Testament of Dr. Garth Harryfoot

In all things, I have sought to remain honest and true to the ideals of science. This testament that I write furthers that conviction and, though it shall bring me great pain and likely death, I feel I must make it. Whosoever reads this, know that I kept my word to the letter, though not the spirit. In doing so, I doom myself but I give you the means of salvation to others.
If we have met, you will know that I have dedicated my life to the proposition that the science of alchemy can provide substitution if not replacement to the influence of magic. The existence of magic and the gods is undeniable. I believe, however, that other means are possible to produce similar effects. The existence of potions that heal wounds proves this fact. My research was dedicated to finding out what other magical effects could be achieved through mundane means.

My colleague Dr. Elvarion shared my belief and passion for the work. In our research, we discovered that there was a tribe on the Torillian continent of Chult that could restore limbs via a mixture of certain herbs. This was the break in research we needed. We travelled there together, exploring trackless jungles. In finding the tribe, we found that it was hoax. The mixture was imbued with divine magic and not solely mundane ingredients.

Yet, Dr. Elvarion learned from one native of a cave with certain knowledge that he may be interested in. After hiring some adventurers for the mission, he went to explore the cave. I do not know what transpired there, but after nearly a week, he returned without the adventurers. They were all killed, he said, dying to the hazards of the cave. What he found, however, intrigued him.

It was a piece of what seemed like paper, but was actually a very thin and durable piece of vellum though it was black at night. The bone white letters scrawled on the page were in an ancient tongue of primordial origin. It spoke of a potion to restore flesh to a body. Elvarion believed it was the gift they sought. I was not so sure. In examining the page, it seemed too magical, too imbued with arcane ritual in the preparation of the ingredients. Elvarion disagreed. We returned to Dragonrock and I did not see him for several months.

That is, until I received a letter from him begging him to go to his house immediately and take a box from there and bring it to my house. Once there, a person would come to collect it and I could know the cause if I wanted after that. I did so in the hopes of helping my friend who seemed desperate and burning with curiosity. After taking the box and coming home, a sharp knock came at the door. There was a half-elf there, golden haired and fair in appearance, but his face betrayed a sort of wickedness that I have felt only once.

He told me that Dr. Elvarion sent him and asked for the box. I let him into my study and gave him the box. A sort of sigh came over him, like the relief of seeing the contents brought no little satisfaction. He mixed the contents together in a strange manner and the contents swirled in a blue glow. Immediately I recognized the influence of the Weave and knew that something arcane was involved. The half-elf asked me if I wanted to know what was going on and I curse my curiosity to this very day. Against my judgment, I agreed. Taking my hand and holding it to the box, the half-elf said I should swear not to reveal the secrets to anyone or anything as long as he lived. I swore and the same blue light swirled about my hand and the box. I knew I was bound by some magic then and cursed the rogue for the trick.

He laughed, quaffing the mixture. A hideous transformation occurred and I saw the half-elf transform into the form of my friend, Dr. Elvarion. I raged at him as he sat, weeping with tears of contrition. He explained that the potion worked to restore flesh, but that something about his composition made it go wrong. His appearance changes into something else every time he drinks it and now he is changing without the mixture. I tell him that he has dabbled with the arcane and is no longer welcome at my home or in my company. Dejected, Elvarion left. I have not seen him since but I know from rumors that his alter ego, Mr. Popansa is causing some mischief.

I do not know if I did right in rejecting him. I do not know if I should have saved him. To me, he had committed the one taboo that we professionally sought to maintain: never use magic. As I write this, I can feel the curse of that oath assault me. I swore to not divulge the secret to anything, presumably preventing me from telling a construct. But I have told these pages, and the curse seems unsure if I have broken my vow. To ensure my survival, I must forgo my professional scruples and have this document magically sealed against intrusion.

There is not much time left for me, but if others can find this, I beg them to destroy that knowledge that Elvarion found. Its unnatural contents are best shared with oblivion.

Type

Journal, Personal

Medium

Paper

Authors

• Dr. Garth Harryfoot