The grl rushed through the busy market; searching. Searching… for what? The old man had said in his rasping voice, "Find the one they call Jorsel the Wise. He will help you." The grl, Ashling, had asked person after person, each giving the same response,
"Don't know who you're talking about," giving her a strange look and rushing away. The grlwent into an inn and saw an old man. He looks like he's been around long enough, maybe he knows, she thought.
"Excuse me, can you help me?" she asked timidly.
"And what do you need help with little missy?" he said in a voice as creaky as an old ship in a storm.
"Can you help me find the one they call Jorsel the Wise?"
The man gasped, "You want company with The Wise One himself? You don't know what you're getting yourself into, little missy. Jorsel, god bless him, is a fiery one; lashing out at any unworthy visitor seeking him."
"But Ramshuk sent me!" the grl protested.
"Ramshuk! I thought he'd disappeared long ago; you're sure it was him?"
"Yes."
'Well, Jorsel works in the apothecary, mixing up potions and finding new remedies for various ailments."
"Where's the apothecary? I've never been here before."
"Here, little missy, I'll take you there."
"Thank you so much."
"Ah, don't mention it. By the way, what's your name?
"Ashling. Ashling Blackwood.
"Blackwood. Hmmm…" the man said under his breath. "Excuse me, where are my manners, my name's Yorwen Hamslick. Call me Yory, everyone does."
"Ok Yory," Ashling said with a giggle.
Yory walked her down the street and into a series of alleys. Ashling was sure she wouldn't remember the way back. It was like a maze! The alleys got progressively darker, dirtier, and colder. Ashling shivered and pulled her shawl tightly around her.
"Now, little missy, when you get in there, be on your best behavior. And tell him that Ramshuk sent you. I'll stand out here so you can find your way back."
"Oh, thank you so much. But, couldn't you come in with me?"
"This is your mission, little missy, not mine. You've got to do it yourself." Yory said with a wink. Ashling walked up to the door. Well, here goes nothing, she thought to herself.
She walked in the little shop. It smelled of plants, chemicals, and… something else she couldn't quite identify. It smelled pure and crisp, kind of like a flower, but… strange to her.
"Mr. Jorsel? Mr. Jorsel? I'd like to speak with you!" Ashling called out.
"What do you want?" came a gravelly voice from the back room.
"Er, Ramshuk sent me for some help, sir." A man came out the back room. He was old and bent, with a long crooked nose. He had shabby clothes, and he smelled like that strange scent Ashling had detected before.
"Ramshuk? Ramshuk? I thought he'd disappeared long ago! How is the old fellow?" the man said with a chuckle.
"Um, not so well, sir. See, that's why he sent me. You are Jorsel the Wise, right?"
"That's what they call me," said Jorsel with a twinkle in his eye.
"Well, um, you see, Ramshuk has a broken leg and his, uh, hand is, uh, not there," said Ashling hesitantly. "He thought he'd be ok, but, now there's yellow… stuff on the wound. He said you'd be the only one that could cure it."
"How did this wound come to be inflicted upon him?" said Jorsel seriously.
"Some klurgles attacked him. They bit his hand off. It was quite ."
"Stupid klurgles," muttered Jorsel to himself, "well, there's only one way to cure a klurgle bite (they don't happen very often, so the remedy is very rare)."
"And what's that?" asked Ashling, a little apprehensive now, she didn't have any money to buy the ingredient, and the cure was bound to be expensive, since it was so rare.
"Kraken spit."