Ser Berenike's Kykeon
Ser Berenike awoke with a start, a woman of regal bearing but wearing worn frontier clothing standing over her, empty vial in one hand.
One could hardly blame her for the surprise she felt at such a sight. She sat straight up, glancing about for anything she might use to defend herself.
"Please, ser knight, calm yourself." The woman said so calmly, tinted with just the faintest hint of disdain for the for the title as it left her mouth, that it gave Berenike pause. "You are in no danger here, and I would hate to see all of my work in restoring that arm of yours to go to waste."
The knight looked to her sword arm as she remembered that she had last seen it turning gray and stone-like before she had passed out. It was no longer grey, her flesh back to it's normal bronze tone, but it looked... cracked. Dry in the way that a lake bed looks as it bakes in the sun. She flexed, feeling the flesh and muscles pull in odd ways.
"What... what happened to my arm?" She asked. " What does it look like this? Why does it feel like this?"
The woman's expression softened by a minuscule fraction.
"This is the result of the healing process of petrification." The statement was matter of fact. "I found you out there, in the courtyard of the old ruin, nearly turned completely to stone. You're lucky I came along when I did."
"Clearly, my lady. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. But, if I was petrified, how did you help me?" She continued to rotate and flex her arm. "I assumed that if it happened, the best thing would be to smash me to plaster, no?"
"You're lucky that I came to your aid." She repeated, changing her inflection to emphasize her personal involvement. "Not many have the knowledge to prevent petrification, let alone reverse it, but I do."
"However, now I'm out-" The woman tossed the empty vial towards Berenike, who tried to catch it. Her fingers felt sluggish, like they were being pulled around by string rather than muscle, and she only succeeded in batting it out of the air and into her own lap. "-so don't go marching back in there unless you want to spend the rest of time as statuary."
The tiniest drop of amethyst liquid pooled in the bottom of the glass.
"What is this?" Berenike questioned. "If you're out, can I help you make more? I would hate to have robbed you of of your hard work."
The woman stared at Berenike a moment, tension around her eyes. She sighed.
"I suppose you won't leave until you've 'made amends' or whatever chivalric drivel?"
"No, I find chivalric drivel rather important."
Summary
Ser Berenike the Bull, monster slayer-extraordinaire according to many of her legends, had to start somewhere like everyone else, and her famed strength and imperviousness, both to physical damage and curses like a gorgon's stare or Onryō's deathmark, were not something she cultivated on her own. In this myth, recorded on the walls of Camlann, Berenike works with Ushiko the Sorceress to try and devise a potion that will stop Berenike from being prettified by a monster that is the target of her quest.
It largely consists of Berenike searching out magical ingredients all across the continent at Ushiko's direction. Barley from the garden of Tallethis the Hag, honey from Grazier bees, milk from crystal goats; then turned into cheese, and a bottle from a cellar of a long-dead mage.
Once the ingredients are gathered, Berenike is instructed to simply wait while Ushiko prepares her supplies, looking to extract the raw magic from all these things. Berenike thinks, once her ally is gone, that all these ingredients look to be the same as a traditional... beverage from her homeland. Kykeon. Drank my heroes one and all.
Mixing them all together, she accidentally creates a potion that, when ingested, infuses her body with undiluted magical energies that increased her physical survivability. A good thing, for Ushikos temper has always beenfamously easy to stoke.
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