----------------------------------------
Amelia
----------------------------------------
Dexter gripped my shoulder tightly as we walked, pulling him further into the cavern as I followed the others. The necklace gave me a clear view of the tunnel at the far end of the room, as well as the others in our group. Dumag had chosen to take the nocturn pendant, having Bruga hold onto his shawl as he led the group towards the elites. Bruga held tightly to a small vial in her free hand. I didn’t know what was in it, but she had her arm reeled back, ready to throw. Brokil walked behind them and gripped his scepter tightly as he glanced around, likely scanning for any small cracks or passageways that were out of sight. Salthu was gripping Gremach’s shawl tightly, following close behind Brokil. Salthu had his free hand splayed and Gremach had his armored hand raised, both ready to cast an incantation.
I glanced at the ceiling as I noticed a spider scuttling above us. The creatures were deadly quiet in the cave, little more than whispers in the wind. I understood why Dexter was unnerved. A phobia can be overwhelming. The only reason I could crawl through that tunnel was Dexter’s quasi-presence during my trip. Even then, I was tempted to give up numerous times during the crawl.
A small pebble suddenly came loose from the cave wall and skirted along the rock face, landing with a final click nearby. Dexter’s grip tightened and his fingers dug into my shoulder as I felt him jump. I winced as I reached up and tapped his hand comfortingly, causing him to loosen his grip once more. I sighed as I glanced the way we came, the beacon we’d left behind still visible in my pendant assisted vision. Dexter squinted ahead blankly, his left eye still illuminated by the charm around my neck. His face was twisted into a nervous expression. I turned back as we finally reached the tunnel and entered it. Dexter jumped again as his shoulder scraped the side of the passageway. He kept quiet though, leaving the only noise a gentle drip from somewhere further in the cave. I ran a hand along the cave wall as I realized it was damp. Brokil must have been right about it being a spring at one point. The only question was, what stopped the flow of water? I was tempted to gently throw the question to Brokil when Dumag suddenly stopped in his tracks, raising a clenched fist in an order of silence. Our procession came to an abrupt halt as Dumag listened intently for … something.
Dumag finally turned back and whispered. “There is a scent of ash in the air.” He explained. “Their camp is close by. Stay on alert.” With that, he turned and began creeping forward once more. I took a few tentative sniffs from the air as I followed. Dumag was right. The air had the faintest traces of a campfire, likely the one they were using to illuminate their camp. I heard the hum of a charging spellstones behind me as Dexter readied whatever he'd pulled from his bag. I gave his hand a comforting tap as our group shuffled further into the tunnel. I kept my eyes peeled for any movement further in as I readied myself for a fight.
Suddenly, Brokil stopped as he turned towards the wall of the tunnel. “Halt.” He called softly, examining the stone surface. I craned my neck slightly to see what he was looking at. My eyes grew wide as I realized he was peering into a large gap in the wall, likely leading to an ante-chamber.
Dumag squeezed past Bruga as he backtracked and examined the gap alongside Brokil. He took a few sniffs of the air near the opening, his eye growing wide as he took in the scent. He then turned to the rest of us as he raised a finger to his lip. “The scent is coming from here.” He explained quietly. “Ready yourselves.” I let out a nervous sigh as I prepared the Spark spell. Dexter set his free hand on my shoulder, placing the spellstone he was holding beside my head. Dumag turned back to the crack and slipped through it silently, pulling Bruga through with him. Brokil followed suit, then Salthu and Gremach, and finally it was mine and Dexter’s turn. The crevice was narrow, barely wider than the tunnel I’d crawled down. I wasn’t surprised that we almost missed it. I twisted and shuffled sideways through the crack, Dexter keeping a tight grip on my shoulder all the while. We emerged into another large cavern, this one thankfully devoid of spiders. The pendant let me see most of the cavern, but it was somehow not enough to show me everything. I squinted as I noticed we stood on a higher section of the cave. A path snaked along the wall to our left and down to the rest of the cavern, a flat area just large enough to hold a classroom. Dumag growled as he looked about, squinting for any sign of the elves. “They are not here.” He muttered angrily. He wasn’t concerned about being heard anymore. It was unlikely anyone outside this place could hear us anyway. “They must be in another cha-” He stopped as a gentle groan suddenly sounded in the darkness, causing everyone to jump. Dumag’s eyes grew wide as he gazed further in and suddenly sprinted down the path to the rest of the cave, leaving Bruga to stumble along behind him. “Orthan!” He shouted concernedly.
My eyes grew wide as I watched Dumag and Bruga rush towards the rear of the cave and vanish into the darkness beyond. I thumbed the pendant around my neck in confusion as a revelation suddenly dawned on me. “Something is interfering with the necklaces!” I shouted as I ran down the path, following Dumag into the cavern.
Dexter suddenly cast Illuminate and tossed the orb into the center of the cavern, bathing the walls in its dim light. “What do you mean inter-” He stopped as he spotted what the necklaces wouldn’t reveal. At the rear of the cave was a makeshift cage, constructed out of branches and rope and barely illuminated by the orb above. “Oh shit!” He exclaimed, rushing down behind me.
A similar scuffle of feet followed Dexter as Salthu, Gremach, and Brokil all ran down the path. We barely had time to notice the pile of ash and cinder in the center of the room and the slab of stone that almost appeared yanked from the wall itself. I skidded to a halt beside Bruga and Dumag as the two knelt beside the makeshift cage. Dumag rummaged hurriedly through his enchanted bag as he searched for something. I looked over the two of them and into the wooden prison beyond. My heart sank and my stomach churned as I saw the collapsed figure of an orc laying in the center of the cage. Dried puddles of red were scattered about the cavern floor and the figure’s arms were coated in the dead ichor. The familiar bracelets of iron were covered in the substance, barely hiding the design that was uncomfortably familiar to me. I felt myself freeze as I stared at the bands and the others finally joined us. “Fext.” Brokil cursed. “What cruelty are they capable of?”
Gremach let out a groan as he turned away. “I feel ill.” He muttered.
Dexter gritted his teeth angrily as he stared at the cage. “I’m going to enjoy dismantling this pile of shit.” He growled as he stepped forward.
Dumag and Brokil turned in surprise as Dexter reached towards one of the knotted joints. They shouted a unified “No!” as Dexter grabbed the rope, but it was too late.
Dexter shouted in pain and jumped back, clutching the hand that had grabbed the rope. “The Fucker Shocked Me!” He bellowed angrily. The figure in the cage groaned as he turned his head weakly, causing a soft crackling sound to emanate from the stone floor.
Brokil grabbed Dexter’s shoulder to hold him back as he appeared ready to assault the cage once more. “It is enchanted.” He hissed. “Only those with elven blood can touch the material.”
Dumag nodded as he pulled a gemstone out of his bag and examined it before putting it back. “Moreover, there is a low-class spellbreaker enchantment upon the whole structure. Teleportation in and out would be difficult, if not impossible.”
Dexter growled as he rubbed his hand. “Now I can’t wait to find those fuckers.” He muttered.
At that, the figure finally lifted his head in confusion. “You are the outsider.” He said almost in disbelief.
Dexter then focussed his attention on the figure, his face softening to an expression of sympathy. “Uloth sent us.” He explained. “Hang on. We’ll get you out of there in just a second.” He then knelt beside Dumag as he watched him search his bag. “Dumag, you have an idea on how to dismantle this thing?”
The figure turned, wide-eyed towards Dumag. “Uncle?” He asked weakly.
Dumag growled and nodded as he finally pulled out a short piece of wood, a wand with a runic ‘ᛔ‘ carved near the base. “Do not interrupt me.” He growled as he glanced at the others. “We must dismantle the enchantment they have placed on this cage.” He turned and glared at the beams in question as he began scanning each joint. “With any luck, they have not thought to make the incantation permanent.” With that, he flicked the wrist holding the wand and began muttering under his breath. The cage creaked and groaned as an aura appeared to surround the bars. Gremach then stepped forward and pulled out a scepter, topped with ruby, and leveled it at the cage as well. “Let me assist you.” He said, his staff glowing to life as the cage creaked one more. The reddish light from the cage and the scepter now overpowered the orb that Dexter had tossed into the center of the room.
I looked concernedly into the cage as the wood flexed slightly. The dried stains were now clearly visible in the light and I felt a pang of sympathy as I saw Orthan look up at his uncle in amazement. My stomach churned again as I finally noticed the wounds in his arm, brutal, random, uncaring, and covering his thick limbs in a layer of blood. I was starting to regret not learning more about healing magic. I turned to Bruga as I suddenly remembered what she had packed. “Do you have a potion that can-”
Bruga was way ahead of me, reaching carefully through the gaps in the wood to hand Orthan an uncorked crimson potion. “Drink this.” She said sweetly, being careful not to touch the bars of the cell. “I will not restore your strength, but it will heal your wounds.”
Orthan reached up weakly and took the bottle, shakily bringing the concoction to his lips and drinking deeply. Within a few gulps, the bottle was empty and his head slumped down again, relief washing over him. “Thank you.” He gasped. “I owe you my life.”
Bruga brushed the remark aside as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a piece of dried meat. She repeated her prior action and handed the food to him. “Your mate holds that honor.” She said comfortingly as Orthan took the meat and bit into it hungrily. “She traveled to our guild to request our aid. No others wished to take up her request, it seems.”
Orthan’s face contorted into one of guilt as he chewed the food ravenously, his forearms beginning to radiate yellow light. “S-she is not my mate.” He stammered, trying to sit up. However, he winced in pain as he put pressure on his arm. “H-her father would never approve of-”
Bruga’s expression turned to one of sympathy as she gestured for him to lay down. “Do not concern yourself.” She said softly, silencing his stammering. “We have not spoken a word to anyone about your pairing.” She then glanced at me and Dexter. I glanced at him as well as he watched Dumag and Gremach work.
Dexter suddenly turned to Brokil and Salthu as he gestured the way we came in. “Go up there and make sure no one is going to walk in.” He said. “We now know the elites have been here and were behind Orthan’s disappearance, but I don’t want one of them surprising us by walking in with our pants down.”
Salthu hesitated for a moment as he reached for his bag and began searching through it. “Are you certain I should stand guard?” He asked. “I have nearly exhausted my mana su-”
Salthu stopped as Dexter reached into his bag and pulled out his bag of manastones. “Go ahead and use this then,” he said as he tossed Salthu the pouch. “Be ready for anyone or anything that crawls through that crack.” Salthu hesitated for a moment then nodded as he turned and followed Brokil back up the path. Dexter let out an agitated sigh as he drew his sword and began pacing, watching Gremach and Dumag work to dismantle the spell surrounding the cage. I’d never seen him so on edge before.
I turned back to Bruga as she continued talking comfortingly to Orthan. “She cared for you, to travel so far in the hopes that you could be found. From what I gather, she visited other guilds as well. She offered all that she carried, begging us to find you.”
Orthan groaned as he finally sat up, his arms still radiating a soft glow. He seemed to be regaining his strength. “Y-you must understand.” He said defensively. “Her father would never approve. If we were discovered, she would be shunned from-”
Bruga let out a soft chuckle as she shook her head. “You need not worry.” She said softly. “We have no intention of breathing a word of this.” She grinned wider as she gestured at Dumag, his want hand waving back and forth as he muttered incoherently. “Admittedly, we are in a similar position to you and your gentle Uloth. … My father has since passed, you see, and I am his last unwed daughter.”
Orthan's unease softened as he glanced at Dumag, his eyes still full of apprehension. “Do you think he would approve of my uncle?” He asked hesitantly.
Bruga glanced towards Dumag and smiled warmly, admiring him as he worked fervently. “I am hopeful that he would,” She admitted as she turned back to Orthan. “So you need not be apprehensive. There are many tales of the outsiders, but they are understanding at heart. They could easily gleam the significance you held to Uloth.”
Orthan sighed weakly as he glanced at Dexter. His pacing had calmed to deep breaths. I could tell Orthan was thinking carefully. He finally let out a groan as the glowing in his arms faded, leaving cross-shaped scars on his forearm. “Our savings are not significant enough for much.” He admitted solemnly, turning back to Bruga. “I am ashamed to think that I have wasted all our efforts over the years; all because I did not have the sense to flee when I had the chance.”
Bruga shook her head as she gave Orthan a reassuring grin. “Your efforts were not wasted,” she said comfortingly. “Nor should you be ashamed of facing your foes.” Bruga rubbed her arm absentmindedly as she glanced away. “Only by facing your foes can you hope to overcome them.” She said encouragingly.
Orthan gave Bruga a look of sympathy, contemplating. He glanced at me apprehensively and looked about to speak again when the cage let out a loud creak and Dumag and Gremach groaned with exertion. “The Bindings Will Not Come Loose!” Dumag practically roared.
Dexter stepped towards the cage and watched it twist and strain. He scanned the base of the cage as he thought carefully. “Can you remove the shock enchantment?” He asked, turning to Dumag.
Dumag shot him a confused look. “Only partially.” He growled in response. “The enchantments are woven tight.”
Dexter nodded as he pulled off his shirt and began wrapping his hands in the fabric. He turned to Orthan as he knelt at the side of the cage. “I’m going to lift this to give you an escape route. Crawl out once there’s enough room.” Before Orthan could react, Dexter grabbed the bars and let out a grunt of pain as he pulled upward. Despite appearing light, the wood only groaned and flexed under the weight of Dexter’s efforts. “Jesus CHRIST!” He shouted, releasing his grip and shaking his hand wildly. “The fuck kind of wood is this?”
Gremach’s scepter glowed brighter as he pointed it at a particular joint. The rope stretched in response but did not break free from its position. “There must be an immobility spell as well.” He muttered angrily. “I am attempting to loosen it, but it is difficult.”
Dexter growled as he turned to me and Bruga. He gestured us over, or shook his hand angrily again I couldn’t tell, but his order was clear. “Help me out over here.” He said, crouching near the side of the cage again. “Gremach, tell us when you pull away some of the enchantment. We’ll try and lift this again on your mark.” Gremach nodded as Bruga and I got into position on either side of Dexter. I crumbled fistfuls of my oversized shirt and wrapped them around the wooden bars. I winded in pain as pinpricks of electricity tingled through my hand. Bruga did the same as she put her shawl between her and the bars. The three of us turned to Gremach expectantly, waiting for his word.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Gremach's face was twisted in concentration as his scepter glowed in the dim cavern. The pinpricks on my hand made it feel like it was vibrating. With one swift motion of the scepter, the cage let out a high pitched creeeaaakk and Gremach let out a thunderous “Now!” Bruga, Dexter, and I wrenched up hard, causing the cage to groan and the wood itself to flex. Dexter was right; the cage was unreasonably heavy. I strained with all my might and this time my body really did start trembling as I pulled at the enchanted prison. It was thankfully moving though, ever so slowly tilting to the side as the three of us lifted with all our might.
Dexter let out a frustrated growl as we went from squatting to partially standing. “Go, Now!” he shouted into the cage, the wood still flexing beneath his grip as he pulled. Orthan quickly scrambled beneath the small gap that was forming and squeezed out, his tattered shawl snagging on the frame and falling from his shoulders as he stood. Bruga, let out a guttural sigh as the three of us dropped the cage again, letting it snap back into place with a loud wham! At that, Gremach and Dumag released their spells and the glow from the cage died. Dexter let out an exhausted sigh as he fell back to the cave floor. “Jesus Christ that was heavy.” He groaned. I panted and sat beside him, the three of us recovering our strength with each gasp.
Orthan barely had time to catch his breath as he stood. In but a moment, Dumag was wrapping him in a tight hug. “I am so sorry,” Dumag whispered. “I should have come sooner. I allowed my pride to cloud my judgment. Can you ever forgive me?”
Orthan let out a relieved sigh as he returned Dumag's embrace. “I am alive,” he gasped. “That is more than I could have hoped for an hour ago. Of course you are forgiven.”
From where I sat I could see Dumag shake his head, a tear rolling down the side of his cheek. “I was a fool.” He said simply. “I should have known to ignore my brother. There is no honor in abandoning family.” I grinned to myself as I watched the two interact. It was a heartwarming reunion, one only possible after a lifetime apart and a dire end avoided in the knick of time. I was glad we could help make it possible, finding their camp and saving Orthan from what might have been a slow and painful death.
Dexter simply groaned and climbed to his feet as he walked over. He interrupted their embrace by tapping Orthan on the shoulder, causing him to turn in surprise. “Where did the elites go?” Dexter asked directly, gesturing towards the ashen heap in the center of the room. “We know they were here, but it’s obvious they left before we arrived. So when was that? What made them leave? Where did they go?”
Dumag scowled at Dexter as he let go, straightening to tower over him. “Now is hardly the time for questions.” He growled. “We must return him to the city. The Institute will wish to know of our success.”
Dexter groaned as he rubbed his head annoyedly. “What about the elites?” He almost spat. “If we bring him back, they’ll know their camp is compromised. They’ll just flee when the city is opened up.”
Dumag shook his head as he gestured dismissively. “The gates will not be open then.” He countered. “The Institute shall merely search the city until they find the elites hiding in plain sight.”
Dexter gestured to Orthan angrily as he asked the obvious. “How Will They Know They Caught Them Then?” He practically roared. “We Can’t Be Sure They Won’t Go Under The Radar! Not To Mention, We Don’t Know How Many Are In The City. We Can’t Let This Lockdown Go On Forever!”
Dumag took a step towards Dexter but was stopped as Bruga jumped between them and kept the two of them at arm’s length. “Now Is Not The Time For Bickering!” She said sharply. “We only just found our target and we must not squabble over our next course of action so quickly.” Bruga then turned to Dexter, an expression of calming interest overtaking her anger. “What brought about these questions?” She asked him. “What concerns plague your mind that a heartfelt moment needed interrupting?”
Dexter let out a growling sigh as he glared up at Dumag, fists clenched in anger. Dumag met his gaze with an equally intense look of fury. After a moment, Dexter finally sighed as he gestured at the ashen pile again. “I’m afraid that we’ll let the elites slip through our fingers.” He sighed angrily. “We’re lucky we found this place and lucky that they left so much behind. If we don’t capitalize on this, they just come back and we’ll have no idea how or where they’ll do it.”
Dumag gave Dexter a look of confusion. “Left behind?” He muttered angrily. “Is That How You Describe Their Abandonment Of My Nephew To Perish In This Gods Forsaken Fexting-”
“Not HIM!” Dexter shouted, pointing at the pile again. “THE BOX!” Everyone turned, confused. Only now did I realize he wasn’t pointing at the pile, but the wall behind the pile. He was pointing specifically at the slab of rock that was pulled out of the wall, serving as a thigh-high table. Dexter was pointing to the box resting on the table as well as the bits and pieces that surrounded that box. Dumag’s face softened as he realized what Dexter was implying. “They left something behind,” Dexter explained, not taking his eyes off Dumag. “Meaning they had plans to come back here if certain circumstances allowed. One of these circumstances was probably not someone finding out that they were here in the first place. General or not, we have to capture the elites that we can while we can.”
Dumag growled again as he turned to Dexter. “What would you have us do then?” He muttered. “Sit here, twiddling our thumbs, and wait for someone to traipse through the caverns?”
Dexter shook his head as he glanced at Salthu and Brokil. They were standing on opposite sides of the crack we’d crept through, keeping an eye on it while also keeping an ear open to the conversation below. “That won’t be the plan,” Dexter replied, glancing at the table. “First thing to do is find out what they left behind and how important it might be to them. Then, we determine a plan of action for luring them back here.” He turned back to Dumag, expecting a reaction. Dumag kept a stony expression as he stared in the direction of the table, thinking carefully. Dexter finally let out a sigh and scratched his head guiltily as he glanced at Orthan. “I’m sorry that I cut the reunion short, but we might be running short on time. We need to know everything we can find out; including how long ago they left and who the elites left with. Who knows, maybe none of the elites got caught in the lockdown.”
“There was a lockdown?” Orthan asked, amazed. “For my disappearance?”
Dexter shook his head as he turned to Orthan. “An elven general went missing from a prison in the city,” Dexter explained. “From the looks of it, they used your face to slip in and out of the city unnoticed. Snakahgr is currently on lockdown in case the general is still within the walls.”
Orthan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The general that was here?” He asked.
Dexter’s eyes went wide as everyone turned sharply to Orthan. “He was here?” Dexter asked, surprised.
Orthan hesitated for a moment then nodded, the orb above casting shadows across his expression of unease. “He was a boisterous elf, and impatient at that. He left with the others not a few hours ago.”
Dexter let out a defeated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn it.” He muttered angrily. “We just missed them. So much for attacking their camp.”
Dumag nodded as he let out a growl. “Then they have likely cleared from the city.” He remarked thoughtfully. “If they traveled home, then they would not leave any behind.”
Surprisingly, Orthan shook his head at the notion. “They left some behind.” He explained, pointing towards the pile of ash. “I heard them speaking of it. They only left with half their forces.”
Dexter turned to him, interested in the news. “And how many did you see leaving the cave?” He asked curiously. “Were there ten? Twenty?”
Orthan thought for a moment as he appeared to count on his fingers. He finally held up two of his digits as he replied. “There cannot have been more than two dozen. They drank something as they prepared; something that changed them from their false skins to their own appearance.” A shudder ran down Orthan’s back as he rubbed his forearms. “It haunts me to think that they could so easily slip in amongst us.”
Dexter nodded as he glanced towards Gremach. “Yeah. It’s unnerving to think they could put on a disguise whenever they wanted. Fortunately, they should only be able to hold out for so lo-” Dexter’s eyes suddenly widened in realization. I needed only a moment before it finally clicked with me.
Dexter and I turned to Orthan as we spoke in near unison. “They drank a potion to change back?” We asked.
Orthan jumped at the exclamation and the others appeared to realize the implications. “I-is that not how such potions work?” He asked hesitantly.
Gremach shook his head as he gestured with his scepter. “Transformative potions are only temporary.” He explained. “A day for a swig from a well-distilled potion, but I have never heard of a potion with lasting effects.”
Dumag nodded as he glanced towards the stony table sticking from the wall. “If they require a potion to return,” He began.
“Then the ones in the city will need that too.” Dexter finished, turning to the table as well.
I began walking over as curiosity got the best of me. “Let’s poke around and find out,” I said as I quickly closed the gap between me and the table. The others followed suit as we shuffled to surround the short table. The box that rested upon it was elven, the boards and rivets glistened with a layer of finish that would make any carpenter jealous. It was only a foot tall though, covered with a square lid that just barely fit and was topped with an all too familiar floral symbol. I scowled down at the container as the others crowded around me. The lid barely came up to my naval, giving me a good look at the crown of the container.
Dexter tapped the symbol as he glanced at the others. “That settles it. The elites were here.”
I nodded as I gripped the lid firmly. “Fingers crossed it isn't booby-trapped,” I said hopefully. I let out one last sigh before pulling the lid off and placing it upside down beside the box. I cast my own illuminate spell to bathe the contents in light. Glass and fluid stared back as we all peered into the container. A total of twenty-five potion bottles sat in partitioned segments in the box, each bottle topped with a large cork.
Dexter pulled out one of the vials of yellowish liquid and examined it closely. “The hell are these?” He asked.
I pulled out one of the circular bottles as well, the cold glass containing the strange fluid within. “Best guess, these are whatever those other guys drank. They left these behind for the elites still in the city.”
Dexter nodded as he handed his vial to Gremach. “Use that detect magic spell on this and make sure. We need to be sure of what this is before we start planning our next move.”
Gremach took the potion hesitantly and examined it, his finger glowing slightly as he muttered. He finally shook his head as he handed the bottle back to Dexter. “There is no enchantment.” He said defeatedly. “This concoction is pure alchemy.”
Dexter muttered a curse as he took the vial back. “You couldn't analyze the ingredients to find out what it's for?” He asked hopefully.
Gremach shook his head again. “I am not versed in alchemy.” He admitted. Dexter looked like he was about to mutter another curse when Gremach continued. “Brokil may know. I have seen him work with arcane ingredients before.”
Dexter's eyes lit up and he nodded as he turned towards the path. “Good idea. Brokil!” He shouted. Brokil turned and stepped away from his position next to the gap in the cavern wall. Dexter held up the bottle he was holding, showing it to him. “I Need Your Expertise On Something,” he explained. Brokil nodded as he retraced his steps down the path, Salthu hesitating for a moment before following close behind. Dexter handed Brokil the bottle as the contents began to swirl. “I need you to tell me what this potion is for. There are at least two dozen bottles in a box back here. We have to know if they left this behind for a reason.”
Brokil nodded as he ran his fingers along the glass, muttering under his breath. The potion glowed for a brief moment, causing Brokil to furrow his brow. “Most of these ingredients are familiar,” He admitted, glancing towards the box upon the table. “Others, however, are less so.” He held up the bottle, scrutinizing the contents as he explained. “The ingredients I can name delegate this a transformative potion.” His nose suddenly wrinkled as he scowled at the vial. “The blood, however, is excessive, more than any concoction I've studied.” Brokil then handed the bottle back to Dexter with a look of disgust. “I shudder to think of the blood that had to be extracted to create all those vials.” I nodded as I glanced towards Orthan. He was rubbing his arm grimly, his fingers tracing the outline of the cross patterns that now dotted his skin.
Dexter nodded as he pulled out another vial, a glint in his eye as a grin crept across his face. “Then I think I have an idea.” He looked towards the roof of the cavern, the orb drifting higher to illuminate the stalactites dangling from the ceiling. Dexter then turned to Brokil as he held up the two vials. “Is there a sleeping draught you can make with what we have? Preferably something that can fill what’s left of the space in these?”
Everyone turned to Dexter, confused and shocked. Salthu seemed to be the only one that understood Dexter’s plan. “You Mean To Poison Them?” He practically yelled.
Dexter nodded as he glanced towards the entrance. “They made plans to come back here if possible. I’m sure of it. We can use that to capture the ones still in the city. From the looks of it, there are at least two dozen out there.”
Brokil continued to stare at Dexter, astounded. “I have no means to brew such a potion.” He pointed out. “In any case, my combat supplies are nowhere near adequate for creating a sleeping draught.”
Dexter nodded as he glanced at the vials then at the box. “Then let's hope they left their alchemical gear behind.” He said as he replaced the vials and reached into the box. He grabbed the wooden frame and pulled it, lifting it out to reveal it to be a shallow layer of the box, only a quarter as tall as the box itself. Dexter then reached in and pulled out another frame, again a quarter as tall as the box. One or two vials clinked around as he set the near-empty frame beside the first and looked in the container. His grin grew wider as he grabbed the miniature cauldron that was resting at the bottom, as well as a few tall jars with herbs and labels on them. He held them up triumphantly as he looked towards Brokil. “Think you can work with this?” He asked, waving the jars.
Brokil stepped forward and peered into the container, pulling out yet more tall jars of ingredients. “This is far more prepared than I was anticipating,” he remarked, astoundedly. Brokil reached into the container again and pulled out a roll of parchment, unfurling it with intrigue and curiosity. “This is elven writing.” He said, his eyes darting back and forth along the page. “It’s a message, as well as an alchemical recipe.” He suddenly shuddered as he read the title of the concoction. “A recipe for a Bloodform potion.”
Dexter nodded as he set the small cauldron down and examined the containers he held. They were some kind of powder and a jar of herbs. I couldn’t read the labels from where I stood. “Think you can work with this?” Dexter asked, setting the jars beside the cauldron. “We need something that’ll take effect after an hour or two. They won’t come back all at once. We need to make sure all of them drink the potion before they know what’s happening. We shouldn’t interfere with the transformation potion either. They’ll know something is up if we do.”
Brokil let out a low sigh as he pulled out container after container, examining each label before setting them aside. “That is a very particular request.” He sighed. “If this had a retort, I could make something akin to that effect. As it stands, I cannot distill a strong enough draught to force unconsciousness.”
Dumag suddenly reached into his bag and pulled out a metal flask, about the size of his palm, its neck bent at an extreme angle. I’d seen glass versions of the flask before, but never knew what they were called. Dumag held the item out to Brokil as Brokil turned to glance at it. “Would this work?” He asked.
Brokil took the retort gingerly and gave it a few experimental hefts, testing the weight. “It is rather small.” He remarked, sadly. “But it will do. I do not suppose you have a bead-roller in there by chance?”
Dumag nodded as he reached into his bag and pulled out a board and a special roller. The board and roller both had grooves the size of peas and the pieces appeared to lock together as Dumag placed the set down on the stone counter. “I have wheat paste if you require it. It should soak up any concoction well enough.”
Brokil shook his head as he pulled out another jar. “These makeshift supplies appear thorough enough. I am more concerned about balancing the potion with this bloodform creation. I must be certain none of my ingredients will be volatile when interacting with their potion.” Brokil then turned to Dexter as he pulled a cork out of one of the jars. “I am assuming your plan has more thought than mere poisoning?” He asked. “If we are to wait for their arrival, we will need an adequate vantage point.”
Dexter nodded as he glanced up again, scanning the ceiling carefully. “No spiders, thank god,” he muttered as he turned to Dumag. “How much rope do you have?” He asked.
Dumag reached into his satchel again and pulled out the end of a rope handing it to Dexter as it snaked back into his bag. “I have enough to circle the Arena three times. Is that sufficient for your musings?”
Dexter nodded as he looked up again, pointing to each stalactite as if counting. “Just hope that I still know how to do this. I’m about to teach yall how to make a hammock.”
I turned towards Brokil curiously. Something he said stuck out to me. The page he had found in the box sat beside the cauldron. I walked over as his words echoed in my thoughts. “It’s a message and a recipe.” I picked up the page gingerly and felt a pang of disgust as I recognized the swirling and gingerly handwriting of elves I had seen before. The top of the page was clearly the message. A short paragraph at best, but it still made my stomach churn. “Rendezvous in one month at the singing springs. Your return potions are laid out for you. Below is the recipe in case a transformation is incomplete or one of the vials breaks. Once you are accounted for, dispose of the blood bag.” I set the page down with disgust as I turned back to Dexter. He was already laying out lengths of rope and explaining his idea as he pointed towards the ceiling. A look of cold determination was in his eyes as he measured between two stalactites. I had only ever seen him this focused once before, back when he was planning for the arena. He was really fired up. I let out a sigh as I nervously fiddled with my fingers. I hoped I was ready for the inevitable confrontation.