Part 1
Part 2
Zi'da 10, Arc 719
A couple of trials had passed since the son of Ziell had first heard about the mysterious woman named Smoke that had been supplying the people of Viden with all kinds of different drugs. Most of her victims – her concoctions had severe and sometimes life-threatening side effects – were already on the mend, but he was no closer to finding her than he had been in the beginning. He only knew that she was some sort of shapeshifter, not unlike him.
It seemed as if he would have to make use of the abilities that his Immortal blood afforded him after all, at least if he wanted his search to be successful. He only ever used his abilities as a last resort, if everything else failed, as he was not particularly fond of the side effects.
Finding the woman and getting rid of her would put him in good standing with those that ruled Viden and finally enable him to focus on more interesting projects again – he was growing tired of treating alcohol poisoning after alcohol poisoning - but was that enough? Was the woman worth it? Were the substances that she used valuable enough?
Those were the questions that were on his mind as he took the next paper from the stack that was on his desk. He was in his office, grading his students’ essays, a time-consuming and irritating activity, but one that he would have to engage in, at least for the time being. The topic that he had assigned to them this time was chemical properties.
Some of the essays were so bad that he couldn’t help but wonder if the students in question had been high when they had written them or suffered from serious brain damage. Chemical properties are properties that chemicals have, he read. Really? Hadn’t they learned anything? He dipped his quill into a vial of red ink and drew a line right across the paper. This was not an essay; it was a piece of trash that ought to be burned!
He turned to the next paper, pondering the matter of Smoke some more while he corrected mistake after mistake – grading essays did not demand his entire concentration.
It was just then that he heard someone knock on his door. Furrowing his brow slightly, he put the quill away in order to see who had decided to pay him a visit this time. He found himself facing a burly Lotharro that was at least half a foot taller than him, a member of a race that he considered to be both fascinating and strange at the same time, due to its barbaric ways and the fact that there didn’t seem to be any female Lotharro.
“Yes?” he asked and looked at the man questioningly.
“Doran Thetys?” the Lotharro asked. “I have a delivery for you.” He pointed at a large wooden crate that stood on the floor next to the door. “If you could just sign here, please”, he continued, removed a piece of paper from his crossbody bag and handed Doran a pen. The Mortalborn signed it, and then he eyed the crate. Apparently, the new equipment for the Academy’s alchemy laboratory had finally arrived.
It would provide a welcome reprieve from the pile of trash on his desk.
Part 2
Zi'da 10, Arc 719
A couple of trials had passed since the son of Ziell had first heard about the mysterious woman named Smoke that had been supplying the people of Viden with all kinds of different drugs. Most of her victims – her concoctions had severe and sometimes life-threatening side effects – were already on the mend, but he was no closer to finding her than he had been in the beginning. He only knew that she was some sort of shapeshifter, not unlike him.
It seemed as if he would have to make use of the abilities that his Immortal blood afforded him after all, at least if he wanted his search to be successful. He only ever used his abilities as a last resort, if everything else failed, as he was not particularly fond of the side effects.
Finding the woman and getting rid of her would put him in good standing with those that ruled Viden and finally enable him to focus on more interesting projects again – he was growing tired of treating alcohol poisoning after alcohol poisoning - but was that enough? Was the woman worth it? Were the substances that she used valuable enough?
Those were the questions that were on his mind as he took the next paper from the stack that was on his desk. He was in his office, grading his students’ essays, a time-consuming and irritating activity, but one that he would have to engage in, at least for the time being. The topic that he had assigned to them this time was chemical properties.
Some of the essays were so bad that he couldn’t help but wonder if the students in question had been high when they had written them or suffered from serious brain damage. Chemical properties are properties that chemicals have, he read. Really? Hadn’t they learned anything? He dipped his quill into a vial of red ink and drew a line right across the paper. This was not an essay; it was a piece of trash that ought to be burned!
He turned to the next paper, pondering the matter of Smoke some more while he corrected mistake after mistake – grading essays did not demand his entire concentration.
It was just then that he heard someone knock on his door. Furrowing his brow slightly, he put the quill away in order to see who had decided to pay him a visit this time. He found himself facing a burly Lotharro that was at least half a foot taller than him, a member of a race that he considered to be both fascinating and strange at the same time, due to its barbaric ways and the fact that there didn’t seem to be any female Lotharro.
“Yes?” he asked and looked at the man questioningly.
“Doran Thetys?” the Lotharro asked. “I have a delivery for you.” He pointed at a large wooden crate that stood on the floor next to the door. “If you could just sign here, please”, he continued, removed a piece of paper from his crossbody bag and handed Doran a pen. The Mortalborn signed it, and then he eyed the crate. Apparently, the new equipment for the Academy’s alchemy laboratory had finally arrived.
It would provide a welcome reprieve from the pile of trash on his desk.
