McIan
Journeyman
“Well, what have you discovered?” Damian, filled with curiosity and excited to have been summoned unexpectedly to the laboratory of his alchemist, Darthos, inquired. He sat down in a chair, eagerly awaiting the news.
“The compound is very intricately made. Whoever came by it deliberately set safeguards to preclude ease of duplication. But I have learned its secrets,” Darthos announced.
“How so?”
“Some of the ingredients are extremely hard to reduce, and the amounts to be used are painfully precise.”
“Painfully? Odd choice of words.”
“Perhaps “lethally” would have been better. You see, too much combined with too little of another and death quickly ensues when imbibed. Whoever created this was no novice alchemist; I could learn from such a one myself,” Darthos confessed.
“It is a drow formula. I happened to be reading through my old friend Dharzhal’s records, one he accidently left behind, and it struck me as… useful. Can you duplicate it; create stocks of it?”
Darthos shook his head. “Not entirely. I can create a suitable imitation or variation if you will. Even then it will take time to build up stocks of it.”
“Variation? Explain.”
“One that will give similar effects but not as long-lasting, requiring almost daily use. Certain influences will be heightened, but their duration will be shorter.”
“Describe the effects.”
“There will be an initial euphoria, a feeling of calm and wonderment, but not intense enough to give itself away; no real observable emotional or character changes. One will feel secure, strong. It will eventually create powerful delusional influences of peace and serenity even in the midst of chaos.”
“Sort of like alcohol or coffee?”
Darthos smiled. “Nothing so mild or brief. Over time, taken daily, an Ogre could rule the world and one wouldn’t be too alarmed.”
“Ah, a drug for the masses… to control them, make them feel good even when the world crumbles around them.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I know of some in power who would not be reluctant to use it for their people; their citizens.”
Darthos nodded. “And who would pay well for it.”
“How would it be used?”
“It can be liquid or powder. Placed into food, water, drinking source…”
“Ale, wine? Can it be absorbed through the skin?”
“Yes on both counts. My research indicates that alcohol will hasten the absorption. It will not break down easily and can be stored for months.”
“Excellent! It had no real name. What do you intend to call your variation?”
“I have given that thought. I will call it, ‘Utopia’ for that is what it will create for those who imbibe, at least in their own minds.”
Damian rose from his chair. “You have done very well, Darthos. I shall give you all the workers you need to locate and gather the components. Build up the stocks as quickly as you can. Use the prisoners at Castlemare for testing. If they die, they die. We will get more. When the time is right, I will ply this to those who might wish to make good use of it. Then let the true chaos begin,” he said, his smile a mask of malice.
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