Finally seeing all the crew and party members have departed, you quickly make your way down the gangplank and work your way to the north along the docks. The main landing is the usual path from the docks, but it is by no means the only. Only once you are several blocks from the rest of the party and crew and deep in a series of alleys do you finally breathe a sigh of relief. Once you take a moment to collect yourself and your thoughts, you work your way through the backways to the Grand Library. It is as majestic as you remember, a frankly enormous building with a central circle and six radiating wings, like the points of a star.

After careful observation to be certain no one has followed you, you make your way to the entrance. A quick scan of the main entrance and its grand marble reception shows none of your friends are within, and it is unlikely anyone could have made it here before you. A second, greater sigh escapes your chest as you realize you made it. The library, and solitude for your research, and yours to do with what you will.
This message was last updated by the GM at 19:19, Mon 11 Dec 2023.

Archimander pushes the large doors open and steps inside. Taking a deep breath, he inhales the aromas of ink and leather, old binding glue and parchment. He walks up to the attendant at the main counter and inquires about the location of any books on the history of Ralan Gul, the maelstrom, magical phenomena in history, and the history of current religious beliefs and pantheons. As an aside, he also asks about any recent publications on alchemy and thaumaturgical science.

Once given a list of library sections - and not a few specific book recommendations - he winds his way through the stacks, pushing a cart, poring through books titles and opening pages. Some he gently sets in the cart, others he places back on their shelves.

With his initial harvest secured, he finds a quiet alcove by a window, with a desk and cushioned seat, pulls out his notebook - his personal one, not the council-assigned one, and begins taking notes as he reads

---

[Private to GM: What books is he able to find, how sketchy/deflecting does the clerk seem, and how long does he go before he is interrupted or realizes he's hungry/tired?]

The clerk is quietly respectful, and jots down a list of sections, with a list of books they think might be good to look for. They ask you if you need help finding the sections, and then wish you a pleasant research day. They don't seem to be sketchy or anything like that, in fact, they seem more like a student trying to do their own research while on the clock, as they are surrounded by books and papers.

The search takes a while, but you end up with a good selection of titles on a variety of subjects. That list is:

• The Annals of Ralan Gul: A Tapestry Across Millennia - Author: Mariselle Windthorn
• Whispers from the Tempest: Decoding the Maelstrom - Author: Haga Arai
• Arcane Chronicles: Exploring Magical Phenomena Through Time - Author: Odruss Nosidric
• Divine Threads: Mapping the Tapestry of Religious Beliefs - Author: Sylas Shadowbrook
• Ethereal Pantheons: A Survey of Deities in Ralan Gul's History - Author: Dalyor Ergella
• The Alchemist's Handbook: Recent Advances and Modern Practices - Author: Octavia Emberforge
• Thaumaturgy Unleashed: Pioneering the Science of Magic - Author: Ruven Iarfir
• The Enigmatic Vortex: A Scholarly Study of the Maelstrom - Author: Saida Balcaryn
• Runes of Power: Tracing the Origins of Magical Symbols - Author: Vesryn Carralei
• Alchemy's Resurgence: Modern Insights and Breakthroughs - Author: Seraphiel Flameforge

Most of these works you have heard of, but have not actually been exposed to, though you know of and trust the opinions of the authors from your school studies. Each of them are learned scholars frequently cited in others' work.

Specific insights on request, but in brief you can confirm that the gods mentioned by the strangers are not known on Ralan Gul. You also reconfirm for yourself that there has been magical research done on the Maelstrom for generations of history, with inconclusive results. It is magically generated and composed of innumerable individual magical signatures, indicating that many mages worked together for its construction, and it shows signs of basically every known school of magic. Neither arcane nor divine magic has any effect on it, and nothing that passes the threshold in the air, on the surface, or below the water has ever been known to return. Nothing that passes can be located with any known divination magic either.

You remain like that for several hours, only noticing the passage of time when a particularly clumsy fellow scholar knocks into a book return cart, sending several heavy tomes to the floor a few shelves away. You startle, and in that instant remember your lack of food, or even drink, and the urgent messages being sent from your bladder.

Jolted back to his senses, Archimander looks at the cart, with its scattered books, the clerk, and the night-darkened window.

His mouth feels dry and tacky

His stomach grumbles in dissent

His bladder is straining

He dashes around the table, closing books, storing writing implements, folding loose papers, stacking books, stowing notebooks, ferrying books to the cart, apologizing to the the bewildered clerk, pacing down the aisles, darting around corners, racing across the lobby, hurtling out the back door, and stops.

The latrine is occupied.

He waits. His leg bounces. His fingers tap.
He scrunches his toes in his boots.
He hums. He pulls his hair. He paces

He hears a series of moist plops, followed by a spray of flatulence. The odor wafting from under the door stops him in his paces.

He swallows some bile.

Faintly, he hears the rustling of clothing and the scrunch of wood shavings.
The latch flicks.

Out emerges a trunk-legged mass of corpulent molasses, yawning and scratching at its fetid undergarments. With a confused grunt, the elephantine troglodyte trudges to the side, each plodding lurch distorting the greasy, moth-eaten rag stretched over the pallid, damp skin of the homunculus.

With much haste, Archimander holds his breath and rushes past the prior occupant, latches the door, and lets forth a deluge.

In a moment of post-void clarity, he realizes the man he brushed aside was none other than the city magistrate. He gasps in shock.

The odor from the long-drop assaults his mouth, throat, and back of his nose.

From outside the lavatory, an abyssal groan is heard, followed by an immense splash, as contents from the newly-discovered tenth pit poured into the latrine.

A short moment later, a green-hued gnome emerges from the outhouse and staggers off, in search of his next stop
This message was last edited by the player at 01:51, Sat 16 Dec 2023.

Having tended to the most exigent and, albeit unspoken, perhaps the least poetic of your physiological necessities – the evacuation of both bowel and bladder – a wave of refreshed vitality surges through your being. As the echoes of these more mundane exigencies recede, the symphony of your bodily needs orchestrates a shift, with the crescendo of hunger and thirst ascending to the forefront of your consciousness.

The bustling thoroughfares, adorned with an array of street vendors, become a serendipitous oasis for the weary traveler. With seamless grace, the city unfolds its culinary tapestry, bestowing upon you a repast to appease the gnawing hunger and a libation to quench the resurgent thirst.

Now, with the harmonic satisfaction of a satiated appetite, your senses, reinvigorated by the infusion of nourishment, guide you towards a nearby emporium. The redolent whispers of alchemical elixirs beckon, a fragrance imbued with arcane complexity that wafts through the air. The aromatic dance, a testament to the unseen artistry within, envelops you in an ethereal embrace. The realization dawns that within the confines of this establishment, an alchemical maestro crafts potions, each concoction a symphony of mystical ingredients. The resonance of this olfactory overture captivates your senses, inviting you to venture forth and explore the secrets veiled within the aromatic alchemy of the nearby shop.

Rosy-cheeked from the hearty food, Archimander struts across the threshold of the Alchemist's shop. Barely a step into the door, a wave of aromas crashes into his nostrils.

Cedar and balsam
Juniper
Anise
Fenugreek and fennel
Imported eucalyptus and tea tree and mint
Soft chamomile, lavender, and valerian
Fresh poppy and bubbling laudanum
Acrid wormwood and willow bark

Bracing himself, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his mouth, the cacophonous melange of odors becoming muted.

He opens his eyes. Lined across the back wall are glass jars of exotic ingredients, each lined with runes of preservation.

Salamander spittle sat next to bog sprite ectoplasm
Drake scale shavings next to imp ash
Newt eyes next to fenny snake fillets

The gnome scanned the extensive selection before coming across, at the end of the shelf, a sign stating

"ON BACK ORDER TEMPORARILY: INDEFINITELY:
- Piety of priest
- Regrets of an honest man
- Soul of reeve
- Barrister's tears"

Archimander walks up to the counter, clears his throat, and announces himself: "Excuse me. Is anybody here?"

A half elven woman with silver-flecked auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, framing eyes that shimmer with an ancient wisdom pokes her head around the corner of a door that leads to the back. "Oh, hi there! Just bottling, be with you in a moment." You can hear the faint sound of a fluid being flowed through a funnel into a glass vial, and the familiar squeak of a cork being slid home. Coming around the corner, she is wearing  flowing robes adorned with arcane symbols, and she is in the process of slipping off heavy protective gloves as she comes to the counter. "Ok, how can I help you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:56, Wed 10 Jan.

"Umm, hi, yes," the gnome stammers, finding himself needing to put words together faster than expected.


"I'm currently on shore leave, part of one of the ships that came to port. I was wondering what reagents or supplies you might have, that I could restock with. Also, do you have any formulae for sale?"

He pauses, hands clasped behind his back, rocking on his feet from heel to tiptoe

"And one more thing, out of curiosity: the items you have on back order, how might one procure them? I've not seen said items for sale before, only hearing about them in passing, via overheard murmurs."

The woman smiles warmly. "Certainly! My name is Elowen Mirthwind, and I have almost anything you might need, and more besides. It would be faster to get a list of what you need than to give you an accounting of my inventory, haha!"

Looking over at the list indicated, she shakes her head. "Ah yes, those items. I'm actually just about done with one if you care to take a look."

She turns back into the room in the back and returns a moment later with a vial containing a fluid that is silvery with scintillating multicolored lights flashing within. "Within this humble vial are the regrets of one Haraldid Bunfrollo, a man whose honesty was legendary to his friends and family. Extraction was performed post mortem, as payment for services rendered premortem, specifically the cure to an illness his wife had. I developed the process of extraction myself, including the tools needed to handle a source material as delicate as a soul."

She holds up the vial, showing the intense colors emanating from the nearly opaque silver liquid. "It is really the difficulty in sourcing these materials that renders them nearly impossible to stock regularly. You happened to walk in just as I was bottling this one. I have been refining it for weeks."

Archimander strokes his chin. "Very interesting. I wonder if I might be able to help with procurement. Any rumors in town, that might point me in a direction? After all, there's very few priests who have publicly dispensed with their piety, and a barrister's lack of soul is a common joke, but we all know the devils interested in such a bargain do not peddle their debts. Perhaps there might be a convenient space for clandestine rendezvous or confessions?"

He waves off the thought, out of hand. "Regardless, I do have a couple formulae I'd be interested to purchase and was also wondering if you had a potioneering manual."

He rifles through his pack, before finding his list. "I've written down a few of the ones I'm looking for and I'm always willing to barter knowledge for knowledge as well. I've collected a small number of formulae that may have some value."

List:
Disguise self
Detect secret doors
See Alignment
Darkvision
Detect thoughts
Enshroud thoughts
Fire Breath
Investigative mind
Invisibility
Ironskin
Perceive Cues
Touch injection
Fly
No detection
Tongues

"Now that you mention it, there might be an extraction you can assist with. I have done extensive research, and developed methods to extract the relevant physical sources of the concepts present in the ingredients on that list, along with the needed tools. I can offer one of my spare sets of tools, along with the knowledge of the processes used in the extraction and refinement, in exchange for your help acquiring one of these raw materials. Specifically, the tears of true emotion from a barrister's eyes. There is one, a young woman named Amberiffany Conh here in Selinus. If you bring me the materials in question, I will allow you to keep the tools, and the knowledge of how to use them will come with your agreement. But, to your list. I can provide all of these, if you have the coin to spend, but would be glad to reduce that cost by the value of any formulae you can provide that I do not already know."

"That sounds like a good deal. I might not be able to afford all of them, but I'll take what I can. I can show you a list of my current formulae as well, if there are any you'd like a transcription of."

Archimander jots down his formula list onto a paper scrap. "As for the Barrister's tears, I'm all ears."

Elowen claps her hands together once, decisively. "Wonderful! The mission is simple, but stealth must be deployed. The barrister in question is currently in repose in their family's catacombs, having passed away not 2 days ago. I would have preferred to extract what I could sooner, but the family was unaccountably hostile when approached with my offer. There should be no real danger, but as is always the case with the bleeding edge of scientific progress, explaining your reasons for your trespass may be difficult should you be discovered. While you are gone, I will prepare the copies of these formulae. I will not even charge you should you succeed."

"Excellent. Now, if you don't mind, could you point me in the direction of the catacombs? I'm not particularly familiar with the area."

Elowen claps her hands excitedly. "Wonderful! I am so glad you are willing to help. The catacombs are built into the cliff walls, and I will write down directions to is location. But for now, let me provide your tools." The alchemist steps into a back room and returns with a case. Stetting it on the counter, she opens it, and inside, in what looks like glass housings, are several tools of intricate detail. She points to each in turn as she speaks.

"These are all made using Corundum Steel, made right here in Selinus. This here is the capture net. It looks solid, but it is a net, I assure you. You will scoop the net through the remains, and that should extract what I need. You must wear these lenses, so you will be able to see the material the net captures. These tongs are for manipulating the material, and this rod will help in compressing it together. It will behave like fine threads at first, but compression will allow it to coalesce into first a dough like material, and then a liquid, loosing mass as it goes. This cylindrical vessel is here to help keep it all together during this process. Once it is down to a liquid state, deposit it within this flask, and bring it back to me. The entire process should take less than an hour."

As you examine these tools, Elowen busies herself writing out directions and a small, precise map of how to get to the catacombs from her shop.

Tools and directions in hand, Archimander fastens his gear and sets off in the direction of the catacombs, taking care to avoid the busier throughfares.

Once he arrives near the catacombs, he tousles his attire, removes his hat, and rubs grey ash in his hair, like a gnome in mourning. Rearranging his face into his closest approximation of grief, recalling his last tenure rejection, he solemnly strides to the entrance, paying his tithe in service to the grave keepers of the dead god, and walking in.

Reaching the first fork in the path, he casts prestidigitation as a small candle light to bring the gloom into focus.

He pulls out his map, finds his bearings, locates his goal, and marks the right-hand wall of the hallway, 1 foot from the floor, with AQE, an arrow in his direction, and a doorway, with an arrow in the opposite direction.

He follows his map and directions, marking every turn in a similar manner, peering down side hallways for interesting artifacts and tidbits.

---

[Private to GM: Does he see anything noteworthy or interesting that he might not be supposed to see? Especially pertaining to the next quest?]

There is nothing of great import to you, unless you desperately want skeletal remains or ancient arms and armor. Nothing seems particularly valuable or interesting.

Arriving at the spot indicated in the instructions you find a corpse, that of a middle aged woman. Decomposition has begun to set in, and her form is swollen and unpleasantly pungent.  It is time to set about your grim, but nonetheless interesting, task.

Please give me a Craft: Alchemy and a Slight of Hand roll to see how you do with these tools.

Arriving in the alcove, Archimander flinched, his sensitive nose assaulted by the sickly sweet smell of rot, churning what little bile remained in his stomach from his earlier lavatory... redecoration.

Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, he found himself adding a vibrant yellow splash of color to the otherwise gloomy facade of the crypt.

Once his stomach had finished turning inside out, he wiped his face with a handkerchief, crushed some herbs into a scrap of fabric, and plugged his nose. Better prepared, he approached the soulless husk and began to gather the tears

---

14:00, Today: Archimander Q. Effluvient rolled 6 using 1d20+5.  gag reflex. – 6

13:58, Today: Archimander Q. Effluvient rolled 19 using 1d20+13.  craft: alchemy . – 19

13:58, Today: Archimander Q. Effluvient rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  Sleight of hand. – 15

In the aftermath of an unintentional, albeit intimate encounter with a cascade of personal sustenance, you embark upon the formidable task that has summoned you to this somber chamber. With an air of purpose, you don the protective goggles, revealing a visage that bears the marks of resilience in the face of the uncanny.

Fixing your gaze upon the corporeal remains before you, a peculiar distortion now haunts its contours, akin to a once meticulous sketch that has succumbed to the smudging hands of time. Armed with a net resembling more a reddish-silver spatula than a conventional tool, you meticulously draw it through the desolate form as instructed. Intriguingly, the net traverses the dilapidated flesh without apparent contact, ensnaring wisps of a faintly luminous essence. A quarter of an hour elapses, and the spectral haziness dissipates, leaving the net adorned with strands resembling a bundle of ethereal fairy floss.

The net is equipped with a deployable tripod integrated into the handle, so you assemble it, and seize the tongs and rod to resume your delicate craft. The tongs and rod, encountering the luminous threads, offer the subtlest of resistance, allowing you to sculpt the ethereal substance. As pledged, the material gradually morphs into a pliable, dough-like consistency, its malleability increasing with each nuanced manipulation. Concerned about potential loss, you cautiously transfer the ephemeral substance into a containment cylinder, only to witness the vessel take on a delicate azure glow.

Curiosity beckons, and you momentarily lift the goggles, unveiling a scene bereft of any trace of the supernatural. The tools, the container, and the once-distorted body appear immaculate, offering no hint of the arcane transformation you have wrought.

Resuming your task with the goggles restored, you diligently work the concoction within the container, coaxing it into a viscous, syrupy blue fluid. Sealing the container with a sense of accomplishment, you gather the tools, securing them within their protective case. Departing the enigmatic chamber, you retrace your steps back to the shop, where Elowen awaits, her countenance alight with eager anticipation as you enter, and a warm smile graces her lips. "Wonderful! Did you have any trouble?"
This message was last updated by the GM at 18:57, Thu 01 Feb.

For a split second, Archie's gaze flicks up and to the left, as he considers his response.

"All things considered, no, but that's just more the type of day - and evening - that it's been."

The gnome trails off as he rummages through his pack for the tears and his formula book. Proudly presenting his catch, he pipes up: "As promised, the unlikely tears of a barrister."

He sets the vial down in a nearby vial rack, label clearly visible, penned in as neat a script as he could. Placing his book on the desk, he pulls up a stool and pulls out his quill, ink, and loose parchment.

"Now, which of my formulae could I offer you in trade, since my request list was fairly extensive?"

[Private to The GM: After this, a quick stop to purchase a sling or sling staff (like the kender use in Dragonlance), then back to the inn to vent and get some cocoa]

Elowen pulls out a set of goggles of her own, and examines the canister closely. After a moment, she turns, an expression of joy on her face. "Excellently done! The hue is absolutely perfect. Thank you very much. Now, to clean your new utensils, a simple wash in ether should clean them perfectly. And the resulting fluid can be refined in a standard quartz glass distillation setup. I have a copycat board here somewhere, you can use it to ask questions, or pass along further insights as you experiment yourself. What you write on it comes directly to me. And as for your formulae, I must confess that I never learned Echolocation or Tears to Wine, so I would love copies of those if you would be so kind."

After your exchange, you depart the shop, brand new ideas brimming in your mind of the possibilities this new technique promises. A quick stop gets you a sling staff to help your ranged capabilities, and then you steel yourself for the boisterous atmosphere already growing within the Red Hearth, clear as your destination by the sight of Rhulbhan enjoying a pipe as he leans on the wall near the gate.