The Alchemist.

She had resided at Raven Cliff Crag for hundreds of years, perfecting her art, honing her skills.

Her concoctions bubbled and frothed in front of her; she let out a hearty laugh. “Not long now” she muttered under her breath. Her creation was almost complete…

(Above is the story starter from the website)

The concoction bubbled furiously. It was The Potion of Death. Whoever drank it, the first person they looked at was infected with the potion. Then they (the drinker and infected)  looked at people and they dropped down dead. Just like that. “2 minutes… nearly ready.” she hissed. “Done!” Beatrice shrieked as she transferred it to a bottle. This was the only potion that needed watching else it would burn (and the antidote). One second late, and it would fail. The people that should die, only fainted. It was not good. Well, the potion did not kill, but death was the point of the wonder. Beatrice scooped a pint glass in and filled it ½ full.  

Of course, there was an antidote for The Potion of Death. “The next task,” Beatrice muttered. “Is to make the antidote,” grunt. “The poor, pointless thing. I mean, death is so wonderful. The…” She trailed off as she saw the people staring at her. She had to share a lab with people with no magic. Stuipid people. So blind. “What you looking at?” Beatrice snapped. 

“Are you blind? Because it is obviously you.” said a particularly dumb looking one.

“Yeah,” shouted another, who looked to be about 40. He always whispered, so talking normally was a shout.

“Dumb one, queit one, shut up soundly. Leave me alone so I do not kill you.” hissed Beatrice. It was a quieting spell. You had to be careful with it so you don’t describe the wrong person. There was an easier one but you needed a wand for that and well… techinkly Beatrice was a criminal and her wand was snapped. “I don’t need one anyway.” Beatrice thought. She had to think this again and again whenever it was in her trail of thoughts. It saddened her that it bothered her. Well, fate is mean. And so is life. So, what do you expect? A nice life that likes you? Seriously? Well, some people get good lives but that is just because  life and fate are mean and pick favourites. That is worse. However, nice, easy lives are boring lives. 

“Antidote.” Beatrice reminded herself. She selected the ingredients and set to work, adding worm tails, geco heads, tarantula legs and water when needed. She earned a few stares but glared at the people so they looked away. Simple as. This antidote is called The Will to Live. If you have the will to live, then you make the antidote.  By now, it was time to add the urine. She cackled so loudly that she drew stares from the building opposite. It had always been Beatrice’s favourite part. Yes, it stank, but all things do at times. Even the nice smelling things stink. “Bling, bling, blong, blong, bling, blong, blong.” listed Beatrice. It was the key to make it harder (into a block). Slowly, it hardened. Then, out it came. The Will to Live was ground until it was a powder. Then, Beatrice took a pinch of it and plopped it into a glass filled with water. It gave off the tiniest bit of smoke; Beatrice sniffed, sipped, then poured it the pint glass. If you combine the 2 potions, then you become immune to The Potion of Death for life. If either is wrong in the slightest way (1 second to long / short in the caldern), then you will die if The Potion is wrong and it will not work if The Will is wrong it won’t work. If both are wrong then you will faint. 

A sip of it told Beatrice that it worked. Now she packed the things up and waved goodbye gleefully. Beatrice was going, finally she was going to the Land of Magic. Beatrice ran to the hole she called home. She grabbed the nail that was used to travel there. Beatrice grabbed her hat and dashed deeper into the twisting tunnels. There she placed the nail and dropped 30000 bits of shredded paper on top and spat on the last. It was the code to say who she was. A voice shreecked out from the paper. “Not you again! I will see to it that the Headmistress knows your request. You want to join the school right?”

“No, I want to meet with the leader. King isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’ll make sure that you are outfitted well enough.” The voice said the last bit with disdain. 

“Fine. How long?”

A pause. “15, 20 minutes maybe.” 

17 minutes later, the voice yelled out again. “Jump on top of the nail 5 times. Then take the spat on paper out and spit on it again.” 

Beatrice did just that. Then she stood in a completely different world. A young girl stood by her side with a large smile on her face. “Welcome back Beatrice. I’m Maisie and I will get you ready for your visit to the King. Yes, you can see him.” 

Beatrice bathed, dressed and had her wand again. When she gapped at it, Maisie smiled and said, “Your wand was not snapped. Most criminals’ are, but the King thought you could have it back one day. You have no longer got a criminal record. You have been forgiven for all your crimes. It is only proper if you see the King.” Maisie said all this but Beatrice wasn’t listening. She was staring at herself in wonder. Beatrice wore a tight shirt with a yellow jacket and straight black trousers. Black curls had been scooped up into a ponytail. Sturdy boots covered her ankles and toes. “How? How did you do this?” Beatrice asked.

“Simple.”Maisie said. “I did what I could and that was the result. This might be one of my worst outfitings though; no offence meant.”

“But, then what’s your best?” Beatrice was just so amazed that someone could make someone so. . . beautiful.

Maisie just smiled, which was terribly annoying, but witches and wizards were allowed to keep magical secrets and it would be terrible for Beatrice to get another criminal record when her last had gone.

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