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PotionCombatConsume
StackableConsumable
Copper-colored liquid in a vial barely wider than a thumb, still hot at the sides when the cork comes loose, the smell layered with clove and black pepper and something underneath it the apothecary will not identify. The drinker's pulse picks up before the second mouthful is swallowed.
Entry
Mechanics
Crafting, equipment, and effects declared on this entry.
Chronicle
Compounded on commission by a small set of apothecaries who keep the ingredients under lock and the paperwork off their own desks, because the draught's reputation outpaces its legal standing in three jurisdictions. The effects run sharp and narrow for a quarter of an hour, then hand the drinker a cold, hollow afternoon as a receipt. Seasoned fighters rate it a tool for the last engagement of a day, never the first.