• Graded • Lab rat (Doran)

Doran has an unexpected visitor.

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Finnegan O'Connor
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Lab rat (Doran)

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Finn O'Connor
:: 21st Ymiden, 717
There was only one place in Etzos where the unfortunates were sheltered from the elements. Hidden away behind the veneer of a bustling city was the Underground, home to the homeless and downtrodden. So often he’d been warned by the caretakers at the orphanage that he would end up among the unfortunates if he didn’t mend his ways, yet he had never really listened, never considered the chance off ending up amid the mass of puckered and gaunt faces that wandered aimlessly in the dark. Yet not all that stumbled drunkenly through the maze of the Underground were poor. The golden nels flowed richly in the handful of underground establishment that encouraged their guests to gamble, and there was hope yet that some of the gold pieces would find their way into his pocket.

Being a born Etzori, Finn didn’t wait around for the immortal of luck, if one such immortal even existed, to show up and throw gold at his feet. He had to take matters into his own hands and find a way to survive the coming trials, until he had managed to find his sister in the city of circles.

In search of fortune, his path had guided him into a dark and damp establishment in the underground. The floor was slippery from spilt mead and it reeked of smoke and stiff drinks. Aside from a few cursory glances, he didn’t immediately gain the kind of attention he wanted. He propped his back up against a wall and crossed his arms over his chest as he gazed into the crowded tavern.

It hadn’t taken him long to learn to play the game. There were as many people looking for a job as there were unsavory types with “unique” and “greatly rewarding” opportunities. Yet of those searching for employment, few could claim to have the particular skillset that Finn offered. Life under Caltweld and later Gangui the Barbarian, at Foster’s Landing had hardened him in mind and body alike, yet he had retained a heart-melting, innocent look about him. It had saved him on numerous occassions and it was this particular combination of qualities that he had to thank for the small wave from a broad, middle-aged man in the corner, whose features were half-hidden in the shadow. The man had a knack for sniffing out the right kind of employee for the right job, and this kid looked perfect for what he needed done.

Finn did not hesitate for a moment and bounded over to where the man sat, eager to gain some employment. It wasn’t until he’d turned the chair opposite the hooded figure around and sat down on it that man gazed up. The skin on his face was saggy around the chin and his dark eyes were large and watery. The chair upon which the man was seated creaked in protest to any movement as the man sized Finn up before speaking the hallowed words.

“Lookin’ for work?”

Finn gave a stiff nod in reply. It was only thanks to the hardships he’d endured in Foster’s Landing that he managed to maintain a steady gaze. The man before him possessed a formidable and thick head, accompanied by an equally broad neck and bulging shoulders. Finn knew this was his last chance to turn away.

A moment passed before the man shifted in his seat again to take a sip from a bottle on the rickety table between them. After he’d set the beverage down, he leaned forward and instructed Finn in a low voice.

“There’s an alchemist in town. The Hero of Oscillus, or te Undeceived is what he’s call’d. Has a lab an’ all in te tower of Ministers. D’you know where that is?”

“Course,” he almost huffed. Any fool knew were the tower was. It was hard to miss.

“That wasn’t my meaning,” the man grumbled. “D’you know where te lab is?”

Finn frowned. “I don’t,” he answered plainly.

“Few do,” the man replied. “But I have my ways.” He sipped his drink again and seemed to weigh his next words carefully. “Simply put,” he sighed eventually, “I need something retrieved from the tower.”

Finn’s jaw slackened. From the moment he’d sat down, he’d signed an invisible contract with the man and part of the unwritten contract was that jobs offered were at least remotely feasible. Yet this one clearly wasn’t.

“You mean stealin’?” Finn said in disbelief.

“Doran, as he’s called, is quite the alchemist. His recipes, his secret recipes are of great interest to me. His lab is in the tower. Presumably in the cellar, where the previous one worked.”

“I didn’t take you for an’ alchemist,” Finn answered bluntly. “But anyway, it’s too dangerous. I’ll never get close, let alone get past the guards.” He spoke with a certain expertise, for he was well acquainted with the Black Guard. Well enough to know that only the strongest, smartest, and meanest of them all were ever on duty to protect the tower. If one of them would catch him breaking into the heart of Etzos…he shuddered at the thought.

“Don’t worry about the guards,” the man said. “Nance will get you through.”

The man turned in his seat and motioned for a scantily clad woman with finely brushed red hair to come over. Finn didn’t take too long to guess her line of work as she smoothly came over to them with swaying hips
.
“Nance, this is…?”

“Finn,” he answered curtly.

Robert gestured between them. “Nance, Finn. Finn, Nance.”

Nance cocked her head at him, a frown of concern marring her otherwise impeccable features. “Bit young innit?” her voice betraying her station in life. She moved over to him, close enough for him to smell the perfume on her body. Before he knew it, she’d hooked a finger under his chin and studied him as though inspecting some curious animal. “I don’t know Robert,” she muttered as she let go. “I wouldn’t be so sure about ‘im.”

Robert shook his head. “I know the hard-workin’ type when I see one.”

Finn wondered what Nance had gleaned from him with just a simple touch. Maybe she was a witch and had cast some scrutinizing spell on him! The mere thought made him feel tainted, but he soon forgot about the whole ordeal when Robert resumed talking.

“Nance works for The Curly Hare. You know what that is?”

Finn gulped. Thankfully the underground tavern was dimly lit as his cheeks started to flush red. Nance spared him the awkwardness by huffing an “of course he knows! Every man knows!”

“Lord Trask has been a regular customer, shall we say,” Robert grinned. “Nance here is your ticket inside. The guards will know to let her through, and you’re just with her.”

“I doubt that would work,” Finn protested. “Besides, I am not really a thief. I am sure there are other people who could do a much bette-“

He was shushed by a motion of Robert’s hand. “I have considered all of that already, boy. I picked you for a reason.” Finn opened his mouth to ask why, but once again, Robert was faster. “I picked you cause I’ve seen you work. You have charm, an innocent face… I saw you nick from that fine gent over there the other day,” he nudged his head in the direction of a red-faced, lubberly man at the other side of the room.

“I didn-“

Again, Robert shushed him. ”There it is,” he laughed, “that face you make when you deny something. It’s golden. Did you see it Nance? That's what I was talking about!" He let out a snigger before returning to the matter at hand. "It’s only ‘cause I trust my eyes more than I trust you that I ain’t falling for it. With Nance’s help, you’ll get through no problem, trust me. Besides, the guards wouldn’t want to risk any trouble with Trask. If he hears they didn’t let his favorite plaything through just because her son came along. The real question is if you’re man enough to give it a try…”

The insinuation on Robert’s part was a clever one, for he had correctly assumed that the brown-haired boy before him would not put up with it.

“Course I am,” Finn bit back through clenched teeth, “but what’s in it for me?”

“Thirty gold nels, and ten more for every full recipe you manage to get back to me.”

"Forty."

"Thirty-five then," Robert answered.

"No. Forty."

Robert smiled wryly. "Thirty-seven, and not a copper more."

Any self-respecting burglar would have laughed at the numbers proposed by Robert. After all, breaking into the tower of Ministers was no small feat and mighty risky business to boot. Yet, blessed and cursed in equal measure by the naivety of youth, Finn accepted and shook hands with Robert before Nance took him under her wing. With gold she’d gotten from Robert she ordered a warm meal and a hearty drink for Finn and arranged lodgings so he would have some a bed to sleep in. It wasn’t until after Finn had tucked himself in that his heart leapt to his throat. He’d agreed to breaking into the tower. The tower. He grimaced in the dark of the room. There was nothing else for it. He needed the money badly.

--

He awoke the next day to a gentle tapping at his door. Groaning, he cast the blankets aside and opened the door a smidge. It was Nance. She looked even sweeter than he had remembered her.

“Can I come in?” she spoke gently. He unfastened a hook on the door and let her through into the small bedroom while he gathered his clothes and dressed.

“Oh, don’t use those,” Nance interjected as he was about to pull his shirt over his head. “I’ve got these for you,” she held a pile of various items and toiletries in her arms and took out a stack of neatly folded clothes from the bottom. They were of decent make, better than anything he had and a lot cleaner too. It looked like they hadn’t been worn by anyone before. The purpose of the clothes soon became apparent as they would make him appear to be some kind of errand boy serving one of the ministers in the tower. While he wasn’t quite sure if the clothes were official, they could certainly pass for such a purpose.

“I hope I got your size about right. Here, try them on.”

After he had dressed they finally left the semi-dark of the underground and emerged above ground. The sky had turned a leaden grey and thunder rumbled in the distance. It was much closer to evening than Finn had thought, his sense of time warped by having remained in the underground for a few trials.

Just before they reached the tower, Nance stopped and handed him a small vial containing a greenish substance. “Be careful with it,” she warned. “It’s an acid of sorts. If you encounter any closed doors you just pour it on the lock.” He nodded in reply and carefully dropped the vial in the inner pocket of his jacket. “Alright,” Nance took a deep breath before grabbing his hand. “Here we go…”

The guards on duty looked menacing, decked out as they were in elite attire. About six of them guarded the direct entrance to the tower though Finn suspected there were far more guards watching, hidden from view. Yet they did not go through the main entrance as Nance took a sudden turn to the right and dragged Finn along through several fast turns before halting at plain looking door in neighbouring alley.

“I thought we were going to the tower,” Finn piped up at her side.

“We are,” she whispered before giving a pattern of knocks on the door.

For half a trill, nothing happened, and Finn was just beginning to doubt the whole plan when the door creaked open. An old guard opened the door about halfway before he spotted Finn.

“Who’s that!” he barked gruffly. “It’s bad enough that I have strumpets coming through here!”

“Please, George, it’s just my boy. He won’t tell anyone anything.” While she spoke, Finn couldn’t help but notice how she put her foot between the door.

“Can’t he just go home?”

Nance features contorted. She had obviously practiced her replies, but for whatever reason, the words now failed to enter into her mind. Recognizing the danger, Finn was quick to step in and put on his best innocent face. “I won’t do anything,” he promised in a sweet voice. “It’s a long way to go home and mum doesn’t think it’s safe for me to be out alone at night.”

George didn’t appear entirely convinced, but another deep rumble in the sky finally persuaded him to let the pair in before the thunderstorm would break out in full. Indeed, it would be immoral to let a young child walk home alone in this kind of weather.

“Very well then,” he sighed. “But only this once.”

After Nance had reassured the old guard they finally stepped into a long, narrow hallway that ended in a flight of stairs spiraling upward. Once they had emerged on the other side another guard halted them, but soon let them through once he recognized Nance.

Now inside the walled section that shielded the tower from the outside world, Nance guided him across the promenades surrounding the tall building until he could make out a final pair of guardsmen at the main entrance to the massive tower. A loud boom reverberated against the sky. Thick droplets of rain were starting to splash down as the clouds grew dark and angry.

“I’ll distract them for a bit,” Nance whispered as she let go of his hand. “Once you have what you need, meet me back here. They’re unlikely to check on you when you’re leaving…”

Finn felt a pang of anxiety shoot through his bones as she left his side to chat up the guards. He waited until Nance had the attention of both the guardsmen. Heart racing, he swerved around the swordsmen and headed straight for the entrance. One of the soldiers was about to turn back around from his conversation with Nance when she suddenly pointed skyward. In just a handful of trills the rain swelled from a light trickle into stormy downpour and it was thanks to the cover that the loud rain and thunder provided that Finn managed to sneak into the tower, leaving a trail of wet footsteps in his wake. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took the first staircase leading downward that he came across. Now it got tricky. Where exactly in the tower did this Alchemist have his lab? Worse still, had Robert ensured that the man wasn’t inside? It all seemed like a very bad idea all of a sudden. Yet, there was no turning back now, and he reminded himself that he could earn some good money if he managed to get a handful of recipes. He had memorized some examples that Robert had shown him before his departure with Nance, so he knew what to be looking for.

Yet the first problem was finding the damned laboratory to begin with. There were no tags or signs on any of the three doors that lined the cold hallway he found himself in. Though it was tempting to use the vial of acid on all of them, it was far too risky. One misstep, and he would wander into the room of some minister or ambassador, and thereby right into the cruel hands of the law. He could ill-afford to make such a mistake. Quiet as a mouse, he tip-toed over to the first door and peeked through the keyhole. Someone or something moved inside and he heard muffled voices.

Just when he bent over to peek through the second keyhole, he heard footsteps coming down the staircase. Judging by the sound of it, it was only one man. But that would be all that was needed to get himself arrested and locked up for good! Forced to make a choice between the second and the last door, Finn chose the last. Of course, the door was locked. With shaking hands, Finn pulled the vial of acid from his inner pocket and poured some of the substance into the keyhole. While the acid bit into the steel, it didn’t quite work fast enough. The shadow of a tall man had descended about halfway down the stairs as Finn quickly stuffed the vial back in his pocket.

For the briefest of moments Doran would be able to spot the horrified look on Finn’s face before the latter swapped it for a look of guilt. Being a renowned alchemist, the mortalborn would undoubtedly be able to detect the acidic scent, and it wouldn’t take long to find out where it came from either. Yet the most surprising aspect of the entire scene would certainly be Finn’s answer when inquired about the damage done to the door into the laboratory.

“It’s just a prank!” he’d say before hanging his head in feigned defeat. “I mean, I just wanted to impress you…I heard you’re the greatest alchemist in all the land and I’d thought I’d…” he searched for words but couldn’t come up with much else than pretending to be an aspiring student. “I brewed it myself,” he swallowed as he handed over the vial to Doran. Whether the mortalborn would be charmed, impressed, or outright angered, remained to be seen. Yet no matter what happened, Finn realized he could forget about getting any payment from Robert, even if he managed to get out. Unless…unless he would manage to convince the imposing, dark-haired chemist that he was interested in being apprenticed to the Hero of Oscillus. He bit down on his lower lip. It was his only chance.
Last edited by Finnegan O'Connor on Wed Oct 25, 2017 8:16 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 3087
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Lab rat (Doran)

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The Mortalborn was in a comparatively good mood despite the fact that the stars themselves were asking the people of Etzos to hand him over to Xiur and the city was plagued with mutants. He had just visited one of his suppliers and placed an order for an alchemical reagent that he would need in order to finally start working with that Empath’s blood Vuda had given him. Things had gone well. Now he just needed to purify the blood – it was unfortunately contaminated – which would be easily done with the help of a centrifuge.

He entered the Tower and walked downstairs to where his new laboratory was located. The change in temperature was immediately noticeable – the laboratory was located underground, and it was always a bit colder there than it was on the surface – but that fact bothered him very little. In fact he preferred it this way. Besides, it was strangely peaceful there, and few people ever bothered him, although he was sure that Vuda occasionally had somebody spy on him.

He approached the door - and stopped dead in his tracks. The lock looked as if it had been tampered with, and there was a noticeable acidic smell. He immediately reached for his sword. Somebody was there. Somebody had apparently broken into his laboratory. Was it one of Xiur’s servants or merely an Etzori that wanted to get his hands on a few rare alchemical ingredients? It didn’t matter. Intruder was intruder, and they would be dealt with.

He quietly pushed the door open so as to not alert them of his presence – and stopped again abruptly. Instead of a grown man a boy with a vial in his hand stood in his laboratory. Were they using children now, hoping that he’d have mercy on them? He would have none. His arcs as a chemistry professor in Andaris had left him with very little love for children. He had lost track of how many times a student had nearly accidentally killed themselves because they had refused to listen and overestimated their abilities. Their destructive potential had been astounding!

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, boy”, he replied coolly. “And pranks are meant to be funny. I fail to see anything even remotely funny about damaging somebody’s property.” He stepped forward, about to grab Finn’s arm – or drag him out by his hair if it was necessary – when the little criminal claimed that he had brewed the potion himself. He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” he asked, took the offered vial and inspected it briefly, furrowing his brow as he did so before he turned back to Finn again.

“If this is your work, then you will without a doubt be able to tell me which ingredients you used.”
word count: 467

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Finn O'Connor
:: 21st Ymiden, 717
His heart skipped a beat, and then another and another until he wasn't sure if it was beating anymore at all. Not that it made much of a difference, the dark-haired man still towered over him and Finn thought he looked to be the most unamused person he'd ever laid eyes upon. The look being sent his way was not merely disapproving or annoyed, it was a look of barely contained anger, anger that could flare up any moment.

"Ingredients?" he squeaked feebly, as though the words was entirely alien to him. "Oh right!" he tried to regain his composure, "the ingredients, of course! Yes, yes, I'd be most happy to tell you but uhm-" For a thief caught almost red-handed, Finn's voice was surprisingly chipper. In truth, he could barely keep his voice from stuttering and it was only because he'd been in many similar situations that he managed at all.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for words that would not come. Eventually he settled on closing his mouth, to avoid looking a complete fool, and sending his best innocent face up at the man. But that plan was soon also discarded as the alchemist appeared to grow more irritated, not less.

"Boy, you really mean it," Finn chatted with unbefitting smugness as he crossed his arms over his chest. "But you, more than anyone, should know that real alchemists never share their secrets." With a swift movement he reclaimed the vial, yanking it from Doran's hands. "Why don't you try to remake it, and if you make any mistake, I'll let you know?" It didn't seem a winning strategy, but then his real plan had not been about convincing Doran anyway. As he talked, he'd circled around so that he stood close to the still open door. Unless Doran had noticed, he'd soon be close enough to the door to bolt away and disappear into the thunderstorm that roared outside.
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As the Mortalborn had expected, the boy began to stutter a little as he demanded to know which ingredients he had used. The tone of his voice didn’t fit the situation though. It was almost unnaturally chipper which made him wonder if Finn was somewhat brain damaged and thus unaware of what kind of trouble he was in. Had he escaped from an insane asylum, an orphanage or whatever other place the Etzori put their unwanted bastards?

“Real alchemists often do keep a few things to themselves, especially when dealing with potential competitors”, he agreed in a very matter-of-fact tone. “But you, boy, are hardly a real alchemist – unless they let ten arc olds attend university nowadays? As for you letting me know if I make a mistake - I doubt you can do that.”

Another man might have proceeded to point out that he was the Hero of Oscillus, that he was likely the greatest chemist in this part of Idalos and an accomplished alchemist on top of it, but Doran did no such thing. He did not brag about his accomplishments in front of a mere child – doing so would be ridiculous. No, he simply looked at Finn thoughtfully for a moment – and then abruptly walked over to the door and slammed it shut.

By the time that he returned to Finn’s side, he had come to a decision. He would not throw Finn out, but teach him a lesson instead – in more than one way – and, perhaps, get him to admit the truth in order to escape more severe punishment. He grabbed a leftover pair of protective gloves, tossed them towards him and announced, “You will assist me.”

“We will first determine whether this vial contains an acid as I expect or something more bizarre. If it is an acid, we will then determine its strength using titration.”


He paused and looked directly at Finn. “Pass me the litmus strips, boy. You know what those are, I assume? And while you are at it, also get me a beaker and some indicator. The container with the indicator should be labelled – unless you can’t read?”
word count: 361

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Finn O'Connor
:: 21st Ymiden, 717
Finn gulped as the door fell into its heavy, damaged lock. All hope of escape was shattered and he was trapped like a rat. The only thing that remained, the only thing capable of saving him now, was his quick wit and bravado. Unfortunately, the foul alchemist didn't seem to value either very much as he grumbled in his beard. Finn wondered, as he had many times before, what it was about getting old that made people so sour and grumpy. Of course, Doran was right that Finn was no real alchemist, but that didn't stop Finn from letting out a huff at the insult to his pride. "Twelve actually," he corrected, "and could go to university I am sure, if I had the money." From any other person such a statement would have undoubtedly sounded arrogant, but there was a sincere belief in Finn's voice that made it feel like sincere confidence, whether misplaced or not.

On careful inspection, Doran might notice the galloping pulse of the boy's heart, just above his collarbone, or glimpse the cold sweat that trickled down the nape of his neck. On the outside however, Finn managed to mask his fear behind an almost eager expression as he put on the gloves.

Finn was already lost at the first request, but fortune favored him that rainy day as he wandered past the shelves with equipment. There was a small wooden container labeled "litmus strips" and he fished one out of it, completing the first part of his gruelling quest. The beaker didn't prove too much of a problem either as there were plenty of beakers to go around and he settled on a medium-sized one. What on earth an indicator was however, puzzled him. Fortunately he had learned his letters and could read, albeit slowly, and after a nerve-wracking bit or so he finally returned with a jar of red cabbage juice taken from the container labeled "indicators". Along the way he passed shelf containing a stack of recipes, while it was too dangerous to nick one, he at least now knew where to go in a moment of unattentiveness.

As he returned to Doran and put the items down, his resolve faltered. Who was to say Doran wasn't brewing some strange potion that would turn him into something unnatural? For all he knew the Hero of Oscillus could be performing some bizzare experiment on him! Either he could persist and keep pretending he knew alchemy, or he could confess and hope the man wouldn't use him for scientific purposes. In the end he reasoned that the best course of action was a middle road, something between truth and lie.

A sigh escaped him. "I-" he started, "I didn't really make that," he confessed as he pointed to the vial. "I just bought it. I hoped that if I showed you, you'd let me work for you." While he could scarcely imagine a worse fate than having to work for the bearded alchemist, it made for a convincing half-truth, though it failed to explain the damaged lock. "I'm a hard worker, I promise," he added, "and no one hates Immortals more than me!"
word count: 548
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“Twelve then“, the Mortalborn amended in a cool and unapologetic tone and shrugged his shoulders somewhat indifferently. After all those centuries he sometimes found it hard to tell the age of children accurately. They all seemed so young to him. Even their parents and grandparents had barely lived in comparison to him. Perhaps, he thought, that was part of the reason why he had become like that. He didn’t have much in common with those mortals anymore – not that he really wanted to be like them.

“As for university, you can study there even if you don’t have any money. There are scholarships for those that excel at their studies. I was a professor at Rynmere University for a while, and I occasionally recommended somebody I thought promising for one. Besides that, there will occasionally be jobs available, assistantships for example that will allow you to pay for your tuition fees.”

He was definitely not implying that he considered Finn to be a potentially promising student and trying to give him hope that he too could attend university one trial and that, perhaps, he might even be willing to help. He was merely stating facts and pointing out the flaws in Finn’s thinking – which might still be of some use to the boy if he managed to actually pay attention and stopped inwardly complaining about how sour and grumpy he was for a moment.

While the tone of the boy’s voice was chipper, his body betrayed him. The Mortalborn noticed that he was beginning to sweat. Was the little criminal growing nervous? Of course children usually weren’t very disciplined, but still, he had thought he would last longer!

He had half expected Finn to be illiterate – breaking into the laboratory of a man who had managed to wound an Immortal and lived to tell the tale wasn’t exactly a sign of intelligence – but to his surprise the boy retrieved both the litmus strips and the indicator.

He was just about to tell Finn to take a litmus strip and dip it into the vial, when the boy suddenly admitted the truth. The Mortalborn stopped what he was doing abruptly and looked at him. Finn’s statement that he hadn’t made the potion didn’t surprise him – he had suspected as much – but the fact that he had given up his charade so soon definitely did.

Most of the young people he had worked with had insisted on lying even after he had caught them red handed, but of course that didn’t change anything about the fact that Finn was a criminal.

You want to work for me?” he asked somewhat incredulously and briefly considered the possibility that he might have misunderstood the boy. But no, he had heard correctly. Why had the boy claimed such though? Did he really want to work here – and with him of all people – or was he merely trying not to get punished for breaking into the Tower and damaging the door? He considered the latter to be much more likely, but decided to play along – for now.

He wanted to see how long it would take Finn to admit the truth this time – that he couldn’t imagine a worse fate than being apprenticed to the Hero of Oscillus – and beg for mercy.

“If you want to work for me, you should have knocked on the door rather than damaging it”, he informed him. “As for you hating the Immortals, while that is an admirable quality, your hatred for the Immortals or the lack thereof won’t make you a better alchemist. What I need is a willingness to listen and follow instructions.”

With that he abruptly handed Finn a piece of cloth. “Before and after any experiment the equipment needs to be cleaned. If it contains even a bit of residue, the consequences could be disastrous. People have died because they considered cleaning to be unnecessary, so you will learn how to take care of your equipment before anything else. I assume that won’t be a problem for you, boy?”
Last edited by Doran on Fri Jul 28, 2017 3:45 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 686

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Finn O'Connor
:: 21st Ymiden, 717
"I couldn't have knocked," Finn retorted, "D'you think they let just anyone into the tower?" It was both a defense and an admission of truth, but then he figured Doran already knew just how precarious his situation was. A few words with the Black Guard outside the tower and Finn would find himself thrown into the deepest dungeon no doubt. "There was no other way."

Luckily, the fabled man didn't seem to want to throw him into dungeons or perform experiments on him just yet. The cloth thrown to him was of simple make, and so were the instructions that accompanied it. A smile appeared on his lips, manufactured by a mixture of happiness and relief. "No problem at all!" he beamed, glad to be given a shot at redemption. In an effort to reinforce the half-truth he'd fed to the alchemist, Finn wasted no time to start his cleaning duties. The nearest shelf contain several rows of beakers, ordered from the smallest ones on the left to the largest ones on the right. Finn picked up the first one and held it aganist the light. It looked fairly clean already, but he gave it a good scrubbing regardless, taking care not to break the fragile glass in his hands while he did so.

Within a few bits, Finn had moved all the beakers off the shelve and onto an empty workbench, positioned underneath a slit in the wall through which a vale light crept. Outside, the rain and thunder still roared. He gazed up for a moment, wondering if Nance would figure out that he had failed. He hoped she wouldn't wait for him in the rain, she might catch a cold if she did!

With a quiet sigh he returned to the job at hand and one by one, scrubbed the residue out of the beakers until they shone like new. Yet he didn't stop there. There was more equipment to clean. Bits turned into bells and the light outside turned from vale yellow into lily white. Night had fallen and still he worked, filling the workbench with beakers, tubes, eyedroppers, and other glass constructions whose purpose he could only guess. He payed no mind to Doran who did whatever he'd come to do, and so long as he wasn't told to stop, he continued, or so it appeared. No less than four bells had passed since he'd broken into the laboratory, but when Doran turned to look, he'd find the little criminal resting his head on his arm which in turn rested on the desk. His body was still except for the slight rise and fall of his breathing. On closer inspection it would turn out that Finn had, after having cleaned almost two thirds of Doran's equipment, fallen asleep. A firm shake was required to wake him, if Doran intended to send him back through howling wind and cold rain, but then the Mortalborn might consider that he was unlikely to see the boy ever again if he set him free now.
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Doran
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“Not anybody“, Doran agreed. Finn’s words cemented his belief that there was something wrong with the boy’s brain – or that he was, at the very least, completely clueless as to how things were being handled in Etzos despite apparently living there. “But if the person in question came up with a few convincing arguments or had a useful skill to offer, the guards might let them in. Breaking into the Tower on the other hand is not a good idea.”

That was all that he said – for now. He had half expected the boy to try and protest when he told him to clean his equipment – he seemed just like the kind of child that shunned hard work – but to his surprise the little criminal went to work right away. Perhaps, he thought, Finn was not a completely lost case after all – or perhaps it had finally begun to dawn on him what he had done and that it might be over very, very soon.

He had also expected Finn to break a thing or two – children were nearly always clumsy – but his beakers and vials stayed whole, and he actually cleaned them thoroughly from what he could see. While the little criminal began without a doubt to grow more and more exhausted, the Mortalborn sat down at a table. In between going through his notes – he could not stand being idle – he wondered what he should do about the boy long-term.

He was not completely familiar with the laws of Etzos yet, having only arrived in Ashan, but he was quite sure that what Finn had done was considered a serious crime and that not even his age would protect him entirely. For a moment he considered warning him about the punishment that would probably await him – unless he, Doran, spoke in his favour and protected him – but no, if he warned him, it would falsify the results, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He wanted to see what he was like without that additional threat looming over him.

What was Finn doing now by the way? He hadn’t paid attention to him for a few bits – he’d grown bored of watching him which had, perhaps, been somewhat careless. When he turned around to check on him and see if he was trying to find a way out that wouldn’t alert him or the Black Guard (who might actually already be aware of his presence considering the spyholes that could be found everywhere), he found him sleeping at the desk. He frowned – the boy was not finished yet – and was about to shake him and tell him to get back to work, but then he walked over to a nearby cupboard instead.

He retrieved a glass of water and some food, some sort of sandwich, placed both in front of the boy and then shook him awake. He was not normally one to starve people, besides Finn would be able to work longer and harder if he provided him with nourishment.

“Wake up and eat something, and then go back to work, boy”, he told him. “After you are done, we will briefly go over a few safety measures, and then we might start with some real alchemy – unless you have changed your mind about working for me and would much rather leave?” He raised an eyebrow, and then asked, “What’s your name by the way? I won’t let somebody that I don’t know stay here.”
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Finnegan O'Connor
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Finn O'Connor
:: 21st Ymiden, 717
Finn awoke with a jolt. For a few confusing trills he blinked sheepishly at the food and drink set before him. Was he still dreaming? He quietly pinched his skin to check. No, he was wide-awake and Doran was all too real, hovering over him like a statue of old. For a moment he considered doing as the man asked. It would be the wise choice, no doubt. Then again, if he simply obeyed without question, Doran might keep him around for even longer, and he had no desire at all to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.

"I'm not stupid," Finn answered with a huff. "I'm not gonna eat that, you'd turn me into some freakish mutant." Though the sandwhich looked fine, there was no telling if the alchemist hadn't injected some kind of substance into it. He kicked back the chair he'd been seated upon and jumped up, irritation rising in his chest. "And I'm not your slave either, and I certainly won't be staying here!" He slipped past Doran and started backing his way out toward the door. "If you must know, I don't give a hoot about your experiments, I was sent here to get these," he nicked a thin piece of paper from a neat stack of recipes and waved it over his head. "There, that's the truth. Now, you may call the guards if you wish, but then I'll never-ever tell you who sent me, or where you can find them!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "But if you let me go, I'll tell you all you want to know."
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“There’s nothing in the sandwich“, the Mortalborn informed Finn coldly as the little criminal refused his food. “I would not waste reagents that cost hundreds of nels on somebody like you and spend trials making a potion, especially not when I can get a mutant for free anywhere in the underground at the moment. Besides, I wouldn’t put the mutagen into the sandwich. It would be in your drink – or in the air that you have been breathing all the time. I have been experimenting with gases recently.” He didn’t say the last bit to scare Finn, he was merely stating a fact.

The boy had insisted that he was not stupid, but his next action made it obvious that he was. As Finn moved towards the door, the Mortalborn almost smirked. “Somebody of intelligence would be aware of the consequences that await him. I am not entirely familiar with the laws of this city yet”, he admitted. He’d seen enough and made a decision. In spite of his attitude the boy was meticulous in his work. Now it was time for a bit of honesty. “But your punishment will without a doubt be extremely severe. This is not just any laboratory. You are in the Tower, and I work directly under Chief Adviser Vuda. They might execute you or enslave you, they might torture you or maybe they will just lock you up in prison for the next couple of arcs.”

He shrugged his shoulders seemingly indifferently and swiftly moved over to where Finn stood. He didn’t hit him, he didn’t drag him back to the table where more dirty vials awaited him, no, he put his hand on the door handle and gestured for him to come closer. “If you don’t believe me, we can ask the guards. I’ll accompany you in case you are shy. After you have put this back where it belongs.” He attempted to snatch the piece of paper from Finn’s hands. “Or”, he continued and removed his hand from the door handle. “You can continue to work for me and clean my equipment. Maybe you’ll even learn something.”

He had quite enjoyed doing more important work while the boy took care of his dirty vials and beakers. A little helper, he decided, might be just what he needed, especially if said little helper wouldn’t be able to quit because he was bored or didn’t get paid enough. He just hoped that he’d be able to keep the boy from trying to steal from him again.

“As for who sent you, I’ll probably find out soon enough”, he finished. All it would take would be a brief touch. Finn would never know that he had used the abilities that his immortal blood afforded him.
Last edited by Doran on Fri Aug 25, 2017 7:11 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 474

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