<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/gzkeEiS.png)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Medb Mag Uidhir (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2044223)<br/><strong>Location: </strong><br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>A loose fitting dark cloth dress, some foliage, a pair of heavy work boots and a backpack full of books and equipment<br/><strong>Content: </strong>Offering healing services for trade - shoo'ing gulls<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Medb had come to the island some time before to conduct research on the local wildlife both flora and fauna to attempt to find an answer to a particular little nagging thought - the exact same creatures and plants appeared on the mainland as those that lived here. Not simply similar creatures, or those transposed as invasive settler species, but the exact same and as they were wildlife and not domesticated with no signs of the small changes that would come from being in a different environment such as pygmy-ism or a change in colouration to better blend with the environment as<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">the spirits of the land tended to gift upon its creatures</div><div class="spoiler_body">I don't know if the theory of evolution is a thing in any part of Ravenloft, even the more learned institutions, so I defaulted to a more mystical explanation</div></div>. It was as though a chunk of the mainland  had been scooped up by some great hand and set down slightly over. It was just peculiar.<br/><br/>The young woman was on the docks, she'd worked out the schedule of supply ships with the local quartermaster when she first arrived - while it was perfectly fine to live off the land's bounty and she was perfectly capable of doing so as long as she had a little mistletoe to hand, a person needed certain home comforts. Fresh clothing. Incense to replace her familiar that had been eaten by the local fauna. News from afar including natural science journals. Bacon and other salted meats. She shoo'd away the gulls, uttering phrases in Sylvan to them to more than a little crudely asking them to get out of her way - the bothersome pests never seemed to respond well to politely asking as other creatures often times did.<br/><br/>While she had little by way of coin to her name, she had let the quartermaster and other dock workers (for a shiny gold piece) to let anyone who wished the services of a health care professional or... a 'healer' she supposed, to chat her up for trade in her services. Currently she was striding down towards the docks, heavy workboots clonking on the wooden boards and dress whipping in the seaside winds. She was at the moment regretting not having her urban clothing on due to needing more freedom of movement, the shawl at least would have been welcomed to take away the air's bite.