The door to the shop I was going into swung in with little problem. I held it wide so my Disk could glide on through with its contents of jars and wrapped bundles. A bell rang, alerting the proprietor to my presence as I strode up to the desk and waited for him to come ducking out of the back room.
The proprietor smelled kind of strange, working with chemicals and materials most elves would not bother with, and even cleansing magic wasn’t getting rid of all the odors hanging about him.
Combined with the tools, pouches, and pockets of his leather garb and his safety goggles up on his head, he looked like every inch the professional alchemist.
There was no Alchemist Class that I could discern, just an assortment of skills related to chemistry for magical materials. They did have alchemical fire and a decent working of poisons and rough medicinal knowledge, given the restrictions they worked under, as well as more typical alchemical goods. Master Chlyfual here specialized in tanning mixtures for unusual hides, for example.
He sort of blinked down at me, and then the Disk floating next to me, clearly not expecting anything like me. “Can I help you, young lady?” he asked carefully.
“My master said you would have a use for these materials, for a fair price, sir alchemist!” I slid over a list on fungi parchment, and he picked it up with interest.
His rather bloodshot eyes popped open as he read what was on the list, his gaze shooting back and forth from my Disk’s load to what was in my hand. “Ah, I will have to inspect the goods, but these are certainly things I can find a use for!” he stated hastily. “Who is your master, and what do they want for them?” he asked eagerly.
I handed over the second list, and he quickly snatched it from my hand.
“Basic components, reagents, precision metalworking and cutting tools…” the alchemist mumbled, “and the balance in precious metal, or…” he looked around quickly, but did not say gemstones aloud.
All elves were spellcasters, and the more adept ones could certainly ascertain that there were no souls in common gemstones, regardless of what the priests of Gaebrel spouted so fervently. It might not be true for the larger ones that were rarely found, and certainly the soul crystals had something special about them given the care taken in removing them from the stone and how the priesthood hoarded them.
Master Chlyfual didn’t attend public services too often, and given the pragmatic nature of what he did, he definitely wasn’t looked on too highly by the more elitist members of society, including the priesthood.
He looked at me, standing there with guileless eyes, clearly considering what to say. Someone who came in here with Orbus and other monster parts was clearly sent by someone very dangerous, and so not someone to cross, and that meant trying to cheat or bargain me down.
“Am I allowed to inspect the parts?” he asked quickly.
“Master said these are from the little ones. The balance will be made available when the order is ready, held under preservation magic.” I began to lift the jars over to the counter, one by one. They were stone, not glass, so he actually had to open them up and fetch some gentle pincer-grips to fish out the preserved eye-stalks in the preservative oil there.
He held up the central eyeball from one of the smaller Orbi, inspecting it for sign of injury or flaw, and found none, likewise the eye-stalks around it.
Calming his growing excitement, he went through the other jars one by one, patience and assurance growing as each of them were in fresh and pristine condition.
Then came the hides of the small ones, finely and expertly cut despite the rounded carcasses they came from, the harvesting clearly done by an experienced hand who knew cuts of leather and how they would be stitched together or applied.
When he was done, he looked at me waiting there patiently, not off-put at all. “How much now, and how do I contact your master to let them know I am done?”
I held up a fist-sized triangular four-sided rock of bright crimson hue in my hand. “Master said two thousand gold now, the balance of eyes, hide, and brains to be paid when the order is completed. Place this stone on your counter when you are finished, and someone will be sent to collect everything.”
I obviously had been told not to mention my master’s name, and his curiosity would have to be assuaged by what he was gaining. The professionalism on display with the harvested materials was very reassuring, of course. My master obviously knew what they were doing.
“I see. Does your master have any special requests I might be able to help with?” he asked politely.
He was a little surprised when I piped up, “Master has been searching for dragon bones for some purpose, from the oldest dragons if possible, especially the extended spine.”
“Dragon bones.” A dangerous thing to collect, especially from the larger dragons… and dragons were not a thing encountered often in the Underdark. “Such a thing would likely have to come from the surface…”
“Master has been searching for some time here,” I agreed quietly.
“I may have a contact I can reach out to for such a thing, but it will not be cheap,” the alchemist warned me.
Well. Well, well, well. So there was someone independent who had surface contacts here…
I raised my nose proudly. “Master is fair, not a fool, Master Chlyfual,” I warned him.
“Peace, child,” he said hastily. “Someone who deals in parts from eye tyrants is not someone I would cross,” he assured me, which was more or less true.
I just shrugged. “Master will see when you deliver, elder,” I told him, “and if you don’t deliver, Master will know then, too.”
“I… see.” And my innocent expression had just enough knowing amusement in it to warn him that I’d probably seen things happen to those who disappointed my boss. “I will deliver on what your Master desires, in fair trade.”
“Thank you, Master Chlyfual!” I curtsied to him neatly.
In short order he returned with the platinum coins for payment for now. I bowed again as I received the purse, and headed out the door, Deeppocketing the payment and essentially making it vanish from sight before anyone else saw it.
Okay, one dutiful contact made, and word would get around that a mysterious and adept elf who could hunt Orbi was out there, which meant the interested would be wracking their brains to figure out who it was, and would be looking for me to follow me around and discover such a daring and adept fellow shadelven.
Well enough. I had my ways of evading them, and despite their thousands of years of living down here, their magical innovations had mostly stagnated, not advanced, in no small part due to the Church of Gaebrel not encouraging the power and development of mages who might challenge their own hold on power.
Mages like me, who weren’t respecting their philosophy or really their power, and who definitely wanted more recognition and respect in society.
It wasn’t going to stop me exploring or finding out stuff on my own, way, way, waaaaaay ahead of the times an elven child was supposed to be finding this stuff out.
Conditioning for me was going to start REALLY young.
A d6 racial hit die AND a Constitution penalty was brutal for my long-term endurance and vitality, and thus survival. The only way around it was to really up my base Constitution and physical ability while I was young, which meant proper diet, training, spiritual reinforcement, and focusing on exercise to the point of ‘neglecting magical studies’, not that I needed to focus on magic.
Elven childhoods being as long as they were normally, there would be plenty of time to absorb the multi-faceted lessons, even if one wasn’t attentive. The fact that magic could work very, very well in enhancing combat prowess meant that someone would inevitably be drawn into it to learn the parts of magic they found interesting, and my magical ability was supposed to be outstanding, so why would I focus on physical stuff?
I was fortunate that the conditioning transformed through my form changes, even if I was physically an average member of whatever I was masquerading as. So, the running and calisthenics and stretching and cardio and swimming and all the other stuff I was doing was having the desired effect, even if the Stats on my morphed form didn’t change an iota. The only thing that would change would be the ability to take larger forms as I grew bigger.
The basic elven meal of curina, their equivalent of elven bread, complemented by being Sustained, was actually sufficient for my purposes, as I had all the energy I needed, and just needed building blocks. Without having to burn off the compressed biscuits of mushrooms, slug flesh, and other stuff alchemically prepared to satisfy all the basic needs for an elf a day for energy, I could use it to build a stronger physical foundation than most elves had, and not worry about random genetic vagaries as much.
Also, I ate a wider variety of stuff, being totally not ready to rely completely on the rather bland stuff, even if subtleties of taste seemed to be a signature skill of the cooks who prepared the stuff.
I was not all that concerned about being super muscular, of course, but I wanted my Constitution as high as I could feasibly get it, and so that was where my conditioning went.
It also meant a lot of investment into the Toughness and Arcane Toughness Masteries, but one does what one must to not die from a passing spell lobbed in my direction…
There was a cave pixie being chased by a giant bat up along the top of cavern.
The pixie was more maneuverable than the giant bat, but not nearly as fast, and its Invisibility naturally did nothing against the bat’s sonar. The bat was also totally capable of hanging on stalactites and the ceiling to whip around things and chase the pixie, who was buzzing around in fear of his life in wild swoops trying to evade the predator.
I had no emotions as I watched it. The pixies down here were barbaric and savage, more akin to predators of their own in the grim darkness. I’d seen them warring with jermlaine and mushroom sprites down here, all sides happy to eat one another, and probably their own, and I had little desire to get involved with anything.
Then, of course, their wild aerobatics brought me into range of the bat’s sonar, reminding me that I hadn’t bought the Darkstalker Feat and I really needed to.
The bat’s automatic reaction had him flapping hard to get distance from me as I suddenly popped up next to a stalagmite on the ground, also Invisible.
Forgetting about the pixie half my size, the bat circled above me warily, and I watched it calmly. On the ground, it would be nearly five feet high, big enough for me to ride without effort, a fairly young member of the species. Adults could grow big enough to carry humans.
It surveyed me hungrily, squeaking away as it looked for any other helpers around, and saw none. It was just steeling itself up to dive down on me, when coruscating lights played a tinkling, harsh rhythm on my fingertips that were painful to his big ears, warning him off. His hint of a dive aborted instantly, flapping for more height, dark eyes taking in the warning light of magic ready to go off and deciding he didn’t want to deal with it.
That didn’t mean he gave up on me, retreating to a safe distance where he didn’t think I could sense him and perching there, waiting for an opportunity.
I considered picking him off, but as long as he didn’t attack, I didn’t much care.