Ardreth strode through the foliage around the town with a tired expression, his eyes droopy and his limbs sluggish. He had only just arrived in the region a day ago, and had spent the previous night sleeping in a ditch cause he was too tired to make the final stretch to an inn. His back hurt, his stomach groaned with hunger, and his money pouch fell characteristically light. He needed to make some coin and fast, otherwise he’d be starving for a great while longer. Therefore, he decided to frequent the bushes and vegetation around the castle before he paid a trip to it, hoping to find some alchemy ingredients such as roots, mushrooms, and other plants to craft into potions. Healing and sickness potions were his main source of revenue, selling it in bulk to local stores who then sold it to travellers and other locals.<br/><br/>There were many different ways to make a potion of healing, with its countless ingredients that could be mixed and tempered for its preparation. The half-elf was in a small ravine now, now a few dozen steps from the road between the castle and the village, where he was stooped over glancing at the ground. His clothes were tattered but held together well enough, with many different patches of color and fabric showing how often it needed repairs, mostly rudimentary. His pouches clinked with alchemy bottles, fill or not, and he had several more pouches filled with collected ingredients so far. A scuffle with some brigands not a few days ago had cost him his current stash, forcing him to seek for another before he could make any sales to earn some coin. He hoped with the protection of the nearby castle that he might be able to accomplish this better.<br/><br/>He was also hooded up, trying to capture some warmth in the early morning sun. With a walking stick in one hand, Ardreth would often stoop to the ground to examine it, snarling his mouth when he found nothing or the ground too trampled by feet to make anything useful. He did find some<i>mindrak</i>roots, and the<i>kel-sir</i>mushroom which was necessary for making antidotes to the poisons he carried. He had once been careless, mixing the two up without labels and costing him dozens of good coin in having to remake both batches cause he was too frightened to taste test them. Ah! Another ingredient in the making of health potions. Perhaps he would be able to make his quota before the noon hour. Already his stomach was growling, and though he had a few coins left he did not want to use it in case of emergencies. He could, however, pawn off his alchemy tools for a decent price if he really needed too, but acquiring a new set would be too expensive to accomplish. For now, he had to live with the hand that was dealt to him.