[Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXXXIV

[Morty]

Yes, I am, Dorotha responds with more confidence since she feels she's on a more familiar territory. I'm a professional, certified alchemist, in fact.

[happyturtle]

Gus looks surprised. "Certified? At your age? You must have been a prodigy."

[Morty]

Dorotha blushes just a little bit, flattered. Thank you. I wouldn't say I'm a prodigy, but I certainly worked hard.

[happyturtle]

"I'd love to hear more about your work," Gus says.

[Morty]

Well, I work in Erin's Emporium. I supply it with potions, amulets, talismans and charms. I'm branching out into more serious magic items too. Like all really dedicated scientists - or pseudo-scientists, as the case may be - Dorota loves to talk people's ears off about her research.

[happyturtle]

And like all good playas, Gus knows how to feign interest and apply flattery when appropriate. But in this case, his interest is genuinely piqued. "Potions? What sort?"

[Morty]

Dorota, on her part, is unaware that Gus is hitting on her. She's had men hit on her before, in her father's tavern, but their advances were crass, rude and generally obvious. People like Gus, if they ever visited the tavern that was normally frequented by workers and craftsmen, tended to direct their attention to her much more attractive sister.
Everything, really. I make healing potions, medicine, antidotes, stimulants... so long as it's safe, I can probably make it.

[lord pringle]

This enters the bar. It sniffs around before making a noise that sounds like a woman's voice saying, "Fferrir of Nexus. You have great Will."

[ThirdEmperor]

Fferrir turns to look at the thing, his eyes showing no emotion, as they're little more than glowing dots on the metal mask which serves as his face. And? He asks, his metal skin rippling and shifting towards the palm of his hand, forming an adamantine longsword. He does not trust such sorcerery.

[lord pringle]

Feel my Light. It says and attempts to bond with Fferrir.

[ThirdEmperor]

No. Stay away. Fferrir snarls, moving surprisingly fast for a creature made of metal as he kicks his chair aside and springs to his feet. His glowing eyes narrow in such a way that it's obvious he's glaring at the Entity despite his unmoving face, and he levels his blade at it, as if to hold it at bay. Explain yourself!

[lord pringle]

You have great Will. I embody will. I need a host. My host must have great will. The Entity attempts to force a bond.

[ThirdEmperor]

And why should I? What honor is there, what reason is there in this!? Fferrir growls, trying to resist. Whether or not he succeeds depends on whether having great willpower makes it easier or harder for someone to resist the bond, if it's the latter he certainly fails.

[lord pringle]

Easier. You can make your lord honorable.

[ThirdEmperor]

I have no lord, no master, and honor enough. Now tell me why you need a host, and perhaps I will consider it, or else begone! Fferrir shouts, managing to shake off it's attempts to bond with him. Chances are it won't be able to make him it's host if he's unwilling, although making him mad enough to lose focus might work.

[lord pringle]

It is the way I can survive. The entity keeps pushing.

[ThirdEmperor]

... I will agree on one condition. You leave if I tell you too, unable to survive without a host, or not. If the Entity agrees, Fferrir will stop resisting it's attempts to bond with him.

[lord pringle]

Of Course. The entity enters. He should look something like this now.

[ThirdEmperor]

(Presumably this mean Fferrir will gain the powers of a green lantern, except without needing a ring or battery, right?)

Is there a reason you have sought me out, or will I be mercifully free of your pestering from here out? The metallic man growls, returning to his seat and and ordering himself another drink. Normally, he would avoid such excesses, but surely a day as trying for his patience demands a relief from the constant barrage of annoyances.

In truth, he only accepted the beast's deal because it had promised him honor, the fact that it would die without a host meaning nothing to him, and he fully intends to expell it if it does not prove to be an honorable master. As for any transformation that takes place, a slight glow begins to emenate from his armored hide, but little else. Or at least, little else that is visible.

[lord pringle]

(Yes.)
Ion is silent.

[happyturtle]

Gus instinctively does the 'stand between the girl and the scary monster' thing when the entity enters, but he's been in the Nexus long enough not to react more than that. Once it has bonded with the Ffeerriirr, he turns back to Dorota. "What's the most unusual potion you've ever brewed?"

[ThirdEmperor]

Good. Fferrir says, before looking down at his hand and seeing that it's glowing. The hand curls into a fist, and Fferrir punches the table with all his might at the same time as a surge of energy shoots down his arm, forming a gauntlet of green energy around his fist. The table practically explodes, splintering and collapsing under the weight of the blow. ... I have changed my mind. Now I want you to speak. Explain this nonsense, now!

[Morty]

Dorota also appears strangely unphased by the entity. She's been in the Nexus for a long time as well. There was that one that caused hiccups and produced a small bubble with each hiccup. I'm not really sure what why anyone would write such a recipe. It was probably an accident.

[lord pringle]

You can channel the emerald light of willpower. Ion speaks using telepathy.

[ThirdEmperor]

I.. I see. I do not suppose asking you once more why you have given me these powers will yield anything but yet more evasion? Fferrir says sarcastically, paying for the table and his drinks with the last of his coin before marching out of the tavern.

[happyturtle]

Gus chuckles. "That would be a fun party trick."

[Morty]

Dorotha nods. That's what we're selling it as, yes. I wouldn't know, myself, but people seem to like it.

[lord pringle]

I.. I see. I do not suppose asking you once more why you have given me these powers will yield anything but yet more evasion? Fferrir says sarcastically, paying for the table and his drinks with the last of his coin before marching out of the tavern.

I just want a host. And now you have power. Ion says.

[happyturtle]

"You don't sample your own wares?" Gus asks.

[Morty]

Sometimes. I try not to do it too often, since even if each elixir isn't dangerous in itself, drinking too much of them can have unpleasant side effects. I sometimes pay people to sample my potions, but never more than twice.