes that should have been retired years ago. Today when I looked down I was stained, smelled of urine and filth on top of my usual scent, and my clothes had been ripped beyond anything anyone could consider public decency. They were so tattered that I looked like an abused vagabond, covered in scratches and scrapes a-plenty.
“Just take the satchel and pay me fairly. I shouldn’t have to warn you because I know you’d never try to pull one over on me, but I know my numbers.”
“Eh. The mint doesn’t help you much, but I’m glad you took my advice on it.” She reached out to take the bag before crinkling her nose and setting it down. She then went into her shop and exited again wearing gloves and holding a couple bins. “I should have expected a heathen like you to have defecated all over someone else’s belongings. I am taking the bag out of you pay and only paying half for all of the… contaminated herbs. I trust you won’t be telling anyone about this either, not that anyone would believe that a respectable tradeswoman employed you to fetch anything.”
She spent a few minutes sorting through everything I’d collected after dumping it into a bin. She scooped up all the mint, which was located on the bottom of the satchel and therefore the top of the stack therefore being the most… moist, and placed it back in the satchel. She also placed a couple of the roots back in the satchel claiming that they were not what I’d thought they were when I’d collected them. When she got to the berries I’d found in front of the bear cave however, she slowed down.
“Where did you find nightshade berries? Also how did you manage to harvest them without getting pricked with their poisonous thorns? Actually don’t answer, I’d rather not lose my breakfast today.” Everybody is a jester these days apparently, “I’ll pay you premium for these. They are a very potent poison but can be refined into a medicine to treat fungal infections and some curses.”
“Sound’s good to me, hag.”
With our transaction complete, I skipped down the road with a handful of silvers and coppers, a brand new(ish) satchel, and enough mint to tide my stomach down until I found a liquid lunch. I figured I had enough to pay off my tab granted I didn’t destroy anything the other night, and possibly purchase some roast squirrel or leftover stew. Not fish stew, obviously. Maybe Bjorn would buy the mystery roots as well to cook them into the next stew.
First things first, Seth scrambled through a few alleys until he found the deteriorated building he was looking for. The building used to stand two or three stories tall, it was hard to tell in its current condition, and was nothing more than shoulder high rubble at this point. He squeezed into the gap in one of the walls and wearily made his way around the rat nests while he looked for his quarry.
It wasn’t long before he found what was left of a barrel that was located in the middle of the room. Luckily none of the cat sized rats were around the makeshift watering hole. He reached in and used the rainwater to try and make himself more presentable. It was a risk coming down here to wash, because of the rat gangs that ruled the decayed buildings around here, but he figured that both Bjorn and the priests would want him somewhat presentable. Seth also rinsed off his mint, satchel, and the roots as best he could before slipping out of the building as quietly as possible.
Usually a trip into the rot alley left him with at least one large rat bite and a lot more scrapes from rusted nails. Today was truly his lucky day, which only reaffirmed his decision to dedicate his life to a god. He hadn’t put a lot of thought into which got yet, because he scarcely knew any of them. He had never been a pious man before, and the only one he could really recall was Merry, the patron goddess of mothers and children. He hated kids, but mothers he could definitely get behind. Maybe get in front of them too, who knows. Still, there had to be a god dedicated to drinking, or brewing, or maybe even a god whose mortal enemy was the aquatic life of this land. Sea? Whatever, you get the point.
As he walked up to Bjorn’s inn, ‘The Bastard Boar’, he took another second to confirm that be was as clean as he was getting before entering. He tossed open the door and the usual 10 in the morning crowd greeted him. By greeted he meant that they glared into the bright light of the doorway and shouted drunkenly for him to close it already. One had even tossed a walnut at him in rage when Seth had stopped to drink in the smell of booze before closing the door. What a crowd!
“Bjorn, I have returned!”
“You’d better have my fucking money, Seth. I am not playing with you this time, you vomited all over my favorite smock!” Bjorn was a very large man with northern heritage. He walked with a limp, but everybody knew that he was probably one of the most capable fighters in the entire town. He had an unruly red beard and long auburn hair that ran down his back in a braid. If it weren’t for the fact that he had such a high pitched voice from the burns damaging his throat and the fact that he was almost always walking around in an apron, just his presence would have been enough to scare Seth away from the tavern.
“Oh you’d better bet I do! And if it weren’t for that fish drivel that you were serving I would have held my spirits down just fine, you know that.” I wandered over to the bar and smacked down my handful of coins. “Fill my stomach up please, oh and some food too if you’ve got it.”
The large man responded with a grunt as he swiped up the coins, not bothering to count it out. Truthfully we both knew it was not likely enough to pay off what I’d owed him, but we old men had to stick together. The coinage was more a token of apology and respect than actual payment, it was one of the reasons that Seth frequented this bar so much. That and Bjorn didn’t seem bothered by the smell of his breath at all. ‘Once you smell your own flesh cooking away and burning, other things don’t really bother you so much. Ya know?’
I supped away at a lukewarm soup that was placed in front of me, vegetable broth most likely, and cast my eyes around the room again. The room was very low lighted, with sunlight doing its best to breach the crooked wooden shutters and a dying fire crackling away in the hearth. There were 4 other tables with patrons, men eating by themselves and drinking themselves in a stupor to celebrate and mourn their losses. This used to be Seth, but not from today onwards. He downed the ale placed in front of him with the soup and asked for another before following up with a question.
“Say, Bjorn, do you know where the temple is?”
At first his only reward was a skeptical glace over the top of a bar glass. Bjorn was doing that stereotypical thing that all barkeeps do where he polished the dirty glass with an even more disgusting looking rag to look productive. Most people liked to keep their hands busy, and there wasn’t much else for him to do at the moment so Seth couldn’t really fault him. Still, felt a bit cliche to him.
“You finally going to break down and go beg a new set of threads from the goodwill? I can’t say that they will let you in like that, but if ever there was a charity case…” He trailed off and give me a shit-eating smirk. That’s yet another thing that set this northern apart from the dinguses that lived in this fishing shithole. When he teased you it wasn’t malicious, just banter, and banter was something that Seth could appreciate.
“If I needed a spare set of clothes I’d pick it up from your pa’s closet, after I finished nailing yer ma!” We both guffawed a bit at that one. The classic ‘fucking your mother’ joke was only a few centuries old and hadn’t yet lost its shine. “No but really, I am going to dedicate my life to the gods. The craziest shit happened to me this morning and it’s given me a new outlook on life. One of the gods spared my life and I intend to find which one and pay them back. You know how I am, I don’t like owing nothing to no one.” Another skeptical glance and a chuckle.
“Yeah, whatever Seth. The temple is located on, get this, temple street. It’s just past the pier on the northern side of town. Shiny white marble building, hard to miss it. I got to start cooking up lunch before the rush gets here. See you tonight, hopefully in better clothes.” The last line he called over his shoulder as he walked into the back where the cooking fire was located. There wasn’t much to do and Bjorn hadn’t really given Seth a chance to regale him with his exploits, so he finished off his second brew and downed the soup as well.
‘The gods aren’t getting any younger, better get a move on it’. Wait, did gods age? Just another question for the priests he supposed. With that final though, Seth set off toward the pier and his future.
