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On the making of Alchemical Fire.
The base is created from equal parts oleum (the black oil found in tar pits) and the clear oil drawn from the 'hottest' of red, orange or yellow peppers (green peppers, regardless of their 'heat' will not suffice). Six drops of blood, usually from an animal reknowned for it's viciousness (boars are most commonly used, but blood from bulls and even humans have been used successfully, while my mentor claimed that nothing worked better than the blood of badgers!) are added, one at a time, and, if the process is working, the mixture will turn increasingly reddish in hue (being an unsightly greasy-grey until that point). Black peppercorns, ground so as to resemble ashes, are mixed seperately with flakes of weeping black shale and a thumb-sized portion of yellow sulfur, all finely ground into a mash. The container, generally a spherical glass bottle specially constructed by a reputable glass-blower familiar with the exacting specifications of alchemical work, is then prepared by igniting a tindertwig (or using a small smoldering coal of incense, with a cinnamon or curry scented one seeming most agreeable) and dropping it within the container and allowing it to smother itself on it's own smoke, thus denaturing the air of it's vital essence, a *vital* step before transfering first the oil, then the ground pepper and shale. The flask must be stoppered immediately, as an infusion of fresh air will cause the substance to erupt into flames in an instant, and more than one would-be alchemist has not survived to become a journeyman because of inattention during this stage of preparation.
Once both mixtures are within the flask, and it is sealed, it must then be agitated for no less than one hour, to cause all of the components to blend smoothly. Generally some sort of wheel, with a half-dozen flasks bound to it, is rotated by an apprentice for this duration, although the process can also be done by hand, at the risk of severe cramping to the hand of the mixer!
When the mixture has properly blended, the liquid should appear thick, like gravy, but without clumping, and be a smooth orange-red in color, not unlike some spiced Vudran dishes. The bottle should also feel slightly warm to the touch, a subtle clue to the unwary as to the danger bottled within.
The existence of a gelatinous substance called, for know, 'Sahuagin Fire,' after it's creators, functions underwater (although, obviously, it cannot be thrown, and has to be directly smashed by hand, or applied via the use of a 5 to 10 ft. pole), but does not seem to operate at full efficacy in open air. The ingredients that go into such a concoction remain unknown, although the Sahuagin seen to have used this substance have been reported to harvest quantities of the stinging coral known as 'Fire Coral' and to capture jellyfish in numbers...
So can we look forward to adventuring with "Alchemical Ali" in the near future?
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What's next, the Anarchic's Spellbook?
Actually, a spellbook devoted only to chaotic spells makes a certain amount of sense and coolness. Possibly a book which keeps changing shapes between triangular and circular when you aren't looking and spells aren't always on the same pages they were when you wrote them in, and the paper and ink change types and colors...I can see a lot of potential for fun. not to mention that all the spells that come inside have the [chaotic] descriptor. Mass Hysteria has a nice ring to it. possibly even Summon Discord Construct.
And then there would need to be the balancing Spellbook of law.
(And yes, I get what you were going for there. the joke was not lost.)
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Alkahest, or Alchemical Solvent, called by the vulgar simply, 'acid.'
A combination of corrosive juices are gathered together, some from animals (cattle are preferred, for their large and multiple stomachs, but they must be concentrated and rendered more potent, and some prefer to use the digestive juices of carnivores, which requires much less fluid volume and preparation) and some from rare swamp-dwelling plant life (so-called 'carnivorous' plants, such as the pitcher plant, are required, while many other plants produce caustic or corrosive materials, the use of these will actually *negate* the other ingredients efficacy and ruin the preparation!). These various acidic solutions are boiled and refined down to a paste, while, in a separate container, hundreds of ants (or termites, I have heard, although I have not attempted to use them myself) are ground up into a sticky gruel. Finally, the residual pastes from the three separate sources are combined together in a ceramic container, and mixed with powdered sulfur. The whole then steeps for a day, under gentle agitation (spinning the container, instead of shaking it, is advised, as the too much agitation can have explosive results), until the resultant concoction is a pale yellow oil with two fingers-width of brownish sediment coating the bottom of the container. At this point it is ready for use, and when agitated, forms into a bubbling bright green fluid for a few moments, before settling back down into the yellow oil / brown sediment state. Used as a flung weapon, it is traditionally shaken once (to agitate the mixture) and then flung at it's target. (This step is not strictly necessary, as the process of throwing it, and it's impact should be adequate to sufficiently agitate the fluid...)
A note, from a former apprentice's point of view. Under some, less than kind, tutors, apprentices and lowly workers are assigned to render down these various corrosive compounds in sealed rooms, where the fumes of these substances damage both their lungs and permanantly scar their eyesight. When they are too blind to work, or begin coughing up blood, they are put out onto the street and replaced by a next generation of unfortunates. A more humane master alchemist will provide breathing scarves to cover their apprentices mouth and nose when they render down these substances (often smeared with the same sort of caustic plant substances that cancel out the acidic nature of the other ingredients, if added to the process, which can be unpleasant and lead to chapped lips and a sore nose, but will at least mitigate the worst of the lung scarring). The eyes must also be protected, and lenses of glass, contained within wooden 'frames' and the whole held on the face by a set of soft leather straps that seal tight against the face, will protect the eyes perfectly from such damage. Ideally, the preparation chamber should be aired out between uses, to prevent harmful side-effects for those who visit the room later.
This is excellent stuff! I hope you don't mind if I use these in my own campaign as the pages of a vanished alchemist. I plan to scribble them down myself onto old paper. I wold love to see what goes into a Tanglefoot Bag!
Please keep up the great work! :]
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This is excellent stuff! I hope you don't mind if I use these in my own campaign as the pages of a vanished alchemist.
Feel free. I wouldn't be writing it on teh intarwebs if it wasn't free to use!
I plan to scribble them down myself onto old paper.
That sounds cool. I love handouts.
I would love to see what goes into a Tanglefoot Bag! Please keep up the great work! :]
I've got a few more in mind, and the Tanglefoot Bag is definitely one of them.
Thanks for the kind words!
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The so-called 'Tanglefoot Bag,' also known as the Spider's Purse and the Alchemical Gluepot.
There is really only one efficient method to create these concoctions, and I use a much less efficient method, because I personally loathe spiders, even the tiny mundane ones that spin cobwebs in the corner, while the monstrous dog-sized creatures that are typically kept in captivity and 'milked' by professional alchemists for the sticky webbing necessary to craft a tanglefoot bag make my blood run cold, with their cold, alien eyes and their far-too-many twitching legs.
Still, this is the accepted practice, to capture a monstrous spider the size of a small dog, or perhaps slightly larger, and to keep it in a bamboo cage, with many bamboo rods stored nearby. When it is 'milking time,' the bamboo rods are inserted at one edge of the cage, slowly forcing the hissing agitated creature back against one wall, and then being inserted very carefully (so as not to damage the loathsome abomination) to restrain each of it's legs. Then a section of the cage near it's backside is unlatched, leaving it's arse hanging out of the cage. Some unluckly apprentice gets the job of stroking it's underside with a brush of horsehair, while another spins a ceramic rod just under it's spinnarets, slowly rolling up the silk that it instinctly produces in response to the stimulation of the brush. This process takes over an hour, and many ceramic rods are handed off, coated in thick wads of the silk, like spun sugar candy at a festival. If the rod is spun too fast, the spider stops spinning and the process must often be started again, as the creature is generally quite unhappy with the entire process, although it enters a contented state while it is slowly spinning it's web, despite the situation, almost as if it is in a trance of some sort. If the rod is spun too slowly, strands of silk drape to the floor, get stuck, get dirty, and it's all a terrible mess and someone is going to get stuck on abdomen-tickling duty, next time.
Between 'milkings,' the repulsive creatures are fed pigeons or rats, neatly tied up (so that they won't accidentally damage the precious monsters), and that's yet another thing I won't have done in my laboratory.
So instead, I use a resin derived from trees known as copal (which is not to be mistaken for mere sap!). Gallons and gallons of this resin must be distilled, and mixed with white chalk, rendered animal bones and skin, and the gummy mucus secreted by common garden slugs. It's a terribly painstaking process, and 'milking' garden slugs, if anything, is a dreadful tedium, but it's a sacrifice I am willing to make to not have a nightmarish beast from the darkest parts of the abyss living in my laboratory.
However the substance is made, the substance must be kept warm, and poured into the 'bag' for which is named while still quite hot to the touch. Once it begins to cool, any contact with air will cause it to begin to harden, and a Tanglefoot Bag that has been left open will become useless in quick order, degenerating into a chalky white (in the case of spider silk derived gluepots) or pale yellow (for tree resin derived adhesives) substance that feels somewhat like brick or shale, but crumbles into useless powder at any forceful contact.
Because of this trait, it is easy enough to determine if a Tanglefoot Bag that has been found or purchased is still 'fresh' and effective, as it will feel soft and yielding to the touch, while one that has lost it's potency feels like a rock in a bag (which it essentially is).
Tales of alchemists whose 'dog-sized spiders' turned out to be immature specimens that grew to the size of a horse, and were fed recalcitrant apprentices to keep them in silking trim, are surely just tales told by cruel, cruel people to frighten old men.
Shame on them.
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The hapless 'Sunrod,' or Lightstick, or Alchemical Lantern, an item that I only make when I have a specific order for them, since arcane science has long since rendered them obsolete, thanks to the ubiquitous 'Illusory Flame' spell.
To create a Sunrod, a gallon of water that has been evaporated by the action of sunlight in a silver pan, condensed in a clear glass container and allowed to reconstitute is mixed with daisies (White-petaled daisies with golden cores only. The 'Black Eyed Sevens' with yellow flowers and brown cores are not efficacious!), and the tail ends of fireflies, preserved in the clear birthing fluids of a creature with night-glowing eyes (such as a cat).
These ingredients produce the liquid necessary to create a Sunrod with a warm golden glow. Instead of the firefly organs, using certain dark-dwelling fungus can produce Sunrods with an eerie greenish glow. From the land of Nex come Sunrods with a ruddy crimson glow, but the ingredient used has never been determined (some say powdered rubies are an ingredient, others say dragons blood, among other obvious nonsense). From unknown purveyors, but freely available in the markets of Katapesh, Sunrods in both blue and violet have been seen, and rumors abound that they are crafted by subterranean Derro, from strange glowing crystals and fungi, or deep-sea Sahuagin, from phosphorescent fish and corals unknown to land-dwellers. Any alchemist managing to replicate a color other than various shades of yellow and green would no doubt make a name for himself, at least among the fairly small community of alchemists who would have any idea how rare and special such a discovery would be...
Ultimately, thanks to the existence of the Continual Flame spell, few really care about the existence of Sunrods, save as disposable light sources to be dropped into wells to check their depth, although I was one commisioned to craft a hundred of them for a noble party in which they were placed into goblets of wine, to provide the sole light source for the evening's decadence.
Probably the most interesting Sunrod-related development of the last century has been the creation of the 'Sunrod Golem,' a tiny homonculous like creature made of flexible leather-tough tubes of animal intestine, filled with glowing Sunrod solution. The tiny servitor is hardly stronger than a housecat, and about as loyal as a well-trained dog, glowing like a walking torch for it's master's convenience, and, in a pinch, being able to squirt it's fluids out in a stream that affects a single target within a few paces similar to the naturalist spell known as 'Faerie's Fire,' marking that target with a pale light that makes them easy to pick out (and target with other effects). Any slashing or piercing damage to such a creature (which is surprisingly resilient, for it's size) also tends to 'paint' it's attacker with these fluids. Any attempt to make significant use of them in a combat situation is likely only to result in the destruction of a valuable bit of craftsmanship, but the creatures can be repaired, by being 'fed' Sunrods and stitched back together with craft skills (or magical mending cantrips).
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Storm-Queen's Kiss, also sometimes called 'Alchemist's Spark.'
Alchemical flame and solvents are relatively common, but a rarer sight is a substance known as Alchemist's Spark.
The primary ingredient is called 'lightning water,' and is rain gathered from thunderstorm in metal pans that never touch the ground. This can be substituted, with varying levels of success, with river water that has been touched by lightning, with natural or druidic lightning seeming to be most amenable to use, and conjured arcane lightning somewhat less effective. I have heard of an alchemist in Korvosa who uses seawater that has been repeatedly struck with lightning from a spell of his own design, a mere *cantrip* he calls 'Ray of Shock,' but cannot verify if this is true, or, as is so often the case with rumors of alchemical reagents and procedures, willful misdirection. Into this water are placed precise measured quantities of flaked lodestone and slivers of iron. If the weight is off by even the slightest measure, the materials are wasted, so the measurements must be exact and identical in weight! These materials clump together uselessly at first, until droplets of clear liquid extracted from brain or nervous tissue are placed within (any blood in the liquid tends to reduce it's effectiveness, and this is the most challenging ingredient to extract, and, it is rumored, that while most use liquid extracted from the brain tissue of slaughtered cattle or pigs, that the spinal fluids of predatory animals associated with quickness of action, such as falcons, is the most ideal solution), at which point the metal flakes separate and begin to dance around each other within the suspension, until they are pressed away, as if repelled at the sight of each other, and lining the other surface of the container, which will appear to be filled with flakes of metal and stone, which will shine with a silvery hue, the clear fluid within no longer visible, if the appropriate amounts of material has been used.
At this point, the container must be fully sealed, or else the metal and stone will begin forcing their way out of the opening, by whatever force repels them one from another. The sealed container will have a slight tingle to it, as if humming with contained force (which, in fact, it is!), and when thrown and broken open, the tiny metal flakes tend to adhere to whatever surface they strike, all standing at attention like tiny spikes or the hackles of an angry hound, crackling with blue and white discharges of electrical energy.
The effect is essentially the same as from Alchemical Fire, but the injury is caused by electrical forces, and not open flame. The clinging bits of iron and magnetite can be wiped away, again, much like the clinging oil of Alchemical Flame, to avoid any further injury, if one has the will and wit to do so.
Due to the extremely secretive nature of whomever discovered this formulation, it remained a secret for decades. Occasionally a flask would be found, but no evidence of it's manufacturer could be found, until most recently, when a workbook with the formula was found in an abandoned laboratory. To this day, none know the inventor of this compound, which harnesses the power of the storm into a tiny flask, nor do any know why it was referred to as 'Storm-Queen's Kiss.'
This is the kind of flavor any item description could benefit from. Well done indeed.
Set is amazing!
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WHITEWASH (Ingredients: 30 lb burned rock lime, 1 gallon milk, 1lb salt, ½ lb zinc sulphate; Blackwash: charcoal; Method: dissolve Zinc Sulphate, Lime, and Salt in water, add to Milk, chemical heating occurs, mix to thin cream; Use: apply wash while hot)
Greek fire may be fun but at least some of us have homes that dont look like poop smeared on brick.
Elixir of Astral Clarity
The Elixir of Astral Clarity enhances the imbiber's perception and insight, granting brief glimpses into the ethereal realms. Caution is advised, as prolonged or frequent use may lead to heightened sensitivity to astral disturbances.
One must start with moonstone dust (1 oz) gathered under the light of a full moon. Followed by the essence of celestial orchid (3 petals), which is only found at the highest peaks during the celestial alignment -- when the stars are right. Plus, a generous quantity of starlight nectar (1 vial). This can be aptured during a clear night sky, under the open constellations.
To begin preparing the Alembic, cleanse the alembic with a solution of crystallized dew and silver vine essence. Ensure purity for optimal distillation. Then, grind the moonstone dust into a fine powder using a mortar and pestle. Infuse it into springwater, allowing the mixture to absorb the lunar essence for one night.
Next, pluck three petals from the celestial orchid and crush the petals and add them to the moonstone-infused solution. Carefully pour the starlight nectar into the alembic, ensuring not a single drop is wasted. Distill the mixture under the shimmering light of captured starlight until the essence is fully extracted.
Combine the moonstone-infused solution with the celestial orchid emanation and the distilled starlight necrtar. Stir gently, heat the mixture over a controlled flame, allow the elements to fuse.
Finally, transfer the elixir into a crystal phial. Place the phial under the light of the next full moon for final empowerment. The elixir is now ready for use.
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Many wizards keep spiders in their libraries to eat the bookworms and other book eating vermin out. They are about as domesticated as cats.
This is very good at describing how craftsmen and women can make non magical alchemical items without buying the ingredients. Slug slime and plant saps can be made into non magical grease. Actually, I think that's what okra was originally for. I don't understand why people try to eat it.