wasteland, baby

Spring brought with it a loss of morning frost and chill, and his lame leg rejoiced. The herbs were blooming all over the territories that Abaven had in its possession. As his body had healed and recovered, his wounds scarred over; he felt safer venturing further from the den he shared with Miss Shaye. Today he decided he would go out and gather some herbs. He'd been using up more than a fair portion of the pack's stocks in his recovery, and felt rather guilty for doing so. Thus, he'd repay their kindness by contributing to the pack that had taken him in. Failing that, he'd at the very least familiarize himself with the local plant life.

As he ambled along, the sun was nearly at its height for the day. It's blissful warmth beat down pleasantly on his ebon back. In this moment, he was aware of the fact that he had never felt content like this. He didn't feel afraid, nor was he afflicted by the urge to escape his own battered skin. He breathed in deep, relished the moment. Catalogued it for future remembrance. Then, he set off into the area surrounding the rapids. The banks were beginning to swell with water, and he made a point to avoid the area where the rapids were strong. Instead, he headed higher up the stream to where it was wider and calmer.

~~*herbology starts here*~~

He found a familiar tall plant almost instantly, lurking near the treeline. He padded closer so he could make note of its condition. In this moment, he remembered that his only training with herbs consisted solely of poisons and basic medicine. He frowned, more to himself than anything. This was a prime example of hemlock, a very deadly plant. The tall, hollow stem supported thin branches whose leaves resembled small ferns upon each finger-like extension. The lower half of the stalk was streaked with shades of ruddy mahogany and deep purple. At the very end of the topmost half of the branches, broad clusters of pallid, lacy blossoms. They mimicked boneset to a degree, but were most definitely on the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of use.

His heart hammered in his chest. His last master had taught him all about his namesake herb. he swallowed down his panic, but not before the image of his master writhing and convulsing on the cavern floor had flashed across his mind. Hemlock was not here, this was merely a plant that shared the same name. The same deadly reputation. He struggled to return to his inspection.

Any portion of the plant was incredibly toxic, though his master had favoured using the leaves. They were easiest to disguise as something harmless, and sprinkle onto someone's meal as seasoning. Failing that, he often passed off the blossoms as boneset and his victims were none the wiser as they ingested the deadly flowers. To gather it, some kind of blade or shear was required. Any contact with the plant in its living state tended to have ill effects, and it was only safe to handle when dried. The onyx male wondered if he could request a tool of that variety from someone to gather some of the hemlock. Then, all he would need was a container or skin in which to safely hold and transport the fronds until they could be safely dried.

Perhaps it would be better not to harvest poisonous herbs. He frowned. Thoughts turned to their usefulness for trading instead. Surely someone else would be willing to pay top dollar for well crafted poisons, and they could profit. This was something he would ask of Miss Shaye at a later date.

He wandered away from the hemlock plant, in search of something else. Anything familiar would work, even if it were another useless poison. He listed towards the area that bordered the rustling thicket, knowing the shade the tall foliage provided would be ideal for many herbs. It didn't take long before he happened upon another familiar sight. Though it was only flowering at this stage, he recognized the tall belladonna plant right away.

Upon closer inspection, this was another perfect specimen. Clearly Abaven was not in the business of clearing away its dangerous flora. All the better for him, it seemed. For its size, the stems of belladonna were rather thick and woody. The branches were sparse, but equally fibrous. They extended outwards at greater angles than the hemlock. The broad, oval-shaped leaves ended in sharp points and grew in small clusters of two or three, sprouting with a few inches of room between one another. Amongst each cluster of leaves, there were bell-shaped flowers. Dull purple, with hints of rich green at the edges. They were rather lovely to look at, and would become shiny ebony berries come summer.

For this one, the sweet berries were the best things to use for poisons. While they were nowhere near as potent as the roots, they were shockingly easy to use. Their taste was agreeable, and often the victim was unaware they were in danger upon ingesting them. In tiny dosages, it could be used to cause serious complications with pregnancy that could result in miscarriage. Improperly distributed, though, it would simply kill the mother alongside the pups. The symptoms of a successful poisoning were vision impairment and fever, before paralysis set in and ultimately killed the victim. To gather the berries, though, the utmost care was required to pluck them from the plant without breaking their shiny skin. Another plant in which he would prefer to use a knife of some kind to simply sever the entire stalk upon which the berries rested, and take them to another location to pluck away.

The male turned away, and wandered closer to the banks of the rapids. The water was calmer in this portion, especially with the abundance of water from the melting snow of the north. Near the banks, amongst a cluster of sparse shrubs, he spotted something unusual. He didn't expect to see foxglove near the rapids. It tended to prefer wooded lakesides. He plodded closer, wondering if perhaps he was mistaken.

Those downturned purple flowers were so distinctive, he knew he was correct. Laying one over the other, ascending up the top third of their woody stem, the delicate magenta blooms caught the eye from any distance. This specimen was certainly on the small side, barely reaching his shoulder in height. He narrowed his eyes, inspecting the inside of the bell-shaped flowers. Yes, they had the distinctive dark spotting on the inside of their petals. The tiny, rounded leaves that ascended the stem in clusters were soft in appearance, but their fibrous hairs were incredibly dangerous. He hummed softly in appreciation of the beautiful arrangement, but made sure not to come into contact with the plant.

In large doses, any part of this plant could cause a painful death by causing the heart to beat strangely, and ultimately fail. His master had taught him the secret to creating an effective poison with it, which consisted of brewing a potent tea from the leaves, flowers, and the seeds (if they were available, otherwise the other two would more than suffice). However, he had always made sure to gather the soft petals and flowers with a blade of some sort. This steeled the male's resolve to acquire one of his own, so he could make use of his knowledge and begin to cultivate his own store of poisons.

~~*respond from here*~~

Satisfied that he had gotten a few things done before the sun was high in the sky, he ambled to the edge of the rapids for a drink before he set out again. Perhaps he could gather some other herbs, more suited to curative purposes. That way he could begin replenishing the stocks he'd used up. Better yet, he could scout out a storage area to keep his planned stock of poisons.

(WORD COUNT: 1016)