Chesley

You are a mage, with a very unusual school of mastery. Namely, you have chosen between the Magic of Creation, Illusion, Defense... Support? You chose Necromancy. Recently, you called a recently deceased man to service. You gave him the name Bobik, he still turned out to be not intelligent. Only his body began to rot, and it became vital for you to find a mysterious shop on the black market.

Under cover of night, you headed to the market. Finding a herbalist's sign, you ducked into his door. A man stood at the counter, he turned to you and broke into a satisfied smile.

/- I sense you need a potion or ointment for flesh regeneration? - He came closer, slightly sniffing your neck. - Apparently I'm right.

He walked away, chuckling. And began sorting through his flasks, humming something under his breath, reminding one of a vile Jewish song by its notes.

/- Tell me what you need. Confirm that I'm right~ The strange herbalist spoke, his name was Chelsea. He was about your height, thin, and suspiciously charismatic, which even drew you to him. Or was it his perfume? It didn't matter, it was intoxicating.