[h1][i]Stolen Daughter[/i][/h1]


[hider=Imp Merchant][center][img]http://2static1.fjcdn.com/comments/The+blacksmith+is+eager+to+try+his+hand+at+something+_1df0155134e1b71fc19aa4e3a3e9ffc3.jpg[/img][/center][/hider]

The imp's eyes narrowed at Alexander and his lips cracked into a smile, revealing his triangular teeth. He reached down to grasp the fat, wobbly root. It looked more like a grub than a tuber. Waving it around in front of him as it quivered and dripped a watery-liquid, the imp explained:

"Do ye know 'ow t'use t'is lad? Ye just plug it where t'sun don't shine and its milk do t'ee rest."

He then offered the root to him and arched a brow when he asked for [i]fairy stool[/i]. That told the imp that he knew more about what was on his rug than what he was playing him for. Retracting the root, the imp placed it back on the carpet and brought his hands together. He interlaced his fingers and gave them a loud and unpleasant crack before his smile widened into a grin.

"Oh-ho, so yer not justa' lad after all. Ye know sometin' 'bout t'ese herbs. Ye an apoto'cary? An alchemist?" His smile stretched to inhuman limits, the corners of his mouth nearly touching the lobes of his ears. "A [i]wizard[/i]?"

[@Legion02]