Tales Resold [Imperfect_M]

[Whim]

@Imperfect_M

The Looking Glass was in the Old City, the original fortress upon which Zantaric was built and expanded. It benefited from cobbled streets and the presence of enough Grimgut mercenaries to deter the riffraff. Zantaric had more than enough riffraff. The curiosity shop was tucked away in a side-street, sporting a dirt yard where an ox and cart were stabled. Painted on the front door was a mirror and eye.

--

Niamh sauntered through the maze of shelves, pausing to straighten a chess set carved from Kadir ivory, and wipe a smudge from an onyx mirror found in the petrified city of Urx. In her line of work having a pretty shop did not bring in bring in much money. She could turn a profit with a simple warehouse and the right connections. Of course past a point what good was money if you couldn't surround yourself with comfort and nice things? It pained the former witch-hunter to admit it, but she rather enjoyed being a provincial shopkeeper, at least some of the time.

Through her dusty windows she caught sight of a mule meandering toward her stable. Hopefully someone looking to do business. Most of her clientele were merchants looking for the odd status symbol, or that boy from the flower-shop buying every single frog with a fishing pole he could manage. It made for a pittance. She made her coin from selling magical texts from people who knew how to use them.

[Imperfect_M]

"Do you think we're going the right way?" Tathfheithleann asked.

Uisce the mule didn't answer. He simply kept along at what some may call a "full mosey."

Tathfheithleann laid on her back atop the mule's pack saddle; the top of its panniers had been modified to make something akin to a flat space that the little Halfling could stretch out across. Uisce was large for a mule, and Tathfheithleann's small size made such an arrangement comfortable for those long, cross-country journeys; especially with the fact that she had a very comfortable set of cushions and blankets arranged to allow her to lounge as Uisce meandered along. Hell, she could even nap on this thing... Provided of course, she trusted Uisce enough to know where they were going.

She rolled onto her stomach and looked past the mule's neck. "The Looking Glass" was the place referred to her by one of her trade contacts... Look for the mirror and the eye. While she was no fan of Zantaric and its many, many unlawfuls, she was willing to risk it. Besides, to the outside observer, the only thing Uisce was carrying was a Halfling! The panniers had been warded with Illusions to hide them from view.

-----------

Through the door came a Halfling: Tathfheithleann of Summervale, with her little green cloak swishing as she turned to close the door behind her. If this Alchemist was here, with all of her rather controversial takes on the bridge between Arcana and Chemistry... Well, she most definitely was not here in The Looking Glass by accident.

She swept her gaze briefly across the labyrinthine shelves and the myriad of knick-knacks that filled them. Provided Niamh was in plain view, Tathfheithleann approached.

"You are the owner, yes?" she asked, standing with the confidence of a woman ten feet tall as opposed to her diminutive four.

[Whim]

"Niamh Wayrest. And this is my shop." She gave a nod, not being one for fawning pleasantries. The halfling seemed overly cheery. Usually this was the mark of a good liar or someone who hasn't yet gotten burned, in her experience with the occult.

"You after something in particular?" She made a half-hearted sweeping gesture toward a pair of lions etched in Essrynni prayers - made to scare of jinn. "Of course, don't mind me if you want to browse."

[Imperfect_M]

"Something in particular, yes," Tathfheithleann replied, "I am told that you might have one of the journals of Armand of Traust, or perhaps a copy of one?"

Armand of Traust... A name not so readily spoken in academic circles, or polite circles in general; Armand was an Alchemist well-known for his poisons. Through a combination of malicious arcana and vast experience in botany and chemistry, Armand could manufacture poisons nigh-undetectable when dissolved, or could create poisons that could be dispersed in massive clouds that would explode forth from a thrown object.

But, by that same token, Armand of Traust was also the inventor of a type of stable explosive and incendiary. It was Armand who discovered that, by using the fire glands and sacs of the flame-breathing salamander, a safe-to-transport explosive could be made, one that would not react violently unless it made contact with calcium phosphide. This form of Alchemist's Fire was referred to during the later part of Armand's life as "Armand's Salamander" or simply "Bottled Salamander."

And that recipe was exactly what Tathfheithleann was looking for. Armand may have taken many of his recipes to his grave, but his journals were out there somewhere.

[Whim]

Armand of Traust. The name was familiar. Niamh knew he was an alchemist and and exiled many decades ago, though she cared little for the specifics of his research. It was just enough to know who might want such things. "Old spellbooks are a specialty. Alchemical and Elemental scholars are this way. I've got them alphabetized by first author." They walked toward the back of the shop. It was packed with narrow rows of bookshelves, scarcely a foot between them. The former witch-hunter paused at the third shelf and gave a nod. It would be up to Tathfheithleann to look. Niamh had never been one for scraping and bowing over a customer. That and Zantaric did get robbers. It was just common sense not to leave herself open to attack by a stranger.

"Armand make blast powder, right?" A ragged boy who was clutching a broom stepped into view, bringing with him an uncharacteristic arrogance and swagger. "I'd suppose you'd mostly be wanting to use that up and around Fell? Places where bringing a proper pyromancer is too risky?

"I'd worked up an elixir that can induce partial transformation into a salamander chimaera. Let's you spit fire and everything! Gives you a crest and tail also, but that's only temporary. Depending on what you want to do its probably just as good. Or better!"

[Imperfect_M]

"Thank ya much, I'll let you know if I find what I'm after," Tathfheithleann said politely as she began combing through the titles of spellbooks, or simply drawing out and quickly skimming anything that resembled a journal.

"Armand makes blast power, right?" came a voice from over the Halfling's shoulder, "I'd suppose you'd mostly be wanting use that up and around Fell? Places where being a proper pyromancer is too risky?"

Tathfheithleann turned and was about to voice her protest, but the ragged boy continued: "I'd worked up an elixir that can induce partial transformation into a salamander chimaera. Let's you spit fire and everything! Gives you a crest and tail also, but that's only temporary. Depending on what you want to do it's probably just as good. Or better!"

The Halfling pinched the bridge of her nose. Ah right, adventurers... Those spell-throwing, weapon-swinging yahoos who turned increasingly-absurd methods of suicide into a sport. She had almost forgotten about them and their kinds when she went out on her latest trip to get more reagents for her shop. Adventurers were almost always her most stress-inducing customers, especially when they would get so high-and-mighty as to try and threaten her with their antics in order to skip out on payment.

"N-... Noooo..." Tathfheithleann grumbled, "What kind of idiot would willingly go to Fell...?"

She turned to replace the journal in her hands, only to grab another one and skim through its pages.

"I need Armand of Traust's writing, not his results. For all his lunacy, he had made some very large strides in Alchemy..."

Tathfheithleann was being a bit harsh. She had a rather low opinion of "professional adventurers" from her experiences with them; and she was hardly the adventurous type. She liked her books, she liked her store, she liked her work, and she certainly liked being alive to partake in all of those things. In her mind, if someone wanted to die that badly, they could simply jump off of a bridge, or cast a spell in Connlaoth, rather than go to the Fell.

[Whim]

The child the voice belonged to did not quite have the look of an adventurer. He was about ten or so, with stubbly red hair, and clad in a faded tunic. "Well if you're going to cart around something so volatile as blasting powder I'd guess you were trying to blow  something up in Fel. Good mining, lots of pre-Serenian ruins, spellwork impossible.

"And I know he's an alchemist." Ewan huffed. He didn't like her tone very much at all! And who was this provincial to get officious with him? He was surely one of the best alchemists in Serendipity! And while he was no expert in pyrotechnics, it was child's play compared to biotransmutation. "What I'm asking is what ya need his books for? If you're looking for the safe and efficient transport and creation of flame I guess my solution is a little inelegant, but it works! His experiments are over a hundred years old! I might be able to help, is all."

--

Niamh meanwhile had drifted off among other shelves, in search of books where Armand was a second or third author. She did not like standing idle or making small talk. The halfling didn't seem he thieving sort, anyway, and the front door was locked. Off in the distance she heard her new shop assistant chattering away. Hopefully he was not troubling the poor halfling. The boy was too high-spirited for his own good, and vastly overestimated his own talents...

[Imperfect_M]

For a ten year old, that kid sure knew his stuff; or so Tathfheithleann thought. She had no idea of his true nature, or his past. But he knew what he was talking about.

"Well if you're going to cart around something so volatile as blasting powder I'd guess you were trying to blow  something up in Fel. Good mining, lots of pre-Serenian ruins, spellwork impossible," the said.

"Not worth the money or risk of gruesome death for me," the Halfling replied as she shut another book and replaced it neatly back on its shelf before drawing out the next one in the row. She only made eye contact with the boy for about as long as it took to open the text to its first page.

"And I know he's an alchemist," the boy huffed, "What I'm asking is what ya need his books for? If you're looking for the safe and efficient transport and creation of flame I guess my solution is a little inelegant, but it works! His experiments are over a hundred years old! I might be able to help, is all."

Tathfheithleann briefly swept those lavender eyes of hers up from skimming through pages to give the boy a rather level look. The truth is, she wasn't looking to make an incendiary at all. Tathfheithleann intended to use Armand's work and study into salamander flame sacs as a launching point for a different tool entirely. However, whatever Armand had to say about preserving and using salamander organs to transport potentially dangerous and volatile chemicals... She needed that to make sure her tool-in-progress wouldn't simply backfire and explode.

"It's a personal project," she said before closing yet another dusty book and taking the next one in the row.

The world of academics was a competitive one in Serendipity... Tathfheithleann already had been stung before simply because she said too much. Zantaric was filled with thieves, and material goods weren't the only things that someone could steal. Sometimes, especially in academia and research, even an idea can be worth far more than it appears.

Tathfheithleann opened the tome... There, she recognized Armand's handwriting. In her own collection she possessed only one of his other works, and it served her well in medicinal research... She skimmed through the pages, brow furrowed as her eyes darted back-and-forth until finally, she settled on an anatomical diagram of a Serenian fire salamander. This is it, or at least a decent copy.

"I've found what I was looking for!" the Halfling called to Niamh before returning her attention to the boy before her.

"What's your name, kid?" she finally asked.

[Whim]

The boy snorted at her evasiveness. A personal project! Ewan never had much patience for secretive scholars; as if he'd want to steal anyone's ideas! Not to mention it was putting something into practice that posed the real challenge. "I'm Ewan ap Rhys." He had a reputation in some circles. For being brash and putting his foot in his mouth. Also for turning himself into a child. He drifted nearer the halfling to read over his shoulder, bouncing with excitement "Wow! That's a real good drawing! It looked like the peat bog variant you can see the spiny crests and-!"

Niamh herself had found another tome with Armand's name on it. The first author, however, was Wylam Tulathyl. He was a notorious warlock operating along the Adelan border, known for raiding dragon burial grounds to reanimate the remains. "I have another here. Recovered it myself, actually, in another life." She was standing behind them, having not made a single sound. The book was bound in dragonhide.

The assassin's gaze narrowed as she approached the pair. Bothering customers, and giving away free and dubious magical advice, were rather bad for business. "If you're done your chores for the day why don't you give our guest's mule a good brushing, if she'd prefer? I think she rather wants to make her purchase and get on the road..."

The boy flushed a little, looking toward the door with a sigh. "But-" He would much rather see what this was all about.

[Imperfect_M]

Ewan ap Rhys... Ewan ap Rhys... Why did that name sound so familiar? Tathfheithleann heard such a name spoken during her travels, somewhere around Ravensway, but she couldn't remember why the name sounded so familiar. She might give looking him up a try, maybe ask some of her old university contacts if they'd heard the name.

"I have another tome here," came Niamh's voice from a hell of a lot closer than Tathfheithleann was prepared for. "Recovered it myself, actually, in another life."

The Halfling tried to hide her startled jump by clearing her throat. She looked down at the dragonhide-bound book, authored by Wylam Tulathyl and co-authored by Armand of Traust. Now there's an interesting find. Wylam's necromancy (especially in regards to dragons) was a bit out of Tathfheithleann's wheelhouse, but such a book would be an interesting read nonetheless, and might also yield something useful besides!

"A-Ah, thank a much," Tathfheithleann said sheepishly, "I'll take both of 'em. Retired adventurer, or just got tired o' the mage life?"

"If you're done with your chores for the day why don't you give our guest's mule a good brushing, if she'd prefer?" Niamh said to Ewan, "I think she rather wants to make her purchase and get on the road."

"But-" Ewan began to protest.

"Oh- No no, no thanks, it's okay!" Tathfheithleann interjected, "He doesn't like strangers."

Uisce's disdain for strangers was of course a bold-faced lie, however Tathfheithleann wasn't about to let anyone in Zantaric near her mule, or anything on him for that matter. Despite the wards and illusions all over Uisce's pannier bags, she was not about to take any chances. That, and if one of those protective wards triggered, whoever set it off was going to get a nasty electric shock... Tathfheithleann didn't want to cause any accidental injuries to employees of a business she planned on making deals with.

"You accept payment in currencies only, or do ya deal in trades too?" she asked Niamh.

[Whim]

"Adventurer or mage? Neither." Niamh offered a smile though it was hardly any mirth in it. "Used to hunt down mages not unlike yourself. Anyone meddling in things they shouldn't be, according to the powers that be. But that was ages ago. More coin and comfort in helping your sort acquire research and materials." The assassin knew a fair collection of wards and simple tricks, but did not like to advertise it. Getting the drop on someone was worth more than being able to douse candles with a fingersnap.

"You rehearse that little speech every time-" The boy rolled his eyes, rather grateful not to be sent to tend the damned mule. This halfling had him moderately curious. He hadn't really gotten to see proper magic in some time, other than the odd criminal armed with some quirk or trick.

"If her mule doesn't need tending maybe Ganthry does." She gritted her teeth, nodding toward the yard. She kept a shaggy red aurochs to move her own goods, and did not want distractions. Ewan left in a huff, front bell jangling.

Niamh's gaze flickered from Linn to her cart and back. No one of means would travel to dress this way. Looking like easy-pickings just invited trouble and attention. "I rather like money. Open to other arrangements, of course, if it's something I can sell." She gave the second book a nudge across the countertop, allowing the halfling to peruse but neve fully letting it out of her control. It was, naturally, a guide to the reanimation of draconids. There was special attention paid not only to the preservation but revivification of the bronchial gland. 

[Imperfect_M]

A mage-hunter... Tathfheithleann didn't peg Niamh for a Connlaothan, especially with how comfortable she was around magic and other artifacts. But, all the same: She had what the Halfling needed.

"I rather like money. Open to other arrangements, of course, if it's something I can sell," Niamh answered.

"Well, I travel light," Tathfheithleann responded, "Coin's are heavy, but I got a few gemstones I can use to trade. What do you say to a Unicorn horn wand? I made it a few years back and ended up not needing it. It's a good wand, 'course. I never make anything half-assed! What do you say?"

[Whim]

Nothing about Niamh seemed to suggest she was Connlaothian. A pale face muttered with freckles, turquoise hair, and an upturned nose firmly marked her as Serenian. Nations other than Connlaoth had had a need to deal with monsters and dark sorcerers. Serendipity was no exception.

--

"We'll see to the gems later, but show me the wand. It's been a while since I've seen alicorn. I remember it being beautiful...

"But more to the point, whose going to admit to make something half-assed?" a ghost of a smile crossed her face and she crossed her arms. The young woman looked almost playful and not dour for a moment. "You'll need to demonstrate its value as an implement. In the yard, mind you. I'm sure you understand. Need to know exactly what I'm getting out of this."

[Imperfect_M]

"We'll see to the gems later, but show me the wand. It's been a while since I've seen alicorn," Niamh replied. "I remember it being beautiful..."

"Unicorn," the little alchemist corrected, "Alicorn's leaps-and-bounds more expensive for... Well, a long list of reasons."

"But more to the point, whose going to admit to make something half-assed?" Niamh said, "You'll need to demonstrate its value as an implement. In the yard, mind you. I'm sure you understand. Need to know exactly what I'm getting out of this."

Tathfheithleann quirked up a corner of her lips. Business-savvy; even an honest businessman would be someone lost to lunacy if they admitted to doing a shoddy job...

"As ya wish; after you."

- - - - - - - - - -

Tathfheithleann drew out a slender redwood box and popped the latches. Inside was a delicate, spiraling wand. Tiny, finely-carven sigils and patterns covered its surface, all neatly and efficiently arranged as if the work of an artist's steady hand. The Halfling may sometimes be a bit overconfident, but her confidence in her work was well-earned. She picked up the delicate spiral; it was hardly as long as her own forearm, and gave it a quick tap with her index finger. The patterns along its surface slowly set alight in a dim blue glow.

"It's specialized for Transmutation, but it can do other jobs like Evocation and Warding easily enough," Tathfheithleann explained, "Just don't go trying to reach anything on the Outer Planes with it. It'll overload and break apart. This one's not made for Scrying or Summoning."

She wove a pattern in the air, starting with a simple circle outline and tracing a complex series of symbols in concentric rings as she worked her way towards the center: Easily recognizable as a complicated, but well-known Warding spell. Practically every Serenian university taught it as part of its upper-level courses. The illusory symbol in the air glowed a dim blue, like the wand; the glow intensified as Tathfheithleann closed the final circle and the Ward spun like a pinwheel. It abruptly winked out of existence and re-appeared beneath the Halfling's feet, rapidly expanding until it formed a neat, slowly-rotating ring around herself.

"So, what do you think?" Tathfheithleann asked Niamh.

[Whim]

"Always knew alicorn to be the horn itself. I've only once, before this, heard of a winged unicorn being called an alicorn. Thought I was being taken. Got offered the horn, too. Damn shame." Niamh mused and gave Tathfheithleann a look. The halfling seemed pretty confident in her assessment. Niamh still had her doubts. Probably some magically altered cryptid for a wealthy child's amusement. 

The demonstration went well enough. The monster hunter did not have an eye for the particulars of spellwork. She knew simple wards, which was more than enough. On a deeper level Niamh knew how to sense the ebbs and flows of magic in a thing. The horn and spell were potent. Enough to fetch something, anyway. "Good craftsmanship. I'd say it buys you his journal. Gems should handle Tulathyl's if you-"

"Hey!" A voice interrupted, taking an officious tone. Ewan had been lazing against a bale of straw, watching the display. He was rather sore about needing to feed the ox, of course, he had to earn his keep when Niamh didn't need his magic. Even if she didn't like him conducting business or annoying customers the whole affair made the boy bristle. "If the horn is meant for transmutation we should see it do some transmutations, yeah? And stress test it against something, too, because mostly you use an implement for amplification."

[Imperfect_M]

Ewan had made a point. Wands and other foci were typically meant to aid or supplement the abilities a spellcaster already had or trained for. Tathfheithleann had specialized this wand for Transmutation, but had enough room left on it to inscribe sigils of Evocation and Warding.

"I'm not about to go turning lead into gold in this town," Tathfheithleann replied as she, with a simple flick of the wand, dismissed the enruned circle beneath her feet. She rolled the wand between her fingers and placed it back in its protective case. "If ya wanna paint a sign above your head that says: 'Rob Me,' that's on you."

The Halfling turned her attention again to Niamh. "The wand and say... A two-carat mid-range Serenian ruby? That should be more than enough."

Gemstones, especially those of finer grade, could be quite valuable to both nobility and spellcaster alike. They made for great mana batteries or focal points for a spellcasting implement. And that is without saying of course, how valuable they are to the mundane folk because "shiny rock."

[Whim]

Niamh crossed her arms, studying the halfling. Probably her first time in Zantaric. "Had a shop in this town for a few years. Got Friends who make sure I don't get robbed. Nothing to fear doing business with me-"

"Well you don't have to turn lead into gold! There's lots of other transmutations that ought to show off what your stick can do! Bjoran's Boreation could make your mule there grow a nice arctic pelt. Could melt the door hinge with Ferrodynamic Fluidity." Ewan scolded, enumerating various spells on his fingers in a huff. This halfling was the one traveling here, not the other way around! What did she know about the city? "I can test its strength if you- hey!"

"That's quite enough. You have chores to do." The shopkeeper gave the child a gentle swat. She kept the kid around to keep things clean and occasionally do a bit of magic, as she herself could not. And this was about selling a book, not debating magical technique. She fixed her gaze back to the alchemist. "So you want just the one book? I'll need to value the gems, mind you. Given the rarity of the book the wand and four rubies are what I need to break even. How's that work?"

[Imperfect_M]

Four rubies? That was quite a steep price, but one still worth it. Four uncut gemstones was acceptable, or at least it was to Tathfheithleann. She made enough money through her business that she could make this exchange without much thought; doubly so because she knew that the manuscript in question would pay for itself in no time.

"Four?" she parroted. She feigned pondering over it, tapping her little foot before nodding. "Aye, I can do four."

She fished out the appropriate number of gemstones. With a simple flick of the wrist she produced a cloth, seemingly transmuted out of nothing. The Halfling delicately wrapped the gems in the cloth, with a neatly wound bow to top it off.

"Pleasure doin' business with ya!" she chirped.