Helen woke up before the sun. She stretched as she left her bed, and checked her things.
Her party would be separate for most of today, a tradition easy to keep. She did consider all of them friends, her best friends even, but Quests always set nerves on edge. Being in life and death situations constantly tended to have that effect on them. Splitting up for one or more days was also a good way for each of them to unwind in their own ways.
Helen's was going out and hunting for food. While she was brought up in the metropolis of Trinity, she was made for the wilderness. It was meditative, even before she gained her class.
She walked up to Geir, the snow elf Huntmaster in the Grand Vale Slayers's hall. The two rarely talked outside of times like this, and Geir, like most of the city-bound staff, wasn’t much in combat anymore.
“Morning Hel. Fun or coin?”
“I think I’ll take coin this time. I could use the extra.”
“Really? What are you saving for? You still have the deal with that Fray, right?”
“I wouldn’t let something like that slip, but I’ve had my eyes on a Chef’s Historia.”
Chef’s Historia were almost always in incredibly high demand. Nobles wanted talented chefs for their staff, but beyond that, they were desirable for adventurers. They almost always either added monster loot collection to an existing boon, or granted a new boon for looting. Plus, being able to make good food wherever you were was an extra perk that everyone appreciated.
“Well, good luck finding one. You may have a better time going back to Trinity.”
Different regions had different Historia in supply. A massive trade hup like Trinity City would have almost anything. Here, Shaman’s and Brute’s Historia were the most common, while Chef’s, Craftsman’s, and Scholar’s Historia were far rarer. The latter almost all went to Mystle Academy anyways. Combined with the demand, and despite being months away by boat, traveling to Trinity and back might still be cheaper.
“I’ll need it sooner or later. So, what’s going bump in the night?”
“Oh, nothing much. There’s some Bunnyhawk Hives popping up recently, and a Green Wurm around. I’m hoping this isn’t the lull, but it might be time.”
“I've fought enough monsters with massive stingers. I’ll take the Wurm.”
“Alright. Just stamp your mark here, and here’s the warrant. Happy trails, Hel.”
“You too Geir.”
Bunnyhawks were massive, Jackalope-eating Wasps. Helen had never liked insectile monsters, but it was part of the job sometimes. That said, she loved a good Wurm hunt. Wurms were distantly related to Dragons, so she considered it good practice for her inevitable conflict with one.
As she left the city, traveling into the hills to the northeast where the monster made its lair, she noticed that Geir was right. There was a distinct lack of monstrous creatures around. The Lull was a time of dramatically decreased Monster activity, caused by some kind of Magical tide-like behavior. The issue was that, immediately after the lull was the flood, which was the exact opposite. Not all monsters were affected, only the more magically attuned ones, but in certain areas it was a major issue.
Here in the Sage Lands, the only monsters affected were Dire Animals as the Elementals were well contained by the Dryads and Mystle, and the dragons of this area were all in hiding.
Ignoring the possibility of lesser monsters, she focused herself on the monster she was currently hunting. Helen looked down, and saw fresh tracks.
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Barry was not enjoying his time between hunts. The only positive had been the warm bed.
First, his running bet with Helen had resulted in him losing out almost 40 Leaves by this point. When he'd first gotten the Curate's Historia from Fray, Helen and Barry made a bet: each time he used his new healing ability in combat, he owed one silver leaf. Each time he didn't, she owed him one. He had used the spell in almost every encounter since. It would be a lot less annoying if everything he wanted to buy was about five leaves cheaper, and he regularly found himself just a bit shy.
Second, the new Librarian of Grand Vale, the highest member in any given House of Quills, was unsuited to the job. In just 1 year, books had gone missing, funds were drained, and skill across the house was slowly rotting. Barry didn't like to accuse people of nepotism given his own parentage, but in cases of an 89 year old elf making Librarian he couldn't help it. Barry was 17, and from what he knew, he was, equivalently, older. And with Barry’s father being the Hierophant, each and every word he wrote was put under the most prying lens possible, leading to him rewriting everything at least once, and on one occasion six entire times. At this point, Barry thought the librarian was doing it on purpose to spite him.
Third, and most infuriating, was that he'd not be able to contact his parents during this stop. The Librarian, in his finite wisdom, had let the Missive Crystals crack from overuse. That meant an expensive repair, or a very annoying replacement. One or two Barry could forgive as simply being inexperienced or forgetful, but Grand Vale had a full seven, all of which were damaged. Barry was considering going to Nico as the Alchemists at least upkept their stuff. He also considered, not for the first time, buying his own Missive Crystal, but they were worth more than their weight in gold.
And as a finishing touch, the Icess who was in the kitchen had made the driest, most inedible meal Barry had ever tasted. Barry regularly ate Jerky and Hard Tack on quests, and somehow this one meal had outdone rations.. He considered it a marvel and was a paragraph into a satirical report on the magical dryness of their meal before stopping himself and putting it aside. Oh, it would be finished at some point, but Barry could do that out in the field, away from prying eyes.
Needless to say, Barry was frustrated. He busied himself with writing on Phoenix Flame, a contribution to the House's single most important work: the Codex Vis. It was meant to be an encyclopedia of all spells in existence, but was barely branching out beyond the basic, echelon 1 spells. That Barry was adding an entirely common spell to it was somewhere between humbling and embarrassing, and he couldn’t figure out which.
Barry was hoping for a better meal today, and his stomach growled, before he smelled the exact same meal from yesterday below. Sighing, he stood up and gathered his things in his Vracht Pack. He would be visiting the Alchemists.
He and his father were members of the House of Quills, but his mother was a Philosopher, and member of their guild. If he couldn't reach his dad, Nico could help him reach his mom.
He walked out of the House of Quills, and took the long and arduous 50-foot trek to the adjacent building.
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Nico was sitting in a small laboratory he’d rented for the day. Though an adventurer now, Nico was always more of a homebody. Nico wouldn’t have turned the opportunity up for anything, but he was certainly missing the comfort of the City Beneath. Few Elves became adventurers, and Nico was likely not going to remain one for long. . . from his perspective at least. A few decades were nothing to him, being over 100 already.
He was creating a potion, something fairly simple to get into the swing of things. The precise measurements and easy, step-by-step nature of alchemy is what led him to become an alchemist in the first place. That, and the fact his Uncle was one. His father was a Classed Craftsman as a glassblower, but it was his sister who shared that passion. Nico had no eye for art nor a mind for business. He was merely lucky that he knew how to craft the right thing when Fray came to town looking for recruits. The same thing he was making right now, in great doses.
Nico was a Poisoner. Sure, he knew how to make everything from health and water breathing potions, to liquid fire and frost flasks. Every Alchemist knew that. But the one thing that his uncle had taught him, that no one else could, was poisons.
Some were simple poisons. One for bloodthinning, allowing for Fray and Helen to deal extra damage over time. Others were more complicated, but in return more lethal. There was one that took three years to brew, but if ingested would make even a basic spell lethal to the poisoned.
Thankfully, Fray had never asked him to use some of the more creative poisons that he knew how to. Instead, he was working on a far simpler recipe: Serpentbane Poison. Against anything except a serpent, it would cause a mild rash. Against a serpent, it caused extreme and sudden organ failure, dependant on his skill, and a bit on his focus.
The next step was coming up. Nico was reading a letter hed gotten from his father in the dimly lit lab, while preparing the next ingredient, mongoose quills, when he heard a knocking at his door.
Sighing, he checked the timing. It would take a few minutes before it was needed, so he checked the door.
Barry was outside.