Ever at the convenience of others, tireless, and seemingly to know just the thing for every little condition and malady; the Trader in Elixirs is as close as one might come to the notion of the friendly neighborhood pharmacist. Except, well, his wares go far beyond the medicinal, into the esoteric, and further into the logic defying. The shelves of his tidy, neat little store stocked with everything from common tinctures to distillations of emotions and notions to suit the mood along side more than a few libations and narcotics, all with a quiet encouragement to enjoy responsibly.

The gentleman, himself, is a man pushing into the later years of his life; the majority of his hair worn away except for a thin band along the plane of his ears and certain roundness of frame setting in with an appetite for the finer things in life. Peculiarly, his eyes are a pitch black that seems to catch and twist the light just so. His frame always attired in pleasant, but inexpensive, brown suits that suggests the sum of his earnings go elsewhere than fashion. A pencil thin mustache completing his aesthetic.

Curiously, he seems perpetually over heated and the sweat produced, as a result, smells faintly of pharmaceuticals.