An entire day of harvesting raw materials has finally come to an end. Now beckons the next step of their ink-making journey. Their destination: the reclusive Gnome named Feywin Verdanquill, renowned even amongst the nobility for his expertise in ink synthesis. Legend has it that the ink he makes are potent enough to turn a nation upside down– or so says the 1209 year old Elf.
His skills were said to be as elusive as the rarest of mythical creatures, and it was through him that they would learn the delicate art of turning raw ingredients into potent, refined ink. A being of such small stature yet his influence was immensely profound.
The morning sun had barely risen, casting its golden rays across the ancient forest as Faye, Ethan, and Ashley set out for the visit this hermit.
The path to Feywin's hut was winding and narrow, barely visible beneath the dense canopy of the forest. The further they ventured, the more the trees seemed to bend and whisper, beguiling them to choose a different path, ones that lead to lethal trap, and the numerous perils of wild beasts or natural obstacles.
Without Faye's guidance, the trio would've fallen into a lethal trap or two. Peachy on the other hand are safely fastened in Ashley's backpack like an infant enjoying the view. The trio had to carry backpacks since the elf warned them nor to use their spatial storage within the forests' perimeters.
Every now and then, Faye would slow, her senses attuned to the quiet hum of enchantments woven into the fabric of the land.
After an hour of walking, they finally came upon a small clearing. A modest stone cottage sat nestled at the heart, its windows glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. Smoke curled from the chimney in lazy spirals, and the scent of something earthy and sweet wafted through the air. Faye knocked lightly on the wooden door, which opened almost immediately, revealing a squat gnome with a long, silvery beard that trailed down to his knees. He wore a dark green apron covered in blotches of ink, and his sharp, beady eyes twinkled with curiosity.
"Ah, Faye! It's been far too long," Feywin said, his voice a gravelly but warm tone. He extended a hand to each of them in turn, shaking their hands firmly despite their height difference.
"I'm assuming you received my letter?" Faye inquired the gnome.
"Of course! I immediately prepared right after I read it. And these must be your promising students, hmm? Why does it feel like they don't belong in this narrative? You smell a bit, different..."
"Excuse me?," Ashley retorted, taking minor offense.
The gnome just shrugs it off and casualy changed the subject, "Come, come! You're just in time. Bring your materials inside so I can begin the process."
The inside of the hut was cramped but filled with the unmistakable scent of alchemical wonders. Cleaning materials such as broomsticks and feather dusters were animated, tending to their individual roles. Shelves lined the walls, brimming with various vials containing preserved leaves and minerals, jars with different species of lively squid, and carefully labeled colored containers. The central workbench was cluttered with different types of raw materials—crystals, plant extracts, powdered minerals—and in the far corner, a cauldron bubbled with a vibrant, iridescent liquid.
"Welcome to my humble lab," Feywin said, sweeping his arms across the room. "Here, I synthesize the lifeblood of a Quillmancer. Without the proper ink, your abilities are like a knife without a blade. I have a commission lately from Mr. Benjamin Holder, but I've got time to synthesize Elderwood Sap, it'll be done in just a day."
He gestured to a collection of pens resting on a nearby table. Each was unique in form—some were delicate, others thick and imposing, some short while others long and ornate. There were pens that resembled staves, some like ornate swords, and one that looked like a gauntlet, its fingers stretched out like claws.
Stolen story; please report.
"As you already know, the quality of your ink dictates the strength and precision of your magic," Feywin continued. "But it's not just about raw power. No, no, no. It's about balance—balance between the ink's properties and the pen it fuels. You must choose a pen that suits your writing style. Each pen is a vessel for magic, and the ink you choose must resonate with its design. But, more on pens later. Let's focus on the task at hand."
Ethan and Ashley exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued.
"Now, first thing's first," Feywin said, grabbing a small vial filled with shimmering blue powder. "The base of every good ink is Vernal Essence—a rare mineral that grows only beneath the roots of the eldest trees in the forest. Not to be mistaken for Elderwood Sap of course. They are very different things. Vernal Essence is something I discovered myself, you may use other forms of binder or gum, but this is by far the safest. It's what stabilizes the ink, preventing it from being unstable."
He poured the Elder Sap in the cauldron first, then carefully sprinkled the powder into the large, bubbling cauldron filled with a base solution, its contents swirling as it reacted with the mineral. A soft emerald glow emanated from the liquid, and the gnome hummed with satisfaction.
"Next," Feywin continued, "we add the Twilight Flower nectar. This delicate flower is harvested only at exactly dawn, when the mist still clings to the forest floor. That gives it a binding property, ensuring that the ingredients are cohesive rather than disjointed."
Ashley carefully removed a small jar from her pack and handed it over to Feywin. The nectar was thick and golden, its fragrance sweet yet tinged with something earthy. It was something they had to harvest early morning before coming here.
Feywin added a few drops to the cauldron, and the mixture began to shimmer, casting faint golden hues on the walls.
"Now comes the most important step—the Dragon Blood Resin," Filbert said with reverence, holding up a small vial containing a viscous, crimson glowing liquid. "This resin is harvested from the ancient trees that were nurtured by a dragon's blood. A rare occurrence, could be caused by a dragon dying a natural death, or a fight. It is the very essence of scripts that imbue power, dragons are a necessary presence in the world, keeping a delicate balance in the food chain. A lot of merchants would horde this resource en masse. Without it, your ink will lack true depth."
"I don't recall ever harvesting such ink" Ethan replied, a hint of worry flashed across his face.
"And I don't expect you to, since you are Faye's students I'm providing it for free. But just this once," Feywin replied proudly. He slowly poured the resin into the cauldron, and the mixture began to take on a rich, crimson hue.
Feywin paused and turned to Ethan and Ashley, his eyes gleaming. "This is the basic process of synthesizing ink. It isn't just a mixture of ingredients. It is a reflection of the world around you, the essence of the elements themselves. It connects to you, to your intentions, to your soul. Changing an ingredient or two can vastly change the ink's capabilities. For this particular mixture, it specializes in destruction script, therefore spells like fireball or firewall would yield the best output and will prove to be the most stable."
"Could we still cast non destructive spells?" Ashley inquired.
"Of course, since it has the properties of the Elderwood Sap, spells that require a long duration could work too. Like wards and buffs. But it does not have the restoration script, so spells that heal or repair will have their effects diminish or may not work at all."
"I see..."
The cauldron now simmered gently, its contents a glowing, swirling mass. Feywin checked the consistency, then nodded in satisfaction.
"Tomorrow, we'll begin the refining process. But tonight, we'll let this mixture settle," he said, rubbing his hands together. "But there's still one more task for you before we finish. We need to get your pens ready."
Faye smiled, leading the group out of the hut and into the crisp evening air. "Pens, as you know, are not mere writing tools. They are magical conduits, extensions of the Quillmancer's will. You cannot create a good ink without knowing what kind of pen you'll use it with."
Filbert handed Ethan and Ashley small scrolls, each one inscribed with a map. "These will lead you to the smith shop dwarven blacksmith, Gawain Stonefist. He's the finest craftsman in the kingdom when it comes to forging pens. Whether you need a pen in the form of a staff, a sword, or something more... unusual, he'll make it for you. Go, and return by morning."
Ethan took a deep breath. The path ahead was still unclear, but he was ready to walk it. He was about to forge a pen—a weapon—crafted specifically for him, one that would allow him to fully harness his Quillmancy.