For lastvoyages: Third Scroll: [Video+Spam]

[cannibalmind]

[Hannibal is smiling, relaxed, expression as contented as a cat in the sun. He's a well known local wizard-for-hire and apothecary specializing, with his wife, in cures and all sorts of domestic charms. Rumor has it that he was once the nastiest of wizards, but Something Happened, possibly having to do with the aforementioned wife and his young

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[grahamcommawill]

[Willow comes out from the back room, carrying a glass vase. Shiny, pretty, and also empty. With hands on hips she observes it for a second. Dandelions? Sunflowers? No, let's go with a classic. She blows a kiss to it and roses begin to appear. They bloom beautifully into a healthy, bright crimson.

She's pleased with the result and flitters about the shop, correcting things here and there. Blowing away dust, cleaning a jar with a flicker of fingers, adjusting a framed portrait of Hannibal and herself. She stands back, admires her handiwork, and turns to Hannibal with a playful grin.]

Using secret herbs to draw in the customers? Tsk, tsk, dear.

[cannibalmind]

Oh come now, my darling, [he pouts gently] we've a sale on, and I'd rather burn herbs than paint up one of those tacky animated signs. Besides, the animations all escape from the sign inside of a week, and then I have to chase them down with a butterfly net. [He takes up her hand in passing and kisses it.]

[grahamcommawill]

[In passing? Oh, she's not letting him go that easily.] I could do a binding spell, you know. Or perhaps improve the net. [She's not protesting too much though. Willow kisses him on the cheek.] But you're right. Those signs are tacky.

[cannibalmind]

The problem is that I actually have several pots of animated paint. I just think they're more suited for children's rooms than street signs.

[Spam]

[dont_tell_sansa]

[Arya is humming off key to herself, using a rag to try and wipe red paint off her hands. It's not working so well, and it's distracting, so she jumps back before running into his sweeping, hoping over a pile of dirt.]

Sorry. I put up a sign near the wishing well! People should start coming any minute. [WANT CUSTOMERS, WANT LEARN. C:]

[Spam]

[cannibalmind]

...Oh dear. Arya dearling, did you by any chance use the paint in the little black pots? If so, you'll need my butterfly net.

[Spam]

[dont_tell_sansa]

The butterfly net, why? ...What kind of paint was it? [She looked at her still reddish fingers, half expecting them to turn into butterflies, or at the very least, caterpillars.]

[Spam]

[cannibalmind]

The animated paint. [The paint is kind of crawling around on Arya's hands, avoiding the rag and sometimes plinking a pair of big orange eyes at her.]

[hourglass_twin]

[The customer attraction spell had been unnecessary in Raistlin's case. The second he saw the shop advertised over the communicators, he knew he had to find it, and soon he was there, entering the shop and gazing at everything around him with an appraising eye.]

Greetings.

[cannibalmind]

Good morning! Is there anything in particular that you may be looking for?

[hourglass_twin]

I was wondering what scrolls you had.

[cannibalmind]

[He goes over to his scroll section and touches each subsection in turn.]

Countercurses, healing, anti-disease, emergency teleporter, protection, and miscellaneous. Would you like to pop back and examine them yourself?

[spam]

[young_idealist]

[Oh look, maybe the first customer of the day. Or perhaps not. It's just Armand. Barge residents might find him a little different with shorter hair and gray eyes, but he is recognizable and wearing rather worn mage or wizard robes. No hat or hood though.

He goes straight to the counter to ask a question of the proprietor.] Hannibal, my good man, has anyone come by looking to get rid of some ghosts?

I was thinking of putting out another advertisement.

[spam]

[cannibalmind]

By all means do so. I'll put you up a cup of tea.

No ghosts yet today, but there was both a goblin sighting and rumors of a very small dragon.

[spam]

[young_idealist]

If they're alive, there isn't much I can do.

I'd really appreciate a little tea though. I haven't had... much this morning.

[spam]

[cannibalmind]

Ah yes, well, let's fix that. [He dippered up a mug of dark tea that smelled of various mints and dolloped in some milk from the pitcher.] Honey? I've forgotten. This should fortify you either way.

[no_fastolfe]

[Rathlina stumps in, followed by two of her loyal broom-homunculi, Arbroomson and Arbroomhild]

Humph! What is this in my nose?
You need no herbs to draw my toes.

I need some oil of hagfish and enough blindworm's sting for a big batch of soup and a scrying potion.

[cannibalmind]

Not yours, great lady, but I've got to move these faery lanterns before the will-o-the-wisps breed again. You should see my basment--it looks like an orgy of drunken fireflies down there!

[no_fastolfe]

[She gives a sniff of acceptance. And, because shopping is difficult in rhyme:]

Yes, well. A mortal lad took an axe to Arbroomson just last month and now I don't know what to do with the extended family. Got to work out that kink in the animation spell. Can't have every stray splinter sprouting arms, you know.

Got any gryffon talons in? Just the thing for recalcitrant spells.

[cannibalmind]

Oil of hagfish neat...blindworm's sting, dried whole...let me check my stock. [He clicks his heels together and levitates up to check the top shelves.] I have whole Black gryffon talon, and powdered Bearded. [He starts gathering her order off the shelves.] Here, I'll bring both down.

I'd pay goods or gold for one of those brooms. I can't be troubling my wife or apprentice every time winter makes my joints ache.