<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>Bartering for canned goods and literature<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Crew of<em>The Mercy</em><br/><br/><hr/><br/>The woman took a look into the crate the sailors had wrenched open, some twigs falling out of the fabric of her clothing as she did so. Carefully she inspected the articles brought before her and traced a finger over the tabloid, a familiar black smudge on her fingertips and the scent of the type of cheap paper only news articles were known for. Well. Papers, pulp fiction and copper dreadfuls. The florets were of little interest to her as the same flowers bloomed on this island as on the mainland, but the preserved roots and chemicals? While spells were effective at healing minor injuries she thought she might be able to make a halfway decent medical kit from this and make herself more useful for barter and trade in the future.<br/><br/>"What can I get for..." she considered for a moment, there was a slight language barrier so she, in the style of all proper civilised travellers, needed to talk the universal language of your own, but slowly and loudly as though those you were talking to were stupid and deaf which would potentially result in any number of people overhearing her. "I want paper. And roots and chemicals. Do you," she pointed at the sailor and then the ship, "or your crew. Need a doctor's services to trade for them? Any sickness? Scurvy? Injuries?"