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Brother Malus snickers
Brother Napoltler: I suppose this doctor is gone.
Brother Malus: Berithos?
Brother Napoltler: He threatened monastics with maiming. We would only be defending the order by terminating his life.
Brother Malus: We could raid his office for medicinals.
Brother Napoltler: That seems fair.
(walk across town to the doctor’s office)
Brother Malus: Bars.
Brother Malus picks the lock
Brother Napoltler: He needs a more modern lock
Brother Malus sneers triumphantly
Brother Napoltler: well done
Brother Malus: That was too easy.
Brother Napoltler: Private it says
Brother Malus: If he is really a doctor he should have some medicines.
Brother Malus goes through the bottles keenly
Brother Napoltler: his handwriting looks like chicken scratch
Brother Napoltler: hmm, some sort of oil
Brother Malus: Nothing very interesting.
Brother Malus opens a jar and sniffs.
Brother Napoltler: ah
Brother Malus: Arsenic.
Brother Napoltler: his tools
Brother Napoltler: for a quack he does keep his tools in order
Brother Malus: Stimulating, but destructively addictive.
Brother Napoltler: any nightshade?
Brother Malus: Yes. Here
Brother Malus: Do you need some?
Brother Napoltler: could be useful
Brother Napoltler pockets the bottle
Brother Napoltler kicks a ceramic urn in
Brother Malus: Interesting stock.
Brother Malus: Is he a doctor or an assasin?
Brother Napoltler: What in hell
Brother Malus looks around for a piece of paper to make a packet of Datura.