To The Last Drop
The fates had been cruel to Isha. She was asleep when the Second Heist began. This predicament wasn't precisely the worse case situation for her; yes, the heist could've begun while the Goddess was under strict observation and guard. Her "husband" had become paranoid as of late. There were even several instances of him sending his children to check on her while she was concocting a potion in secret. Isha was positive that Nurgle was scared of her getting "ideas" about escaping.
Now it seemed that once the illusion of security within his mansion had been broken in Nurgle's mind, he showed his true colors. More than once, he had ranted and raved at Isha about enemies all around him, wanting to steal his precious flower, and that he was the only one that could protect her. But it wasn't until that Nurgle physically harmed her that she Isha realized how dire the situation had become.
It wasn't as if Nurgle intentionally hit her. Still, when he roughly grabbed her shoulder when she suggested that perhaps he needed to calm down, she saw insanity that Isha had seen only a few times during her "stay" at his mansion. That cold, sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach again; the Eldar Goddess was running out of time.
She realized that another attempt of rescue would come again, so she figured some sort of plan would be needed. Taking that to heart, Isha considered her only real recourse in this situation. Isha was not a fighter, nor was she subtle or sly enough to create a weapon, but the Goddess wasn't without her tricks. Taking into account the last rescue attempt, the Goddess of Life knew that if anyone came to save her, they'd be mortals.
And that was when she got the idea in her head to create a potion for them. It would be a
special one Not just a cure for the infamous plagues her "husband" shaped but also one that allowed for the user to have the necessary strength to fight through the pain and madness induced by only the most powerful of plagues. It wasn't a be-all-end-all potion, really more an immuno-booster mixed with an adrenaline shot, but it would give a mortal a much-needed boost in this hell.
Isha spent years preparing the concoction in secret. She even went so far as to steal components from the larder and purified them to allow for the cultivation needed to create the potion. Of course, she had to provide substation in certain instances: her saliva, tears, and blood. It might appear unsanitary at first glance, and in many cases, the idea of someone drinking a combination of such things
is unhygienic. Only in this nightmare, and with her powers, it might as well be pouring penicillin and antibiotics into the potion.
During these moments of focus, she could recall her children having to cultivate similar mixtures back when they just discovered herbalism and alchemy. Isha remembered almost laughing, albeit fondly, at watching them create solutions of healing out of clay bowls and grinding with stone mortars and pedestals.
Now she was doing the same, but in secret from the ever-present gaze of her "husbands" minion. She would work late into the "night," and whenever Nurgle wasn't paying attention, she'd swiped something else from his home to create this potion. A part of her feared what the Plague Lord would do if he ever found out, but it was a risk she needed to take.
So Isha worked, diligently, but quietly in secret. In time, she created a small mixture which she later refined into a potion. She turned a rotted clay cup into a vial of pure glass, both to keep the potion safe and also for carrying ease. Isha frowned at the rather small amount in the bottle. The process of creating this mixture was an intensive one, consumed resources like nothing else, and she couldn't test it herself to increase the potency without wasting it.
Doing the next best thing, Isha spent time blessing it with her power. The blessing of a god was a powerful thing, but it didn't necessarily mean that it would get the correct boon attached to it. There was a reason that her brother, Vaul, was called a crafter-god. His process was meticulous and precise. Each item he crafted was to work as he intended. But for Isha, life was spontaneous and ever-growing. True, she could shape it, but she never had intentions in creating something to suit
her needs.
But now, she needed to know if this potion was going to work in any reliable way. So, Isha spent years blessing it. Every day, she gave it a little part of herself. It exhausted her every time, even so far as to cause her to almost faint several times. But Isha powered through it all. Others were fighting just as hard in the galaxy for some spark of hope, some chance for peace. And she would do the same, especially if there were another attempt at rescuing her. Just for once in this miserable existence, Isha wouldn't be
just some damsel in distress. At the very least, she could give her "heroes" the potion to defeat the evil kings minions. The "night" before the rescue, as Isha felt her strength leave her after the last blessing ceremony, a part of her smiled as she thought of her life being a tragic bedtime story.
It might have been odd to smile at such a thing, but as Cegorach once said to her, so many millennia ago; "Sometimes a happy ending requires a sad story. That's what makes the happy ending all the more poignant." She didn't pay it much mind back then, but Isha liked to believe that while her life had become a tragedy, there was still a happy ending to it all.
---
She awoke to that ear-splitting alarm, and Isha at first thought that her husband was having her children run another one of their drills. But then Isha sensed the panic and felt the churning of the warp. She couldn't believe how long she slept, it must have been decades within the materium, but here in the mansion, it was likely the equivalent of ten or so hours. Isha must have truly exhausted herself last night.
But that wasn't beside the point now, something was happening, and she suspected that the mortals would use the massive ritual taking place in the galaxy (Nurgle kept talking about it endlessly) to launch another rescue attempt. This was it, perhaps her last attempt at escaping. She reached her hiding place for the potion, and it was still safe and glowing a bright tea-leaf green. Isha smiled but frowned as the desperate thought came to the forefront of her mind, 'Will it be enough, though?'
As she contemplated what to do now, Isha recognized that there wasn't much else she could do. If her rescuers made it to her, then it would matter then. Otherwise, she was still stuck in her prison. As she looked down at the contents of the vial, she saw how little the mixture was now. Maybe enough for two people or one person that desperately needed it? She was worried now. Like a mother holding onto the medicine for her children, what if there wasn't enough to go around? She didn't want someone to die when she could save them in her hands, but she hadn't been able to make enough of it.
Perhaps Isha could've done more to make more of this concoction, but the threat of discovery was always so significant. However, she had a duty to do her part, and that meant needing to take risks. Then again, the people trying to rescue her, including her children and siblings, knew how dire the situation Isha was in now. And, Isha told herself, she had to be realistic. How much could she have done to help this rescue from inside her cell?
No, this would have to do. Just like with the scroll, Isha had done her part, perhaps more than was asked of her. So she waited and took to blessing the contents of the vial one last time. Every single drop of it would count, one way or another.
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@Durin Okay, an emergency health/strength potion for our heroes.
