Post by mordred on May 6, 2011 5:56:01 GMT -5
Weeds. Everybody hated weeds. When he had still lived on the farm with his adoptive parents in Colorado, the most important thing his father had taught him was that weeds were tenacious little things. Every morning, while mom did the house chores, and dad handled the animals, Mordred had done the weeding, making sure that the gardens were clear of them. The crops were good, weeds never had a chance to grow there, but the gardens grew all year round, a perfect breeding ground for weeds. People hated them because they choked the life out of other precious plants. They grew high enough to block the son, absorbed the nutrient from the soil so other plants couldn't grow stronger. In some cases they even killed other plants if they got too bad. But no matter how many times you yanked up weeds they came back. No matter what you used to kill them, they always resurrected. There was so much more to weeds than anyone thought.
Having such a connection to plants, Mordred had noticed almost right away just what weeds really were. They were survivors. They continuously evolved to keep themselves alive. They took what they needed to live. Weeds were the very definition of survival of the fittest. It was thanks to this that Mordred had found so many uses for them. Weeds not only survived, but they continued to get better, stronger. Weeds even started to take on the properties of the plants they shared soil with the most. It wasn't always visually apparent, but Mordred didn't need to see it. He could feel it. There were very rare plants that held powerful heeling properties. They didn't grow in many places, nor where there many of them left. One day while looking for them, he came across one, just one, but he'd smelled, felt it's potent healing power in abundance. At first he just thought that the plant was godly in it's healing prowess, but then he noticed that it had been surrounded by weeds, lots of them. It was on the verge of being choked out, it's powerful properties the only thing letting it survive. So he uprooted the plant and saved it. But when he noticed the weeds, he realized that they had been in the soil with the plant so long, that they too held the healing powers the plant held. He replanted the flower in a new place, and cleared all the weeds, taking them instead of the flower. Every two years he would return to keep the plant alive while harvesting the weeds that grew around it, giving them two years to evolve enough to take on it's properties. He wondered if people from ancient times had found this out? Perhaps, if they were a Fae, like him.
That had been one of the most important lessons Mordred had learned, and now, here he was in Seattle. He'd heard about Angle Lake Park, many of the city's residents hung out there, especially those who had a kinship with nature. And here, there were plenty of them. He couldn't sense them, but he'd happened upon them a lot sense he'd moved here, mostly at night. They hunted then. In order to keep his funds at a high level, Mordred had taken up drug development and dealing. He'd set up a small time 'pharmacy'. Many didn't have a problem, as he dealt in herbs, creams, and extracts that no one else even knew about. Those that thought he was horning in on their territory, he dealt with quietly, usually using a glamour, or small spell to his advantage. There was never much violence, that would only draw attention. Mordred found the right plants, and used them to create various products that heightened physical attributes in people for a short amount of time. When a human had a supernatural problem they couldn't otherwise handle, they came to him. When a Lycan wanted to overthrow and alpha, they came to him. Of course they got addicted, and some even tried to take him out, but he had created an alter ego for himself. He had learned early on that his other 'self' not only needed to look and sound different, but smell different as well. He often chose one of his runners for the task, using glamours to let them pose as 'The Pharmacist', the nickname many have given him. No one knew that the young redheaded writer who liked to hang out at Angle Lake Park in his spare time was actually who they were looking for.
Angle Lake Park had been a blessing. He had found that the many different beings who hung out at the park had an effect on the plants, especially the Weeds. There were those who gave off a powerful aura, an energy that the plants around them seemed to absorb on a low level, but over time, that energy changed the plants, made them stronger, more powerful. More so with the weeds. Gathering the plants from the Park made his drugs more powerful, some even having the rare side effect of giving some humans Lycan-like abilities for a short period of time. They never shifted, but for a short while they could have Lycan senses, strength, agility, and things of that sort. Of course, that meant business was great. However, Mordred knew about moderation. He couldn't just flood the streets with this shit. He read a lot, watched a lot of movies. Doing that would only bring trouble and someone trying to 'bring him down.' So he kept his stuff expensive and rare. He picked his own clients, and kept his ring small. Oh, he got attention, but he didn't get anyone knocking down his door to take him out. Not that he couldn't take care of himself, he just didn't want to ruin a good thing. He kept his place simple, a nice studio flat that had a balcony that overlooked Angle Lake Park, keeping him close to his supply as well as nature in general.
Every day he came to the park, sometimes to read, sometimes to write, always to gather the plants and weeds he needed to work with for his other job. Today was no different, though his supplies were good, so he didn't need much in way of plants. Instead he was reading and watching those who gathered at the park. He'd started to notice a few distinct characters, mostly a few lovely females he wouldn't mind getting to know, though he knew enough to be very careful in who and what he approached. Soon though, he'd see what he could do to have a bit of fun in this new place. Green eyes slid back to the pages of his book as he sat in the grass, back against a large rock in complete relaxation.
Having such a connection to plants, Mordred had noticed almost right away just what weeds really were. They were survivors. They continuously evolved to keep themselves alive. They took what they needed to live. Weeds were the very definition of survival of the fittest. It was thanks to this that Mordred had found so many uses for them. Weeds not only survived, but they continued to get better, stronger. Weeds even started to take on the properties of the plants they shared soil with the most. It wasn't always visually apparent, but Mordred didn't need to see it. He could feel it. There were very rare plants that held powerful heeling properties. They didn't grow in many places, nor where there many of them left. One day while looking for them, he came across one, just one, but he'd smelled, felt it's potent healing power in abundance. At first he just thought that the plant was godly in it's healing prowess, but then he noticed that it had been surrounded by weeds, lots of them. It was on the verge of being choked out, it's powerful properties the only thing letting it survive. So he uprooted the plant and saved it. But when he noticed the weeds, he realized that they had been in the soil with the plant so long, that they too held the healing powers the plant held. He replanted the flower in a new place, and cleared all the weeds, taking them instead of the flower. Every two years he would return to keep the plant alive while harvesting the weeds that grew around it, giving them two years to evolve enough to take on it's properties. He wondered if people from ancient times had found this out? Perhaps, if they were a Fae, like him.
That had been one of the most important lessons Mordred had learned, and now, here he was in Seattle. He'd heard about Angle Lake Park, many of the city's residents hung out there, especially those who had a kinship with nature. And here, there were plenty of them. He couldn't sense them, but he'd happened upon them a lot sense he'd moved here, mostly at night. They hunted then. In order to keep his funds at a high level, Mordred had taken up drug development and dealing. He'd set up a small time 'pharmacy'. Many didn't have a problem, as he dealt in herbs, creams, and extracts that no one else even knew about. Those that thought he was horning in on their territory, he dealt with quietly, usually using a glamour, or small spell to his advantage. There was never much violence, that would only draw attention. Mordred found the right plants, and used them to create various products that heightened physical attributes in people for a short amount of time. When a human had a supernatural problem they couldn't otherwise handle, they came to him. When a Lycan wanted to overthrow and alpha, they came to him. Of course they got addicted, and some even tried to take him out, but he had created an alter ego for himself. He had learned early on that his other 'self' not only needed to look and sound different, but smell different as well. He often chose one of his runners for the task, using glamours to let them pose as 'The Pharmacist', the nickname many have given him. No one knew that the young redheaded writer who liked to hang out at Angle Lake Park in his spare time was actually who they were looking for.
Angle Lake Park had been a blessing. He had found that the many different beings who hung out at the park had an effect on the plants, especially the Weeds. There were those who gave off a powerful aura, an energy that the plants around them seemed to absorb on a low level, but over time, that energy changed the plants, made them stronger, more powerful. More so with the weeds. Gathering the plants from the Park made his drugs more powerful, some even having the rare side effect of giving some humans Lycan-like abilities for a short period of time. They never shifted, but for a short while they could have Lycan senses, strength, agility, and things of that sort. Of course, that meant business was great. However, Mordred knew about moderation. He couldn't just flood the streets with this shit. He read a lot, watched a lot of movies. Doing that would only bring trouble and someone trying to 'bring him down.' So he kept his stuff expensive and rare. He picked his own clients, and kept his ring small. Oh, he got attention, but he didn't get anyone knocking down his door to take him out. Not that he couldn't take care of himself, he just didn't want to ruin a good thing. He kept his place simple, a nice studio flat that had a balcony that overlooked Angle Lake Park, keeping him close to his supply as well as nature in general.
Every day he came to the park, sometimes to read, sometimes to write, always to gather the plants and weeds he needed to work with for his other job. Today was no different, though his supplies were good, so he didn't need much in way of plants. Instead he was reading and watching those who gathered at the park. He'd started to notice a few distinct characters, mostly a few lovely females he wouldn't mind getting to know, though he knew enough to be very careful in who and what he approached. Soon though, he'd see what he could do to have a bit of fun in this new place. Green eyes slid back to the pages of his book as he sat in the grass, back against a large rock in complete relaxation.