Sandborn - Awakening of the Frozen Sand

[The good physician treats the disease; the great physician treats the patient who has the disease.] — William Osler

"You do what you can to the best of your abilities, alright? Always to the best of your abilities," Azar said, his tone layered with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "Here, take these as a bonus." He handed Surumadur the small collection of ability cards and items taken from his own people.

Surumadur's eyes widened in shock as he examined the four ability cards.

"You have no use for these ability cards?" he asked, clearly astonished by the generosity.

"Of course I do," Azar replied with a dismissive wave. "I could distribute them among the Mirha people. But I am a magnanimous person, and they originally belonged to your people."

Surumadur bowed deeply, clutching the cards. "You could have taken them away. As the chief of Calabi, I appreciate your gesture."

Azar looked genuinely curious. "Do these cards hold that much value for you?"

"Absolutely," Surumadur confirmed. "Any type of ability card or technique is invaluable to us."

Azar nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Well, if you perform well in the tasks I'm giving you, I'll ensure you receive more techniques and knowledge."

Surumadur's face lit up with excitement. "Is that true?"

Suddenly, Surumadur's gaze was attracted by the intermittent light of the fluxolit on his wristguard. Opening it, Surumadur was pleasantly surprised by the new mission he has just received.

Mission Notification: "Earning Azar's Favor"

Mission Rank: Rare

Mission Description: Prove your worth to Azar by completing the following tasks:

Supply Azar with accurate information regarding the tribes.

Maintain a friendly relationship with the Mirha tribe.

Keep hostile forces unaware of your collaboration with Azar or Mirha.

Time Limit: 2 Months

Rewards:

1 green technique per task

Accept Mission:

[Yes] [No]

Yes, Surumadur thought.

[Mission Accepted]

"I've said before, I don't have a habit of lying," Azar reiterated. "But first things first, where is the old herbalist? I want to know if he has found what I asked for."

"I'll send someone to find him immediately," Surumadur said, hurrying out of the room, still holding the ability cards as if afraid Azar might change his mind.

"What a simple-minded individual," Azar remarked once Surumadur was out of earshot.

He preferred working with straightforward people like Surumadur; their motivations were clear, making them reliable allies.

When Surumadur returned, he was accompanied by Nabul, the old herbalist, who held a blue crystal in his open palm.

"Syed, I have found what you've asked for—a blue salamander's core crystal," Nabul announced, presenting the item.

Azar inspected the crystal and nodded. "It's good enough," he said. "However, core crystals should be kept in special boxes, protected from sunlight and open air. This one has lost some of its luster due to improper storage. This means his quality has declined."

"Forgive me, syed, but we don't have special boxes here," Nabul replied apologetically.

Azar considered imparting the knowledge to create such boxes from simple wood, but decided against it for the moment. "Surumadur, in the future, if you find valuable items such as herbs, objects, or core crystals, please notify me through the fluxolit. I will offer you a good price."

"Yes, Azar Syed, of course," Surumadur agreed.

Azar nodded in satisfaction. "Now, if you would be kind enough, please let me use your Brewing Room," he requested. "And prepare two pieces of paper."

"Please, I will show you around," Nabul said, leading the way.

The sun had begun its ascent behind the rolling dunes, casting long beams of light across the Calabi tribe's settlement. Nestled on the eastern side of the encampment was a modest structure, unassuming yet vital: the Brewing House. Its walls, made from tightly woven desert reeds and animal hides, provided a cool refuge from the relentless heat outside.

Inside, the house was dimly lit by candles, with beams of sunlight filtering through small openings at the top, casting a warm, golden glow in which the dust particles danced unrestrained. The air was thick with the mingled scents of dried herbs, fresh earth, and the faint, lingering smoke of recent brews. Here, in this humble space, the lifeblood of the Calabi tribe was brewed, drop by precious drop.

Several rough-hewn wooden tables were scattered around the room, each one marked with stains and scorch marks from countless potion-making sessions. Simple stone mortars and pestles, along with crude metal knives, lay atop the tables, ready for grinding herbs and slicing roots. The tools were basic, forged by the tribe's artisans, but they were functional and well-used.

Along the walls, makeshift shelves made from planks of acacia wood and leather straps held a variety of jars and containers. These vessels, crafted from clay and glass, contained a rainbow of dried herbs, roots, and minerals, collected from the desert and the few small rivers hidden within its expanse. Some jars were sealed with beeswax, preserving the rarest and most precious ingredients.

In the center of the room, a circular fire pit constructed from smooth desert stones burned steadily. Over the fire hung a large iron cauldron, suspended by a tripod of iron rods, its blackened surface a testament to years of use. The flames beneath crackled softly, and the pleasant aroma of simmering herbs filled the air. A small, worn bellows sat nearby, used to stoke the flames when more heat was needed.

Adjacent to the Brewing Room, accessible through a simple flap in the hide wall, lay a small herb garden. Shielded from the desert winds by a low stone wall, this oasis of greenery thrived under the tender care of the tribe. Hardy desert plants with thick leaves and vibrant flowers grew in neat rows, their medicinal properties well known to the tribe’s healers. A simple irrigation system of clay pipes, fed by a nearby spring, kept the garden lush and green.

Eladra, Nabul's pupil, moved deftly among the tables, her hands a blur of practiced motions as she prepared a new batch of healing salve. Her fingers, calloused from years of work, ground herbs with a stone pestle, releasing their potent aromas into the air. She hummed a low, soothing melody, an ancient song passed down through generations, believed to enhance the potency of her brews.

Azar surveyed the room, pleased with its functionality. "Thank you, Nabul. This will do nicely."

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Nabul said, setting out the papers as requested.

Startled by the entrance of so many guests, Eladra paused to greet them with a bow.

"This is my apprentice," Nabul introduced to Azar. "Eladra, continue your work; the wounded await the medicine."

"Yes," the young woman said humbly before resuming her work.

"Azar Syed, I will prepare a fire pit for you immediately," Nabul said, bustling about to get things ready.

. . .

The air inside the Brewing Room was thick with anticipation. Everyone watched carefully as Azar stood before the second fire pit, ready to begin the intricate process of brewing the Revitalizing Potion, a rare and powerful elixir capable of restoring even the most fatigued and injured of warriors.

At Azar's side lay the ingredients: a bowl of Runic Purified Water, the Core Crystal of a Blue Salamander, two Cinderleaf leaves, a spoon of Oasis Mint tincture, two Gritweed stalks, a twisted Sandthorn Root, a handful of delicate Dunebloom Petals, and a small vial containing seven drops of blood from a Shaduli Viper.

Azar took a deep breath, centering himself. He wasn't entirely certain about the combination of these ingredients but proceeded with confidence. He began by pouring the Runic Purified Water into the small iron cauldron suspended over the fire pit. The water shimmered with a clean glow, the faint runes at the bottom of the cauldron pulsing as it settled.

"This water, blessed by ancient mantras, forms the perfect base for the potion," Azar explained. He then drew another set of purifying runes on it, not convinced by the level of skill the previous preparers had.

As the water started to boil and Azar finished his own blessings, he reached for the Core Crystal of the Blue Salamander. The crystal, a deep azure, pulsed with an inner light.

"Araumir, crush it and place it in the water," Azar instructed, handing Araumir the crystal.

With practiced ease, Araumir reduced the core crystal to small shards and fine powder. As the crystal touched the boiling water, it emitted a soft hum, and the liquid began to bubble gently, absorbing the crystal's restorative energy.

Azar then added the Cinderleaf leaves, their fiery red veins contrasting sharply against the shimmering water. The leaves dissolved almost immediately, releasing their essence into the brew. The liquid took on a slight crimson hue, the Cinderleaf’s properties infusing the potion with warmth and vigor.

He measured out a spoon of Oasis Mint tincture, its cool, refreshing scent filling the room as he poured it into the cauldron. The mint balanced the heat of the Cinderleaf, creating a harmonious blend that would soothe as it healed.

Next, Azar crushed the Gritweed stalks with a stone mortar, releasing their earthy aroma before adding them to the mixture. The potion thickened slightly, taking on the Gritweed’s resilience and strength.

He then retrieved the twisted Sandthorn Root, a tough and gnarled piece of plant matter. Using a sharp knife, Azar sliced it into thin strips, allowing its potent essence to seep into the brew. The root’s properties would add endurance and fortitude to the potion.

After letting it boil for about ten minutes, Azar delicately sprinkled the Dunebloom Petals into the cauldron. The petals floated on the surface, their pale, ghostly white color dissolving slowly, imbuing the potion with their gentle, healing energy.

Finally, he uncorked the vial of Shaduli Viper blood. Holding it over the cauldron, he counted each drop as it fell into the mixture. Seven drops, each one mingling with the potion and causing it to spark with a brief flash of light. The blood, rare and potent, would bind all the ingredients together, amplifying their effects.

Azar took up a wooden stirring rod, worn smooth by years of use, and began to stir the potion clockwise. He chanted an ancient incantation, his voice steady and calm as the ingredients melded together. It was his blessing. The liquid in the cauldron shifted colors, from shimmering blue to fiery red, then to a calming green, and finally settled into a rich, brown hue.

The room filled with the harmonious scent of the combined ingredients, an aroma that spoke of life, vitality, and renewal. Azar continued to stir, ensuring the potion was perfectly blended as the fire subsided. After a few more minutes, the potion emitted a soft, radiant glow, signaling that it was ready. Azar drew two healing runes above the cauldron, and the potion instantly absorbed their power upon completion.

"Araumir, help me out," Azar instructed, his body too weak to handle the final steps alone.

Carefully, with experienced movements, Araumir ladled the potion into a series of four stoppered vials. Each vial contained a portion of the precious elixir, ready to restore strength and vitality to those in need. Azar smiled, knowing the potion was potent enough to improve his condition.

"Here, this is for you." Azar stored three vials in his storage ring and tossed the fourth one to Nabul, who almost didn't catch it. Azar's poor control and aim due to his weakened state were evident, but he played it cool. "Use it as guidance," he instructed. "Now, after I write down the process for you, I ask Chief Surumadur to find me a place to stay and recuperate for a while before leaving to pay a visit to the Sarabi tribe."

"Yes, of course," Surumadur answered joyfully. "Nabul, what do you say, are you capable of concocting this potion if you have the ingredients?"

Nabul, still in awe of what he had just witnessed, nodded vigorously. "Yes, Azar Syed. With your instructions, I believe I can."

Azar smiled, satisfied. "Good. This potion will serve good to your tribe. Use it wisely."

Surumadur and Nabul both bowed deeply, their respect for Azar growing with each passing moment.