April Vignette

[Jasmine]

The usual rules apply as normal. This month's vignette comes from the Suggestion Box from orphans.



After drinking an expired potion, you suddenly acquire the fear of your own _______ (fill in the blank).


Funny hijinks or serious stuff? YOU decide!

[SirArtemis]

"So why exactly did you ask me to come over?" Artemis asked, staring at his wizard friend with a bit of caution.

"I wanted you to test something for me," Daros said while leaning over his alchemy table. "I'm almost done making a new potion that will synthesize a hybrid between flesh and armor in such a way that your own body will have a base protection. Think of it like a way to turn your skin into armor." The wizard ran a hand through his chestnut hair before pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"Uh huh..." Artemis said, furrowing his brow at his friend. "You know Daros, your experiments don't usually end well for me. Can't you test it on someone else? You know, like yourself?"

"Of course not. If something goes wrong, then I might not be there to help me if it does. No, you will do just fine. That way, I can deal with any negative consequences. Besides, I trust you, and if it does work, you'll have some nifty new defense."

Artemis put his head down upon the desk that he sat at in Daros' study, his forehead resting upon the polished blue liviol while his arms dangled at his side. "Daros, is there any way for you to be more sure about the success of this potion? Any way to test it before testing it on a person?"

"Nope. Not really. Magic and alchemy are sometimes a hit or miss thing, especially when trying new things. I could follow a recipe and make you a healing potion, but that's no fun."

"And this is?"

"For me at least," Daros said with a grin. "Now, take this and drink it down. I want to see what happens."

Artemis' blue eyes locked onto Daros' own hazel ones as the two stared each other down. "If this goes wrong Daros, you better make it up to me."

"If it goes wrong, I'll do everything in my power to make it right."

"That's not making it up to me, that's fixing your own mistake."

"Well, it's a start at least."

"Ugh," Artemis growled, lifting his head up and grabbing the vial. "If you hadn't done so much for me, I'd tell you to swallow a pufferfish."

"That sounds delicious. Drink."

With a final shake of his head, Artemis swallowed the viscous green liquid, gagging slightly as the hideously bitter concoction made its way down. "Oh that's awful..."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad."

A chill ran through Artemis' body, causing him to flinch and flail slightly. "I don't feel good," he managed to say as his body started to shiver.

"Hmm... not sure if this is supposed to happen or not," Daros said as he pushed his glasses further up his nose again. He reached into his deep blue robes and pulled out a notepad and pencil, beginning to take notes as he watched.

As Artemis' body continued to shiver, his eyes began looking around, as if looking for an escape. From the ceiling and walls, eventually to his own hands and clothing. Suddenly, he began to strip.

"Ahh!!" he shrieked, his hands working furiously to unfasten the buckles of his leather armor. "Get off! Get off get off get off!" The urgency of his words caused Daros to step back and narrow his eyes, as if wondering if he she worry for his safety.

Within a few brief moments, every piece of garment Artemis had been wearing were scattered along the floor. Artemis had scurried into the corner of the room, collapsing in the fetal position and staring at the fabric wide-eyed with horror, as if the items would destroy him.

"Daros.... help..." he whispered, his eyes beginning to tear up.

"With what exactly?" Daros asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"It wants to kill me..."

"What does?" Daros asked with a grin on his face.

"That!" the young man shouted, his finger furiously pointing to this piece of armor and that, quickly switching between them.

"Hmm... very interesting," Daros said as the young man began to quietly sob in the corner. "Very interesting indeed." The wizard returned to his alchemy lab, sure that Artemis wasn't likely to move any time soon. As he leaned over the table he chanced one look back at the nude man. "Though I must say, I now understand what it is Jay finds so appealing about you..." he mumbled under his breath.

Artemis felt frozen with fear, and he had faced much worse threats in his life than a pile of clothing. However, to him, the clothing had taken shape. The belts and buckles that had held his leather armor in place morphed into a serpent dozens of meters long, winding along the room and clinging to every surface. From countless parts of its body heads lashed out, creating and endless and unpredictable assault of venom.

“Kill them, Daros! Do something!”

“Yes, yes,” the mage mumbled, fiddling with his alchemical instruments. Carefully he adjusted the flame set for his alchemical retort, being sure that it was not too high. “I’m working on it,” he said, dragging out the first word.

Artemis continued to watch as the armor rose from the ground, as though animated by some spirit that Artemis could not hope to defend against. Slowly the leather chaps would take a step toward him, as though dragging along slowly while the arms of his cuirass reached out for him, strangling him from afar with their desperation.

The young man closed his eyes and buried his face between his knees, covering his head and beginning to cry hysterically.

“My god, I never imagined the man could be so… infantile.” Daros mixed and measured quickly, while being sure that his measurements were accurate. His work was diligent and efficient and though the moments passed quickly, the wizard knew they were dragging on for the poor man who was suffering some terrible hallucinations. “If this doesn’t work as intended then we’re definitely in trouble,” he mumbled as he poured the concoction into a small flask and approached the young man.

“Artemis,” Daros said as he approached him. As he tapped Artemis on the shoulder, the man lifted his head and shrieked, his eyes clenched together with tears pouring out in endless streams. “Artemis, drink this and it will all go away. Drink this and you’ll be okay.”

The young man opened his eyes briefly, but enough to see the flask and quickly grab at it and drain it of its limited contents. He then immediately returned to his protective position while Daros stood up and took a few steps back. Seconds passed before Artemis’ sobs grew less hysterical and his tears stopped flowing. Daros simply watched.

“They’re gone…” Artemis managed to say through sobbing fits as his body recovered from the crying.

“They were never there Artemis. It was simply hallucinations.”

Artemis wiped his tears away, rising to his feet and sniffling. “Of course. The potion. Just my imagination.” As he stood there, he stared at his clothing, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk over to them. “You know what, I’m already nude, so I might as well take the opportunity to wash up. You know, wash the sweat off and whatnot.”

“And the tears,” Daros added.

“Right,” Artemis nodded, refusing to say anything that would further acknowledge his behavior. “I’ll go do that then.”

He then walked off toward the washroom of Daros’ large house, being sure to stick close to the walls and avoid his armor at all costs. His steps rapidly took him further away from the pile of garb that still sat in the center of the room, and the wizard took his time returning to the alchemy table. As his hands began to reset the devices and gather more ingredients, a smile found its way onto his face as he remembered the goal of his project.

“We’ll try again later!” he yelled after Artemis.

Little did he know, Artemis was already gone, as was the wizard's favorite cloak.

[Ruby]

“I cannot open my eyes.” Duffy said flatly. There was bitterness in his voice that Ruby recognised with a doubtful smile. “I cannot open them!” he repeated, pleading, hurtful, and shaking in his bed.

“Now Duffy, I may be getting old, and it is a quarter past gins,” she stared longingly into her half empty tumbler, “but I am no fool.” She pressed the glass against her lips and tipped it elegantly so some of its sparkling contents rolled fruitfully down her throat. “Now sit up, and let us talk about what we are going to do once you are well.” She set the glass back nestled between her legs, and went about producing a long strand of hair from behind her ears to play with whilst she waited.

“Ruby,” Duffy pushed himself upright from his tomb of cushions and slouched back against the mahogany headboard carved into a thousand phoenix plumes. They jutted up in every direction like a crown of rebirth. “I cannot open my eyes!” his voice was becoming more and more desperate, and it brought Ruby’s haughty nature crashing back to earth.

She stared at him blankly. “Are you being serious?” she raised an eyebrow, but more for her sake than for his. “I am not in the mood for practical jokes I can tell you that much.”

The bard made a show of trying to pry open his right eyelid with his forefinger and thumb, but came short of a sudden revelation on the warrant of whatever strange magic was keeping them closed. He slouched again, defeated, and waited for a response.

“Well, this is…interesting. What did you do?” she plucked the glass from her loins and set it haphazard onto he small dressed next to her chair before standing. Her heels clipped over the worn floorboards of her guest chamber as she approached the side of the bed. “You do seem to have a way with attracting curses, maladies, and strange omens Duffy Bracken.” She rested her hands with a swagger onto her hips, her fingers pressed into the cloth just above her thick, robust, and brass buckled belt.

“I did not do anything, why will you not believe me?” he bumped his gums and shook his head in disbelief. His eyes remained, as he had stated, unable to open. They strained against invisible bonds, showing the bard’s rising anxiety. “I just went out with Pettigrew for a few drinks in the Old Harbour Inn and th…” his mouth paused mid-sentence, and formed a little circle of surprise, recollection, and awkward realisation.

“-and th-?” Ruby repeated, her lips dripping with sarcasm. She cocked her head as if she were listening for the ball to drop.

“Oh dear…” he replied.

“I daresay that means you decided, as you always do when you go out for a masochistic night on Scara Brae’s blood soaked tiles with that dratted scamp, to play Poultice with the Apocathery in Regent Grove.” To play Poultice, in Scara Brae, meant to pay a potion maker to draft something that could possibly cure a man of his ills. Ruby had no doubt they had both tried to pay the Apocathery, who she now knew to be called Gideon, would have received a request to sober them up sharply before they ventured home.

“Hey, it worked before, did it not?” he tried to defend himself, but unable to see Ruby’s body language and facial expression, he fell short of testing her patience, and went straight for the ‘putting his foot in it’.

“The last time you did it; Pettigrew grew wings, crowed like a raven for a week, and would eat nothing but ears of dogged corn.” There was no accusatory tone to the woman’s voice, but Duffy felt accused. “All my sympathy, and all the long hours I nursed you through your ‘sickness’ through the night suddenly became debts, not charity. Mark my words, Duffy Bracken,” she leant into the bed and twisted his ear. Whilst he squirmed, it dawned on her she was rather enjoying herself, with our without the Ambrosia.

“Anything, anything!” he squirmed.

“You will pay me back every second…” she let him go.

“I just wanted to get rid of my fear!” he roared. The awkward and sudden silence deadpanned their engagement, and set the clichéd, badly painted portraits on the wall rocking on their nails. “Not…sober up…” he whimpered. Ever since he had tried to drink Jensen Ambrose, his blood brother, under the table, alcohol had not had the same effect on his shattered, lithe, and lanky body. He drank more now for the socialisation, the taste, and the opportunities it provided.

Ruby blinked.

“You are scared of being blind?” to an immortal, which was able to resurrect, regenerate, and reform his body at a whim, this seemed a horribly strange thing to fear. “Oh, now you are just taking advantage of me.” She stormed to the doorframe, and pushed the half-ajar divide outwards into the landing. “You almost had me Duffy Bracken, almost!” with a snap of her heel, she slammed the door shut behind her, and left a trail of heels clipping on polished marble tiles as she descended the grand staircase at the heart of the Winchester Mansion.

Duffy laid in his bed, breathing heavily, staring blankly upwards, heart sorrowed and hefty in his chest.

“Not of being blind…” he whispered.

“But of not being able to see the beauty of the world before my eyes…” he whimpered. The once fearless provocateur of the theatre started to feel afraid, so very, very afraid of the dark in his heart.

[Celestus]

"I ought to start a marking card for as many times you have been here in the past two months, Aria! After ten visits, you should receive a discount! ... Or are you just trying to see me?"

The timber lodge had been home to Florence Toviella, one of the few and proud healers that survived the Corpse Wars. Shelves were built into every wall, littered with potions of every sort. It was hard to determine which ones were which even with the carved signs over each shelf. Cots were lined up like a military quarter with various soldiers, hunters, and a sick merchant or two. Even with the underpopulated town, people worked hard to the point of overworking to survive. Those who would be daring enough to steal, did so for the same reason, thus were more than willing to fight back. Her two apprentices, both as lovely and busty as she.

Most of her customers were male for more than ailment.

Arialidas had once again run into a dangerous predator while hunting. Another large cat who had been hungry enough to prowl on the edges of the forest instead of within. There was also another fellow hunter was laying on his cot from the wounds he sustained two days ago. Arialidas rested on the cot with his hair down, flowing from the bed and to the floor. His mask was removed, showing the burn scars from the left side of his face from his childhood. The scent of more potion brewing in the back made the place smell clean and fresh, but also like medicine.

"Florence... you are lovely, but the claws of these beasts get more unmerciful each day..."

"Not as unmerciful as her claws, friend" the hunter nearby added.

"Mmmmhmmmm, you just keep talking like you have there, brother. I'll be sure to use the Dwarven Rotgut to clean that gash on your side!"

The way she flicked open the tourniquet was the same as a lion tamer cracking a whip. Her blond hair was wrapped in a tight bun behind her green robes as she sauntered over to Arialidas with a bowl of water sitting on a cloth in her other hand. The sleeve of his leather shirt was covered in bloodied bandages, the sleeve shredded from the shoulder.

"First, the broken leg. Then the broken wrist and arm... This would be theeee... hmmm... fifth gash I've bandaged?"

As her tongue made the accent on the 'fifth', she tore the old bandages off in one rip with her gloved hands. Her eyes winced as she turned her head away.

"Mother save you! This is almost as bad as Joriel! At least this shouldn't need a surgeon. Hmmmm... too bad! You're one of the better-looking ones around here! Hate to see such deep scar-making cuts!"

Arialidas looked away from Florence and smiled, resting the left side of his head further into the pillow. Taking her nimble fingers, she rubbed medicine on the bandages before wrapping them around Arialidas' arm.

"I will say, at least this doesn't appear to be an overnight stay... You might have bruised a rib, though, so I will give you a potion."

"Thank you."

"Oh, beautiful! Could you rub some more ointment on my leg? I think the pain is setting in again" the other hunter moaned.

Florence raised her head her work and narrowed her eyes. Arialidas could only smirk to himself while shaking his head.

"You have my sympathies, Florence."

"Oh, I have my remedies for 'hot flashes', my dear Aria! You just rest up while I... find some medicine for him..."

Rising from her seat as elegantly as a noblewoman meeting a prince to dance with, she left Aria to rest and turned the corner to another room. A few moments later, one of her associates came in with a tray with two potions, placing one next to Aria, and another next to the hunter who was being... ungentlemanly. Not thinking twice of what Florence prescribed, he drank the potion in one quick gulp. His face turned sour as he rose from the bed from the bitter taste. It surely did not taste right as it usually had. The hunter drank his potion with eagerness and rested himself back on the cot. Licking his lips from the taste, but not in enjoyment, Arialidas shook his head and looked around the room.

A few minutes later, his stomach began to gurgle as if he had eaten something awry.

Florence returned with a satisfied grin on her face, but paused for a moment as she saw the bottle next to Arialidas' table. Her grin fell as her ample chest rose as she breathed in sharply at the sight of the bottle.

"... Aria? ... Are you... feeling alright?"

"That potion tasted-"

"... Funny? ... Gods!"

"She... didn't..."

"She did."

It sounded like the mating call of a pair of frogs were drowning in mud... and the stench was beyond the words of any bard, drunk or sober. Would the pressure be any harder, Arialidas' blanket would have fluttered from the gust of gas which was expelled from his posterior. After the loud and heralding noise, Arialidas stood on the cot, shaking as he looked around at the room. Everyone was staring at the wounded elf, and the closest ones to him on the beds were holding their noses.

"What was that?! Am I dying?!"

Florence held her head and turned away from Arialidas, her cheeks turning the color of cherries while the rest of her face was turning pale. Composing herself, she walked over to Arialidas and patted his hand. Her nose scrunched from the stench.

"It... might be an overnight visit after all. She gave you an expired potion for stomach ulcers... it's going to foul with your head as well, making you frightened of your own flatulence."

"What?!"

Karma at last had its revenge as Arialidas' stomach gurgled before the air around him turned foul with the next round of expelling gas. Florence darted away from Arialidas, holding both hands to her nose and heading to the edge of the room. Screaming like a frightened little boy, he rushed off the bed, running to the other side of the room with his arms around his body. He was soon drenched in a cold sweat, trembling at himself.

The hunter to which the potion was originally aimed was holding his nose and hobbling to another bed.

Rushing to the window, she opened the glass pane quickly, the stench slowly going into the streets. Within moments, even passers by were holding their nose.

"Alright! Alright" Florence shouted. "Aria, dear! I'll have you switch beds with the one closest to the latrine! Dears! After you're done with the next set of wound potions, move the ones around the latrine to this waaaaaar- ... Oh gods, Aria!"

Now the sound was like the two frogs mating in the mud, and the stench was rolling out to people in the next room. Thinking that running away to another room would get him as far away from the source of his terror, Aria ran into the next room in a panic trying to get away from his own stench and noise. Florence ran after him, picking up her green skirt in hopes of catching him. In the middle of the chaos the assistant picked up the bottle to see how outdated it was.

"Oh fish and barnacles! This was over a year old!"

Finally grabbing the panicked Aria, she held her nose with the other hand and escorted him to the room which was closest to the latrine.

"Gods! ... Aria! Trust me! You need to use the latrine and get out as much as you can!"

"You're going to lock me in there!? With that?!"

"I'm not locking you in, you ninny! Dumping out your waste will make your time less severe!"

"I'm dyiiiiiiiing!"

Whether it was her experience as a barmaid before she became a healer, or the constant badgering of suitors from her customers, her left hook was that of a champion. She even knew where to hit to prevent critical damage, but enough to bring a panicked patient to their senses.

"Bloody snap out of it and take a shit!"

Breathing hard from panic, he gagged on the scent of his own fumes. Holding his head for a moment, he nodded firmly and entered the latrine. Florence stood outside with a wrapped cloth over her nose and face, hearing the sobbing from within.

"Oh for the love of the gods! Aria... I..."

"Remind... me.... to never cross you! Dear Florence! I will never... ever... wound you!"

"Aria... just finish in there and get to bed."

The door opened like the maw of a dragon who dined on the bodies of an entire army and never cleaned its teeth. Florence backed away from the latrine with her hand raised as if making a futile effort to protect herself from the stench. Arialidas' eyes were red and puffed, still sobbing as he exited the latrine. Gingerly, she escorted him to the nearest cot and had some calcium ready for him.

"Here... this should take down the frequency of them..."

While no longer in mud, his latest expulsion sounded like a goose. Sitting up as if he had a nightmare, Florence caught him and held him tight as a mother tending to her child. Arialidas' fingers reached to his face as his entire body trembled.

"Shhhhhh... easy, there, Aria."

"... P... perhaps you did this in order to tend to me you... you woman..."

"If I wanted you in a bed, I would never intend for this much foul air. She just tended to the wrong hunter with bandages."

Perhaps it was a sense of atonement which made Florence stay in that room for the rest of the day as the potion slowly left his system. Or perhaps it was making sure he didn't run out of the room, keeping the stench contained. They had more than one latrine on the premises, so tending to the overnight patients were not a problem. As the fear became tolerable, he soon simply started moaning.

"Florence I want to go home..."

"Oh no, silly. Home is where the fart is."

[Sagequeen]

”Ye Olde Snake Oil,” Erissa said aloud, reading the weathered, crackling label of the bottle that rested in her hand. “Guaranteed to cure boredom.” The elf's mouth pursed to the side and her eyes narrowed as she uncorked the bottle. She took a whiff of the oddly yellow liquid, and the pungent scent caused her green-blue eyes to water fiercely. “I suppose death is a cure for boredom,” she said, laughing to herself.

The Ixian Knight lounged in her quarters of the expansive castle, her boots and crimson leathers tossed aside in a trail from the closed door. Osher snoozed at her bedside in a peace enviable to the canine race, his dreams eliciting a whimpering woof. Erissa could only assume he was chasing squirrels in some beautifully flowered meadow where he was king of dogs and all was his for the taking.

The high elf tossed a vase toward the wall nearest her, telekenetically catching it as closely as she could to it before allowing it to shatter. Again and again she tossed it, each time mere millimeters from its crystalline doom. Finally, in a bored huff, she tossed it, and with great relish, loved the sound of it tinkling and clanging to the floor in more pieces than even her mentor, Troyas, could repair. Erissa looked at the vial on her nightstand, in all its sideshow glory.

Before her rational side could protest, she grabbed the bottle and chugged it. Poised to see it smashed against her room's wall, Erissa paused. She ran a hand through her long, silver hair before reading the rest of the label.

”Just a sip is all it takes, guaranteed by Tooley Two-legs,” she read. “Oh, crap,” she exhaled, the taste of it filling her nostrils. Her faithful companion, Osher, snuffed at her and wagged his doggy tail. He sat on his haunches and looked at her curiously.

Her heart beat at a hummingbird rate; Erissa's perception was incredible. She could feel the sounds, hear the colors of the drably decorated castle as she raced through it, and smell the ground as her feet pounded against it. A guard was just around the corner; she could taste him.

“Quick!” the elf hissed, “Come with me, I will explain on the way!” The guard looked at Erissa with amused alarm. The elf was in naught but a cotton shirt and panties. He smiled like a rogue as she grabbed his hand and dragged him through the cold, stone hallways of the castle toward the supply area. “The castle is under assault!” she said, looking back at him, and the guard's demeanor changed significantly.

“Attack?” he yelled, stopping in his tracks. Erissa panicked, her eyes wild. She shushed him and dragged him into a closet.

“This is a threat most grave,” Erissa said, his eyes intense as the guard leaned toward her.

“What is it?” he asked, breathless. Erissa's ears twitched as she heard noises at the door. She shushed him again until the noise abated.

“Infiltrators,” she said ominously. The guard's jaw dropped.

“Dammit!” he said, clenching his fist and pounding it against his thigh. Erissa nodded at him, eyes wide. He tasted like metal.

Both Knights stiffened as a subtle scratching came against the door.

“We've got to get out of here!” the guard said, his whisper urgent.

“No!” Erissa answered, her tone matching his. “We are safe here!”

“What do you mean, elf?” he demanded.

“The infiltrator, he cannot come in here!” she replied matter-of-factly, to which the man gave her an incredulous stare. He noticed her jittery nature.

“Oh really?” he asked.

“Really.” she said, smelling his disbelief and scoffing. “He cannot open doors; he does not have thumbs.”

Outside the door, Osher flopped down, waiting for his master.

[Jasmine]

The results are in and they are as follows!

Celestus receives 200EXP and 200GP
Sagequeen receives 320EXP and 175GP
Sir Artemis receives 350EXP
Ruby Winchester receives 300EXP

Head on over to the first May vignette! Vignettes will now be weekly!

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.