Legend of the Spellthief

Apparating within Ahren’s apothecary as usual, Logan walked to the counter and rang the bell atop it twice.

“Coming”, the Irish PC replied as he moved through the curtains that hid his backrooms.

“I’m back again”, Logan announced with a smile.

Ahren placed a mortar and pestle on the counter before saying, “That’s early. I’m not done yet. Or did you have another order?”

“Of a sort. I got a new quest that includes brewing and selling potions. Was hoping you had suggestions for quick-to-brew potions?”

Ahren chuckled, “Turning to my side ay?”

“I think it reacted to me improving my gear”, Logan admitted as he leaned on the counter.

“I got some ideas, let me get a piece of parchment.” Ahren went back and forth, wrote up a quick set of instructions and handed them to Logan. “There’s four you can try, see if any don’t apply to the objectives.”

Logan scanned over the text quickly, “I know two of these, thanks, will do.”

“Try to sell one of each to me too, it’d help my stocks but also to test if you can work with other PCs on this”, Ahren requested.

“That was my idea too.”

After another shopping spree in town to buy supplies for Alchemy, Logan made his way back to his room.

Biting his thumb, Logan painted a circle in the air, his spellforce causing the blood to float as he chanted, “Ochus, I smith thy words”, using the spell that Orichalcum taught him for the times he needed to contact them.

The blood then circled, causing the wind within the centre to blur and shade itself grey, eventually forming a window into a dark room with a grey-robed woman sitting at a desk.

“Ochus here, how might I help you?” the woman from Orichalcum asked.

“Glad this spell worked without issue. I have information to send through the group”, Logan started.

The woman pulled out a new piece of parchment and drenched her quill in ink, “Speak, my liege.”

“In 16 days there will be an increase in demand for armaments. They include potions, trinkets, weapons, and shields.”

The woman scribbled quickly as Logan spoke, “Where have you gained this information, and what will be the cause?”

“The first part will be secret, as for the second, I believe it lines up with Lightbeam and other guild returns to the city. Resupply will be harsher than usual, but following events might require a greater number of armaments”, Logan theorised.

“Understood. Do you have any commands or requests?”

“If able, can you move the opinions of merchants that they need to accept a bit more in the way of purchasing items from adventurers and non-contract workers until the Ice King’s revival date has passed?” Logan asked, knowing when he tried to sell so many of the same items met with resistance.

“We shall spread the word. Will you be aiding in the stockpiling of goods?”

“I will do my part to craft and bolster the markets with new wares, most likely at cost or just a bit higher.”

“Do you entreat us also to put in supply requests to neighbouring settlements or for Gauntlet crafters to make more?”

“If you are able to in the timeframe. Not enough that they would be put out, but a bit of trade is more likely good than bad.”

“Very well, we shall do so. Anything further?”

“Not at this time”, Logan ended.

“Then I shall wish you a joyous day”, Ochus replied as the circle minimised to its centre and disappeared.

Logan sighed, the spell was easy enough but the state of being so formal and seemingly atop a pedestal still chipped at his social energy. At least Orichalcum was still proving it would be an aid to him, now he had an avenue to warn the city about oncoming threats without revealing himself, though this one was not an army of goblins. So far.

Hurrying to work, Logan pulled out several alchemical supplies. From mortars and pestles to alembics and fires. Crushing up leaves, squeezing out juices, and burning components, Logan looked quite the brewer. If he weren’t so opposite in personality he’d be similar to Darius in the cave.

Alchemy was tied for the lowest tier of crafting for Logan, alongside Tailoring, but it was at least faster than smithing which he had yet to unlock. Aided by his necklace, he could still craft potions at a good rate.

While potions brewed within his bottle and cauldron he could work on others, making it quite a clockwork and fast process. With spare cauldrons and alembics, he was able to multi-brew, compared to Trinket Craft where he had to be focused on one item at a time.

With four differently coloured vials complete, Logan warped to Ahren to find annoyance in the fact he couldn’t just sell them to his allies. Taking the potions back, the Spellthief went to the local markets to sell off the new creations. At shoddy quality, he could only sell them for the cost of the materials, plus a copper or three for his troubles and Haggle skill.

The next three days were dedicated to the brewing of potions, some failures occurred due to learning new recipes or attempting fresh creation processes.

While he went to sell off the first batch so he could replace components, Logan was treated to the sight of a gaunt man in his late teens.

The man stared at a few vials on offer before looking at the merchant, “Sorry, sir, which of these are for the flu?”

Logan pointed at a vial before the merchant could walk over, “This. That word is ‘Flu’ and that is ‘Cure’”, Logan instructed.

The merchant nodded, “Ay, that be true. You wanting one? It’s 2 silver and 4 copper today.”

Logan pointed at the symbols on a sticker near the vial as the merchant read the numbers.

The man pulled at his pouch and counted to 9 through copper coins, “Can I work off the worth?”

The merchant shook their head, “Sorry, no handouts, and no work going right now. Check the G-Hall or labour hirements.”

“What do you need it for? You look fine”, Logan asked.

“Grandfather’s ill sir.”

“Parents can’t buy it?”

“They were injured during the raid some weeks ago, all our money has gone to repairs and day-to-day livin’.”

Logan used Identification on the man, he was only 18 but his thin arms and neck made him seem so small. He was a Rogue, but it was a good bet he hadn’t been blessed with enough coin to get geared to be an adventurer.

“I can think of some work, where do you live?” Logan asked.

The young man’s eyes lightened up as his frown turned to a smile, “This way, sir!”

Logan was taken to a patchwork home, boards nailed over the windows where they had suffered from collision and a door that was slanted in the frame.

“I’m home!” the man yelled as he opened the door with a struggle.

The interior didn’t look much better. Scratched and dented furniture and a pitcher that was half broken held clear water inside.

“No one home?” Logan asked.

“Parents are at work, grandpa is in the back”, the man replied, leading Logan to a cramped room at the back.

An elderly gentleman was resting in a bed that had his head and feet touching opposite walls. Sweat dripped from his balding head onto a piece of cloth he had substituted a pillow for.

The old man didn’t look good, his status showed him to be as frail as he looked. Combined with the flu, the man was going to be out for a while.

Holding a hand over the older man, Logan chanted, “Clean, Temper-rate, Minor Morph”, causing the sleeping target to look like he was ready to go out on the town, his clothes and body cleaned while the towel on his forehead was chilled.

“You a caster, mister?” the younger man asked.

“Yeah. Feed this to your grandpa”, Logan instructed as he handed one of his vials to the man.

The youth nodded and had his grandfather sip the drink in their sleep, colour returning to the sleeping man’s face quickly.

The young man turned to thank Logan and ask a question, but the Spellthief had already left for the main room.

Within the combined front room, kitchen, dining, and living room, Logan used his Clean mick over all of it, making it look almost like new if not for the damaged parts.

Logan just finished some muttering before the young man returned with a wide mouth, “Sir, this is more than I had asked.”

“That’s fine”, Logan replied as he pulled out a coin, “as for the work. If this coin lands on heads your debt is paid, tails you’ll work as a porter for me in a quest.”

“I can’t carry that much sir”, the man admitted.

“What’s your name?”

“Vern, sir.”

“Vern, are you ready for the flip?”

“F… fine”, Vern accepted in defeat.

“Good”, Logan replied as he flipped the coin onto the table he had cleaned. It danced onto the wooden surface and flipped into the air again, Vern clutching his fists tightly in anticipation as it landed again and trembled till it stopped.

“Heads, aw shucks”, Logan acted as he snapped his fingers.

“Hah! What luck!” Vern cheered as he jumped.

“Well, there’s me out a few silver, ‘suppose you can keep the copper as a victory token”, Logan offered as he moved to the door.

Vern bowed, “Thank you, sir!”

With Logan having left, Vern checked the coin over. It was a normal coin, Logan had just used Telekinesis to force it to land on heads.

Rushing to the door, Vern tried to follow Logan to get his name but was just met by a rush of wind, “The Phasing Hunter?”

Another two days passed as Logan continued to brew and sell off potions when he could, not every day was eventful but Gauntlet was a bustling capital, so he was bound to find more trouble.

Whilst on his way back to the inn, Logan could overhear chatter in a nearby alleyway, the familiar sound of thumping into chests. Investigating further, Logan saw a trio of more seasoned adventurers bullying a quartet of beginners.

“If you’re lucky enough for a next time, you’ll be quicker!” one of the seasoned men shouted as he punched a mage to the floor.

“No guilds will take lowlies like you”, a woman teased.

Before another kick could be landed, Logan landed in front of the two groups first.

“Who”, the man started as he eyed the armband on Logan, “Fare hunter, what brings you here?”

Logan looked at the bruised newcomers and then back to the experienced ones, “What do you think you’re doing to these people?”

The last man spoke up, “Just ending a duel, you know how rough it gets.”

“Duels have been banned.”

“Of course they were”, the man replied with sweat dripping down his face, “these were set up before the ban. The leeway, you see?”

“Either way, continuing to fight while they obviously did not win is against the law. And that law is long standing”, Logan intimidated as he got close to the man’s face.

The other two delinquents double-checked Logan’s armband and tutted as they saw its colour.

“Sorry, sir. We’ll just take our leave then”, the woman interjected as he grabbed the arm of her ally.

“Hey”, one of the younger men spoke up, “they didn’t give us our pay.”

Logan stared at the three making their way out, “That true?”

The woman replied, “You know green necks. They want to make as easy money as they can.”

“They got what they were worth”, the man added.

“If that’s so, you won’t mind coming to the guardhouse to doublecheck under truth magic.”

“Sir. No need to spend money for them to make more.”

“No need, I’ll pay for it”, Logan replied with crossed arms.

The trio looked at each other before having the man throw a pouch over, “Fine. That’ll cover it.”

One of the younger women then spoke, “Watch out—”

Before the warning finished, Logan had warped to his centre and appeared behind the trio. Planting hands on their backs, he chanted thrice, “Flame Grasp”, igniting them sequentially as they all fell unconscious.

The quartet of newcomers looked shocked at the felling of the three who eclipsed their power so easily. Logan took the remaining pouches from the trio and ferried them to the four, kicking away the false pouch that had black sand fall out of it.

“Explosives like that won’t damage me much, but thanks for the warning”, Logan informed as he helped the adventurers to their feet.

They all bowed their heads to Logan as one of the women spoke, “Thank you, sir hunter. Not many would have stuck their necks out for ours.”

“No problem. I had to deal with some shitheads when I was starting too. Doubly as a mage.”

“It’d be simple if guilds let in seven-dayers”, one of the men said offhandedly.

“Stick to quests much weaker than you, and always take more than you need to meet them”, Logan instructed.

“We try to, but the bigger quests give so much more, and we’ve debts to pay”, the second man added.

Logan slouched a bit, “I understand that, but debts can wait longer than death’s empty returns.”

“Sure, sir. We’ll use what we earned here and keep at it”, the second woman accepted.

“If anyone else like those three harass you, go to a guardhouse and inform them about it. If you need a personal touch, just ask for Logan”, the Spellthief offered as he moved back to the unconscious adventurers.

Flinging them over his shoulders, Logan looked high and warped away, to hand the brigands over to the Gerro Guardhouse.

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