Hmmph... this junior is a good seed [Cultivation Management Quest]

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Minervina Barda 3 - Preparation is key
Minervina Barda 3: Preparation is key.

It turns out a good slaughter is just like a good party. Its all about the preparation.

"Those noble ballads never mention all the elbow grease that goes into setting up a proper battlefield. Or the expense." The slim figure grouses as she takes a sharp knife to the throat of the Formation Stage cannibal that lies dead at her feet. She talks to the corpse, for lack of anything better to moan at, its bloated eyes seem to glare at her reproachfully as she inelegantly removes his head. In hindsight her gathering knife wasn't the right tool for the job, she makes a note to bring an axe or something next time. "Oh and don't you get all pissy with me. You got exactly what you deserved. What sensible senior ditches his juniors in enemy territory because he heard rumors a perfectly normal little village has a Heavenly Treasure like a Vorpal Blood Pill?" She shakes her head ruefully at this foolishness and gives the now headless corpse a contemptuous little kick as she artfully spreads the mans blood over her knuckles and face.

To a casual glance it now looks like the Golden Devil has taken her rival apart with brute force and her bare fists, rather than simply leaving a carefully disguised Poison Pill where the cannibal expected a Heavenly Elixir. The disguise likely won't stand much scrutiny, but it doesn't have to for the plan to work. Min feels a shiver of nerves, but clamps down on them hard. Direct confrontation wasn't her usual style, but it was necessary for the plan and besides if she wanted to perfect her latest technique in time for the Trials, it would need to be tempered in combat. A flash of a broken roof spar falling on a humble fisherman enters her mind. This technique could be the key to her vengeance.

A guttural warcry outside the village gates signals the arrival of the last of her party guests. "Mother always said a good hostess always greets her guests at the door with a smile." She scoops up the dead mans head (fortunately he had grown his hair long) and flies from the village square to the gatehouse in four long floating leaps. The Shimmermist Steps was a favorite of hers, well worth the effort and Points it took to find a worthy movement technique in the Clan archive.

She stands like a flagpole on the gatehouse, grisly trophy held high. No less than thirty Blood Warriors awaited her. Huge, musclebound men and women covered in the furs, scales and chitin of desert predators and holding weapons that glistened with stolen vitality. Each was a product of a harsh existence, forced to prove herself over and over against their peers for the right to continue existing. Any who had it in them to hesitate at the sight of blood had long since been betrayed and consumed by his fellows.

Yet even still, their dimmed hearts knew fear in that moment. To see the head of Demon Eyed Markuth, Consumer of six cities and feared Gourmet of Virtue, dangling nonchalantly from the fingers of this thin slip of a black robed woman? How could anyone not hesitate, even if only for a moment. The Golden Devils toothy grin just made things worse somehow.

Min is certain some of her peers could have done this with more panache. Sarentpechos would have had a blistering noble speech prepared or that Callistra woman would have dealt with this whole matter much more elegantly. Oh well, she would just have to do her best.

"When you get to hell, tell them Minervina Barda sent you. I'll be along to say hello in my own damn time." The barbarians look nonplussed. That was such a shit line, she berated herself. You spent three days planning this whole thing out but didn't give a single thought as to what you were going to say?

"Oh fuck off and die." She tosses the head at their feet and her fingers flash through the lightning fast incantation gestures of the most advanced technique she has yet gleaned from the seemingly endless Scarlet Crow Scroll. Her smile goes from performative to genuine as she feels the winds fall under her spell and hears the subtle click as a dozen seals release from the caskets of carefully prepared toxins she has hidden around the village. The scene was set, her Deathly Opiate Orchestra could now play out.

(No, she didn't shout the technique name, yes I hear its very gratifying but people who shout out the names of their techniques deserve every misfortune the heavens drop on their ridiculous heads.)

First the Hallucinogens. Lighter than air and fast acting, the canny wind fetches them from the caskets and drops them on the confused mass of enemy Cultivators as a light fog. Gathered during her expedition to the Vermillion hills, the brew brings great waves of euphoria, anxiety, dread and lust to the crowd. Each foe feels each emotion at a different time of course, creating an utterly fascinating little tableaux before the whole scene is covered in the thick purple smogs of the second movement of her little play.

Paralyzing agents, gathered from the most deadly desert predators and secretive plants in her alchemical armoury. Magnus Centenius had demanded no small restitution for the samples of some of his finest scorpion venoms. Well they would pay for themselves today as she watched her victims start to shudder and collapse as both their nervous systems and Qi Meridians started to burn out and spark randomly. As she had expected, among cultivators of this level there were few who would have an effective counter to either hallucinogenic or paralytic strikes, and it seemed none had a useful defense against both.

Her swift moving hands conduct the winds of the Orchestra with seamless grace as she moves into the final act. Acids, strong enough to burn through metal and Qi infused flesh alike. The liquids froth out of the bottom of the caskets and take the form of a dozen unearthly monsters, great cats and dragons of a dozen different colours. Made solid by tight shells of air, the monster-puppets move among the terrified crowd of Blood Artists at her direction.

She starts to sweat. This is the most dangerous point. Keeping the simulacra solid takes all her power and concentration. If any of her enemies still have their wits about them she will be defenseless......

Its fine.

The Blood Cannibals are in utter despair, and between the toxins in their veins and concealing smog they don't have a chance to mount any defense. The screams and wails are replaced by the acidic smell of melting flesh and the occasional pop as even bone gives way before the bite of a Venom Dragon.

Minervina is a thorough soul though, so she maintains the spell for a few minutes more, ensuring nothing remains of this raiding party but a great blackened patch of bare earth. She would have to warn the villagers not to try and grow anything there for a decade or two.

The battle done, she can't help but notice how the peasants shy away from their savior as she goes to gather her things and prepares to leave. Perhaps one of her peers could have claimed victory in a way that won adulation rather than fear. Still, she tells herself, I'm not bothered about such things.

Fooling no one but herself, she shoulders her pack and sets off on the long trek for home. "And when I get back, I am having serious words with that receptionist at the Contribution Board. 'Safe Herb Gathering Mission' my ass! After that travesty with poor Chelios they should definitely know better. I have half a mind to slip that old geezer something unpleasant. It reminds me of the time........."

The monologue continues as she strolls towards the sunset.

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Meanwhile in an ancient cave deep in Blood Cannibal territory, the wind howls.

Angry and full of red lightning, the wind strikes at the stone floor of the cave with the force of a giant. Once, Twice, Thrice it hammers the stone. On the third strike a pale hand bursts from the rent earth, followed by the rest of a male figure. He has to worm his way up from the ground desperately and his thrashing makes it clear he is in great pain.

Demon Eyed Markuth, Consumer of six cities and feared Gourmet of Virtue coughs up blood as he reaches into his mouth and with a single swift and deliberate motion, rips out one of his molars. He throws it against the cave wall with obvious relief, where it burns with a hellish fire for a few minutes before collapsing into ash.

He takes a few moments to simply enjoy the sensation of breathing before letting the reality of his situation wash over him. He almost coughed up blood again out of sheer frustration. That Golden Whore had killed him! What was worse he had been forced to expend the Instant Karmic Resurrection Tooth he had killed dozens to claim. Without it he was incredibly vulnerable to the vicious political games his peers were playing across the territory.

And the embarrassment, the indignity of it all. His ephemeral spirit had been forced to watch that Golden Witch defile his corpse and slaughter his disciples. This night he would swear an oath to the blackest powers that would listen. He would revisit those agonies on her a thousand times over or shatter his Dao in the process. The Golden Devils would know what it meant to cross paths with Demon Eyed Markuth!

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And so Minervina gets her first nemesis. Every Xianxia character needs a couple.

A quick note on timelines. This Omake takes place near the beginning of Turn 2's 20 year period. This is why Minervina thinks Markuth is dead at the end while the Good Seed Report makes it clear that he was wounded but survived. Clearly in the intervening period Markuth emerges out of the cave and most likely embarks on his campaign of vengeance or otherwise comes to the clans attention.

A few brief shout outs to other Good Seeds who's stories I have enjoyed in this one. Just seemed like a nice idea. However if anyone wants me to remove or alter what I wrote about their character, let me know and it will be done post haste.

Bonus this turn will go towards getting a Life Saving Treasure. I have a half formed idea about what it might be already, so if I get time another Omake where Min goes questing for it should be forthcoming soon. I want to ponder on her Dao some more as well, so we might see a chapter where Minervina doesn't murder anyone at all!

All Praise Be To @occipitallobe QM extraordinaire and bestower of threadmarks.
 
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Minervina Barda 4 - A Dao of Transformation
Minervina Barda 4: A Dao of Transformation

I find striding through the halls of the Clan a very different experience these days. Once I had been largely ignored and a little shunned; the girl from a fallen line with only average talent and an unhealthy interest in unusual and insidious arts.

Heavens I miss those days. Now it seems everyone wants to talk to me!

Take today for example. In the few minutes since I left my quarters I have been hassled no less than three times. Once by a lazy elder asking me to give a guest lecture to the latest batch of baby disciples (accepted grudgingly), then by some junior pill forgers trying to bate me into some kind of silly contest (refused bluntly) all topped off by that damned gaggle of suitors all trying to court me (subtly poisoned, lets just say none of them are going to be interested in bothering the local clanswomen for the next few weeks and leave it at that.)

I can't help but shiver at the thought of more social interaction and pull my newest dark velvet gown around myself as I complete the journey to the 4th floor of the clans archives. I do feel a small touch of satisfaction as I find the table I have been using just as I left it the day before, the relevant scrolls and grimoires undisturbed. Rank and respect does come with a few worthwhile perks I suppose.

I think I finally have a solid lead on where the Thousand Flowering Spirit Oak could be found. I just need to divine the appropriate gathering method. Tracking it down is a waste of time if I render the trees supposedly miraculous sap worthless by accident. Any useful details on this remain stubbornly elusive.

I am still beating my head against an academic wall when my forth petitioner of the day comes to my attention. The Clueless Novice. This ones only barely 2nd Heavenstage if my senses are worth a damn and she has been trying to catch my eye for about half an hour now.

It happens a lot when you reach what is generally considered the peak of Qi Condensation. Your still a lot more approachable than a Foundation Stage master, but advanced enough that starry eyed juniors think your every word is soaked in cosmic wisdom.

I generally find ignoring them is the best strategy. Look busy and mysterious. I would go for imperious but frankly I don't have what it takes to pull that off. Just don't make eye contact, works every time.

"Erm, Lady Barda? Could this one beg a moment of your time." Oh heavens above, she actually pulled together the nerve to just come over and talk to me!

I admit I lost my temper. It had been that kind of morning.

I set aside my treatise on Scarred Lands folklore with a weary sigh and look up at the girl. "Not even the Celestial Immortals can count the number of moments that pass under heaven and over earth. Yet out of all those infinite moments, I can't seem to find a single one to get any blasted work done. And now you think your entitled to waste my time too! Get lost before I flay the skin from your impertinent bones!"

I might have started shouting a little by the end of that. Perhaps a tiny bit of my aura broke free as well. Okay, a tad more than a little.

It was far too much for the novice in any case. She fled in a mad sprint, knocking over tables and chairs in her desperation to escape.

I sat back down, flushed first with victory, and then shame.

Why did I do that? I remember being just like her once. The desperate beginner trying to wring a little wisdom from distant seniors. I wasn't like everyone else here. I didn't have a dozen loving aunts and uncles to come give me pointers in the finer points of my cultivation, to assuage my worries or smooth over the painful parts with a tidbit of family lore or dropping a little 'good fortune' in my path.

I had got where I was with one rotten scroll of obtuse instructions, a desire for vengeance and the generosity of my seniors.

A lead weight drops into my stomach as I grasp at the real reason I lost my temper. In a lot of ways, I wasn't that girl anymore and though I don't like to admit it, I am really not sure who this woman is that has taken her place.

I took up the Path and the Barda arts out of a desire for vengeance. Without that, I would have likely stayed home and tended the nets my whole life. I would be an old woman by now, if I was lucky. Perhaps with a husband I loved and grandkids who drove me crazy.

I don't regret this path I have trod. I have become something more in the process. But I can't pretend its vengeance that pushes me further. Almost 50 years on, the agony of ny fathers death has dulled. I have seen too much senseless death to imagine Justice has any particular Heavenly import beyond what powerful men give it. Vengeance will not be my way, not my Dao.

I suppose its the way of living things to constantly change. In my studies I have realised that no matter what people might think, everything changes given enough time. Be it the face of a mountain, the course of a river or the heart of a person.

Something in my Dantian snaps into place at this idle thought. My mood lifts and I seem to think more clearly. If I set aside the Dao of Vengeance and don't like the me that's left behind, then I should seek a Dao of Transformation so I can transmute myself into something more fitting.

I set aside my scrolls. "No time like the present."

Finding the novice doesn't take long. She's trying her best to sob quietly in a largely unused corner of the archive, but my senses are almost painfully keen these days when I want them to be. She tries to flee of course, but I am much, much faster than she can imagine.

I arrest her flight with a single firm hand on her shoulder. "Your name Disciple."

She freezes like a startled deer for a long moment. "Long Bi, milady."

Not a clan name. A closer look doesn't reveal any obvious signs of bronze in her blood. "Your not Clan?"

She stiffens, looks like she has some spine left, good. "I was born here, but no, I don't have Clan blood."

"So you don't have the collected wisdom of generations of Cultivators to fall back on when you run into a problem. I can relate to that. I was rude before, to even the score, tell me what the problem is and I will see if I can assist."

Startled, she stumbles over her words but eventually gets out the bones of her problem. "I'm having trouble clearing my Acupoints for the third stage. None of the standard exercises seem to work, though the instructor is certain I am doing them correctly. I asked a few people for help but no one really gave me any useful answers until I got to Lord Magnus. He recommended this treatment. I wanted to ask him more about it but he left on a journey the next day" She pulls out a scrap of paper with what looks like a mess of slapdash jottings on it as warning bells go off in my head. My fellow poison master is beyond adept at his craft, but he has a tendency to forget that not everyone thinks quite like he does.

"Can I see it" I snatch the papers away from her before she has chance to answer and look them over. "I take it you sought me out for a second opinion before trying this treatment?"

"How did you know?"

"Your still alive." Looking the work over a second I nod in confirmation. "Anyone who wasn't a master at manipulating venom through their meridians would be killed by this treatment. If my maths right, and it usually is, you would feel fine for around 13 hours and then every major blood vessel on the left hand side of your body would explode. With quite some force as well, we would be digging your bones out of the walls I expect. In fairness, your Acupoints would be squeaky clean though."

Long Bi visibly pales at this news. "I.... I suppose it was a waste of time then. I thank Senior for her wisdom."

"None of that! Come with me, I have a job for you." I stride back towards my books confident she will have no choice but to tag along. "Since I just saved your life, I think I have fairly settled the debt for my rudeness earlier. Magnus always does good work, his recipe just needs refining to your specifications. I will do that and craft the mixture for you, and in return you can do a bit of legwork for me. I am looking for historical reference to a particular treasure and frankly its getting tedious, a research assistant to fetch books and such is exactly what I need. It should only take a few weeks, a year at the outside. Most fair I think."

I feel a surge of happiness as my hapless new assistant splutters a response halfway between gratitude and indignation. Yes, a Dao of Transformation feels like the right choice for me.

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Bonus Omake that came to me this evening. Still planning to write one about the quest to recover her Life Saving Treasure, the sap of a Thousand Blooms Oak.

Trying something different in that this one is supposed to be entirely first person, where the previous ones were sort of a mix. Would be curious if anyone thought it worked better.

Its a bit of a rough draft since I typed it up on my phone. Will do an editing pass in the morning when I get to a proper keyboard.
 
Minervina Barda 5 - The Thousand Blooms Oak.
Minervina Barda 5: The Thousand Blooms Oak.

The journey out to the Scarred Lands had been utterly dreadful.

I had expected the region recently ripped from the blood soaked hands of the Cannibals to be desolate and had packed accordingly. My treasured pouch contained enough supplies for a half year of prudent desert travel, my preferred black gowns had been exchanged for a rugged brown burlap shawl and a broad brimmed hat to keep the fierce desert rays at bay and help hide my Bronze blessed features from my fellow travelers. I shouldered a large leather pack full of clothes, waterskins, hard tack and a few mortal trade goods (spices mostly) to complete the image.

I was travelling incognito and I can tell you it's a lot less romantic than the novels make it out to be.

I took these precautions because while their Blood Cannibal overlords were in the process of withdrawing, the vassal cultivators they had appointed to handle the mundane details of governance clung on in places. They were poor, pitiful little clans and houses having been bled all but dry in recent years. Few could claim a single Foundation Stage Master to their name. They would be supplanted soon once the country fully came under the Golden Aegis but in the meantime they were like starving desert wolves, twice as violent and dangerous as they might otherwise have been. I would not risk my chance at the Sap of a Thousand Blooms Oak by drawing the attention of these deadly dregs.

The influence of the Blood Cannibals had left a lasting mark on the region's culture. It was common practice in most places to extort a cup of blood from each traveller along with their road tolls. I watched trash Cultivators hands shake in raw desire as they carefully poured the precious liquid into scripted stone urns to in turn give in tribute to their so called 'elders.' I am eternally grateful my clan has never turned to such arts, no matter how many undeserved tribulations the heavens pillory us with.

I managed to avoid confrontation until the final leg of my journey. I was following a mortal caravan, not as a formal member, just a wanderer who happened to be going in the same direction. The sun was close to setting as we reached a collection of stone hovels that bore the absurdly proud name "Jade Peacock City."

I found this encouraging. According to the maps and travellers tales I had gathered this was the flag of a very minor local sect dubbed The Iron TIgers. The tales had agreed that my prize was located in their territory.

According to the most reliable records I and my reluctant research assistant could gather, the 'ravine' this little city sheltered in was actually the results of an earth shattering palm strike exchanged in a duel of honour between Hong Zhi Lung and Song Ma, two venerable Nascent Souls of a previous era. If my histories could be believed, the Thousand Blooms Oak had sprung up from the spot where the Ancient Song Ma had been forced to cough up blood after receiving the cataclysmic blow. Whatever the truth of the matter, a potently supernatural grove of trees with razor sharp leaves and impossibly durable bark had sprung up around the Oak. By all accounts not even a Core Formation Expert could force his way in without some special trick or magic.

Of course the Iron Tigers knew all this quite well. The pathway to the oak only opened every 66 years and I understood they would routinely let a few of their inner disciples compete for the prize.

I would ensure this year's competition would have a bit of an upset.

I paid my toll in coins and blood after swallowing a 'Soul Veiling Pill' I had concocted to hide my cultivation base, and entered the city. I felt the venom coil through my bloodstream and my Core grow sluggish. The Sea of Qi in my Dantian stopped its endless churning and stilled, like a calm pond. Drawing on my powers would be painful and difficult, but I should appear mortal to the Spiritual Sense of anyone below Core Formation.

I refrained from poisoning the offered blood, it would have been easy enough, but I didn't want to risk my cover with a petty strike at these vile practitioners.

I took a room in an inn of middling quality and spent a few days asking around. It looked like I was early, the tree would not bloom for a few months yet. In order to raise funds, the Iron Tigers were turning the competition into a grand tournament, charging the locals for a chance to see their local Cultivators compete in magical duels. The Sects' need for funds must have been deep, they were even offering a few slots in the tourney to travelling Cultivators if they could bid enough Spirit Stones. I considered it briefly, but decided to stick to my original plan. A tournament wasn't exactly playing to my strengths and no doubt it would be helplessly rigged in favour of the locals.

Instead I got a job at The Silk Swan, the only tavern and restaurant of any note in the city and favourite drinking den of the Iron Tigers noble heirs and young masters.

How did a stranger without references walk into a job at such a wealthy establishment? Why it was simplicity itself! I got the manager to sample my cooking.

Why so surprised? My mother would have died of shame if I had dared to leave home unable to prepare a feast from a few handfuls of rice, seaweed and half of a two day old fish. Combine that with four decades of experience as a refiner of obscure ingredients and the heightened dexterity, perception and reaction speed of a Cultivator and it should be obvious I would put even the finest mortal chef to shame. You have not savoured true umami flavour until you have sat at a professional poisoners dinner table.

I am not so arrogant as to suggest my skills would rival a true Spirit Chef, those rare individuals who follow a Dao of Cooking and who's meals are worthy and much more pleasant alternatives to a refiners pills, but such folk would never set up shop in a tiny place like this.

In any case, my dishes proved something of a hit with the locals and word soon got around that the Silk Swan was the place to be. This gave me ample opportunity to mark the four competitors in the coming tournament and devise a suitable foil for each and every one.

First there was Mua Ho. A swaggering fellow, the grandson of Mua Dong, one of the Sects Elders. He never came into the restaurant without at least a half dozen sycophants and he could not be convinced to stop getting handsy with the serving girls. I took no small pleasure in spiking several of his meals in the days leading up to his 'Grand Day of Reckoning.' While each 'extra ingredient' was harmless in and off itself, altogether they developed into a great foulness in his system. I spent more time and energy than was probably reasonable to ensure that things came to a head at the most embarrassing moment possible. As he stepped out onto the grand fighting arena, massive jade war hammer in hand, he started to shit himself uncontrollably, wept like a tiny child and then proceeded to vomit up what little liquids remained in his body. He would live, though I suspect he might wish he hadn't.

Second was a more sinister man, for whom I concocted a more sinister fate. Blood Cultivation was seen as a common and easy path to advancement amongst the Iron Tigers but Khulud Jian took it to an extreme even by the locals standards. A thin, wretched snake of a man, I witnessed him slip into mortal homes, slaughtering and consuming their inhabitants. A small under the table bribe to the guards and no questions would ever be asked. For him, I slipped finely diced Opalescent Tortoise Pearls into his dumplings the night before the tournament. As he drew on his Cultivation Base for strength in his first match (This was a few seconds before Mua Ho's unfortunate accident), the whole crowd heard a mighty BANG as he collapsed, a hand sized hole in his stomach. The purity of the pearls had come into contact with the festering corruption in the man's Dantian and had an explosive reaction.

Third was the greatest challenge. Smiling Leopard wasn't a member of the Iron Tiger Sect, but a wandering cultivator who had wagered a great fortune in spirit stones for a chance in the tournament. He was an avowed Ascetic and would never come to my restaurant, eschewing any meal more flavoursome than plain rice or a heel of bread. I spent a whole week unsuccessfully trying to tempt him into tasting my products, subtly following him and leaving various delicious treats in his path. His Dao was unwavering though and I was not successful.

Eventually though Smiling Leopard was brought down by man's traditional weakness; Woman. The monkish Cultivator was still a very young man, and in my stalking I had realised he was secretly smitten with one of the local beauties. A few subtle hints to the girl about the powerful man's interest and I had my unwitting agent. It was a simple matter to send her to him armed with a 'gift' of my increasingly famous dumplings to break the ice. Confronted by the girl of his dreams, how could he turn aside her generosity? I felt a warm feeling of satisfaction as he bit into the dumplings, and I could tell that he enjoyed them too, the stubborn fool. He didn't seem to be a particularly bad sort, so I had laced the dumplings with a simple paralytic. At the appropriate time, he turned into a statue for a few hours, utterly unable to move his body. Its not painless but I later heard he married the young woman I sent his way, so I think we are probably even.

Last was Liu Zhe. I might have sighed a little over Liu Zhe and daydreamed of him a little too frequently during my many long shifts at the Silk Swans stove. In many ways he was the perfect image of a man. Scholarly and wise, he dispensed with the blood arts favoured by the locals and excelled anyway, having mastered the sword beyond any of his peers. He had perfect manners and could debate philosophy with men five times his age. If i'm honest, I strongly considered abducting him in the night and bringing him back to the clan as my prize instead of the priceless treasure I came here seeking.

It's probably for the best that I discovered he much preferred the company of his favourite stablehand to going on walks with the local women before I did anything foolish, though it did break my heart a little. With a heavy sigh I drizzled a potent draught into his soup. He slept blissfully through the entire affair.

Between one of the star competitors' total absence, another dropping dead for no clear reason and the final pair going into terrible and hideous fits, the Iron Tigers grand tournament rapidly descended into farce. With all eyes elsewhere, stealthily making my way through the gap that had opened in the sword sharp leaves was a simple task. I scattered a few simple snares and traps behind me, so I would be warned of any interlopers.

Altogether I had spent almost two years of my life researching, travelling and infiltrating to reach this destination. The sight of the Thousand Blooms Oak made it all worthwhile. Resplendent in leaves of iron, jade and ruby with bark made of living silver, the tree seemed at once to be a marvel of metallurgic artistic expression and utterly natural. The 'Blooms' that gave the tree its name looked like sapphires, each a glowing blue crystal budding from a silver-wood branch.

Its Qi filled the air, a heady combination of Wood and Metal, with a strong Yang alignment. It was a most unusual combination, which was part of what drew me here. I had been planning for some time now for my first Dao Pillar to take the form of a mighty tree. It would be my testament to the incredible powers of Life, one of the great crucibles of my Dao of Transformation. Life is a force that is ever mutable, constantly taking in dead matter and reforming it in new and unique ways. As well as Treasure, I hoped that my proximity to this majestic entity might give me a seed for my own mighty tree.

I didn't have long to admire the sight though. The gathering ritual was moderately complex. I began with a ritual prayer to the spirit of the tree, an old song of admiration and respect. My voice is average at best, but I had been practicing and my words were earnest even if they weren't in tune.

Next was a sacrifice. I offered blood from three sources. My blood, fresh from a vein. An enemies blood, carefully gathered from a dead cannibal years ago against just such a moment. And the blood of my family, It hadn't taken much cajoling to get a great-niece of mine to make the donation, though it had been awkward. The rest of the Barda's remained unwilling to Cultivate and they viewed my rare visits with an awkward mix of awe and fear. My heart ached in longing for the family I had outlived in that moment. I spilt the blood, drop by drop, onto an exposed root of the tree and watched as it was absorbed almost instantly.

The tree's branches swayed backwards and forwards gently, though there was no wind. A sign of permission I hoped. No mortal knife would harm this tree. Its precious sap could only be freely given. I took out the stone scripted bowl I had prepared, placed it against the trunk of the tree and waited. It only took a moment, a section of the unbreachable metal bark shivered and then ran like molten silver. It pooled perfectly into the bowl.

A wooden snap and cursing tells me the Iron Tigers are making their way up the Path. I have seconds remaining. Feeling reckless after my months of undercover work I put the bowl to my lips and drank the silver nectar. I felt the miraculous liquid suffuse every cell of my being in an instant. I knew instantly that it would work as promised. If I was struck down, a seed would be born from whatever remained of my body, even if it were but a splash of blood or a gush of breath. The wind would carry the seed to a safe place, and their it would grow into a mighty tree with unnatural rapidity. A year and a day after my death, I would step out of the tree, new again, just as I had been. Fresh life born from death. It was perfect, both as a tool and a testament to my Dao.

Now I just needed to get home without having to use it. I let the bowl fall to the floor as I cycled my Cultivation base fully for the first time in far too long. With a conscious effort I dispelled the lingering remnants of the Soul Veling Pill and unleashed the power at the Peak of the 9th Heaven Stage of Qi Condensation. I pulled out a fist sized purple pill I had prepared a year ago and stepped towards the path. There I briefly made eye contact with my pursuers, Mua Dong and two of his cronies. They were undoubtedly surprised to see their favourite chef on this particular forest path.

I should have just skipped straight to killing them, but I was drunk on tree sap and feeling arrogant. "This is far too fine a treasure for a piddling little Sect who's Elders can't even claim Foundation Establishment. The Golden Devils will be taking ownership of it from now on." Without any further words I completed the requisite incantation gestures with my left hand and crushed the pill in my right. Foul ichor flies from the pearl, an expensive melange of over three dozen lethal venoms. The spell catches it in mid air, and Transforms it. The nascent seed of my future Dao Pillar seems to sing in sheer joy as my power reaches into the febrile liquid and brings forth life! A Snake, three times my size with iridescent purple scales and blazing red eyes blasts forth from the remains of the pill and engulfs the three men. They wail and flare their Cultivation in a desperate defense, but its far too late.

The Ash Borne Demon Viper only lives for the space of ten heartbeats or so, but it was enough time. As the great serpent dissolved back into being a mere liquid, it left behind nothing but the scorched bones of the Iron Tigers.

I tried not to think about how many Spirit Stones that pill had cost to make as I gingerly stepped around the still toxic remains and escaped Jade Peacock City. My pilgrimage to the Oak had reaffirmed the strength of my Dao to me and that was a reward beyond any riches even before I counted the regenerative power of the Sap flowing through my body.

I put the increasingly confused and panicked city behind me as I took the first steps on the long road home. It had definitely been an educational experience.

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This one took a while!

@occipitallobe
In hindsight I shouldn't have written this assuming our planned territorial annexation would go ahead! Fingers crossed Manuel pulls the duel back from the brink! I am personally hoping for a Naruto-esque 'Oh no, it was just a substitution' moment.
 
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Minervina Barda 6 - The First Pillar
Minervina Barda: The First Pillar

It had been a long few months of seclusion, cultivation and quiet pondering on the nature of her Dao. Long Bi had become a sort of unofficial handmaiden for her senior, she would dutifully stop by her meditation chamber every third day, fetching books, tea and other small necessities as Minervina required them.

She was slowly discovering that a Dao of Transformation could not be cultivated in a vacuum. In Qi Condensation her Cultivation had been a largely rote affair. Countless hours spent in meditative contemplation, slowly mastering the Clans diverse breathing exercises, channeling Qi through the body in the approved manner and manipulating the medicinal energy of whatever pill or other concoction she had acquired most recently.

Now as she approached the Peak of the 1st realm and prepared the way for her breakthrough attempt, she found that such things were not enough

After a week of frustration she left the meditation chamber and took to her garden. She was instantly certain she had made the right choice. Her Cultivation Base seemed to almost sing with happiness as she pruned and planted.

She shook her head at her foolishness. She had set out to create a Pillar of Life in a room of barren stone. Out here amongst her countless venomous blooms and herbs, she had endless sources of inspiration.

Her breakthrough was a suprisingly quiet thing. It was only barely a conscious effort at all. While strolling through her carefully maintained meadow of Weeping Orchids she felt a sort of shift in her soul. Her expression was serene as the viridian bolt of lightning hit her.

She had always visualised her Dantian as a vast lake of violet water. The lake was her Qi and its violent perpetual churning was the result of it flowing out into the rest of her body, circulating through her meridians and then returning to the seat of her soul. That constant motion represented her Cultivation, her commitment to defy the heavens and reach for immortality.

As her soul shifted, an Island appeared in the centre of the lake. It was a humble thing, a mound of mud really. But to a gardeners eye it was perfection. Lush soil, full of nutrients and begging to bring forth new life.

She spotted tiny flecks of old bone seeded throughout the island and nodded. Countless life and death clashes over the preceding decades had prepared her for this moment. It was fitting that her next step was taken on the broken bodies of her enemies. Moreover bonemeal made excellent fertilizer.

Smiling she sang an old prayer to a very distant tree, even as lightning played around her and burned her precious flowers. In her minds eye she saw an oak seed appear on the island. It looked fragile and alone amongst the violet waters.

Heavens contempt knew no bounds and the Tribulation broke even into this sacred space. Bolt after bolt of painfully brilliant judgement lashed down onto the Seed. For a moment its destruction seemed certain. How could something so newborn and helpless stand before such divine fury?

"Life is born in a spark of lightning"

And it was so, instead of destroying the seed, the lightning seemed to spur it into life. After the first bolt it visibly swelled in size and tentative roots emerged, digging into the damp earth.

After the second bolt the seed was gone entirely, replaced by a frail looking sapling just sprouting its first leaves.

The flash of the third bolt revealed a proud young tree with the beginnings of thick roots and branches spread high into the sky.

The bolts stop for a moment, as if Heaven itself is bewildered and uncertain of how to proceed.

Its answer was simple and furious. A roar of outraged wind followed by a thick torrent of fresh lightning strikes. Each was as thick as her waist and struck with a force to sunder stone.

The Tree Pillar seemed almost gleeful to meet this challenge. With each moment it shot up higher, feeding on the energy that was meant to destroy it and reaching ever upwards as if eager to gobble up the source of this delicious 'judgement.' Its bark glowed golden and its leaves were a resplendent display of every possible colour as Minervina's first Dao Pillar bathed in the ire of Heaven itself.

All things must end, at least temporarily, even the anger of the celestial plane. Eventually the Tribulation was spent. Minervina couldn't help but smile in pride and awe at the beautiful new existence that had taken root in her soul. It was a shining, deep rooted pillar of strength. She knew with certainty that whatever trials might come her way in the future, she could not have asked for a more steadfast companion on her journey.

She came back to the world of flesh to find herself unharmed in a field of lightning struck orchids. The once beautiful flowers were little more than ash.

She smiled again, bent down and breathed out onto the burnt out roots while letting out a small fragment of the power now bubbling inside her. Instantly new life sprung from the scorched soil.

Orchid buds burst out to replace what was lost. But where before they had been red and white, now their leaves were a velvet black with a distinctive silvery pattern like some fairy goddess had woven shimmering metallic thread into them.

"Star Struck Orchids. Even in its wrath, Heaven leaves the odd boon behind." Minervina pulls herself up, brushes the dirt off her dress in a workmanlike fashion and makes her way back home, humming a pleasant little tune to herself all the while.

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The promised breakthrough Omake is here!

I will try and pull out another one for the collaborative poison project!

My desired Bonus is Cultivation Speed! I suspect I will need it if I want to hit 9 pillars before Old Age bites. IC those orchids will be the core ingredient of an incense that is potently useful for poison cultivation.
 
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Minervina Barda 7- A taste of war PART 1
Minervina Barda 7- A taste of war PART 1

The First Siege of Night Devil Fortress- Day 6

"I wasn't even supposed to be here." The Poison Mistress moaned as the latest wave of demonic insects approached the Night Devil Fortress. She should never have started that little feud with the Elder in charge of the Contributions board.

It seems that with each passing second a score of the monstrous bee's fall from the sky, skewered by glass lances, incinerated in bronze spell fire or destroyed in a dozen other ways by the canny defences the Golden Devils are so famed for. But it also seems like two more appear for each one that falls and from the looks of ecstatic glee she briefly glimpses on their riders faces, the Devil Bee Cultivators morale is unshaken. Clearly they were determined to show their fellow Demons that their Blood Arts were superior to the Bronze Bloodline once and for all.

She grimly notes the Blood Cultivators don't lack for convincing arguments in this exchange of pointers. Arrows and javelins fall like rain alongside the occassional flashy spell and basket of dropped stones. Aerial assaults make a mockery of most walls.

She spots one such volley of viciously barbed throwing spears flying towards her cohort and shouts a warning. With practiced precision they ducked behind granite crenallations and array-wrought force barriers to weather the storm. Soon arrays all over her cohorts section of the first wall respond with a torrent of glass lances and targetted wind blasts, forcing the demons back for a moment. Fortunately these were not 'most walls.'

Her cohort... that should tell you how desperate things are. Oh she had passed the requisite training courses after breaking through, but everyone knew she didn't have the temperament for command. But there weren't enough Foundation Stage Cultivators to go around, so here she was, trying to look like she knew what she was doing in front of a 500 strong cohort of Qi Condensators. And what a cohort it is. An even split between stalled out old has been's with so much Bronze in their blood its a miracle they can still move and fresh saplings who barely looked old enough to be out from behind their mothers skirts. Whats more she can feel that they doubt her too, this odd little woman who was just passing through at the wrong time didn't look like she had it in her to keep them safe.

'I have lost two of them already and I don't even know their names.'

Another pack of aerial predators swings around to make a pass at them. This one features a larger specimen, 8 meters long and covered in spiked barding made from some odd green metal. A tall female figure stands proudly on its back. Foundation Establishment.

Minervina taps the parapet of the wall and confirms what she already knows. The Blasting Arrays haven't recharged yet, their already strained from heavy use and trying to rush them would be disastrous. She couldn't trust the unfamiliar squad to handle such a threat. She would have to tap her reserves.

She reaches into the miraculous pouch that has been her most trustworthy tool for decades and pulls out five shining yellow pills. She holds them deftly between her fingers and frowns at the oncoming onslaught, this would be all about timing.

The buzz of wings is deafening as the attackers come in low and fast, 12 metre long lances shining in the riders hands. Clearly they were aware that the best of their defenses were temporarily expended and intended to reap a bloody harvest.

Without thinking to spare a word to her panicking troops, the Poison Master mutters an incantation and flicks the pills into the air towards the bees with swift smooth actions of the thumb and forefinger of her left hand. She finishes a set of incantation gestures with her right hand in the same moment and then snaps her fingers. The sound is eerily loud, carrying easily across their small part of the cacophonous battlefield. The Poison Pills burst in unison, releasing a vast wall of murky yellow fog directly in front of the enemies vanguard.

The Bee Riders attack is instantly throw into chaos as they desperately try to jink and pull away from the suddenly appearing hazard. Momentum is a cruel mistress though and of three score beasts only a handful at the back manage to escape the fog.

Minervina smiles cruelly as her work shows immediate results. Originally envisaged as a pesticide, this concoction first gums up membranous wings, making flight difficult. On contact with air it rapidly starts to harden, forcing the target out of the sky.

Most of the attacking flight instantly lost several meters of height. Many smacked into the wall with a series of fatal thuds. Those lucky enough to avoid that fate were far too distracted to attack effectively as they tried to steer their ailing steeds out of danger. A few fell to opportunity attacks from her juniors, and others lost their remaining altitude rapidly soon after. Those would crash land in the space between walls 1 and 2 and could be disposed of easily.

Her opposing number is clearly not without some talent though. Min and her troops watch as the Foundation Establishment Bee Tamer rallies her remaining forces, some sort of powerful spell field emerges from her, exhorting them to gain altitude again. Slowly, around two score Devil Bee's turn for home, trying to escape.

"My lady, should I signal a request to the grand Spear Thrower Array for fire support. We should strike now while they are wounded." The request comes from a grizzled 12th Heavenstage Centurion who radiates dissatisfaction. Clearly he thinks a competent officer would have given that order already.

"No need ... " She really needed to get better with names "good fellow, the resin on their wings is a potent but slow acting insecticide. Within the hour those beasts will be in enough pain to lash out at their handlers. The Tamers will have to choose between spending a mountain of spirit stones worth of medicinal pills or putting down their own mounts. Either serves us well, let the grand array spend itself elsewhere for the moment."

A shiver of fear and respect runs through the cohort. She might be tiny and talk to herself at odd moments, but their new leader was certainly imposing in her own unique way.


---------------

My 2nd Omake of the turn and hopefully the first of a few that recount Minervina's experience of the Golden Bee war, in which she is reluctantly forced to work with others.

Not sure if I am 100% happy with this one yet, so would be interested if anyone wants to critique or give feedback.

@occipitallobe sorry can I get a threadmark? I forgot to ping you in this one!
 
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Minervina Barda 8 - A Taste of War Part 2
Minervina Barda - A Taste of War Part 2

Military Leadership was a lot more stressful than refining poisons. A mistake while refining might cost you a small fortune in spirit stones, inflict terrible injuries or even take your life if you really fucked up. When she screwed up her command, scores of lives were lost.

These were Minervina's thoughts as she inspected her depleted cohort. Of the 500 she had started with only 368 remained. Her unit wasn't the worst off, but she had to admit that more would have survived if they had a more experienced commander.

The siege had worn on for many weeks and even the old veterans in the unit were starting to fray around the edges. It was their regulation recuperation period and she had subtly indicated that the Centurions should keep drills and equipment checks to a minimum. Let the poor sods get a chance to eat and catch a few hours sleep before their Spirit Stone ration was brought out and they had to focus on replenishing their Qi. She would have to let Grisaldus and the other Centurions off the leash then. Supplies were running low and they couldn't afford to let any be wasted because of sloppy technique.

She on the other hand, would get no break. Foundation Stage Experts were expected to go much longer without any kind of rest. After insuring her officers had everything in hand she retired to her tiny office to complete a seemingly endless tide of reports.

It seemed almost tawdry to fill in requisition requests and complete engagement reports when she could literally hear the sounds of slaughter out at the fourth wall. Yet such was the reality of organising a war on this scale and complexity. Thousands of reports just like hers would flow to the Clan Elders, who needed these details to make the right calls, judge where victory and defeat was most likely and make the right sacrifices.

She shuddered over one report as she sketched out the details of losing a dozen men in the previous days air raid. The Bee's had tried a new, suicidal tactic. Low tier cultivators, rumoured to be POWs or tribute from slave sects, strung in groups of 4 or 5 to the abdomens of their mounts. These slave warriors where clearly dosed with some hideously effective combat drug, they flung themselves through the air and onto the ramparts without a moments concern for their lives. Most visibly broke bones on landing only to fight on with the strength of mad men.

It was a costly, messy tactic but it had proved effective. After weeks of monotony, her troops hadn't been prepared for a sudden close quarter battle with blood mad berserkers.

At the memory she reaches out and unconsciously taps the hilt of her xiphos. In all her years she had never killed with cold steel before, as opposed to spellcraft or poison. She had blasted from marauder to marauder at the peak of her Foundation Building speed, no time or space on the overcrowded rampart for anything more elaborate. She was still too slow to save every one of her soldiers though. She was sure they cursed their ill luck at having her for a commander as they passed on.

It hadn't all been tragedy, she reflects as she puts the finishing touches on a different report. She had brought enough reagents to repeat her stunt with what she had dubbed the Wing-Killer-Resin another half a dozen times, each time with strong results. The Bee's had seemed stumped as to a decent solution, particularly since the higher ups had the foresight to keep changing her position on the wall, making it impossible to predict where the yellow death clouds might appear.

That matter had come to a head when a powerful Blood Cultivator had come hunting for her personally. A grim little smile emerged on her face as she dug through a pile of scrolls, looking for the one that had his name on it. Here it was, Guyuk The Great. Said to have gone mad with rage after being forced to put down his beloved mount. No doubt he thought his status as Mid Foundation Establishment Expert would make a quick night attack on her post easy pickings. She had disabused him of that notion with a torrent of conjured serpents. Reinforced by her Life Pillar, her Ash-Born-Vipers had evolved into a much more terrifying existence. A single smashed pill now gave life to a trio of the beasts, each 3 metres wide and 60 long, eyes and teeth glittering with intelligence and venom.

The report recounted that Guyuk had died of his injuries out in the siege camps three days later. Few of his followers had lasted that long.

After a moments thought, Minervina folded up that report and tucked it in her spatial pouch for safekeeping. That had been a good night, none of her men had died.

The sudden call of trumpets woke her from her reverie. Stunned, she listened with all her being for the pattern. Six more blasts rang out in a staccato rhythm and she leapt from her seat.

Reinforcements! After so many long months the relief force led by the Elder Callista had arrived. They would be needed on the walls immediately.

She paused only to place a paperweight on the last report before she fled the office, her voice calling out for her centurions to gather.

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@occipitullobe I think I squeezed this one in before the deadline. 3rd Omake of the turn!
 
Minervina Barda 9 - A Taste of War Part 3
Minervina Barda 9- A Taste of War Part 3.

The constant scratching of my quill on parchment soothed my nerves as I considered what I was about to attempt.

To create a venomous concoction so complex it had the rudiments of intelligence, then give it a home within your own body. Utter madness. The stuff of legends and Elders, not something a sensible fisherman's daughter would play around with, but I haven't been able to get the thought out of my head these last few blood soaked months.

I first got the idea during that collaboration with Magnus. His concept of using mystical puppet constructs as a delivery system had seemed like nonsense at first. I severely doubted they would be able to inflict enough damage to cover the expense. I don't usually gamble, but I admit I lost a years supply of Star-Struck Orchid Incense when the lumbering things actually worked.

I had fresh forged my second Pillar when he asked for help coming up with a wider variety of toxins to add to the daft things. I was full of Fire, the force of purification, inspiration and destruction. I had no shortage of ideas. My memory of the project is something of a violent blur, as if the creative forces somehow had a will of there own and were fighting for a chance to come free.

The result was something I was tentatively naming Golden-Witch-Fire. A tar-like substance that would stick to clothes and flesh and could burn hot enough to melt bone for around three hours. But that was only the most mundane of its properties. I had rendered it from a complex mix of incendiaries that were then alloyed with a wide range of pill toxins. The ill-fated run off from alchemical works, these were usually seen as waste products and ditched as far from camp as possible. In my fervor I collected samples of this 'trash' and added it to the mixture alongside a few catalytic elements to bring their potency to a peak. If a Cultivator is exposed to even a small piece of my Witch-Fire the toxins will wreak terrible harm to his body and cultivation base. That way even if he is ruthless enough to cut off his own limbs, he will remain crippled and a burden on his fellows.

That would have probably been enough. I could have bottled up a few samples, written up the recipe and shipped them off to Centennius right then. But I didn't and thats why I'm sat here trying to work out how to make sentient liquids.

I had recently come into possession of the body of a Crimson Tyrant Salamander. One of the most deadly and exotic Spirit Beasts in the desert regions getting my hands on the monster had cost a ghastly number of contribution points, but it had been invaluable in forging my Fire Pillar. The Crimson Tyrant uses fire in some way in just about every single one of its biological processes. It even does away with conventional blood, preferring to pass Oxygen, Qi and energy through its veins with some kind of tightly controlled plasma. Most of its various organs had already been rendered into pills to assist my Cultivation. But I still had its pituatory gland neatly labelled in a glass case.

Rather than hormones, the Crimson Tyrant maintains homeostasis by releasing tiny amounts of diverse gasses to send commands around the salamanders bizarre body. Operating on pure intuition I smashed the case, ground the organ up, and added it to the mix.

My current scribbling is me struggling to recreate the enchantment that followed. It had been a primal thing, sent directly to my brain by my twin Pillars. The results of the wild spell had only become apparent when the new liquid had been first tried in battle.

Trust me, you haven't lived until you have watched an enemy cry out in victory at having dodged your attack, only to wail in despair when that attack pivots in mid-air and falls onto him anew.

The Witch Fires ability to think and move under its own power was unnanticapated, though in truth it was most useful as a shock and awe weapon. Under test conditions after the battle, I had ascertained its intelligence was roughly equivalent to a common slug and its speed on flat surfaces wasn't too much greater. That eerie ability to direct the path of its descent towards living fuel in mid-flight was handy though, as long as you were exceedingly careful.

Now if only I can recreate the enchantment so I can make more of it.....

My reverie was interrupted for a moment as Centurion Grisaldus stepped in. 'My Lady, runners are here for the next batch of Hive-Killing-Powder.' I pointed with my quill and said with a just a hint of satisfaction. 'The three barrels on the left. Send word with the runners I will have the same again in twelve hours but after that I will need a resupply of ingredients. Have words with the scouts about being careful in their dissections again please. A number of venom sacs have been rendered useless by improper handling.'

The long suffering Centurion picked up all three man sized barrels with ease, promised to have words with the men and left without a word of complaint. I really do need to write a letter of commendation or something for him. Ever since the wild success of her latest concoction she had been pretty much chained to her makeshift refinery, while he did all the work of looking after the cohort.

On a whim I dug out the Scarlet-Crow Scroll. My families ancestral arts had a number of useful remedies for using venom to break through bottlenecks. Such things are not without risks but I might be able to at least offer one to Grisaldus when the war was over. The poor man had been stuck at the 11th heavenstage for most of his life.

I went looking for that familiar section of the voluminous scroll and frowned. A totally new section of the text had appeared! The ink looked so fresh as to be almost wet and it contained a detailed discussion on the refinement and application of sentient venoms.

A chill ran down my spine. I had poured over every word in this scroll countless times over the decades. Some mystical lock must have been released to make the text visible to me. There must be much more to the Scroll than I had thought. If this nugget of precious lore had been hidden away, it stood to reason that many others could be in there just waiting to be found.

I found myself in the strange situation of smiling while also fighting back tears. I touched the scroll fondly as I started taking notes. My families legacy hasn't let me down yet.

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Turn 5 Omake:
Desired Bonus: Cool Thing
A sentient venom that resides in her body. Animal level of intelligence. It serves as a hidden trump card in combat, where Min can use it as a living whip to entangle and poison opponents. Might develop more intellect /greater powers as we progress and Min feeds it ever more exotic venoms.

Plan is try for 2 more Omake this turn, 1 where Min goes adventuring for the requisite ingredients and a second for the actual crafting and bonding with thing.

Also I finally got around to contributing to the Battle Poison Puppets project!
 
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Minervina Barda 10 - Seeking a Hidden Dragon part 1
Minervina Barda 10: Seeking a Hidden Dragon part 1

I sat in my speeding carriage as it pounded down the Scorpion Road, desperately trying to dull the pain in my soul.

I knew going in that lighting a Fire Pillar in my Dantian was a risky move. My first Dao Pillar had manifested as a huge, life-giving tree. It had come as no surprise that wood and flame couldn't co-exist harmoniously. I could see them now in my minds eye, two islands in a purple lake of Qi. My beloved tree looked singed at the edges and nearby waters were stained with ash. Still it was a font of Life and it continued to thrive despite my Fire Pillars bombardment.

It just fucking hurt.

I'm still certain that it was the right decision. My research indicated the third pillar bottlekneck is where many stall out. Getting three pillars in strong enough alignment to provide a sturdy enough foundation for further development is a perilous process. Eventually I would have the resources to add in a Water Pillar to the mix, which should bring things into a strong and harmonious balance.

In the meantime I just had to deal with that persistant ache as my soul burned itself. Getting a handle on the conflagration took so much of my concentration I didn't even notice as the coach slowed to a stop.

"We are here milady" My assistant called out from the drivers seat. It had been a pleasure to see Long Bi again after I finally got free of military service. While she was still only in the middle of Qi Condensation, the girl had blossomed into a capable woman with good administrative skills. She had become invaluable to me as a link to the everyday world as I spent more and more time in seclusion.

I stepped out of my new coach regretfully. It really was a comfortable ride. I had claimed it as spoils of war after the siege on Night Devil Fortress was broken. It had probably belonged to some hapless Great Hua nobleman originally, but no one had come forward to claim it or the team of jet black Spirit Horses before the auction.

I tapped one of the steeds on the shoulder fondly as I eyed our destination. The Three Corners Inn was a little bit of a misnomer these days, but from all the hustle and bustle trade was as good as ever. The massive spa complex was built just over the border into Oasis territory. A monstrous edifice of red brick and pipework, it was the only structure for miles around.

Rumour was the terrifying old hag who owned it had substantial influence with each of the powers of the Organ Meat Desert. Precisely positioned on the boundary between the three powers it was infamous as a rendezvous for spies, turncoats, merchant adventurers and diplomats. All gathering under an assurance of neutrality from the mistress of this place, the Great Witch Töregene.

And here I am, just another covert courier looking to pick up a package. What could go wrong.

This task required I ditch my usual practical black dress for something more eye-catching. I admit I would have been utterly lost without Long Bi. With surprising sternness she had taken me to task for having a lacking wardrobe and I swiftly lost any control of what I got to wear on this trip.

The result was a ridiculously elaborate affair that I am told is meant to bring to mind the image of a pheonix in flight. Dozens of cloth streamers, edged in gold and dyed a thousand shades of crimson, outlined my every motion. A three metre long trail picked out with feather patterns was meant to suggest a fiery trail. Those were matched with a trio of real Pheonix feathers that gleamed in my hair, which had been dyed a coppery red to match. Those valuable relics were a token from the sponsor of this little jaunt, and the signal to my contact that we should meet.

At least it was modest. I incinerated the first two designs Long Bi brought me. That girl is shameless when it comes to clothes.

We made our entrance, Long Bi a demure three steps behind my left shoulder. From all the glances we got the outfit seems to be making a positive impression.

I let Bi deal with the frog-faced little man at reception while I sauntered through the foyer and eyed the other guests. I blanched a little inside as I saw she checked us in under the name 'Mistress Crimson.' Why exactly did the mission require a pseudonym that made me sound like a low class courtesan?

Cultivators from a dozen major sects and clans dotted the room. The Demon War and the increased traffic on the Scorpion Road had brought all kinds of characters to the desert.

I was quite curious, in over a hundred years of living I had never actually had an opportunity to mingle socially with Righteous Path Cultivators. With a false identity and my (always subtle) bloodline traits covered in high end cosmetics, I finally had a chance to see what polite society was like on the 'right' side of the fence. Its not like I had anything better to do until my contact emerged anyway.

Opportunities are to be seized! Mustering my courage, I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and headed towards a trio in the distinct uniform of the Great Mountain Bell Sect.

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46 Minutes Later
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I slammed the door of my room closed so hard and fast it made the reinforced frame shudder alarmingly.

"CONCEITED, LECHEROUS, PIG-HEADED BASTARDS"

Bi had followed me into the room. She must have used some kind of movement Art to avoid getting a door to the face. She had a sour expression that didn't improve my mood at all.

"Did you really have to throw him into the fountain? I think he was an important emmisary from the Saber Palace."

"The pig almost shoved his hand down my dress. A dunking is the least he deserves!"

The argument would have likely raged on for some time if we hadn't been interrupted by a firm rap on the door.

The door opened to reveal an anxious looking young man in plain brown robes. He was almost painfully ordinary to look at. The only distinctive thing about him was the single red rose in his hands. The contact from the Yuan Clan.

He stepped into the room and I shut the door behind him. His anxiety seemed to peak at being shut in with the two Devil Women and he stumbled over his words. "I... have ... a package for you?"

"Just hand it over" I said brusquely. My temper flared more easily these days.

He tossed a Jade Tablet to me, I caught and quickly scanned its contents. An in depth breakdown on the Great Treasure. It would take greater minds than mine to judge if it was a forgery, but that wasn't my mission.

"Here" I tossed my own corresponding Jade back at him. "A breakdown of what we are offering and where you will find it if your Clan keeps its word."

He nodded jerkily, put the Jade away and visibly mustered his courage before he asked. "Is it true you knocked that Honoured Elder into the Koi Pond? I heard him asking about it at reception, he seemed.... displeased."

It was my turn to stumble over my words. "He was..... an Elder?"

At that point a hot wave of sensation hit them all as a Core Formation level existence unveiled its full aura in a blaze of anger. The shout was audible throughout the entire building. "I DEMAND TO KNOW WHICH ROOM THAT SCARLET STRUMPET IS STAYING IN."

I ran to the window and.... shit.... we were four floors up. Foundation Establishment or not I would probably break something and poor Bi didn't have a hope. I looked at all that flowing high end cloth on my dress and felt a brief sense of mourning. It really had been a pretty thing.

"Hurry up Bi, you get the bed linens together. I hope we can get to the coach, I don't fancy running through the desert in half a dress."

The Yuan man wisely scarpered as the two women got to work making a long enough rope.

-----------------------

I am so full of flu and fever today that I can't promise any of this makes sense, but the enemies at the gate and I didn't want to be left out!

Despite being on the lowest end of her Realm, Minervina will be Saving Juniors as much as possible. I trust that if she goes down, it will be in a poisonous blaze of glory!

And I will have fun writing about the year she spends as a tree while regenerating.
 
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Minervina Barda 11 - Seeking a Hidden Dragon Part 2.
Minervina Barda 11: Seeking a Hidden Dragon Part 2.

The distance between being an Alchemist and a Poison Master is at once both a few simple steps and a massive abyss, bottomless and full of monsters.

The tools and methodology would look similar to the layman. I tapped my favourite Pill Furnace fondly, listening carefully for sounds of cracking or warping that plague all but the most expensive of such devices. Satisfied, I crack open the lid and laboriously sweep out the ashes from my last project and swab it inside and out with hot water and clean linen. Conventional practice amongst alchemists is to seldom clean a furnace, since the repeated release of medicinal energies will 'season' the device, like a housewife's favourite wok, lending greater efficacy to future mixtures. I couldn't help but let out a tiny snort at that idle thought, it always seemed like a typical mans excuse for being too lazy to clean up after himself.

Myth or wisdom, no experienced Poison Cultivator would chance such idleness. When you routinely crafted toxins fit to slay immortals you didn't dare leave the residue on your tools and implements. Even if you didn't fatally poison yourself the next day (the ultimate professional disgrace) you were likely to come back to find your tools a corroded mess.

Moreover where an Alchemist is chiefly concerned with simply making ever more potent pills, a Poison Masters needs are more about subtlety and precision. If you are crafting a slow poison because the target needs to collapse exactly three days after exposure, suddenly discovering your concoction is twice as potent as you thought is a disaster not a cause for celebration.

She turned to her sorting tables and started pulling out various knives and mortars as she sighed over the one thousand, six hundred and forty six ingredients she would need for her attempt to craft a sentient venom. I suppose the laborious and expensive process of gathering reagents is something the two professions do have in common. It had taken 5 years of Sect Missions and most of her savings to put all this together.

I pondered further on the finer distinctions between the two professions as I got to slicing, dicing and scouring the various ingredients. A few of the more pernicious varieties tried to defend themselves, extruding barbed tentacles, coughs of venom spores or in one noticeable case sing me a deadly lullaby. I countered each attempt with practiced disdain as I continued musing.

Alchemists are organised, almost by their very nature. It could be a brotherhood, sect or order, but the bearded pricks always seem to flock together. Without the infrastructure of a large organisation, a lone Alchemist will spend a week gathering materials and investigating Formulae for every furnace of pills he tries to refine. Even amongst the Golden Devils they had a certain clique, with some Legions specialising in producing Alchemical products and requiring displays of refining prowess for increasing rank amongst its Officer cadre.

By comparison Poison Masters seem to be largely loners. Oh exceptions exist, and I would be curious to spend some time amongst the like of the Gao Clan or Noble Knowledge Sect, who are both said to have extremely strong foundations in the Poison Dao. But amongst non-specialist factions you rarely saw collaboration or organised groups of Poison Cultivators. I think its a matter of both resources and character. Sublime art it might be, but Destruction is usually easier than Creation. You need significantly less exotic materials to get significant effects. And apart from the kind of unique projects I was embarking on today, Poison Masters could more frequently experiment and invent their own formulas than relying on the wisdom of the ancients. With costs being generally lower that meant their was less incentive to work together.

However I tend to think its more that we are all morbid assholes who spend more time thinking of exciting new ways to kill people than is healthy. Its probably a good thing that we don't have a dinner club or something, it almost certainly wouldn't end well.

The prep work done, I set about the next step and pulled out the first of a small mountain of scripted urns. I wanted my creation to reside inside my own flesh and blood when it wasn't needed, a concealed weapon. As a consequence my own blood and Spiritual Power would have to be the base ingredients. According to the newly uncovered notes in the Scarlet Crow Scroll, this was an essential step to insure the venom wouldn't be rejected by my body and that the resulting entity would be loyal. I had been storing up as much blood as I could safely extract for six months now. I just prayed it was enough, I had little hope of making a second attempt at this rite before the Trials if I failed today.

I entered the first twenty ingredients and the first urn of extracted blood before kindling my Flame. A mystical flame forged from ones Will and Spirit is the preferred medium for most refiners, though others are possible. I had experimented with water a lot in my youth and found it quite efficacious. A more tactile experience, you could insure your ingredients were pulped, activated and mixed with unmatched precision when you use water.

A dark green flame congealed in my left hand and floated into the furnace. With my latest Dao Pillar, my ability to manifest and control a refining flame had reached new heights. I would need every ounce of that power if I was to succeed today.

What followed was a steady process that would have appeared utterly dull to the average onlooker. Every twenty minutes or so I would pop another arm load of ingredients into the furnace alongside an urns worth of blood. I would then return to a meditative pose.

The real work was almost entirely mental. My senses extended alongside my Spiritual Flame and I could manipulate it with a thousand times more dexterity than I could my own fingers. More than just controlling the temperature, I could control how and when different ingredients mixed, which properties were extracted and which burned away. Through the flame I also bled into the mix a slow steady drip of my Spiritual Qi. If the febrile mix I was creating were to be the body and mind of my creation, the Spiritual Qi I supplied were to be the primordial spark for its soul.

So on and on the refinement continued, in stern silence as I laboured to execute each step with exacting precision. Four hours in I was still feeling confident, a master working at her craft. Eight hours in I was still going strong. Sixteen hours and I was in a meditative daze, unable to think of anything but the next step in the process. At thirty six hours I was feeling light-headed and ill, my body had little need for food or sleep at this point but my Qi was on the verge of running dry.

I had expected this, I palmed a trio of medicinal Pills from my spatial pouch and took them one by one. The resultant waves of power firmed my resolve and refilled my reserves. I tossed in ingredient one thousand and thirty six (all eight eyes of a Midnight-Stalker-Owl if your keeping notes) and plowed on.

These were some of the finest pills I had ever taken, someones war spoils with the cartouche of the Great Drunkards Sect prominently displayed on them. I smiled to think how horrified some Righteous pig would be to know how his work was being used.

Fortified I carried on. I reached the fifty hour mark at ingredient one thousand two hundred and thirty two. Each one was taking more time and effort to refine as the mixture grew more complex.

It was working though, I could tell. The various aspects and elements I had collected were congealing just as I had designed. A few times already I had felt a flicker of .... motion, like a fetus kicking in the womb. It wasn't sentient yet, but my poison child was showing the first stirrings of life.

72 Hours, ingredient one thousand, four hundred and seventy two. I almost slipped up. If I had kept the Seven Sea Spider Silk at that temperature for another few seconds I would have been left with nothing but a useless black mess for my efforts. The pills had restored my Qi, but the mental exertion was starting to take its toll.

With great deliberation I bit down on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Focusing on the pain, I stirred my mind back into action and got back to work.

I took 99 hours in total to get to the final ingredient. The entity, and it definitely was an entity now, inside the furnace had begun to thrash wildly. It thunked violently from one side of the furnace to the next, maybe me glad I had chalked out for such an expensive and well fortified model.

This was the point of greatest risk. I now had a wild spiritual being brewed from some of the most vicious toxins in the world, with a temperament to match. To make it a trustworthy companion rather than a demon kept on a tight chain, I would need soul data, a human starting point for its nascent personality.

This last ingredient had been the easiest to acquire but was also the most heart-wrenching to part with. I pulled up a linen clad bundle and pulled back the wrappings to reveal a human skull. My grandmothers skull.

Dead almost 80 years, this was the kind mortal woman who taught me rustic cures and common cooking by the hearthfire. The woman who gave me the means to change my fate and become something more. I loved her still. With a last bloody kiss on her brow and a prayer to my ancestors I added it to the mix. With a flex of my will the Flame broke the the bones into countless fragments before pouring all that remained of my beloved grandmother into my terrifying new child.

The furnace wailed like a boiling kettle. It thrashed backwards and forwards. Torrents of Qi flooded into the room as my creation feasted on the energy of heaven and earth for the first time.

My long suffering furnace could take no more at that point. Cracks started to appear all over its surface before the whole thing exploded in a deafening cacophony. A flying segment hit me full in the face knocking me off my heels.

I jumped back to my feet, certain that I had failed. Wiping the blood and dust from my eyes I looked desperately up at the results of my labour, fearing the worst.

She was utterly magnificent. A serpent three metres long and as wide as a strong mans fist. She was coppery crimson, with purple accents on her cobra like hood. She looked at me and hissed, drawing attention to the two stub like horns on her forehead. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Well nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I knelt down on one knee, bringing us to eye level with each other. I didn't have to fake the crooning sweetness in my voice. "Well hello little one, aren't you pretty." I pulled out a pill and offered it to the beast. "I have snacks!"

The look it gave me was almost contemptuous, as if it didn't appreciate the baby-talk. It moved forward and took the offered pill anyway. I noticed it moved like a liquid, not a snake, flowing rather than propelling itself with muscles.

After it snapped up the pill the creature flowed right up my arm. I repressed the urge to panic as its liquid body pushed itself into my skin. This was exactly what I had wanted after all.

It wasn't exactly painful or unpleasant, but it was definitely a strange sensation to have something glide through your flesh and veins. I felt the blossoming of a mental connection as the serpents head reached my spine and stopped moving.

I smiled in genuine glee. My poison child was fatigued and sleepy, it saw my familiar blood and Qi as the perfect place to rest and was dropping off to sleep. I projected a strong sense of maternal love at the creature as it drowsed off.

"I will call you Emilia little one, after my grandmother. Rest well."

I stood up, sighed, and started the work of cleaning up the lab. Now that I finally have my weapon for the Trials, the real work could begin.

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3rd Omake of the Turn! I will need all the Fate bonuses I can get.

I had fun writing this one! Fleshing out the refining process was interesting. I used Long Chen as my primary example for alchemy is these sorts of settings with the Pill Flames and so on. Obviously any shade thrown at Alchemists is entirely Minervina's own opinion. Its a shame we don't have any Alchemist Good Seeds I could spark a friendly rivalry with.
 
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Minervina Barda 12: The Witch of Whitefish Lake. Part 1
Minervina Barda 12: The Witch of Whitefish Lake. Part 1

Tassos Filip-Barda was the type of child who made his parents go prematurely grey.

It seemed that from the moment he took his first toddling steps the little brat couldn't keep out of trouble. He and his little gang were irrepressible. One day they might be getting into scraps with those louts from the next village over, the next they were stealing the fish from the old men's lines while they dosed in the midday sun. Last year, for a laugh, they dug holes in the bottom of old man Silas's fishing boat. The old drunk near drowned. They would even go up into the dunes to throw stones and run away from the occasional giant Spirit scorpion that came up to bask in the heat.

With his quick smile and ready wit, no one in the close knit little community even had the heart to beat him for it most of the time, so his antics had become the stuff of local legend.

14 years old, Tassos laid out on a rock by the lake, dipping his feet in the blessedly cool water, bragging to his clutch of friends and grousing about his most recent lecture by one of the village elders. "I don't care what old man Philip says, I can do whatever I want. In Whitefish village, I do whatever I want, go wherever I like and take whatever I fancy." To prove his point he fishes a half dozen freshly cooked (if more than a little squashed) meat buns out of his tattered old bag and hands them out, his manner reminiscent of a king bestowing medals upon his finest warriors.

His friends (all cousins of some description, its that type of town) eagerly took their share of the pilfered food and proceeded to destroy all evidence of the crime. They sigh in joy at the taste of the tender fish inside the doughy balls.

One of them though, is a contradictory soul and she points out around a mouthful of food "Thats not true though. You wouldn't dare go to the witches house!"

Snack finished the boy next to her piped up. "What do you know? She ain't a witch. My Pa says shes a Demon, come to take all our souls. He says if she so much as glances at ya, you fall over and die." He clutches his chest theatrically and collapses, to the amusement of his peers.

"She so is a Witch!" The first girl retorts, wagging a finger illustratively. "My aunt says she can cast spells that make snakes pour out the ground and eat men whole!" Woots and whistles greet this revelation as the children speculate on how big the snakes might be, what colours they would be and how many bites it would take to devour them whole.

A third voice chips in, quieter, more serious and somehow studious. "I don't think that's quite right. My grandmother says she's family, a Cultivator that left the village a hundred years ago and has returned to rest a while. She said to be polite if I ever met her, but that family would never hurt us, that all that other talk was just stories people make up."

This boy naturally incurred a great deal of scorn from his peers, who loudly rubbished the idea. A Cultivator? Ridiculous. While none of them had actually seen one of those mythical warriors, they had all heard the stories. The witch in the hut did not match a single one of them.

Where a Cultivator should have a gleaming sword, she walked with a battered cane of driftwood, visibly struggling for every step.

Cultivators had the refined manners and wealth expected of one touched by Heaven. The witch wore stained rags each day and when she toiled in her garden her curses could be heard clear across the lake, some so vile as to make the fishermen blush.

Moreover, weren't Cultivators supposed to be immortal? Ageless even! Well, that old herb woman was the exact opposite, a hunched crone with brittle, faded hair and sallow skin. Just looking at the old ghost could make a man feel Deaths bony hand on his shoulder.

Tassos, looking down on the others from his rock-perch like Solomon bringing wisdom to his petitioners, brings out the final damning evidence. "Besides, everyone knows we don't get fancy Cultivators around here." The others nod in unison at this pearl of wisdom and the quieter boy reluctantly nods along, feeling like he has no choice but to agree.

"Which is she then" The girl asks Tassos. "A devil or a witch! We have to decide somehow!"

Theirs a quiet excited moment as the others watch Tassos think. They follow the boy for a reason, he *always* has the best ideas for how to fill their idle hours.

Sure enough, that wicked smile they love appears on the boys handsome face. "Well we just have to go ask her don't we?"

He dashes off, pulling the others along behind him and explaining his master plan. They would throw rocks at the old woman's house until she came out and answered their question.

'What could possibly go wrong' Tassos thinks to himself gleefully 'whatever people say she's just a batty old woman.'


To Be Continued.

One of a few Omake I have planned for this turn. This ones a bit different but the next one will be back in Mina's perspective.

She won't kill the kids.... probably.

Bonus for this turn will hopefully be a Healing Treasure to fix her crippled soul.

If Goals are a thing, can I set hers as 'meditating on the nature of the venoms in her body alongside her Dao of Transformation. Trying to transform her body into a proper Poison Constitution that she can use as a tool and weapon without harm to her Cultivation Base.'

I figure that has enough ways it can go terribly right or terribly wrong that whoever writes my Fate can have fun with it.
 
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