Preparing for Work

"You women worry too much", the scholar spoke in response to the leatherclad woman’s request. He leaned in to kiss the pout off her face, but the woman leaned back, her hand against his chest as she held him at a distance. “"You women, eh? Way t' trivialize it, Jakobus. Fuck you. We's right” she accused, angrily. Surprised by the strong reaction, Jakobus leaned back, taking in Aedran’s copper-colored hair: “I know my limits, love” he responded, pausing for a moment before adding:  “Trust me – I will be alright”. Clearly, Aedran was not convinced, weeks of held-back concern coming out in one sharp, snorted response: “Whate'er y' say. So when y' stop breathin' in th' night an' I think fer 'alf a secon' y' might be dead, I'll jest tell m'self it ain't no big deal an' put m' pretty li'l 'ead right back down on th' pillow.”

 It had taken precious time to convince her that all would be well, but when he finally left he had her promise that she would be waiting for him in his room tonight. Walking past the headquarters of the Blood Knights, the twangs of the Fartstriders’ bows a constant sound in the background, Jakobus could not help but wonder what state he would arrive in, that night. After all her concern being dealt with, how would Aedran respond when he returned, dead-tired? No matter, there was no time to let the concerns of these women distract him – Hera’s concern had already cost him precious time. As he walked, Jakobus shook his head; where that girl had gotten the nerve to place a bowl with smoldering leaves on his nightstand in the morning was beyond him. She was an excellent herbalist, the leaves had done their job – his sleep had been extended for hours, wasting precious time of his day, and ruining several of the products that had been waiting in his lab over the burners.  Thank the stars it had not ruined the concoction he required for tonight’s work.

The trip to Brill always took longer than he anticipated, the poor state of the roads in the Forsaken lands forcing his riding bird to tread carefully. When he finally reached his lab, and the door slid open, the acrid smell of the burnt chemicals reached his nostrils. He snorted in annoyance, that foolish girl’s senseless concern had caused him not only the pains of having to repeat previous work, but he would also have to deal with this stench that would not abate for weeks. He would have to free up resources to install an air filtration system of the kind he had heard advertised in Booty Bay.

Taking no time to check up on the various bubbling vials containing products he was refining, he walked purposefully to the slab in the center of the room. The IV hung idly next to it, the innocuous yellow liquid inside it tainting the light of the nearby lantern as it fell onto the slick steel surface of the slab. Jakobus tenderly took hold of the IV, watching the culmination of all his hard work – it had been a long road indeed. Requiring ever longer trances, the scholar had begun to note that his body would simply not accept the abuse any longer. Lack of sleep and sustenance was wreaking havoc on him. Simply unacceptable.

 At first, he had assumed that a mere ingestion of concentrated foods would work, but he had soon found his body would not process the food. His heart rate slowed, metabolism grinding to a near-halt. The trance did nothing to invigorate him like sleep did. No, he had needed to find more direct methods.

And he had, the yellow liquid that was proven effective through extensive testing was the proof of that. The components would be nearly impossible to come by for most people, but for Jakobus it had proven remarkably easy. He shook his head – there was no time for his vanity, for his contemplations over what this bag held.

No, he had work to do. He lay himself on the slab, glancing at the mechanized door to ensure it had locked entirely; sometimes the moisture of the Brill air would interfere. But not this time, the door had closed firmly. He brought the long, thin needle of the IV to his jugular, slipping it under his skin. Immediately, his vision swam – the world turning into a mire of yellow, as if he were submerged in a river of piss. Quickly he cleared his mind – a mental image such as that one would have dire consequences.

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"E’en such made me that beast withouten peace,
Which, coming against me by degrees
Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent. "