An alchemist has been brewing a potion for three months, and after taking meticulous care, it’s finally ready for the final step: the addition of a locally grown, fresh-picked herb.
Unfortunately, a combination of overzealous weeding by locals and imperfect weather means that the usual crop is not available.
The alchemist now has forty-eight hours to find the missing ingredient, and is becoming increasingly unhinged. -- Tergon
Months of steeping, fermenting, careful additions of each ingredient according to the instructions. The potion was almost done. The last, and easiest step - adding one dozen fresh leaves of ground ivy. A common weed that was everywhere in Lefthsyde.
Messalyn Chuffey had no concerns over that part. The rest of it had been a heart-stopping anxiety free-for-all, but ground ivy? The exemplary piece of piss.
Until the day came to get some. There had been a stand of it nine paces from Messalyn's front door, but someone had come by with their goats, and all that was left was stubble.
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