My friend Silent Torture on Y! Gallery and Deviantart did this picture for me as a belated b-day gift! She asked me what I'd like drawn, and well, my mongrel elf (he has drow, shape-shifter, human - that's just from his mother, and demon from his daddy) Ancallin Grave
Here's the caption that went along with it:What time was it? Morning, maybe? Hells, what day was it?
And more importantly, what the nine hells was the green liquid in the glass vial?
Ancallin turned the small, nondescript piece of glass between his forefinger and thumb, watching the liquid slosh against the edges. He was pretty sure whatever it was in there wasn’t harmful. It didn’t bubble and when he uncorked the top, no rank smell emitted from it. Some leftover juice from a spell or incantation or charm…
Or stomach medicine, hells, he had no idea. There was no marking, etching, nothing to give a clue as to the content’s purpose. Anca would have, at this point of sleep-drunkness, downed the liquid in one gulp, just to see what it would do, but some fear that it was a leftover transmutation potion gave him pause. The green color made him think of frogs, and he really didn’t want to be a frog and catch flies with his frog tongue and hop around on his frog legs.
Hm. Frog legs.
Gods, he was hungry. When had he last eaten?
‘Maybe I’ll mix it with something,’ his head suggested. ‘See if it explodes. Hm. That’d be an awful mess. I’d have to clean it up. Hm.’
This, he was sure, was why the gods invented labeling.
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