"Carefully... carefully."
Sweat beads on Iathos' lavender brow as he gingerly decants a few drops of a crimson liquid into a thin beaker of clear fluid. A mixture of intense concentration, excitement, and fear play out across his face as the doplets splash in.
KA-BAM!
The admixture explodes into a cloud of foul-smelling green smoke, from the center of which Iathos can be heard swearing fervently in a mixture of languages.
"Drats! That was the last of my griffon blood. Damnable tome has led me astray again! I swear by the Heavens that Al-Jabar is a moron. His formulae are flawed!"
As the smoke clears, a tall, slender Tiefling is revealed. His normally pale lavender-violet skin is stained a sickening yellow-green, which under other circumstances might complement his eyes nicely. His clothing is tattered and scorched from the blast, and his onyx rams' horns are spattered with a stinking ooze.
Rubbing his horns in frustration, he grumbles to himself, "Well, nothing for it now. I'll get precious little done with the rest of this accursed day." After a quick bath and change of clothing, he dejectedly heads to the town tavern to drown his sorrows.
