Editing Announcements - 2002/02 - Fever Dreams (section)

== Teaser ==

{{Microsoft Zone
 |  Link = <nowiki>http://www.zone.com/asheronscall/news/ASHEfeb02teaser1.asp</nowiki>
 |  Date = February 11, 2002
 | Title = Fever Dreams
 |  Text =
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"Koga Hideki."
<br><br>Hideki looked up at his visitor. He had seen her before. . . at a royal reception perhaps? A long time ago. She was old, but she had some streaks of red in her pale hair, and her face was mostly free of wrinkles.
<br><br>He didn't bother wiping the sweat from his forehead, as the cold winter breezes traveling over the river cooled the drops for him. He had been in this river spot for a long time, the Lifestone a daily reminder of his failure. But still they came looking for the Shadowhunter Armor, even though the threat of the Shadows had seemingly long since passed.
<br><br>Some lessons take long to fade. And some should never be forgotten.
<br><br>"What may I do for you?" He had seen that face before, but he could not place it.
<br><br>She laughed. It was not a friendly laugh, and Hideki felt ashamed, like he had done something wrong. "It is not what you can do for me, Koga Hideki. It is what I can do for you. It is time for you to be healed. For all of Hamud's victims to be healed. Prepare yourself, armorer. The process is not free of pain," she said, smiling all the while.
<br><br>Before he had time to respond, she reached out her hand to his head. Hideki's screams entwined with the chill wind, as they wove their way together down the river.
<br><br>He was running. He dashed along, nearly blind, through dark stone corridors only visible when the occasional flash of energy sparked along the wall. He couldn't remember where he was running to, but he knew what he was running from.
<br><br>The Atua Ngamaru glided a few paces behind him.
<br><br>More running. Sweat trailing down his matted brow. Something was wrong. He couldn't see these twisty corridors, yet not once did he collide with the solid stone. There was only the running, feet pounding like the flat, calloused palms of a shaman on his buadren, the cold lightning-scented air scraping the water from his eyes
<br><br><i>Sister Wind, are you here? Please hear me!</i>
<br><br>The moan that rolled down the corridors was hollow and strange. The anima were silent. They did not speak here, but remained monoliths of light and shadow, motion and shattering. Old were these anima, older than the council fires. The Sisters had never touched the face of this world, if there was a face within the endless falling. . .
<br><br>Lightning flashed, sizzling bolts of fiery light arcing up the walls. He had come to a chamber, a tall dome of glistening stone. There were no visible entrances. No exits. The Ngamaru hovered in a loose circle around him, their sharp metal claws click-clacking against one another.
<br><br>He whirled from one to the next, lips curling back, the blood of Aun pounding out the rhythm of battle. He was a warrior, strong and mighty. He reached to his belt for the familiar curves of his Taiaha, eager to meet Death and hear her whispers. He would not be the only one to hear her final words in this hell.
<br><br>His hand came up with empty air. His Taiaha was gone. They had taken his weapon. He screamed, plunging to the ground. There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape.
<br><br>He was running...
<br><br><i>Observation: Subject has been in stasis period for one hundred eighty four Race 67a circadian cycles. Query: Yet exertion moisture still is evidenced on his forehead. Causation: Analysis needed.
<br><br>Response: Energy analysis indicates high-intensity mental activity. Local nomenclature: Fever dreams.</i>
<br><br>The body of the Aun warrior continued to stay still within its energy prison. It had not moved in a very long time. An occasional drop of sweat made a small plink as it fell against the stone floor. No one was there to hear it.<br>
__________
<br><br>"You were responsible for them? Those. . . mockeries? I confess I can see no reason why you think such admission would gain you favor here."
<br><br>"Ahh, milady, the "candy-canes," as some of the townspeople so cunningly referred to them, were merely the beginning. A demonstration of potential. I could do more. So much more. But I need help, help from a person with power. Your puissance shines brightly around you, milady. There is so much we could do. . ."
<br><br>"Tell me more."<br>
__________
<br><br>He stood there, cloaked and cloaked, for no eyes or ley-sense to see. He was disturbed by the beauty of the room. Even more disturbed that he noticed the beauty. That it appealed to him. He was. . . beyond such things, yes? <i>Logos. Concepts. Words. Do you feel?</i> Yes, I feel. <i>What is your name?</i> Candeth Martine. I feel the hammer breaking. <i>Are you Martine?</i> Yes. Ankle shattering. <i>Are you Martine?</i> Yes! <i>Magnify receptors for lower upper limbs.</i> Left lower arm cracking. <i>Are you Martine?</i> Please, yes, please. Mercy. Right lower arm breaking. <i>Are you Martine?</i> Please. Please.
<br><br>He looked down at the sleeping form on the bed. She is so beautiful.
<br><br>"Melanay?" he whispers. "Melanay. I am broken. They have broken me, Melanay." He is crying. Real tears leaking from fake eyes. He reaches out a hand to stroke her long blonde hair. Blonde? <i>Illogical.</i> Melanay's hair was a deep russet brown. The figure below stirs.
<br><br>He vanishes from the room. The woman has a groggy recollection the next morning of a few wispy purple bubbles dissipating in the middle of the night. She dismisses it as a dream. She can only worry about so much.<br>
__________
<br><br>He gathered up all his power and hurled it at the wall of energy before him. It had no discernible effect. He screamed in rage. There had to be a weak link somewhere. He had gotten through. More power, rage fueling him to a depth of power he did not know he had, churning and seething, a roiling reservoir of fury.
<br><br>The explosion knocked him back, almost taking his consciousness away. Fear made him fight off the fatigue. Fool. So dangerous to lose one's awareness in this place. The barriers remained, glowing and resolute.
<br><br>He probed them once more, knowing that there wouldn't be anything different, but desperate all the same. It was a wall of knots, tendrils of energy tied round and round each other. If only there was some way to cut or slip through the knot. But he had tried, Martine had tried. . . if Martine wasn't the answer. . . well maybe the other was. And additional resources were finally reopening. Soon. It could be soon.<br>
__________
<br><br>Where did the Flammas come from? So you have been keeping up with your studies, Borelean, even in the wake of all this madness. Good.
<br><br>It is an interesting question. There are scattered Dericost text fragments that refer to. . . well, I am getting too far afield.
<br><br>Have patience, son. Yes, that is a fearsome scowl. I'm sure one day when you are King you will have courtiers truly shaking at the knees.
<br><br>Ahh, a smile. A good sense of humor is one of the most important things you need when walking in the circles that lie ahead of you. Do not forget that.
<br><br>Here is what I know for sure. There are no references to Elementals appearing during the reign of the Seaborne Empire. There was speculation, in regards to the fragments I mentioned, but most credible scholars dismissed them as ancient tribal superstitions. There were some experiments, anyway, and some of those experiments actually furthered our demiurgy. . . the making of Golems. But most of the studies ended in abject failure, and some with a horrible demise.
<br><br>That did not stop some from creating a set of lore and rituals and passing it down from generation to generation. It was supposed that the learning of these rituals would empower one to be an "Elemental Mage."
<br><br>Yes! That's exactly the right question. What could an Elemental Mage do, that a Hieromancer, or a follower of the School of the Arm, could not? For most of my lifetime, I believed the answer was nothing. They made claims about being able to control the elements, to give them body and intent, and make them subject to their will. These "Elementals," though, were never seen, and the Elementalist Cabals had mostly died out during the later half of the Seaborne reign.
<br><br>But as you, or anyone in Dereth could now inform me, the Elementals do exist. Flammas and worse in the caldera of Mount Tenkarrdun. Scintillas on the plateau of our reserve, Marae Lassel. I do not know where they come from. I have. . . guesses, but I have had far too many other pressing problems to investigate fully.
<br><br>You chastised me earlier because you thought I was hiding something from you. And it is true that in order to do your duty you must have all the knowledge that you can at your disposal. Even if that knowledge is no more than a seed of concern to be planted now, to later grow into a tree of a solution. So before we conclude this session, I will leave you with this.
<br><br>According to your people, to the School of the Arm masters, the elemental magics are agents of change. I know Celdiseth has tutored you in the Four Cardinal Paths often enough. Flame consumes, Acid decays, yes, yes, you know it, good.
<br><br>But my people have long had a much different view of the elemental expressions of mana, Borelean. This view explains much of our reluctance to pursue further studies in the area. In my next lesson, I will show you the prism, and how it relates to the mana. But for now, this is what you need to know.
<br><br>Fire, frost, acid, lightning. What do they all have in common?
<br><br>They burn, Borelean, they all burn.
<br><br><b>Unlike any other gaming experience, the world of Asheron's Call continues to evolve. Last month, enemies advanced against Dereth, while High Queen Elysa Strathelar fortified the land's defense. Yet there remains much work to be done...on both sides. Join us, as the Fever Dreams event opens soon!
<br><br>Be sure to continue your part in this incredible ongoing story, and we'll see you in Dereth!</b>
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