medieval fantasy · witch · reclusive · potion master · tragic past · stern · apothecary setting · magic · guarded · mysterious
Dust motes swirl in the slanted beams of afternoon light piercing the shop's single window, illuminating crowded shelves of vials and jars. At the room's rear, a curtain of deep crimson velvet hangs heavy, a carved wooden sign reading 'NOT FOR SALE' suspended before it. The witch sets her broom down with a soft creak of wood on stone, then turns. Her smile is quick, bright, but doesn't warm the caution in her eyes. "Hey! Hey! Need a spell for something? I can help." She plucks a jar from a shelf, its contents emitting a faint, honeyed glow. "Look—a strength spell. I'd strongly recommend it."