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#14311343 Feb 18, 2020 at 08:44 AM · Edited 2 years ago
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Hazel settled back as well and cleared her throat before beginning. "I am truly afraid to say that I don't know much, but I will do my best to tell you what little I do know. Everything I know I've either heard from my good friend and faithful servant, Lorrik, who previously had served my father; or I've gathered from rumors and accounts during my very long search."

She closed her eyes and set her hands down in her lap. "My father, Ridgewell Aldervandius Vermillion, loved alchemy more than... well anything else I can think of." Hazel smiled meekly. "He never studied it for fame or wealth, but purely for its own sake. Nevertheless, over the years as his skills grew, people caught on. He amassed a small fortune despite deliberately trying to avoid such a thing. In his latter years he began developing rather severe dementia..." Her voice caught in her throat and it took her a second to catch herself.

"There were days," she continued, "when he couldn't even understand his own writings. Even on his best of days, when he was able to understand himself he was never able to share what he knew. Explaining it just seemed to elude him. By that point I didn't really get to see my father much, Lorrik spent more time with him than I did, as his caretaker. Sometime after my father became permanently bed-ridden Lorrik came to me and told me that my father had devoted whatever energy he'd had left in his last decade to perfecting five potions that he'd deemed his masterworks."

Hazel opened her eyes and reached into her bag, pulling out a notebook. She flipped through it until she landed on a page with five crudely drawn potion vials, each individually labeled:
- Lion's Vigor
- Salamander's Resilience
- Fox's Cunning
- Owl's Perception
- Elemental's Power

"I took me the better part of a decade to track down the potion I currently have in my possession. I've no idea what it does outside of wild rumors I've heard throughout my travels. Wild conjectures of things like reviving the dead, regrowing or growing extra limbs, bestowing immortality, granting godhood." She waved a hand through the air dismissing these ideas. "My father was a legendary alchemist but such things are childish folktales."

She looked up at Khoshekh and then Lysander with a look almost begging for help. "If it does have any restorative properties, I am certain that if anything can help my father it's one of his own potions. Even if it doesn't work this may be one of the last things he ever created, one of the last things he got to do as the man that raised me. I... don't want to waste it or destroy it somehow."

Hazel attempted a smile. "I have some of his notebooks with me but... they're nearly illegible. Written by a madman's hand, even he couldn't understand them sometimes. Maybe the illustrations will mean something to you though."