Hope Remains.

This forum exists as an archive for stories relating to what would later become the World of Imarel from back in the AOL days and stories from early IRC. This time frame is considered the two Anthalas Chronicles. (1995-2006).

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Hope Remains.

Postby Lisachan » Fri Jun 23, 2017 1:01 am

Val'na knew, gods help her, she knew this bordered on the precipice of madness. Doing what she was about to do. Trig waited until night properly fell, until her husband was fast asleep, and made sure she was not trailed, followed or tailed. Gram was a godsend for this, because of that invisibility potion he gave her today would be helpful...most helpful indeed.
Traveling north of the caravansary, Trig moved quickly...quietly...as best she could..towards the lights on the horizon. A quick quaff of the invisibility potion, and she became little more than footprints in the sand.
The place was...almost beautiful...in a frightening sort of way. The glow of the etheric pods and the plants that open at the night... The numerous sounds of insects made her nervous, for she was here...alone. Between the nausea and pain, and the cargo she carried, Trig felt so very tired, but...this was important, if anything, for her at least and the others at the Caravansary at the most. It wasn't about selfishness, or...trying to butter up their enemies so they MIGHT have a slim chance to leave and come back, rather..it was something else...
The Heirophant felt that both sides were about to come to a confrontation, and neither side were going to be the better of it. An endless hive of hyper-evolved insects and the children...her own child included...changed into shadows of their former selves, against the heroes of Ometta. Powerful mages, warriors, priests, and technologists...
She, along with others had countered most of the attempts on the Caravansary...but luck and faith only takes you so far...both sides were heading for a collision course, and only -HE-, the being known as OLD HATE, what was left of him, was just drinking it all in. The children were being used as fodder, and she worried no one else saw this...however, now, she knew...she felt...her daughter, Mereya, might be the key to saving, not just the children...not just the hive, but the people of Ometta as well...if this turned into full blown war, other nations would get involved...it would end...badly. She could sense it...the crack in the control over her daughter...a large break where the root of rebellion had been planted, and Trig hoped that, if she did things like this, maybe...just maybe...the root would bloom, and she would be able to help free the rest of their minds...so that they, and the people of Ometta could see the true enemy, and unite to stop him. Either way...she knew who would win.

Still, simple things.

Kneeling, Trig sets out the sealed package she held under one arm all the way here. Returning the favor to Mereya for the cheese and honey, and the floating toys. It wasn't just supplies...it was food...real...food. She had made baked goods for them, potable foods, and other healthy but tasty edibles that would keep...after all...the beasts of the field were poisonous or toxic due to proximity to the burning lands, and surely plants all the time could get tiresome.
Also in the sealed package was edible plants and seeds that could endure the strange energies of this hell. Honey instead of vinegar indeed. To drink was bottles of a special tonic.
Mereya would remember it; a warming tonic to drink. It tasted well, and worked to keep someone warm...the desert is a cold place at night, after all.
What was the logic behind it? What sense did it all make? The answer was simple...and not so simple at the same time.
Perhaps she meant to prove them all wrong...that some people in the Caravansary did care. Or maybe, in doing simple things like this, or maybe...it was some means to apologize for the things she did...perhaps it was to ease their own suffering, because being consumed with such hate is suffering, and she was countering that with some measure of love?
Would it even work? Would it even matter?
Numerous lives, she felt, were at stake. She had to try, and if faith, fate, and hope held on...maybe, just maybe she going in the right direction.
Once she was done setting the box in a conspicuous place, tying a familiar cloth to the lid, Trig steals away, and once she had enough distance, used the spell of Ravenform, taking to the sky and into the night before the invisibility potion wore off...like she needed to be chased all the way back...
There are 10 types of people in this world...ones who can read binary and those who don't get it.

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