Jackal Among Snakes

The Alchemist living beneath the hot sands of the Burnt Desert was nowhere near as insignificant as his name implied. The master of this obsidian castle was not merely a practitioner of alchemy. He embodied it. Literally.

His body was alchemy manifest.

The principle of alchemy—fantasy alchemy, at least—was that of exchange. The most famous example would be turning lead to gold. In ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ alchemy was dually a process by which potions were created, and a magic of conversion.

The Alchemist had displayed these qualities when Argrave had entered. His eyes and teeth had receded back into his head, whereupon they were alchemized within his body to form a single giant eye that better scrutinized Argrave. His body was a constant boiling ocean of alchemy, able to reform what he had into whatever body parts he needed.

Now, Argrave followed this hulking monstrosity through his abode of sterile obsidian. He was alone. The Brumesingers, Argrave’s companions—all were outside, idle.

The Alchemist’s silken black robe of hair sunk into his back as they walked, leaving a blank slate of ivory flesh behind. Slowly, lips formed, eyes just after them.

“You are a servant of Erlebnis?” he asked from the newly formed lips, voice harsh and loud.

The sight of the shifting flesh might have terrified Argrave had he not gone through the Low Way in the past, yet more disquieting was the fact he was being asked any questions at all. He was not surprised the Alchemist had seen through the Blessing of Supersession so easily, though.

“No,” Argrave answered, suppressing the urge to add extraneous details. Answer only the question you are asked, he reminded himself, repeating it mentally like a mantra.

The lips and eyes on the Alchemist’s back merged into one giant eyeball that shone with green light for but a moment. Argrave could see spell matrixes within the eye’s pupil. Argrave knew not what the monstrous figure was doing, and he didn’t dare ask.

Soon enough, the eye was replaced by the black robe once again, and Argrave heaved a sigh of relief.

There was much mystery surrounding the Alchemist. Argrave had dedicated weeks of research to writing the wiki’s article for this character. He had combed through countless in-game books, looking for references, even symbolic references, to link the Alchemist to anything—a faction, a religion, a god.

Argrave’s experience with ‘Heroes of Berendar’ narrowed things down… but gave nothing concrete.

Firstly, Argrave knew the Alchemist had associated with an ancient god. He didn’t know the details of this association, nor did he know which ancient god, nor any details beyond the fact that the two were linked.

Secondly, Argrave knew the Alchemist had once been mortal, and that his change was brought about by magic. Details were hazy on this end, too—some records claimed it was a hostile spell, others claimed it was a ritual taken willingly for the purpose of embodying alchemy.

Thirdly, the Alchemist was old. Millennia old, at least. Argrave knew he was aware of Gerechtigkeit. He could be enlisted for the final battle, something Argrave was sure as hell going to do.

Alchemist was not receptive to questions. He was more apathetic than cruel, but he was also entirely intolerant of the most insignificant annoyances, questions being foremost among them. Argrave’s personal conjecture was that the Alchemist lived in such a secluded place to avoid people,

that was just that:

obsidian doors. He did not need to raise a hand—the doors started shifting aside as he neared. Argrave knew what was beyond. He had come here time and time again. Even still,

books, and every single book, without fail, had a white cover. A great many of them had lettering on the cover—even more were blank. Spread out across the room were obsidian tables. They looked like altars, in truth, but there was no discernible religious significance to

Order of the Gray Owl’s buildings, the ancient library in the Low Way of the Rose, and the cold stone library in Veiden, managed by Rowe. None could compare to this place,

he retrieved many of the books with blank covers. The mini-hands at the end of his fingers served to bring precision—with it, he effectively had ten normal-sized

books held in his right hand with five writing implements in the other. Seeing the small hands on the tips of his finger clutch books and pens tightly was

Argrave did nothing. He had already begun writing with two of his hands, perhaps noting

lecture. He stepped to the closest obsidian table and

to take aspects of magical artifacts and embody them,

fell figure wrote down what Argrave said, each of his five small hands writing and moving diligently to inscribe

items stand to fill the Wraith’s Heart emptiness.” Argrave touched the purple rock on the table. Sensing the enchantments near it, veins rose and linked to Argrave’s gloves. “This is the Amaranthine Heart. It extracts vitality… or lifeforce, from anything that

converting most organic matter into blood. Unlike most other artificial bloods invented in the past, this one is capable

normal biological processes. Together, they can produce magic-imbued blood.

false blood,” the Alchemist

within their blood—dragons, wyverns, my pets the Singers of the Brume, certain species of elves… they all share one thing

reached away, retrieving books that were not blank. Argrave barely saw diagrams of creatures—anatomies of the creatures he’d mentioned. The Alchemist

third thing to be alchemized within the Wraith’s Heart is to be my own heart,” he explained, voice shaking somewhat. “And further, it establishes the necessity for the Unsullied Knife,” Argrave pointed to the scalpel on the obsidian table. “Crude tools could not extract my heart and replace it with the alchemized Wraith’s Heart without death. And

exhaled. He reviewed what he had said, ensuring that nothing had been left out. The Alchemist said nothing, moving with

about and stared down at Argrave. “Will you tell me

met the Alchemist’s gray-eyed gaze with

in ‘Heroes of Berendar’

this alchemized heart is placed within you?” the

a leading question. “My body will have to reform itself to accommodate the magic within my blood. Everything within… will change, and morph. It will be very

As such, I am establishing another condition to our trade. If your screams annoy me, I will take

I…

“No.”

make a ward around me? You’re an incomprehensibly powerful mage! Argrave wished to ask, but he’d

He nodded. “Okay.”

period of change, so that I might observe these changes. I expect your companions to tend to your needs while you are here. They will be given