Fendrel leaned against his workbench, weighing his options. More people were starting to be aware of his involvement in selling the poisons. They paid well, hadn't tried to kill him yet, but did he really want to get more involved?
They might just be his best chance at making safe profit. But how to approach them?
His fingers traced the vial of Xytherium. The sickly green liquid swirled as he uncorked it and downed the contents in one swift motion. The familiar burn spread through his throat, followed by the momentary clarity as the parasite's influence receded. He repeated the process with the Silkslither Toxin, grimacing at its metallic taste.
[PARASITE STATUS]: Next dose required in 12 hours
With death temporarily postponed, Fendrel set up his equipment. The last of his Dralk weed went into the mortar, followed by precious drops of Nightshade essence. Two batches of Xytherium Poison took shape under his careful measurements, ten vials sealed and wrapped in cloth to prevent sound.
Fendrel shifted his attention to the Silkslither components laid out before him. The crystallized widowvine sap glinted in the fading light, its surface catching strange reflections. He measured each ingredient with practiced precision - the cocoon fibers first, then the sap, followed by the essence and spores.
The mixture bubbled and hissed as he combined them, releasing wisps of purple vapor that curled around his hands. His muscles tensed at each pop and crackle, knowing a single mistake could ruin the batch. The recipe demanded exact timing, perfect measurements.
When the liquid settled into its characteristic silver sheen, he poured it carefully into three bottles.
[NEW RECIPE SAVED]: Silkslither Toxin brewed successfully. Residual amount: 60%.
[NEW RECIPE SAVED]: Silkslither Toxin brewed successfully. Residual amount: 20%.
[CLASS STATUS]: Alchemy skill leveled up. New recipes unlocked.
[PARASITE STATUS]: Xytril Nematode leveled up. Required substance: Xytherium Poison, 2x Silkslither Toxin. Next dose required in 36 hours.
Cold sweat broke over Fendrel's body.
[CODEX]
Basic Healing Brew
Basic Healing Potion
Bitterroot Tonic
Darksap Draught
* Drained bloodoak sap, 5 drops
* Shredded deathvine, 2 grams
* Ashes of blackwillow bark, 4 grams
* Distilled eye of shadecap, 1 gram
Silkslither Toxin
Cindershade Toxin
* Dried cindersage petals, 3 grams
* Essence of emberglass, 2 drops
* Dust of a firewyrm scale, 1 pinch
* Blood of an ashhound, 1 drop
Xytherium Poison
Fendrel's eyes darted between the two new recipes that materialized in his codex. His mouth went dry as he read through the ingredients. Bloodoak sap? Firewyrm scale dust? His hands shook as he gripped the edges of his workbench.
"This can't be real." He slumped into his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. The mere thought of acquiring such exotic components made his head spin. A single firewyrm scale costs close to half a gold - if he could even find one. And bloodoak trees grew only in the cursed forests to the north.
The panic subsided slightly as his racing thoughts started to settle. The parasite didn't require these new poisons yet. But the implications chilled him to the bone. Each time the Xytril Nematode leveled up, the potions to keep it at bay grew more exotic, more expensive.
He glanced at the silver sheen of leftover Silkslither coating the bottom of his equipment. Already the parasite needed double doses, and he barely scraped together enough components for two vials per batch. Five vials meant two separate brewing sessions, double the time, double the resources.
His fingers drummed against the table as he did the math. The cost of ingredients, the time invested, the failed attempt at healing potions - none of it added up to survival.
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"Damn you, Garon." The words came out as a whisper. The merchant had been helpful when he first introduced him the black market connection. Now that path wasn't just tempting - it was becoming his only option.
He gathered the scattered vials, corking the two full bottles with practiced motions, wrapping them in soft cloth to prevent clinking. The remaining liquid continued to mock him from its flask, a reminder of his tight margins and limited supplies.
The sun had set by the time he finished, leaving him to navigate the lower district's twisted streets by lamplight. The Maiden's Kiss squatted between two abandoned buildings, its weathered sign creaking in the evening breeze.
Four symbols marked the doorframe - metal tags forced into the wood. The Black markets crossed daggers on the left, coiled serpent next to him stirred some memory but Fendrel couldn't recall who they belonged to. The other two gave him pause - a broken crown and what looked like a stylized flame.
Fendrel adjusted his cloak, feeling the weight of the vials against his chest. He'd heard rumors about neutral grounds like this, where rival organizations conducted business without bloodshed. The tavern owner probably got a cut of each deal in exchange for discretion and deniability. As for the city guards, well... their conspicuous absence around such establishments spoke volumes about who really controlled these streets.
Fendrel slipped into the tavern, finding a corner table that gave him a view of the front door. The air hung thick with pipe smoke and murmured conversations. His fingers drummed against the worn wood, eyes darting between patrons.
A man dropped into the chair across from him. Scars marked his weathered face, and a patch covered his left eye. His remaining eye fixed on Fendrel with predatory focus.
"Got worried you weren't coming." The man's voice rasped like sandpaper.
Fendrel pulled out the metal plate with crossed daggers.
"Yeah, yeah, that is hardly needed for you. Who else would our neighborhood poison-maker be?" When Fendrel stayed silent, the man cleared his throat. "What've you brought?"
"Same as last time. Plus something new."
"Let's see it then."
Fendrel glanced around. "Here?"
The scarred man's expression hardened. "Look around. Everyone made note of you the moment you walked in. This is neutral ground - nobody's fool enough to start trouble. Now show me."
With trembling hands, Fendrel placed the vials on the table. "The blue toxin works slowly. Takes days, I imagine you can come up with an application for it."
The man examined the Silkslither bottle, holding it up to the lamplight. "Thirty silver."
Sweat broke over Fendrel's back. I imagine I could get more silver for the batch if I haggled little bit no? But do I want to push this guy around when he is my only contact here?
"Deal." Fendrel pocketed the coins, conflicted if he could have pushed for more but unwilling to risk his only reliable lifeline.
"Wait." Fendrel reached for the man's sleeve as he rose. "I need something else. Contact with the people you mentioned before. Not sure which of the marks outside is theirs, but you would know right?"
Something calculating flickered in the man's good eye. "Ten silver."
Fendrel reached for his new coins, then paused. "I could say five and you follow with seven. How about we skip to seven?"
A grin split the scarred face. "You are learning then. Done. I'll let them know you're looking to talk."
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Fendrel clutched the coin purse as he navigated the winding streets back to his lab. Each step echoed against the cobblestones, matching the pounding of his heart. The weight of the silver felt substantial - more than he'd made in weeks of legitimate work.
A shudder ran through his body, the parasite's presence making itself known. The creature inside him stirred, sensing his unease. Less then two days until he needed another dose. The ingredients weren't cheap, and his dwindling supplies...
He passed the abandoned apothecary shop where he used to work. The windows remained dark, dust coating the glass. Before the parasite, he'd dreamed of starting his own, of building an honest business crafting healing potions. Now those dreams felt as hollow as the empty storefront.
The coins clinked with each step. Hundred forty silver total - enough for ingredients to last maybe a week if he was careful. But after that? The criminal world offered steady coin, while legitimate channels barely covered costs.
Fendrel's shoulders slumped. The reality of his situation pressed down on him like a physical weight. He needed the underworld connections, needed their coin to survive. The black market could open more doors, provide steadier work.
He'd crossed lines he never thought he would, and here he stood, ready to cross more. The honest path led nowhere except a slow death as the parasite consumed him. At least this way he had a chance.
Fendrel straightened his back, squaring his shoulders. If dealing with criminals meant survival, then so be it. He'd make whatever arrangements necessary, forge whatever alliances it took. The time for moral questions had passed when the parasite found its way into his flesh.
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A sharp knock jolted Fendrel from his work. He cursed as the interruption made him spill a drop of nightshade essence. The precious liquid sizzled against the wooden workbench, leaving another dark stain among many.
He wiped his hands on a rag looking at the door before another urgent knock hit the wood.
The hinges groaned as a towering figure appeared, wrapped in pristine ebony fabric. Metal buttons shimmered along the garment, and each one displayed the emblem of an family - a family Fendrel instantly recognized.
Oh, fuck me.
"Can I help you?" The words trembled in his throat no matter how hard he tried to maintain composure.
"Master Solinar?" The man's cultured accent contrasted sharply with the surrounding decay. "I represent the House of Blackthorn. We require your expertise in a matter of great urgency."
Fendrel's mind raced. How did a rigid fuck like him learn his name? "You must be mistaken. I'm just a-"
"A skilled alchemist, according to our sources." The man stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. His nose wrinkled at the cramped space. "Lady Blackthorn's daughter has been poisoned. She requires immediate treatment."
"I don't understand. There are dozens of qualified pharmacists in the upper district..."
"Who have all failed to help. Your name was suggested by certain... sources. They spoke highly of your particular talents."
Shit. How does this keep happening, do they not care about getting my name out? Fendrel scratched his neck where the parasite writhed beneath his skin. "I see. And what makes you think I can do any better then the others?"
"Because you understand poisons in ways they don't. Will you help or shall I seek assistance elsewhere?"
"I assume compensation is involved?" The prospect of silver from Blackthorne, or even gold maybe, made Fendrel salivate. One payment could secure enough supplies to suppress the parasite for some time.
"The house pays well for discretion and success." The man said.
"I'll need to examine the patient personally. Different poisons require different approaches."
"Out of the question. The family's reputation-"
"Then the patient dies." Fendrel met the man's gaze. "I can't work blind."
The servant's jaw clenched. "Very well. Gather what you need. We walk."