r/WritingPrompts • u/HonestAbe1809 • 19h ago
Writing Prompt [WP] As counter-productive as it may seem, older healing potions are actually more effective. Aging in a cool dry place like a dungeon can often do wonders for a potion.
8
u/HSerrata r/hugoverse 10h ago
[Totally Known]
"This is Todd," Monday introduced the lanky teen to the potbellied man in a grey silk suit. "Todd, this is Mr. Peter Smallwood. He runs a small apothecary chain named 'Peter's Potions'." The two students and Mr. Smallwood were standing outside in a relatively empty market square with more stalls than shoppers. It was still early. Just past two, the golden sun was only just thinking about sliding down the still vibrant purple sky. Monday asked Todd to meet her there to introduce him to a client.
"Hi," Todd nodded with a smile. He started to reach for a handshake, but it was apparent Mr. Smallwood wasn't interested, as the bald man's hand didn't move an inch.
"Todd's one of my best potion suppliers, and since your orders are so large, it's easier for all three of us if you two work together directly," she said.
"One of?" Todd asked playfully. He didn't think she meant anything by it, and he wasn't offended. It was just an unexpected comment.
[Salesmanship. I'm working. - Monday] The Whisper felt like a gentle tap on Todd's shoulder as he heard Monday's voice in his mind.
"Oh yeah, it's easy to forget Aury," Todd commented, and Monday moved on. Peter was well-versed in the AlterNet, and he knew all about Whispers, and Aurelio's reputation. However, Todd's follow-up comment happened so seamlessly that it appeared he remembered on his own.
“I'd like 500 Major Health Potions.” Todd was already nodding at the simple order, but Peter continued. “The older the better,” he added.
“Huh?” Todd knew his business pretty well, but he also knew there was always something more to learn. “Does that matter?” Todd asked Peter and glanced at Monday for a second opinion. Peter nodded frantically, but Monday rolled her eyes while Peter wasn't looking.
“As counter-productive as it may seem, older healing potions are actually more effective. Aging in a cool, dry place like a dungeon can often do wonders for a potion.”
[Just play along. - Monday] The Whisper tapped Todd's shoulder again
“Oh, yeah, right,” Todd nodded with a grin. “I just make the things; don't really use them that often, though. I'll dig up the oldest ones from any unclaimed order and cycle them out, then complete the order with fresh ones. By when?”
“Saturday. I'll send along precise timing and delivery details by Thursday.”
“No sweat,” Todd agreed as the two of them shook hands.
“Then, I'll see you Saturday. Thank you, Monday,” he said with a chuckle. “I'm sorry to say, I think you've inadvertently lost me as a customer. You've introduced me to so many fine tradesmen, I hardly need the middle merchant anymore.”
“I'll manage somehow,” Monday smirked as Peter opened a portal for himself, then vanished through it with a wave.
“There's a backstory here…,” Todd grinned once they were alone. Monday shook her head with a frustrated sigh.
“He's good business, but oh my god, he's such a know-it-all. And 90% of what he knows is known by 90% of people, while the other 10% is just rumors or misinformation. Maybe he won't be so bad for you, but I had to unload him. Trying to be the ‘everything’ merchant for him was exhausting. Small talk about the weather? ‘It’s not widely known, but there are some universes out there with blue skies,’” she took on a mocking tone for the extra statement. “Offer him a drink out of courtesy? ‘You’d be surprised to learn that the water is actually dry on some Earths.’ Whether or not I have any item he asks for, it comes with a story. ‘Liquid silk comes from very rare spiders found on very rare Earths, but it’s a key ingredient in a lot of potions.’”
“He said that?” Todd shook his head in amusement. “That does feel like he thinks everyone else is stupid. But maybe they don’t have wine on his Earth?” Todd asked about the only experience he did have with Peter. He was still trying to be generous. “Or maybe it just hasn’t occurred to him that potions would work kinda the same way?”
“But they don’t work that way; it’s just a rumor he heard somewhere…” Monday was surprised that he didn’t seem to know that.
“No, no, I know. I’m just trying to put myself in his shoes. Trying to imagine situations where it could be considered counter-productive to age potions. I guess there’re a few perspectives to it,” he shrugged. “That’s not how they work, but it is giving me some ideas…”
“Whatever,” Monday smirked and turned to leave. “Be prepared to hear about how to properly store manaberries to draw out maximum effectiveness.”
*** Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #3208 in a row. (Story #286 in year nine). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place in my universe.
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u/SheElfXantusia 13h ago
Fighting the Skeleton King was not worth the loot in the enormous chest he guarded. Inside of it, there is nothing more but a bunch of cobwebs, spiders long dead and dried to a crisp, and a lone potion bottle no bigger than my thumb, probably overlooked by those who had looted this place before me.
I have taken heavy damage during the fight, and the way out of the dungeon is bound to be long. Potions like this one – I think as I hold it up in a trembling, bloodied hand – are only good for curing light fevers or sprained ankles. As I gaze down at the deep gashes on my hip and shoulder, I cannot imagine this will do much for me. I am tempted to leave it there for the next fool courageous enough to fight the Skeleton King. So that my last act on this plane of existence is not a greedy one.
But as I hear the rattling behind me, the Skeleton King being reassembled by the cursed magic within each and every of his bones and pieces of armour that is now dragging itself to the centre of the room as if pulled by invisible stings, my will to fight wins over. Even though the chances are less than slim, I must do everything to leave this dungeon. To see my father again. To see the sun.
If not for the meager amount of health stored within it, I drink the potion for the courage it could give me. Only one sip and the bottle is empty. It tastes like any other lesser healing potion I have drank in my life. And yet... something is different. There is a deepness to its taste. It lingers on my tongue. And as the bones of the skeleton begin to stack tall in front of me, I gasp in shock as the wounds on my body heal completely, all the aches and coldness from my body disappearing, and I feel as strong as I did this morning before I entered the dungeon.
I don't second guess my luck and, wielding my battle axe once again, I face the Skeleton King, ready to fight and defeat him again to earn my right to walk out of this cursed place. I had won no loot in this dungeon, but I shall live and I shall find out what stands behind the miracle that just happened to me. Maybe next time I'm looting a century old dungeon, I will not look at lesser healing potions the same way. I will not overlook them like the fool who had defeated this place before me.
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u/tudorapo 18h ago
I am in there. The deepest room of the Dungeon of the Archmage. This is where she worked out how to heal with potions. This is where the first drops of the rich ruby red BloodCurling were distilled. Where the Healing Potion was crystallized from a vast collection of suffering. So many inventions, so much work and experiment, all from one crazy genius.
The ampules of the prototypes, the first real products, the failed experiments are lining the shelves. The Archmage being a genius, everything has vignettes with the important details. The hundreds of years made the vellum fragile, the dust lying in inches deep. Fortunately the one I needed has this beautiful white light emanating from it. This one is the brightest from the dozens I found during my search. This gives me hope.
And it was a long search. Through three continents, battles with humans and creatures I have not known to exists. Dashing around a dragon while it combusted my companions, just to find that batch of potion not strong enough. Losing friends, companions, enemies, two fingers on my left hand. Convincing mythical monsters about my clear intentions, including the sphinx guarding the entry into this dungeon.
But I am here. I lift the ampule from the shelf, open the little urn I took through hell and empty the potion into it.
The light is unbearable. I can't look at it. And then it goes dark. I still see only the blotches the light made in my eyes, but then I manage to light my candle and here he is. My father, finally healthy, alive, looking at me with a warm smile.
I fall to my knees. I want to hug him, but I can't. I'm not brave enough. With a large, wracking sob, I start to cry.
"Father. I am so so sorry. I'm really, truly sorry. I never.. never... I am so sorry."
I am a head taller than he was, large, with scars from battle, fire, sickness and curses. Dressed in well worn mail and the random pieces of armor I collected.
But it is he who steps to me, lifts me up, hugs me.
"Nothing to be sorry, little one. I was watching you from... from there. It's all fine. It's all good."
We stand there until I calm myself down somewhat.
"I am very proud of you, little one. You really don't need my forgiveness. Should you still ask for it, I gave it you freely and happily. But now... Can I go back to... rest?"
He does not wait for my whispered yes. He can see the smile through my tears. Between two blinks of mine he disappears, leaving behind a light dusting of his ashes.
I decide that I will not collect his ashes again. This magnificent dungeon will be a better monument than anything I could build.
I turn and start my long way out, to the surface.
To my life.
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