The apothecary is a dingy, squat building with a sign proclaiming “Wide array of exotic animal semen from the farthest reaches of the realm!” The door opens as you approach and a hulking orc exits, his gait a careful, bowlegged swagger. You watch as he stumbles down the road, clutching his nethers in obvious discomfort.
As you enter the surprisingly fastidious shop you are greeted by gleaming bottles of various sizes lining the walls from floor to ceiling. A white, viscous fluid fills most of them, though the occasional bottle is full of pale yellow, pink, and even blue. A few of the larger containers churn with little eddies, but the contents are so occluded you cannot see what's causing it.
“Be there in a minute!” a velvety voice calls from the back. “Just freshening up!”
You wait patiently at the counter with hands tucked into sleeves as Master Eneus has instructed you. Luckily, you’ve heard Master Eneus describe Sepulina, a surprisingly winsome troll, so you are not taken aback when the long armed, green skinned apothecarist pushes through a bead curtain and lumbes toward you. You are, however, surprised by her near total lack of dress.
Sepulina’s eyes appraise you. “Welcome to Sepulina’s Specialty Spunk! We’ve got what you need to help brew everything from potions of potency that will make you gush like the Decanter of Endless Water to aphrodisiacs that can make the dead stand up in their graves! What can I do for you, lad?”
It takes a few swallows before you’re able to get your voice to work.
“I’m sent from the Great Grizzlebottom to purchase powdered hippogriff.”
She leans against the counter opposite you, her large green assets brushing the lacquered hardwood.
“Application?” she asks.
“Um—sorry?” you stutter.
“For what purpose does your master intend to use the specimen?”
With effort, you avert your gaze to a large wooden bucket tucked into a corner. The sign above it reads:
Bulk specimen (assorted)
Take a sample: 5 copper per ounce
Leave a sample: 1 copper per ounce
“My master requires the powder for a matter of some delicacy,” you explain.
Sepulina’s chuckle raises the hairs on the nape of your neck and a hard knot forms in the pit of your stomach.
“Oh, I know your master well from when I added him to my personal collection.” She gestures to an ornate display case that looms behind her. Each shelf is packed with bottles of all sizes, each one labeled with a neat handwritten script. A banner atop the cabinet reads, “Seed of the Magical Men of the Realm.”
“He’s having trouble shitting again?” she asks.
You nod confirmation.
Sepulina plucks a small leather pouch from a shelf and sets it on the counter. “Hippogriff specimen is expensive, particularly in powder form. How much coin did he send you with?”
Your hand trembles only slightly as you pull the coin purse from your robes and place it on the counter next to the satchel of hippogriff spunk. Sepulina shifts; her breasts sway and brush the back of your hand. Large goosebumps appear along the flesh of her taut bosom and her dark green nipples harden. A scarlet flush blazes across your cheeks, and she pretends not to notice.
The apothecarist teases open the coin purse with an adroit flick of her wrist and peers inside.
“Oh dear,” she says, clucking her tongue.
“What?”
She sighs, cinching the purse closed again. Pushing it back to you she explains, “There’s not nearly enough in here for the amount you’ll need.”
A stinging sensation begins behind your eyes as you remember the last time you had to assist Eneus with his constipation without the aid of alchemy. Your once flushed face drains of color as you say a silent prayer to the gods. That's one experience you don't want to relive.
“Please, ma'am, there must be something you can do. Will you take a writ? My master is an honorable man and will be sure to repay your kindness.”
Sepulina puckers her lips. Her eyes jump from you to the bottles filling her private collection and back again. “Sorry, lad, but I've a business to run and bills to pay. I can’t afford to take the word of a fledgling wizard.”
“How do you know I’m an apprentice?” you ask. “Are you Gifted? Surely my word from one practitioner to another is worth—”
Your words trail off as she stands to her full height. She places opposing thumbs to forefingers and peers at you through the box it makes. “I’m no wizard, but I do have a trick or two…”
She’s silent for a few moments as she examines you. You begin to shift uncomfortably, then she starts rattling off a list of attributes. It takes a few moments for you to realize that she's describing you.
“Subject is male, 18 years old, though just barely. Occupation: wizard’s apprentice. Race: half-elf. Hmmmm...Could be mongrel stock or could be the best of both genuses. Will need a double sampling for extensive testing. Peak physical condition (rare for this occupation--could be indicative of prime stock).”
A pause, then, “Oh! A virgin! The specimen will be extra potent! And now…..”
Her voice trails off and the aperture from which she views you pans down, down, down…then she squeals, “95th percentile for the race! Blessed Maiden’s quivering cunt, maybe this won’t be entirely clinical after all!”
Throughout the litany you’ve backpedaled until you bump against a cabinet. The flush returns to your cheeks and you clasp your hands protectively in front of you.
Seeing your discomfort, Sepulina drops her hands to the counter and says, “Don’t fret, lad. You’ve got two options. First, with the coins you’ve brought you can purchase essence of centaur. It’ll do the trick for old Grizzlebottom only too well. It’ll give him the screaming fire shits for a week. Or,” she says, stepping around the counter and approaching you, her green flesh glistening in the mid-morning light streaming through the high narrow windows, “you can provide a sample for my private collection. I've got a bottle with your name on it, lad, a big one. And with your, um, resources....I'm sure we can fill it right up."
CLICK HERE to Purchase the centaur spunk
CLICK HERE to Provide a sample for Sepulina’s private collection