Item Name: Philosopher's Stone
Item Type: An Alchemic product of nearly unlimited power
Creation: Alan's current stone is created with the distilled souls of a 1,000 human beings, and was created in 1802
Character Discovery: N/A
Use(s): The stone can transform lead to gold, and exudes the Elixir of Life. It can also be used to transmute materials with a proper balancing of the elements (bypasses the Principle of Equivalent Exchange).
Roleplay Sample:
Alan Wake exhaled, an expression of impatience that commonly alighted his weathered features. He checked his watch, the glass cover cracked from a man's foolish attempt to rob the man of one of his few earthly possessions. He dealt with the rat ruthlessly, though he felt a stab of regret as he considered the man's current state. Alan had not even utilized his primary weapon, the wand, and the man would still be unable to move for a month... assuming he would not starve and die in the gutter Alan had left him in.
As if anybody would return to help the man.
Alan's eyes locked onto the news stand. The hawker was screeching about the American Civil War, a most uncivil engagement over land and servitude. A man's delusion of power had resulted in carnage quite like that of a wizard war.
This, of course, interested Alan Wake a great deal.
All of his long life, Alan had been fascinated in the manner in which Muggles survived, and acted, much like Wizards. Many wizards believed that they were above the petty muggle ways. Alan would have to politely disagree with them. He had seen, with his own eyes, the manner in which Muggles fought and mingled. How were Wizards any different? In a sense, Wizards were even worse. They would not need to go through the trouble of buying and maintaining weapons, they did not feel the pain of brawl, and hence would not understand the suffering of each other's hatred. A simple spell. A flick of the wand. Effortless.
But Alan had no right to think in such a way. He was one of the few who truly surpassed the mortal coil of humanity. And for what? To survive off the Elixir of a Stone he needed to keep with him constantly. How vain and foolish. But, the stone was giving Alan time. Time to observe, time to record, and time to contemplate. Alan walked over to the news paper boy, and handed him a bit of coin, hand open for the paper. The boy's eyes traveled the height of Alan, eyes stock solid as they attempted to gaze past the fogged glasses of Alan Wake.
Alan trudged away in the snow, reading the date of the paper. It was December 1864. General Sherman had completed his March to Sea, uninterrupted, unchallenged, and accompanied by hundreds of Freed Slaves. Quite delightful news. What had this show of force gleaned about the human spirit?
As Alan walked past the broken body of the man who had attempted to mug him, he stopped and gave the man a disparaging look. He still had the will to live, certainly. Who was Alan to deny the man his right? Alan stood a moment, looking down on the sorry form, and silently murmurred something, clapping his hands, beginning the circle, and placing them on the man's shoulders, completing the circle. The offering? Just a spark of the Philosopher's Stone.
A much healthier young man stumbled away, blearily looking about, wondering what had truly happened. But who was he to complain?
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