pez dispenser memoir [private]

[Oli]

"Anti-Burn Cream, Anti-Stun Serum, Anti-Poison Poultice..." With her back to the floor and her legs propped up on the soft wool surface of a cheap Londinium inn's cheapest bed, Oli patiently vocalized any number of recipes that she could just faintly recall from her distant memory, from the time before Elder Tale was a world and had yet to go beyond the confines of her computer-screen. The string of plainly-named Pharmacy recipes continued for a handful of minutes, filling the room with a constant stream of words that, unless someone knew what she was trying to do, could hardly be understood. With her eyes tightly wound shut and each of her ten fingers constantly strumming across her exposed legs, Oli started to struggle in finding names for recipes-, especially when they started to become those of a high-level requirement.

"Was the Potion of Sleeping a WoW thing or an Elder Tale thing?" Oli asked to nobody in particular, her eyes finally cracking open just far enough to let some of the loose sunlight in, the same sunlight that pushed through her uncovered window and cooked the surface of her bed. A haze of thin dust clung in the air, faintly visible through the hazy sunlight that filtered in, like a dash of glitter had been tossed into the air and kept aloft by some unseen or unknown force. The room itself was bare, with only a bed to sleep on and about eight feet of room besides that which was taken up by the bed itself, leaving Oli - even with her short stature - to be nearly crammed against the wall with her current sitting arrangement. With the bed not having an actual frame to it, and being more of a mattress on a single wooden board that had been nailed to the floor, it was both uncomfortable and worked as a replacement for a chiropractor, not that Oli needed one when all she wanted to do was sleep.

Brushing the long bulk of her staff with one of her unclothed feet, Oli let her thoughts finally fall away from naming what she could make - and by relation, what she clearly couldn't make. She was in need of a new set of armor as well as a new staff, but even after scouring her brain for even the most vague of recipes there was little hope left in the girl. The Pharmacist profession was, as one might expect, a medical profession and, unfortunately, one that could only make a single type of vanity armor and a few trinkets to add flair to someone's outer appearance. It meant that, at best, she'd have to go out and trade for some new armor-, and at worst, converse with one of the crafters who might make her some armor. Her staff was a non-issue at such a low level, seeing as it served its purpose and Oli relied more on her stats that she gained from levelling than any stats she might scour from a reforged piece of armor, but her armor was cloth, weak, and a one-way ticket to getting nearly three-hit-K.O'd by anything in her level range. She did have a skeleton minion to do all the tanking, but if she took too many hits again by something other than a rebellious boar or slime, she might not come out of it without having to respawn.

Death, the thought made her spine run cold. Death was not the end for adventurers here-, adventurers were effectively immortal in some ways, but death took with it a price not just defined by a loss of EXP or an archaic stat loss, but a more real and permanent consequence: the loss of memories. Oli had heard of tales even in her reclusive period about people forgetting all but the names of their parents from the life they lived in the past; a thing that Oli feared immensely. While her memories brought with them melancholy and nostalgia suitable for the homesickness she still sometimes felt, they were also treasured to the extent that Oli would rather flee than risk even losing one of them. Some of her memories weren't good, but the ones with her family-, her father and her mother, they could never be replaced, not by anything that this world might make anyway.

Deciding it was best not to dwell on the inevitability of forgetting her parents, Oli drew her focus back to the prospect of crafting. Pharmacist wasn't a bad profession by any stretch, they had a large number of effective uses and especially with Oli being a summoner she was the best class suited out of the mage classes to use it, as with low health it was hard to get in and use poisoned weapons or throw containers full of toxic gas at people, so the alternative was to make your minion do it. She could poison her skeleton's weapon just as easily as she could poison any other weapon, and even if that proved to be ineffective she could always soak her skeleton in a vat of poisons as she doubted a thing without blood could really be poisoned by any stretch of the imagination. Though, truth be told, she didn't have a firm grasp on what or what couldn't be done-, skeletons could be poisoned in the MMO version of Elder Tale, but the world had changed since the catastrophe.

Even crafting had changed. Food was interchangeable now, the food that was crafted had no taste and an awful texture, while people who made food could produce edible refreshments. Oli didn't actually mind the crafted or vendor food, it was something she had grown used to with her aversion towards socializing, and something she had to fall back on when the People of the Land couldn't really comprehend the idea of "making" food. She had since tasted actual food-, or rather, food with taste, but it brought back bitter memories in some way, the taste of beef being authentic enough to dredge up memories she had since hidden under the rug of her mind.

Again, Oli shook her head to tear herself away from reminiscing. It was a poor choice to get caught up in the past now, there was no way she could get out or see her parents ever again-, at least that's what she assumed, anyway.

The sunlight proved to be a large enough factor in deciding whether or not to go outside. She had the key for her room in the inn, and while she had decided not to go out previously in hopes that she could take a nap or two, it might be good to go out and get the materials required to craft some low-level potions or a few healing tablets. She had gold-, a fair amount after her incessant slaughter of completely innocent dull-green slimes, and it would be enough to make a sizable amount of potions or healing tablets, but the prospect of doing so left her stumped.

She partially wondered what they'd taste like-, it wouldn't be too much to ask that the blue mana potion taste like blue koolaid, would it?

Would it conform to the nature of crafting food? Would it even have taste? Would it taste like Buckley's Cough Suryup™?

Who knew!

Oli sure didn't.

The morning summer air brought with it the distinct taste of the ocean, the salty scent carried from the coastal regions just a short horse-ride away. It was a refreshing feeling, especially in contrast to the taste and reek of moldy dust that she endured while cooped up in the confines of an inn; the breeze taking with it the discomfort and anxiety she felt before. Maybe she could handle it-, talking to people to obtain important recipe items, but even if she couldn't it was still a nice day, a day she should be out to enjoy.

Oli let her gaze float towards the reaching stone road, tents and shops just in the barest edge of her vision, cresting against the apex of a hill.

Might aswell, Oli goaded inwardly.

[Oli]

Gazing inexplicably at the resources now laid out before her, Oli couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of apprehension. The resources here were enough to make two Anti-Poison Poultices, two Anti-Burn Creams, and two Anti-Stun Serums, with varying item levels with each of them; though none went above level five. The cost wasn't too atrocious, but it wasn't particularly nice either, it sat somewhere between hard-to-stomach and relatively okay, but it still didn't make the situation any better for her. She still ran the risk of destroying resources and coming out with less if she wasn't too careful; at least that's what was implied by the person she bought the items from, an old fogey of a man with a thing for short-people jokes.

What should she start out with first, was the main thing to settle. From what Oli could recall, creams tended to be easier to make as they were usually just ground up herbal remedies mixed with waters, while serums were more difficult and she had not a single idea what a poultice could possibly be, but nevertheless it sounded hard.

"Cream it is, then." Oli announced to the emptiness of her room, the words quickly followed by the summoning of a rounded, wooden mortar and the pestle that came with it. The muted clatter of the softwood tools bouncing against one-another echoed faintly into the secluded room, the underside of the bowl rattling against the floor as Oli swept up what was needed for the recipe while the other materials were quickly set aside, leaving her with a handful of various herbs and two bottles of plant extract kept within a glass tube and sealed inside by a rectangular wooden cork. With the surrounding area cleaned out for all but the necessary elements of the paste, Oli rummaged through her bag and retrieved the set of instructions that involved all three of the "Anti-<insert>" recipes, with the levels required - that she thankfully met - and materials needed.

"First, add plant extract that has a cooling nature," Oli mimed the instructions to herself, setting the herbal plants down and choosing one of the two liquid extracts-, one being a better quality and the other less-so, but both numbing nevertheless-, and popping the cork open. Oli had purposely chosen the less-effective remedy out of fear that she might end up ruining the first batch, but the intense aroma of lilacs and grasses made her almost glad she chose the weaker of the two. In short time, the entire room was smoggy with the smell, making it difficult to breathe as it emitted those overwhelming scents of medicine. It grew so bad that Oli even opened her window, letting in both fresh air and the sound of people talking, something she wanted to avoid but had no choice in the matter.

Returning to her mortar, Oli glanced back at the recipe so as to guide herself along. "Next, add two numbing herbs of similar level, a single herb that repels poison to help dilute the other two, and a single herb that can induce healing." Simple enough, Oli went went about doing as she was told, rifling through her supplies and adding just as the recipe implied, soon leaving her bowl full of various green-and-blue plants, all of which now soaked in the extract and started to bloat.

The next instruction? Simple! Wait an hour.

[Oli]

Oli would like to say that she was a patient, proud person and had no issue with waiting for her medicine to congeal with the herbal extract, but that would be a lie. For as much as Oli went through in her life, she was still a kid, and kids didn't have good attention spans, some didn't even have any at all, like Oli.

The hour of waiting was spent both in a constant state of irritation born from her lack of things to do, and in a constant state of restlessness. She had climbed back on to the hard-as-stone bed, but not to sleep. Instead she had gotten up out of bed to be out of reach of her mortar, as she was finding that she had started to kick her legs and fidget all of a sudden, and if she knocked over her mortar-, well, that was money down the drain and that was simply that. The impatient nature continued for over forty minutes, in which Oli spent her time kicking lazily at the staff on her bed, trying to juggle it between the tops of her ankles and counting how many in a row she could do. She got to just a little over twenty before that became boring and she went back to just kicking the sheets on her bed, finding it a worse replacement but something new, at the very least.

The hour stretched by without any reprieve, Oli barely managing to contain herself from just continuing with the crafting as she remembered how much she had to dish out to actually buy the items necessary. It was a brutal fight between total boredom and the irrational hyperactivity that came with most children her age, even if her own fidgeting was more listless in appearance.

Gauging half by the sun, half by her own extremely sensitive sense of time, an hour finally passed by and boy would it not be missed. It might've even been on the second, but the moment Oli felt as though an hour had passed she nearly flung herself back to the floor, her entire body absolutely not okay with being motionless for so long. Sure, it had been like that before, but now was different; like a lot of things were, and this seemed interesting. It wasn't math or biology, neither was it english or, heck, even the archaic chemistry that she somewhat liked, this was tried-and-true alchemy that was called Pharmacy but in her eyes it was clear that there was a distinct connection between tales of alchemy that she had read of - the topic isn't hard to find in western literature - and the very thing she was only now doing. The entire situation had a bizarre, almost surreal feeling that might've been better suited for when she first ended up in this world, and not when she was about to be crushing herbs together.

The next bit in the instructions was simple, almost as much as the single line that had told her to wait. It stated, in bland, easy-to-read font: crush everything, including the seeds, into a soupy mix that no longer retains any plant-matter in it. Sure, the actual idea of making a paste went against what was just being asked of her, but for all Oli cared she was just following the instructions and now she got to let out all of that irritation she felt sitting on her bed doing next-to-nothing while people yapped outside of her window like chiding housewives.

However, even if Oli was totally pumped to get down to business, she didn't let it overcome her. Gradually bringing the mortar up into her palm, Oli displayed a distinct caution that her previous actions went against, her motions small and steady, making sure that as she prepared to grind her pestle into the contents of the bowl that she was in full control of how it went down. The first chhhh of the pestle turning layers of unripened herbal seeds and excess plant-matter into a brutish amalgamation of sweet-smelling juices brought with it shudders to Oli's spine, the feeling and gradual motions that she took part in almost meditative in nature. The girl lost track of time, the sun that had once blared through her window like an unwelcome neighbor faded into the distant foreground, hanging just on the horizon with an evening glow, yet Oli did not stop. The grind and twist of her pestle was probably a bit too cautious for all intents and purposes, easily completed in a fifth of the time she took, but she enjoyed herself while doing it.

There was something very basic and nurturing about making the paste, the flow of her wrist as it buckled and let the blunted end of the pestle scratch along the inside of the bowl, sweeping up with it various loose bits of plant and seeds to soon be crushed at the other end, leaving a smattering of gray-blue and gray-green colors as she went. With the mortar in her hand, the weight she applied to the bowl with the pestle was surprisingly well-utilized, the weight of crushing the herbs underneath the wooden tool being cushioned with a slight bend of her wrist, refusing to let the process get too brutal or to lack the touch necessary of something like medicine making. The motions were somewhat reminiscent of how sculptors would handle their work on a potter's wheel, the constant motion involved making them take small, almost minute actions for large outcomes, but never managing to lose that constant circular motion.

By the time Oli came back to herself, she found the bowl full of what she could describe as "soupy herbal something". Her wrist also stung rather awfully, in fact, both of them did, and the sun wasn't in her eyes anymore! The entire scenario was bizarre, but Oli was just left with three more instructions.

The fledgling Pharmacist felt herself swallow as the recipe came back into view, words lit by the faint orange sunlight.

[Oli]

The residual herbal liquid poured sheepishly, parted by a hand that acted as an impromptu sifter to catch any of the gritty paste that she didn't want to lose. The liquid fell a dozen-or-so feet, spattering against the stone road far underneath the windowsill, long since turned empty as the sun had started to fall. Oli made sure to do this with utmost caution, spending a good amount of time ladling the liquid out in a thin stream to avoid bringing attention to her dumping liquid out a window and to avoid accidentally spilling the expensive paste that she was trying to separate from the liquid itself. Once she finished emptying out the final few thimbles of liquid, Oli pulled herself back through the window and pushed it shut, using the edge of her elbow to push the lock counterclockwise; the window going stiff with a faint click.

Returning to her place on the floor, Oli jammed the recipe into her pocket and grabbed at the loose pestle, settling the wooden bowl back on the floor before returning her gaze towards it. The final few instructions were simple in a way; directing her to empty out the remaining liquid and then to mash the gritty paste until it turned into a cream, mentioning that it may take a while if the contents were of low quality. Knowingly, the contents she had taken were, by description, "low quality", so Oli was expecting a long night of turning milk into butter, if she had to give a metaphor to her current circumstance. Her wrists and elbows ached, though, and Oli contemplated leaving it for the morning after, but realistically the idea was shoved away as she questioned if sleeping was even possible when she had something this important just a few feet from her bed.

Rolling both of her sleeves up, Oli started the final stretch of her crafting. Much as it had been mentioned, the gritty paste was unwilling to fully coagulate into a wet cream, remaining rough even after a fifteen minute period of thorough mashing. Though, after an additional fifteen minutes the paste started to wane, gradually losing the rigid texture and starting to fuse with the other herbs involved in the actual medicine. It seemed that the actual herbs themselves had been the issue, refusing to bond and come together as they were all of separate types and origins, but with some serious physical abuse they seemed to lose those qualities that made them unique, gradually bonding together as the barriers between them were broken down under repeated presses of a pestle. This didn't make the process any easier, though, Oli's aching arms growing even worse as her stamina started to weaken and the warmth of the sun vanished, replaced by a hazy moonlight that filtered past uneven gray clouds.

An hour cut up into fifteen-minute periods of grinding herbs together finally reaped results, the paste having since grown into a thick cream reminiscent of hummus. The cream itself radiated a mixed scent, one that bore no real way to describe other than "flowery", and reminded Oli faintly of a shampoo she used to own. From what she could see, the cream had no pieces of rigidity left in it, looking to be entirely fused but Oli was almost unconvinced. An hour of effort had led her mind into a bit of a cynical thought process, leaving her distinctly suspicious of the quality in the paste itself, but after five minutes of using the pestle again and losing what little was left of her energy, Oli was forced to give in and finally agree that the cream was probably done.

Finally finished, Oli procured a small jar from the insides of her bag and poured the creamy concoction into it, using a single square of leather and some string as a stopper. The end result was a firmly-bound jar the size of her hand, the top closed down by leather that was large enough to cover a few inches of glass and the open top, with string wrapped around it and tied tightly to keep it from coming undone.

Anti-Burn Cream [Lvl. 2]
Cost: §10
Description: Based on Pharmacist Capsule's recipe. A thick, yellowish paste that can be applied to minor burns. The paste provides a cooling and minor healing sensation when applied to the affected area. Its potency depends on the average level of the materials used to make it.