6.3 - Deceit

6.3 - 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)

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.”