Edwin M. Griffiths
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The Newt and Demon - Book 6 Chapters 1,2,3
🕑 Added 2024-05-17 11:00:08 +0000 UTCChapter 1
A Curious Journey
Boulders fell from the sides of a stranded city. The once-capital of the Kingdom of Qavell rested amongst the waves, pieces falling into the ocean below. Wooden constructions leaned against her sides, holding her as firmly as they could as a demon watched from the sides. Theo Spencer observed the teams of workers who darted around the exterior, raising wooden beams from the decks of ships and causeways built by hand.
The city had represented an opponent to face. A thing that could have been anywhere, threatening the stability of the southlands. Everything had been kicked off by the elven trader, Fenian Feintleaf. He caused the rise of the undead on the continent, the movement of the city, its ultimate downfall, and the scarred state of the landmass. That busy little elf stood on the coastline with Theo, preening himself after so long without a proper bath.
“It was hardly a battle at all,” Fenian said, flashing a pearly white smile.
“You didn’t kill it,” Theo said. He certainly tried to keep the venom from his voice. “My plan would have killed it.”
“Oh, let’s not worry about who didn’t kill what and where. Enjoy the view!”
Theo took in a steady breath, watching his people work day and night to save the flagging city. The alchemist was taking a break from raising stones from the ground, allowing his mana to restore naturally for once. Fenian brought this mess to the world for a reason—a reason Theo suspected was petty revenge—and nothing could have stopped him. He sat atop one of three important positions of power. The Throne of the Herald. That throne had a simple role. It defended the world from otherworldly incursions.
Theo’s pink, soul bonded marshling had assumed such a throne, although her role was diminished when compared. No matter how small the role, the pieces were important. But now the Dreamer was loose in the world, sauntering through people’s dreams as they slept. At least it was a great way to gather information, if a little disturbing.
“Are you two going to stand around all day?” a half-ogre asked while passing by.
“I suppose not,” Fenian said, sighing. “Is my work ever done, Theo?”
“Not when you’re the one who made the mess.”
“Oh, fair enough, you spicy demon,” Fenian said, winking. He walked away, off to join the others as they worked.
Theo took a moment to reflect on the progress he had made so far. Ascending from Level 1 to Level 30 had been a feat only accomplished through a series of exploits and time dilation tricks. As it stood now, he relied on his Drogramath Alchemy Core and his Drogramath Herbalist core most of all. Since he had taken the Drogramath Dedication ability, those were considered his main cores. Nothing else contributed to his personal level, which contained all his mind- and body-altering attributes. Unlike his other cores, those two could no longer be removed.
The only other odd thing was his Tara’hek Core, which didn’t occupy a normal slot. A person would normally be granted two cores at Level 1, and one slot for every 10 levels after that. Theo should have had five slots, but he had six. Of course, that Tara’hek core could never be removed. The only time it had come close to that was when Tresk was dragged into the Dreamer’s realm, weakening the connection with the core.
Theo’s next core was the Governance Core, which was necessary to run the alliance. He wouldn’t unequip that one no matter what. It provided the people of Broken Tusk and the alliance with information and communication systems. Without it, one would need to ride the tram between the towns to provide information. The alchemist approached the beach, sifting through his cores screen and nodding. Governance had been more useful than he could have imagined, and had been entirely passive.
Next came the Toru’aun Mage’s Core. While it seemed dubious at first—perhaps only something to increase his magical powers—Theo had found this core to be vital. When Qavell was on a course to slam into Broken Tusk, this was the core that saved them. It drew from the properties of reagents discovered by his Drogramath cores, turning them into wards. Those wards could be cast ad hoc, or imbued into an object. Both methods were a potent means to both safeguard and attack. This core was the reason that Qavell was among the waves, instead of the clouds.
Swapping cores had been a painful affair before Level 30. After hitting that Level, Theo found it to be effortless. The physical pain was bad enough, but being without useful cores that had kept him alive for all this time was a mental sting he couldn’t take. With his fifth core slot unlocked, the alchemist was happy to collect a few cores to fill that void. While both cores he found were excellent, they couldn’t be more different from each other.
The God of Shadows, Zaul, had given him a special core. The Zaul Shadowspirit Core was a devious thing meant to shield Theo’s actions from the gods themselves. It allowed him to imbue his willpower into his items, spells, abilities, and also his aura. The Earth Sorcerer’s Core was entirely practical, but focused on the same concept. It allowed him to move anything aligned with the Earth element with his willpower. That core had been essential to keeping Qavell in place.
Theo reached out with his will, pulling rocks that had fallen into the water and rearranging them. The stones dripped with water as they were set into place. The Half-Ogre stonemason Ziz came in shortly after, using his core’s abilities to weld them into place. Through all the chaos of the past few days, Theo had seen growth in a few cores. Alchemy, herbalist, Tara’hek, and governance were all trapped at Level 30. Toru’aun’s core was ascending as slow as ever, sitting at Level 24. Both the sorcerer and Zaul core were at 5. He inspected his personal sheet as he worked.
Theo Spencer
Drogramath Dronon
Level 30
Alchemist
Core Slots: 6
Stats:
Health: 120
Mana: 210
Stamina: 130
Strength: 20 (+11)
Dexterity: 20 (+8)
Vigor: 23 (+8)
Intelligence: 28 (+9)
Wisdom: 30 (+7)
Points: 0
Everyone told Theo that progress would slow before Level 30. He didn’t expect the level itself to be an absolute brick wall. He caught a rock that was falling idly, avoiding the crushing of several workers.
“Hey, Ziz. How the hell are we going to hold this thing together?” Theo asked.
“Trust your old friend, won’t ya!?” Ziz shot back. “I’ve got a method!”
Trusting the process of putting a bandage on a falling mountain was hard to do. But the work went on over the course of three days. The group of workers had started with just people from the alliance. But by the second day, people within the city of Qavell came out to pitch in. An army of golems was amongst them, stitching that city back together. No pieces of the city fell by midday on the third day, and the workers breathed a sigh of relief. There wasn’t even a bridge leading from Broken Tusk to the city as promised. But Ziz and his crew were exhausted, and there were political things to take care of.
Theo sat at the head of a long table in the town hall. He steepled his fingers as he looked over the attendants. Attendants he had selected. Fenian, Alise, Aarok, Sulvan, Trevas, Grotgrog, and Hanan.
“I can’t express enough gratitude. For what you’ve done, archduke,” Hanan said, bowing his head low. “You saved us all.”
“I would have skinned him if he didn’t,” Sulvan said plainly. The paladin, reborn as a priest of Glantheir, had strong opinions about genocide.
“I would have blown you up!” Fenian said, chuckling.
Hanan was still wet behind the ears as a leader, but he had grown up at his father’s side. King Karasan had a lot of motives unknown to even those closest to him, but he was a competent leader. Until the house of cards came crumbling down, he had his nation in hand. Then a pesky elf came to dash those plans to the ground.
“That’s why Fenian isn’t in charge of anything important,” Alise said, clearing her throat. “We’re here to discuss the unconditional surrender of Qavell and the absorption of the Kingdom of Qavell into the Southlands Alliance.”
“When you put it like that…” Hanan trailed off, running his fingers through his hands.
“The fact that we saved you, and that you were friendly, doesn’t take away from Qavell’s aggressive posture against the southlands.”
Alise went on to list some laws that Theo wasn’t aware of. Qavell had laws? He realized she was laying the groundwork in legalese so that no one could bite them in the butt afterward. It was a fact he appreciated about his administrative staff. He didn’t have to know those things, and his people would sort it out. After a tongue-lashing from the plucky human, Hanan accepted his fate.
“And we have given you two options,” Alise said, producing two contracts. “Complete absorption, or become a vassal. I’ve already checked with our Kingdom Core, and we can use it to apply such a condition to yours.”
“So, my Kingdom Core is still there?” Hanan asked.
“Mostly,” Aarok said, grumbling. “You’ll need to repair it. But if you become part of the alliance, or a vassal, you’re looking at a long road ahead. And we think our Kingdom Core can repair yours. It will just take time.”
Discussion broke out over the advances of each path. While the staff from Broken Tusk put on a bold front, they were more concerned about the people in Qavell. Thousands, by Aarok’s count. The undead had taken out most of the population, but the city was vast. Hanan leaned toward becoming a vassal, and Theo was glad for that. Qavelli culture clashed with the local culture, and this was a great way to impose sweeping changes. That wouldn’t be hard after the disaster of the flying city.
“There it is,” Alise said, sliding a contract over for Hanan to sign.
Hanan paused, looking up at those people arrayed around the table. “Hard to believe. The southlands were always ‘nowhere’ on my maps back home. Now I’m signing my kingdom over to them.” While he hesitated, it didn’t stop him from signing. “Someone needs to tell me the story of how that happened.”
“Gronro welcomes you into the alliance,” Grot said, slamming his fist on the table to punctuate his words.
“As does Rivers and Daub,” Trevas said, also slamming his fist but hurting his hand in the process.
“Come on, Hanan,” Theo said, jerking his head toward the door. “I’ll show you around. Catch you up on what has happened.”
Hanan straightened his tunic, pulling his ruffled undershirt back into place. He cleared his throat and bowed to the members of the council before following Theo out the door. The alchemist brought him to the lab and the pair stood outside for a while before he spoke.
“This is where it started. Someone planted this building ages ago. Two-hundred years by my estimation. They prepared it for me.”
“I don’t think I understand,” Hanan said, looking upon the building. “The building is advanced, but it's just an alchemy lab.”
Theo pointed northward and Hanan followed. The alchemist pointed out each building he had planted or helped plant. Each was a cog that helped move Broken Tusk forward. Every person within a worker that had made this dream real. And it didn’t pass the notice of the new King of Qavell that there were more elves than anything else.
“Another windfall for Broken Tusk. Emperor Kuzan declared war on House Wavecrest. And we saved them.” Theo nodded at a passing elf, who waved back with a smile. “Fenian Feintleaf, formerly Southblade, has a pact with Uz’Xulven. He can pass over the Bridge in his carriage. That’s how he killed your father.”
The pair stopped near the monolith. The mention of Hanan’s Father’s death didn’t even phase him. “There’s something wrong with your marker.”
“Ya noticed that?” Theo said, chuckling. “Whoever planted this town did so with intention. I don’t think it was Fenian, but it might have been Khahar.”
“Khahar? Leader of the Khahari?”
“Yeah, that guy.”
Hanan rubbed his chin. “You know, Broken Tusk was here when we incorporated it. We don’t even know how old it was.”
“Because you didn’t talk to the locals,” Theo said, pressing on. “It’s about two-hundred-fifty years old. See that rise over there? When the ogres settled the area, they lived off the land. But as time passed, they had children with the local humans. Or elves, I don’t know. Anyway, a wizard came along and made that hill so they could farm. The swamp soil is rich, but too muddy to grow their favored crop.”
“The zee, right?” Hanan asked. “We used to get shipments of that.
The duo ascended the hill, looking over the wide fields. Those fields now held more than just the corn-like zee. It had hybrid plants that combined Earth wheat with the local zee. From the hilltop, Theo could barely see his own farm beyond the wall. His golems were working there. That workforce would need to be expanded to help feed the people in Qavell.
“Yep. We still grow it. Let’s move on…”
Theo explained how adventurers had helped make them what they were today. They passed through Stabby Grove, heading north to see the quarry. Hanan had stories about things he remembered from home, including stone shipments. He saw the lumber mill, butcher, enchanter, adventurer’s guild, and finally the mine. The nuggets they pulled out from there ranged from mundane things like copper to strange demonic metals. All of which was connected to a dangerous underground area that the alchemist hoped never to plumb the depths of.
“There are many moving parts in your city, alchemist,” Hanan said, looking more worried by the moment. “I’ve never heard of growth like this.”
“Except for Qavell, right?” Theo said with a wink.
“Indeed.”
“Well, if you think this is strange, I have something even stranger to show you.”
Hanan yelped as Theo wrapped his will around him. He used his Tero’gal Dreampassage ability, sending them both hurtling through the void. The king didn’t stop screaming until they set foot in the Dreamrealm of Tero’gal.
Chapter 2
Auspicious Company
Theo and Hanan stepped onto the lawns of Tero’gal. Fields of grass stretched into the distance, punctuated by tables piled with alchemy equipment, and a small freshwater spring. The king gawked as half-formed spirits walked by, waving at the master of the realm as they went. There was a piddling process of souls waiting for acceptance into the realm, which Theo rubber stamped.
Before Hanan could get his thoughts out as any more than sputtering disbelief, a series of arches rose in the field. Gods stepped out, laughing, jeering, or sending greetings to the lost king. They marched as one, heading straight for the cottage for tea. But one held back.
The Arbiter, Khahar, stood before King Hanan and smiled down at him, one hand on either of his shoulders. “Is he getting the crash-course, Theo?”
“I thought it was appropriate. He’s not just a duke, but a king.”
“Can’t say I approve. His father was Karasan.”
“I’m aware.”
Khahar moved off, leaving the shocked king to languish in the field. One last archway sprung up. A smiling elf, dressed in flowing blue robes, moved to bow to the king. Glantheir, the Elven God of Healing, leaned close and whispered something into the king’s ear. Glantheir must have known that Theo could hear anything within his realm, no matter how quietly spoken. But Hanan’s face lit up.
“Come,” Glantheir said. “We’ll be late for the tea.”
Sitting around a massive wooden table were all the gods that came for tea at the cottage. The room itself had been expanded several times, growing every time a new god wanted to join the occasional party. Benton, the Toora God of Winter and Death, made the best tea and sweets in all the heavens. Spit, Ogre Patron of Curing Things Most of the Time, came to smash the teacups. Uz’Xulven, Queen of the Bridge of Shadows, always came equipped with snide comments and a few jokes. Glantheir came with kind words, often bolstering everyone around him. Drogramath, the Potioneer, was Theo’s patron and often brooded like an emo kid.
There were many gods unrepresented at the table. Theo had an open invitation for them all, but there was still a division amongst the gods. Although things had settled down, that didn’t stop them from holding ancient grudges. Khahar was an odd one among the gods. He didn’t ascend to godhood to fit a godly purpose. He rose to power to control the gods, assuming the Throne of the Arbiter the moment he reached the heavenly plane. Instead of fighting his way up through the heavens, he employed a scheme to rise to the top and rewrite the rules himself. Theo thought it was going quite well, all things considered.
“Look how scared he is!” Spit shouted, slamming his fist on the table. Theo was certain the hit should have shattered the table. But no god could inflict damage while they were here. That was part of the rules.
“Be nice, Spit,” Uz’xulven said, folding her arms. “We’re nice to our guests, aren’t we?”
“Even mortal guests?” Drogramath said, bored more than anything.
“If someone could convince Parantheir to come, I guarantee we’ll have a good time,” Glantheir said.
Uz’Xulven blew raspberries. “Good luck with that!”
The jibes continued. Hanan leaned in, giving Theo a concerned look as he whispered. “Why are they so… normal?”
“The gods are just people. Everyone who holds celestial power was a mortal. Those are the rules.”
“You’re kidding…” Hanan trailed off.
“That’s the problem with the small people,” Spit said, throwing a teacup at the wall. When it shattered, Benton winced. “They’re brainwashed!”
“Is the Burning Eye here?” Hanan asked.
“Who wants to tell him?” Spit asked, laughing some more. “The eye is dead.”
Hanan swallowed hard. Theo watched as the king drew into himself, his face going expressionless. The gods prattled on about whatever bothered them or struck them as interesting. Khahar had to silence them a few times when they attempted to reveal information. The king was clearly upset about the eye being dead, but the thing Glantheir had whispered to him bolstered his spirits.
After a few hours of tea and cookies, Theo brought Hanan out of the stuffy cottage. He teleported them somewhere more pleasant. The massive lake that the alchemist had constructed was now occupied by souls. A group of them had splintered from the main area, creating a village here. The pair watched for a long while as they fished the waters, stoking campfires on the shore to cook the fish.
“So, Karasan isn’t dead,” Theo said. “Don’t tell Fenian.”
“I won’t. No, he’s with Glantheir now. He won’t even be the same man, will he?”
“Glantheir will reform him. Sulvan used to be a paladin of the eye. An inquisitor, really.”
“I know. I mean, I knew him. From a distance, of course.”
“And you knew that the Burning Eye was hell-bent on dominating the Dronon of the world?” Theo asked, blowing out a breath. “Bad time to side with that kind of god.”
“I never sided with him,” Hanan snapped back. He composed himself, clearing his throat. “Don’t attribute malice to my actions. I was in the dark with what my father was doing.”
Theo gazed out to the lake. He remembered a few people back on Earth who were just going with the flow. A fish broke the surface of the water for a moment, sending ripples radiating outward. The alchemist was glad those people without conviction were long-gone. But people like John still lived. The man Glantheir used to be. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what was going on, but there was a conspiracy at the end. It could have been going on for some time, but people knew.
“I’m trying to live more like Glantheir these days,” Theo said. “Did you know he could take the Khahar’s position by force? He could rule the heavens and the mortal planes in a blink. But he doesn’t.”
“Planes? Mortal planes?” Hanan asked.
“You’ve got a lot to learn.”
Theo explained the structure of the universe, using bubbles as an example. Bubbles within bubbles within bubbles. The mortal plane wasn’t the biggest bubble. But even within the mortal plane, there were dream realms. The alchemist had learned that when a person went to sleep, they generated a small version of Tero’gal overtop them. That’s how the Dreamer could move from dream to dream. Khahar had used a similar technique to gain his power, although he generated a pseudo-realm overtop himself using raw power.
But these things were important for the king to understand. Each world leader should understand these things as the days went on. When the year came to a close, most things would change. Unlike what happened on Earth, Theo wanted these people to be ready for the change.
“Can you visit other realms?” Hanan asked.
“With the permission of the other gods.”
“Could we visit the Realm of Healing?”
Theo shot Hanan a severe look. “I have worked with many lost souls. You don’t want to see your father yet. All that hate he was feeling will linger. He is an echo of the man you knew, not the real thing. That will take time.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Hanan said. “How big is this place?”
Theo smiled, sending them to the far western edge of the realm. Below was the sprawl of clouds and shapes of things happening in the real world. They saw Tresk in the clouds, fighting some monster in a dungeon. Tero’gal was roughly the size of North America. Roughly.
“Slightly larger than Tarantham.”
“Are other realms this large?”
“Most of them are bigger. Tero’gal is a Mortal Dreamrealm, which means… Well, I don’t really know what it means. This is the projection of my spirit bond. But it's also a living thing.”
After explaining more about the realms for a while, Theo and Hanan returned to the cottage. The gods were still hanging out, but Drogramath had a rare offer. He invited both of then to visit Grodul’harak, Drogramath’s realm.
“Uh, duh. Of course,” Theo said, elbowing Hanan in the ribs.
“Come,” Drogramath said, passing through his portal before Hanan could object. Theo followed closely after, dragging the king behind him.
Drogramath wasn’t kidding when he said his realm was confusing. Theo stepped foot on grass as he passed through the portal, but the sky above was weird. He gave his mind a moment to adjust and realized they were standing in a massive glass dome. Outside of that dome was another, hovering in an endless expanse of gray-white.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Hanan said.
“Yes. Most realms serve a purpose,” Drogramath said, staring up at his glass domes. “Mine is made to experiment. Each dome dedicates itself to something new.”
“This is trippy. How do you live here?”
“I’ve managed.”
Theo was surprised when another portal rose on the soft grass. He was even more surprised when Toru’aun, the Queen of Mystery stepped through. Both her flowing dress and hair were a prismatic color that shifted as she walked. When she saw Theo and Hanan standing there, she edged back toward her portal.
“Stay,” Drogramath said, nodding at the woman.
Toru’aun cleared her throat nervously. “I don’t care for mortals.”
“Neither do I,” Drogramath said. “Have you seen the new King of Qavell?”
“What’s left…”
“I never got to thank you,” Theo blurted out. “For the core.”
“She saw you use it,” Drogramath said. Theo found it strange that he was speaking for her. “Your usage was impressive. Combined with the elements of my reagents, that core will take you far.”
“I heard he’s using a Zaul core,” Toru’aun muttered.
“Slotting only demon cores would be foolish.”
Theo felt as though he was between two parents having a fight. Toru’aun never showed up for any invitations. The alchemist wasn’t even certain that she participated in demon politics, let alone the wider heavens.
“How many gods are left in the Demonic Pantheon?” Theo asked.
“Four,” Drogramath said. That one word weighed more than Theo had expected it to.
“Khahar wants us to be happy that only Zagmon died. Two were taken from the Prime Pantheon,” Toru’aun said, laughing without mirth. “I shudder to think of how many were purged from the lower realms.”
“It won’t be the last purge,” Theo said, rolling his shoulders. “I’m not sure what the heavens will look like soon.”
“How soon?” Drogramath asked. “I’m not done working on… a project.”
“The end of the mortal year, I think.”
“Ah. Plenty of time.”
Toru’aun glared at Theo for some time, then sighed. “I guess we never could have won the war against the higher pantheon, could we?”
“Of course not. They pushed us down from the start,” Drogramath said. He moved toward Toru’aun for only a moment but stopped himself. She never appeared in person. It would be too easy to see the relationship between them.
“Did you two know each other before your world was destroyed?” Theo asked.
“Yes,” Drogramath said.
“No,” Toru’aun said.
“Yeah, is there a rock I can crawl under around here?” Hanan asked, searching the area. He found a tree in the distance and hid behind it.
Theo changed the subject before he pushed them too far. “What did you want to show me in your realm, Drogramath?”
He shrugged, gesturing to the plants that grew in the area. “I’ve watched your work with reagent splicing. And your alchemy. I felt your pain when you understood alcohol distillation and wanted to give you encouragement to push forward.”
“Your potions are your most valuable asset,” Toru’aun said, spicing her normally vague words with some real encouragement. “All the tricks you’re learning along the way just reinforce your potion making. Don’t neglect it.”
“That was an excellent way to put it, Toru,” Drogramath said, inclining his head to the Queen of Mystery.
“Yes, well… if the mortals could leave, I would enjoy that greatly. Hard to keep up the essence of mystery when I have to talk.”
“Theo… would you mind?” Drogramath asked.
“Yeah, no problem. Thanks for the glimpse. I should bring the king back to the mortal realm before he melts.”
“Good idea.”
Theo collected Hanan and forced him through the cracks in reality. They bypassed Tero’gal, and used the Tero’gal Dreampassage ability to arrive back in Broken Tusk. Hanan drew heavy breaths, gasping for air and sweating. It was easy to forget that mortals couldn’t spend much time in the heavens. They started breaking apart, just like when the alchemist trespassed.
“Drink this,” Theo said, handing Hanan a Greater Stamina Potion.
“No, thank you,” Hanan said, bringing himself to his feet. “I’ve had enough of those potions for one lifetime. But now I feel like an brogling being squashed underfoot.”
“I thought you would appreciate the scale of what we’re dealing with in the alliance.”
“At least I didn’t soil myself,” Hanan said. “Tell me, Theo. Does the alliance have my best interests at heart?”
“Look around,” Theo said. “Ask any elf from House Wavecrest if things have gotten better. Take the train to Rivers or Gronro. Ask the people there.”
“I’m not sure I’m convinced.”
Theo leaned in, dusting the king off. “Then ask the field of the dead where Qavell once was. Ask if they would have rather been protected in the southlands or turned to walking corpses in the northlands.”
Hanan glared at Theo, but nodded. “Point taken, archduke.”
There was a fire somewhere in Hanan’s heart. Theo finally ignited it. Being under Karasan’s thumb for so long must have been tough, but now wasn’t the time to act like a privileged prince. He could grow a pair of brass ones or give up control of his city to another. It didn’t matter to the alchemist. But as the king locked eyes with him, he saw the one thing that man needed. A fire. Burning brighter than the Burning Eye could have ever hoped.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Hanan said, bowing. “I have to address my people.”
Theo watched as the king walked away. But the words of Drogramath and Toru’aun echoed in his mind. The road might have been long, but it was paved with all the same stuff. Alchemy would see him through this more than anything else. After days of working on the city, making sure it didn’t fall into the sea, it was finally time to get back to work. It was time to work with Salire to make some more awesome potions.
Chapter 3
Deceit
Even with no potions brewing with the lab, Theo felt a sense of comfort wash over him as he stood in his lab. The place had been his home at one point, and always felt more comforting than any other part in town. Perhaps that was thanks to the small shrine of Drogramath in the corner, always leering out with his overwrought image. Those two pieces of the demon god reminded him of himself in a way. An outward appearance of power was necessary when one was in the demonic heavens. The same went for being a leader, no matter the capacity.
“What do you think our best bet is?” Salire asked.
Theo turned, almost forgetting that his assistant was in the room. The half-ogre woman was an oddity in Broken Tusk. Born in a dwarven town in the north with no links to the town, she had migrated to become a shopkeeper. Her road twisted to one side when she accepted Drogramathi cores, altering her life forever. And she was good. Weighed by raw talent alone, she could outpace Theo in any exercise. There was a passion for the art burning in her heart that was impossible to deny. That infectious desire to discover more potions had pushed him forward more than once.
“Cleansing Scrub,” Theo said without hesitation. “Maybe we can find a way to deliver it over the entire city.”
The apprentice stifled a laugh. “Was it that bad?”
“We’re working on it, but… I’ll just say that the trip was rough. Between the dead and waste, it isn’t pleasant.”
Yet the people of Qavell stayed within Qavell. What was left of it, anyway.
“Cleaning, curing, and healing potions. How many?”
Theo summoned his administrative screen, driven by his Governance Core. His people had become experts at record keeping, thanks to the fastidious nature of Alise. The amount of citizens, what they needed, and even how they were feeling were documented. Food and water were already sorted, but disease was spreading through the town. The alchemist recognized one side of the symptoms immediately, remembering what the folks in Gronro-Dir had reported with the undead.
“Necromantic energy poisoning is a concern, but I don’t recall these other symptoms.”
“Boils, rashes… Yeah, it doesn't sound like necromancy power.”
“Fine. Let’s get some Refined Cure Ailment Essence going. Dip into our stock of Hallow the Soil. Cleansing Scrub. What else?”
“We have enough health potions, but we don’t have enough Ogre Cypress Bark. And Sledge is still guarding her clutch.”
“That’s fine,” Theo said, waving her concerns away. “Fetch some bark if you don’t mind. I’ll fire up the stills.”
“Yes, sir!” Salire said, performing a mocking salute. She winked before leaving, dashing out the door.
Drogramathi alchemy was easier than the standard form. So long as a person had the cores and abilities. Theo prepared five stills first, cleaning them and dipping into the last of his Ogre Cypress Bark supply. That was enough to fill one still. Each reagent had to be mashed so it would soak with purified water. Theo used his grinding artifice, listening to it rumble as it chewed through the flexible bark. More juice than bark came out as it ran through the device, staining the enchanted water in the still with a cloudy substance.
Once the mashed reagents were added to the mix, it was a matter of heating it. The more evenly it was heated, the better. The local artificer and blacksmith, Throk, had created some amazing stills for the job. Theo set the heat to a familiar level—about half-way to max—and shut the lid with a snap. The contents would heat, becoming steam that would be collected in a series of pressurized tubes. Once it was returned to liquid form, mostly-pure essence was collected on the far end. There were other steps if one wanted to increase the tier of a potion, but this was good enough for now.
As always, the most important part of the process was intent. Extracting a specific property meant focusing on that property before refinement. Salire returned with an inventory filled with the bark, and helped Theo seed the other stills with the same mixture. They dedicated the next five stills to the same reagent, but the Cure Ailment property. With ten stills running in the lab, they ran through their stock of Hallow the Soil potions.
“Think that’s enough for an entire city?” Salire asked.
“No, but we can test it,” Theo said, digging through his administration screen. He found Aarok’s reports about the city, but there was no mention of anything untoward.
The alchemist thought for a moment, running his fingers through his dark hair. He felt the ridges on his horns, his tail flicking from side-to-side as he thought.
“Tresk. I need you for a job,” Theo said, tapping into the private communication he shared with the other members of the Tara’hek.
“I’m relieving stress in a dungeon. What do you need?”
Theo explained his plan of scouring the city, searching for whatever dark magic drove it to the sky. He organized for his Tara’hek partner—and their goose familiar—to join him in the city in a few hours. After ironing out the details, he tapped the three other people in town with knowledge of magic. They would all meet for the purging of Qavell.
Such a vast quantity of essence took a while to distill. When it was done, Salire already had vials prepared for bottling and the pair got to work. She didn’t have the confidence to do this part. Not with the city waiting for their healing hands. Theo took charge, approaching the first vial. The Drogramath Distillery Specialty skill attached to his Drogramath Alchemy Core allowed him to measure exact quantities by eye. This allowed him to add the perfect mixture of mana-infused water and essence. The last step of the process was to introduce a catalyst to bind everything together. A puff of smoke followed, often filling the lab with a haze.
The resulting potion was a staple of life in Broken Tusk. Both Theo and Salire inspected the resulting potion.
[Cleansing Scrub]
[Cleaning Agent]
Common
Created by: Theo Spencer
Grade: Perfect Quality
Alignment:
Drogramath (Minor Bond)
Cleansing Scrub instantly restores clothes, surfaces, skin, etc to a clean state. Leaves behind the smell of Qavellian berries.
Effect:
Cleans anything it touches.
“Ah. Love the smell of Qavelli berries in the morning,” Salire said, taking a sniff of the vial. “We should modify it.”
Theo nodded. Modifying potions was a great way to take the intended application of a potion and expand it. Salire was likely thinking about the Aerosolize effect, which would grant the same effect of the base potion to a cloud. He imagined himself dropping cleaning bombs on the city to save time and chuckled to himself.
“Good idea. How much do we have left?” Theo asked.
“We need to ferment some more, but we have a good amount of Aerosolize Modifier.”
Theo nodded, working with Salire to turn those potions within vials into modified potions. Fermenting was easy enough, so long as a person had an enchanted wooden barrel and enough mana to keep the process going. Extracting modified properties was as easy as extracting essences. While the results were unpredictable, they were often potent. The alchemist added the Aerosolize modifier to a larger vial—one intended to shatter on impact—and watched as more smoke filled his lab. The duo leaned in to inspect the result.
[Cleansing Scrub]
[Aerosolize]
[Cleaning Agent] [Modified Potion]
Common
Created by: Theo Spencer
Grade: Perfect Quality
Alignment:
Drogramath (Minor Bond)
Cleansing Scrub instantly restores clothes, surfaces, skin, etc to a clean state. Leaves behind the smell of Qavellian berries.
Effect (Modified):
When this vial is broken, creates a cloud of Cleansing Scrub that spreads out. This cloud lasts five minutes but is less effective than concentrated Cleansing Scrub.
“Yep. Looks like we’re bombing Qavell again,” Salire said, elbowing Theo in the ribs. “Get it? Since we already bombarded them.”
Salire got goofy when she was nervous. The jokes went on for their entire time working on potions. They created enough Potions of Purification and Aerosolized Cleansing Scrub to get started. Tresk shrieked in Theo’s mind, complaining that he wasn’t in the city already. The alchemist sighed and departed from the lab. Salire didn’t want to head over with him, so he went alone. Almost alone. The moment he left the front door of the Newt and Demon, his guardians flanked him from the shadows.
“Wow, our alchemist sure is a busy-body,” Salire said. The muscular half-ogre woman was the brawn of the operation. She had a Baelthar Guardian’s Core and was really handy with a spear and a shield.
“Maybe we can retire early. No one has tried to assassinate him in a while,” Rowan said. Just as muscular, Rowan was Sarisa’s brother. Theo wasn’t sure who was older, but he was the brains of their duo. Often lurking in the shadows, the man had a Baelthar Shadowstalker’s Core. Which meant he flung death in the form of arrows from the shadows, but mostly focused on control abilities.
“You guys are so funny,” Theo mocked.
The causeway from the bridge near Broken Tusk wasn’t going along very well. The laborers that had ensured the city wouldn’t join the sea were exhausted. Most were taking a break, although there were still a few stragglers who refused to rest. Theo spotted his team of magic-wielding allies on that bridge, looking at him with glares. All except Sulvan Flametouched, who seemed amused at the situation.
“How do we get up?” The once-paladin asked.
“I think Hanan jumped. Can you jump?” Theo said.
Xol’sa shifted his expression, clearing his throat. The bands of blue that ran over his skin shimmered as he reached for some planar magic. “Just a short jump. I think I can manage it. Just hold on.”
Zarali hooked her arm inside of the mage’s own, her soft purple eyes glowing even in the light of day. “I’ve never been a fan of teleporting.”
A few moments later, Xol’sa created a shimmering portal for everyone to step through. Of course Tresk flew up to the city, riding on Alex’s back. Theo walked through the portal, feeling a familiar trickle of cold run down his spine. A moment later, he was standing in the ruined streets of Qavell. The party held their breath together for long moments, looking over the destruction. Locals scattered, shutting the doors to their crumbling houses or fleeing down the street.
“You’re welcome!” Sarisa shouted. “Acting like we didn’t save your butts.”
“Let them grieve,” Sulvan said, bowing his head and clasping his hands together.
Theo heard Sulvan say a prayer to Glantheir. The dark places, shrouded in shadows cast by nearby buildings seemed to brighten. A wave of something spread outward, washing over the alchemist with a sense of hope.
“Better swap this out,” Theo said, changing out his Earth Sorcerer’s Core for his Zaul Shadowspirit Core. An instant later, several blocks of the city were covered in his willpower-fueled aura.
“That still gives me the shivers,” Zarali said, pressing herself against Xol’sa.
“Zarali and Xol’sa, you get to work looking for dark magic. Tresk, you’re guarding them. Sulvan, I need you to figure out what is making these people sick.”
The group nodded, moving off.
“What are we?” Sarisa asked.
“Discarded turtle shells?” Rowan asked, finishing the idiom.
Theo produced Cleansing Scrub vials from his inventory, handing them over to the pair. “We’re going to paint the town.”
Sarisa tossed the first potion without thinking. Theo paused to watch the effect. It slammed against a building’s side and exploded. It left behind a cloud of white fog that spread out. Everywhere it touched was scrubbed clean, leaving behind a pristine surface. As clean as a half-destroyed city could get, anyway. The group walked the streets with Sarisa and Rowan tossing potions. Theo made notes of the buildings that had been destroyed, cataloging them in his administration interface.
The outermost part of the city had once held a wall. Sections of that wall were still visible, but most had grumbled away during the journey south. With the city organized into rings, this first ring was densely populated with people. They were a mix of humans and half-elves with a scattering of the other beast races, dwarves, and half-ogres. The group’s plan wasn’t to scour the entire city, but it was made easy with the aerosolized potions. They tossed them and moved on, never waiting to observe the effects.
The second ring of the city was more intact. There were guards near the gate here, standing in front of the gray stone walls and brandishing spears. Like the frightened citizens they had seen before, the guards were shaken. But they stood their ground, demanding that Theo and his group produced identification.
“Theo Spencer. Archduke of the Southlands Alliance,” Theo said, pausing to wait for the humans to respond. He looked down at them, watching their confused expressions. Both Dronon and Half-Ogres were about seven-feet tall, compared to the average of six-feet for the humans and elves.
Sulvan arrived moments later, placing his hand on Theo’s back. He nodded, approaching the guards. The priest cast some spell, and the guards sighed with relief.
“They’re grieving, Theo,” Sulvan said, pressing beyond the guards, into the inner sanctum of Qavell. “Come. I’ve detected something this way.”
Theo and his group followed close behind. Inside the second wall of the city there was much less damage. The people there still seemed frightened, but not quite as traumatized by the events. They still looked at the outsiders with fright, but didn’t flee on sight. Sulvan strode confidently, pressing forward as Theo probed the area with his aura. They tossed potions along the way, earning some nasty looks from the citizens.
“Did you figure out what we’re dealing with?” Theo asked, jogging to catch up.
“This isn’t the taint of undeath,” Sulvan said, his jaw locking tight as he thought. “Aarok didn’t do a good sweep of the city, Theo.”
“Tresk, on me,” Theo said, sensing that something was afoot. “Bring the others.”
Sarisa and Rowan didn’t need instructions. Rowan stalked into the shadows while Sarisa produced her short spear and shield. Sulvan’s pace increased, fists clenched at his sides.
At the center of the inner ring of Qavell was a large spire. The top had been broken off, tumbling to the ground somewhere along the way. The only people left in Qavell seemed to be attendants and poorly trained guards. Several honor guards lined a chipped staircase leading to the spire. They produced their weapons to challenge the group, but Sulvan didn’t stop. He marched past them without stopping. Tresk jumped from Alex’s back, melding into the shadows and jumping ahead to scout.
“Theo!” Hanan shouted. “So glad to see you.”
The interior of the spire was a massive room with a towering ceiling. The walls were decorated with painted art, frescos, and ornaments hanging. Those things that hadn’t fallen to the ground caught the glint of the sunlight through the windows. Pillars segmented the room, several chipped and crumbling. Hanan was flanked by two people, their faces obscured by hoods.
“Get the other one, Tresk,” Sulvan said, storming to the group.
Hanan held his hands up defensively, but he wasn’t Sulvan’s target. The priest’s hand clasped around the first hooded figure’s face. Light burst from his palms and the king screamed. The hooded figure writhed under Sulvan’s grip, voice muted by the hum of Glantheir’s purifying energy. Tresk’s daggers drove through the second figure, but it hardly seemed to notice. Until a spear and at least five arrows punctured its body. Both hooded figures collapsed, revealing twisted faces beneath.
“Those were my advisors!” Hanan shouted.
Sulvan turned, nodding at Theo.
“King Hanan,” Theo said, kicking at the hooded things. “Have you seen your advisors?”
They weren’t human, elves, or any other mortal race Theo had seen.
“Well, you just murdered Jeremy,” Hanan said, folding his arms. He pouted. “Do you think this alliance is going to work out?”
Sulvan grabbed the king’s head without warning. Theo’s instinct was to go forward, stopping him before he killed the king. It was only a flash. There was nothing left of that old inquisitor. The light that flowed forth wasn’t the same spell. It was a cleansing one.
“Look upon your advisors now, king,” Sulvan growled.
“Oh, gods,” Hanan said, recoiling. “What are those!?”
Sulvan nodded to himself again. “We have a city to purge.”
