My poor brain. I'm thirsty. And my head is heavy, like a bell-ringing festival has been set up inside it. Right, this won't do; I need to recover a bit. After a jar of healing potion—life became better. What happened, huh?
Stretching in bed, I inhaled the cool morning air. My hand reached for the table and found... a flask? I'm absolutely sure I didn't leave anything like that there. And inside... water, judging by the smell. I managed to form a scanning circuit with a bit of strain, and yet... it really was water. One shouldn't drink unknown water from an unknown flask without checking. But since it's water... I need it.
I drained the flask completely, almost in one gulp. I don't know whose idea this was, but I'm definitely not against it. And yet, what was that? A quick inspection of the scene of the incident revealed, besides the flask, a note:
DaVi, when you come to, I'm waiting for you at the Chancery; we need to discuss your initiative. We didn't wake you, but that doesn't mean you can be late.
Eat and come.
Mom.
P.S. And yes, return the flask to Commander Garran.
"Just wonderful, damn it..."
A glance out the window showed the sun sinking toward sunset. It seems... I slept through the whole day. I feel rotten, I'm still thirsty, my head is heavy, and I have absolutely no desire to get up. But I have to. I have to get up and understand how we reached this state of life. Good thing the potion removed most of the side effects. But I definitely won't want to repeat this for a long time, I'm sure. Alright, I need to think.
Sooooo, did I drink yesterday? Yes, definitely drank. And what was there, why did I decide on such stupidity a step away from my parents? Hmm... We cleared out the murloc village, the ones I felt sorry for. Then Stan, I think, suggested we drink to clear our heads. He and the Gnome girl claimed it would make things easier. He said he had ale stashed away. And I agreed. We turned in the quest, after which we went to the coast and consumed. Yeah. And then I got fed up with the enthusiasm they used to discuss that cleanup, and I left. So far, so good.
"Where did I go? I went... to the Dwarves, to the workshop."
Then we drank with them. And not just drank. For some reason, a phrase stuck in my memory:
"Old Anvil taught us not to be ashamed of our forging, especially when our hammers are so big!"
"Fear is the cage of the mind. By denying ourselves, we become someone else."
Why did I remember that? What kind of madness happened there? It's worth remembering before heading off to surrender to my mother; who knows what it led to. No, really. What did we do with the Dwarves there? It seems we were building something. I definitely remember the roar of machines and the work of the forge. And that foul stuff we drank while we were designing.
"Cave mushrooms. They grow in cold, dry, and dark caves on production waste. A traditional Dwarven snack."
"Send me the recipe later; maybe I'll set aside a cave or two for these things."
The Dwarf nodded then.
"That would be good. We haven't found suitable caves for that yet. And without home food, it's just not right. Alright, let's assemble it. A skeleton over a skeleton, who would have thought. Like a turtle."
Exoskeleton. We were building an Exoskeleton. Why? Because we don't have equipment like that. We don't have an Exoskeleton for the loaders, which is why unloading ships is dragging on. When every heavy crate has to be slowly hauled by two to four people in confined spaces—and not all ships are prepared for unloading by a newly built port crane—you have to carry them by hand. And an Exoskeleton would be very useful.
That's exactly what we made, having downed some beer for a boost after the ale. I remember that to speed up the process, I personally directed the machine while sweaty, half-naked, buff Dwarves prepared the parts. Hammers struck, metal hissed. All this to the sound of obscene ditties and swearing. That case where they didn't swear with profanity, they spoke it, and everyone understood everything.
I used "field expansion" to speed up the process. I carved runes with the claws of the gauntlet, to the master's cursing. Yes, Dwarves from the neighboring forge came to the sound of the fun, so we worked with an expanded staff. We drank too. The result was a skeleton worn over clothes with reinforced hydraulic muscles. It wasn't a combat version; it didn't provide any protection, but it increased the user's physical strength. Well, not bad. And then? I'm absolutely sure that wasn't all we built.
"Cool. But not enough."
"You think?" the Dwarf asked. "Well, yeah, it looks kind of... unfinished. Iron bits, protruding tubes. Nothing but weak spots. Metal, to... to plate it?"
I waved it off.
"No, not just plate it. I have an idea!"
And then I decided it wasn't enough, and we sketched out a full power-armor for work in particularly dangerous conditions. A Hazardous Environment Suit. Power Armor, but designed for protection not from swords and such, but from high temperatures, electric shocks, and other energies. And acid, so if you spill it on yourself, you don't dissolve anything important. We didn't make a helmet; loaders don't need heads, as we decided then. Damn... my head definitely wasn't needed then...
But, most importantly, we actually made it. Armor. In one night. How? No idea. Somehow. We took the already finished Exoskeleton and built it up, as a whole team. We finished when it was already dawn.
The further into the forest, the more details of yesterday are revealed. After the construction, we went in a friendly crowd to test the equipment. And we couldn't think of anything better than going to Jaina and asking her to cast something powerful. At six in the morning, singing "A Fir Tree Was Born in the Forest" under her windows. A crowd of half-naked Dwarves and me, and without a helmet at that. That was my idea; I was sure it would work. It worked; Jaina started throwing spells out the window. Considering how we were singing, I would have started throwing things too. The Armor held up, by the way.
And why didn't they ask me, I'm a Mage too? A-a-a-a-a! I wasn't very coherent, and the Dwarves were wary. Wise, mda... And yet it worked! I now have a full-fledged power-suit. Again, not a combat one, but rather a "hazard suit," a protective suit. And everyone involved knows I was drunk. After which the Dwarves went to celebrate a job well done, and I went to sleep. Lame.
They're going to kill me. Particularly painfully. I want to run away and hide, but... responsibility must be accepted. Even if it's responsibility for "that." No! Especially if it's for that! Next time someone offers a drink, I should refuse, mda... For now—reconcile with the inevitable, accept my guilt, make the most guilty and repentant face possible, and play for sympathy. I'm still a child; maybe they won't punish me too severely.
So, get dressed, wash up, put myself in order, and forward to surrender. As I walked through the city, I noted that it was gradually taking shape. A huge number of builders, materials delivered from ships and the nearby forest are doing their job. Some quarters are already quite ready. Fortunately, two-to-three-story wooden buildings are assembled quickly enough. And already around them, permanent civilian infrastructure is forming. Shops, taverns, other cultural establishments. The roads are paved with stone, and smoke comes from the chimneys.
It seems there's even a brothel already. Though why "it seems"? I know for a fact it exists. I even know who gave money to whom so it would be built out of turn. Mom told me. No complaints; everyone earns how they can.
I also know that Veni received an order from them for some Alchemy. Considering she's not the only Alchemist in the city, this might be an attempt to cozy up to the management. Again, I see nothing wrong with it. Such an establishment can be quite multifaceted. And simply provide shelter and work for those who haven't been lucky in life. That's my opinion, but it's better they have a normal roof that forces them to stay within bounds. And covers them, if anything. Too bad golems are still kind of bad at hand-to-hand combat. But you can just make them wide enough so that in narrow spaces there's nowhere to dodge, and threatening enough. I'll think about it.
It's evening now, and so quite a lot of people are already gathering at the indicated establishment, which poses as a tavern. You really can drink here. I need to go in; my mouth is still dry. A stern-looking, powerful woman was found at the bar. A Human, judging by her build, and by her scars and musculature—clearly from the Warrior professions. She looked at me suspiciously, from the top down.
"Juice. Cold. Those local fruits, I know you have them."
If my order was considered strange, they didn't show it. Juice is indeed for sale, from local fruits resembling pineapples, but not quite. A pleasant, refreshing, slightly tart thing. I've noticed that Elves, like me, generally like everything fruity. Juice, wine, depends on the age. No, I can drink something else, but if the base is something fruity, it's just tastier.
In general, I approached the Chancery building in a much more cheerful mood, continuing to look around. The military town is generally building slower than the civilian part of the city. But that's because most of the buildings have a stone base. What wasn't formed by magic is built, in general, slower. Barracks, garages, stables, a tower for Griffons exists. Yes, we have about two dozen birds here and their owners from the Wildhammer clan. Griffons are magnificent, very beautiful, their feathers are soft. Big birds, damn right. But if you do everything right, they don't mind being petted or scratched at all. They even take meat from your hands, and very carefully. I'm in total delight. I'll stop by again later when I have time.
In Mom's office, there were visitors I didn't, frankly, expect. Veni and Stan. At the opening door, Mom snorted and pointed to a chair. She looks displeased, but I don't think they'll give me a dressing down in front of everyone.
"Come in, sit down. We'll deal with you now too."
I obeyed; I came for exactly that anyway. Stan hesitated:
"Sorry, I didn't know it would be like this," and turned to Mom and Veni, "Lady Clarinel, it's all my fault, really!"
I didn't get it.
"Why is he twitching like that? What did you tell him?"
Veni laughed and explained:
"You guys got on everyone's nerves so thoroughly that I've been running around all day catching everyone. The Dwarves, now him. And everyone to the carpet to the bosses. Well, and you came yourself. How are you feeling, anyway?"
Generally not bad. Better, yes.
"Acceptable. Not very good, but acceptable," and I decided to add for Mom, "I'd prefer not to repeat it in the near future. The sensations were significantly below average."
Mom, listening to all this, nodded. I'm not sure she believed me, but this will obviously remain for a more private conversation. When they tell me all the "fie" for my unworthy behavior, and, generally, it's too early for me. I know it's early.
"Excellent. Davilinia, the Chancery has decided to reward you for the prototype implemented in the shortest possible time. It, in both variations, can be extremely useful," I smiled and bowed slightly, ignoring the Elf's frown, "however. You were strictly forbidden from taking any stimulants. By the healer. You knew this and still agreed to drink alcohol, clearly realizing it was forbidden. Your father and I discussed lifting your punishment. But, as you understand, in the current situation, it will be extended. Do you understand why?"
Now, bow politely, but not too much, nod, and say:
"I understand, Mom. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. And I can't say I really want to repeat it. The amount of Alchemy I had to pour into myself this morning is frankly annoying."
Stan looked surprised. He even opened his mouth in shock.
"Mom?"
Ah, right. I hadn't told them. I spread my hands and smiled.
"Well, yeah, Mom. Relatives in the Chancery."
Venidan laughed outright and patted the guy on the shoulder. Stan himself soured completely.
"I sympathize, dude," the Elf said, trying to calm down, "you just got unlucky."
Stan was frankly pitiful to look at; however, they forgot about him almost immediately, switching to discussing the punishment. We discussed it, arguing whether such help to the city was worth a small embarrassment, and if so, how much. As punishment, we were assigned additional work for the benefit of the city. At first, it was about three tasks, but I have a better idea.
"Mom, how about raising the limit to ten additional jobs, but on one condition? A reward for diligence in helping the city, so to speak?"
Mom tilted her head to the side, looking into my eyes with curiosity. She had generally cooled down by now. A good Elf, after all.
"What have you come up with?"
Looting. And I accidentally remembered where I could find some to rob.
"Well, I'm running out of magical components. And I, as it happens, know where they can be found. In that very mountain where the advance detachments of Knights are heading as soon as the road is finished. When Lady Jaina goes to the Guardian's cave, I want to be in the group. I'll take my Crane, load it with bottomless bags. We need to make it so that only the walls are left after us. We'll even take the mice!"
This dungeon, if I remember correctly, was only found in Warcraft III. An underground complex left over from most likely the original Elves. A palace with a treasury and a bunch of gear, abandoned, inhabited only by monsters. Likely, in the end, it was gutted, using the resources for their own interests, but it doesn't appear anywhere else later. I intend to do the same. If they tell me to give up part of the treasures—I'll give them up. Magical ingredients are much more important to me, which I can't manufacture due to a lack of knowledge or materials. Which means I need to make it to the division. Be in the front ranks.
Mom, having heard the arguments, agreed, assigning the additional work. No one asked Stan. He grumbled; I reminded him that we ended up where we ended up because of his efforts. And besides, we get paid for it. Paid well, and if so, there's nothing to complain about. The guy was definitely not happy, but his opinion interests me least of all. And so began our penance, expressed in building-clearing-cleaning-charging everything the elders said.
I, in my free time, began building an underground base. The golem began digging in, laying a tunnel to the future reactor hall. It will be a well-fortified two-level hall under the city, which can only be reached by destroying the city itself. Or through the tunnels, through everything Dad and I have prepared for the enemy. And we will prepare many interesting traps and defense systems. But that will be later.
In the first stage, I need to bury myself underground and as quickly as possible line, reinforce, and seal the room. More precisely—a hall thirty by thirty meters. And under it—a second one just like it. And for this, first of all, materials are needed. Secondly, construction golems that will work quickly and without interruption.
That's how I began to put the first stage of construction into execution. Collect resources, quickly lay a tunnel with a golem, seal the section, repeat step one. Yes, a golem, not an Elemental. I called them that out of stupidity, but in fact, it's not the same thing. Just a construct without its own consciousness. That doesn't make the Elemental itself worse; I'm just calling things by their names.
And besides the reactor hall, a turbine hall is also needed, where generators and Umformers will produce both electricity and Mana for me. All this must be built with maximum precision, which means using "terrain creation." And the infrastructure of the reactor itself...
Yes, I intend to show off and achieve thermonuclear fusion controlled by an Elemental. I suspect plasma will have a much more beneficial effect on a Fire Elemental than evaporating liquid in the process of a uranium nuclear reaction. A kind of plasma pool. More power—more risk, but I'm willing to rely on the enhancements I inherited from DaVi. Specifically, reducing the difficulty of any craft. From impossible to difficult, if I have a good enough idea of what we're doing. Which means everything needs to be carefully calculated.
Naturally, this device will stand right here, at the main base. Something more modest can be put on ships. Но for production, a lot of energy will be needed. Especially if I master transmutation at the proper level; turning some materials into others in a conveyor way will require a mass of energy. For now, this is a matter for the future, but the first steps have already been taken.
Magic training is proceeding as planned. The Magister, also known as the crow, is still sitting far away, serving as a source of news from the homeland for the Elves. It's "fun" over there. Not only could the Elves not really agree, but also not-so-cheerful news came from Lordaeron—the Undead summoned Demons onto the heads of the survivors. Even the Prince's supporters lost the desire to get into that, which is why the Elves decided not to rush anywhere, to discuss, and those who have drawn all the conclusions for themselves are sailing on ships to Stormwind. The Teacher stayed to monitor the situation.
I am being taught by the entire friendly female collective. Mom for the most part, but sometimes Jaina, as part of her rest, can give some lesson. Although, specifically for her, there isn't always time; too much work has fallen on everyone. For some—paperwork, for some—practical. I'm building the base and chasing the locals outside the city. And I'm learning to work with papers as the owner of a workshop. Yes, they assigned me a manager, and my parents are keeping an eye out. Но it's still papers that it wouldn't be bad to read, understand, and sign. Who knows what thoughts might enter the heads of subordinates; I need to understand the process at least in general terms.
The base itself looks utterly grim for now. Dark stone or metal tunnels, in which lighting is absent as a fact. I don't need it; the drones navigate not by cameras, but by markers. Except for the quiet hum of the Manhack engines and the light of their cameras breaking the darkness and silence. And footsteps, when I go down to perform another operation, cast a few spells, or observe the construction process.
I get resources for completed military and civilian orders, and as part of the city's supply. Workers are pulling roads to the cliffs, where scouts previously marked spots for mines and quarries. A dangerous pastime, as the roads will pass through the jungle, and there are predators and murlocs there. But for now, the risk is assessed as acceptable. There's an idea to lay tunnels underground, carefully sealing them with magic. But that won't happen until the resource deposits are determined, so as not to waste effort and Mana in vain. Until the reactor reaches operating power, Mana should be consumed carefully. Reserves are gradually starting to run out. That's why so much effort has been thrown into building the reactor as soon as possible. And yet there are other problems.
Murlocs… This headache had become one of the primary ones for the city's builders. They aren't the most durable creatures, nor the strongest, but there are many of them. Thanks to magic and spears, they fend off raptors and conduct raids on the builders' camps. On the logging sites too. And not just there. Whatever they can kill, they kill; whatever they've killed, they devour. After which they run further in search of something else to kill and eat. We are exterminating them, but this territory is vast and very convenient for their lifestyle. I suspect that murlocs can only be eradicated by turning these jungles into a desert. They don't live in the desert.
At the end of the second month in Theramore, Mother summoned me to her early in the morning, sending a soldier messenger. Which meant the matter was urgent—move it and get to headquarters immediately. Could it be Orcs? Skirmishes with them had become regular now. With Taurens too. Not here, further west, but news of it arrives constantly. It seems The Horde landed significantly further south, in The Barrens, and had been moving north all this time. And now they've arrived, which means—it will begin soon. Soon Jaina will go to visit Medivh. I hope Mother doesn't "forget" to arrange a spot for me. Even if with an escort, they can carry the trophies.
Ahem, I got distracted. As soon as I ran into the Chancery building, a Guard pointed toward the local "briefing room," though it's called something else, of course.
"They are waiting for you, mistress."
Nodding to the familiar Warrior—it was specifically him who used to let me through back in Hillsbrad—I entered. Here I found Captain Garran Vaymes, Mother, and several lower-ranking officers.
"I'm here, what happened?"
The Captain was about to speak, but Mother demanded:
"Davilinia, we need a bird," she approached the tactical table, which I had, of course, duplicated for myself, "in this sector. A ship has gone missing. Send it immediately, time is of the essence."
And yes, the tactical table used on the Pepelats, after all the refinements, had proven itself very well. Previously, information was gathered the old-fashioned way, using scouts, or spirits, like the Undead do. After that, it was transferred to a map using various figurines with conventional symbols. The Elves had it better; there was a magical alarm system that allowed them to find a breakthrough point and track a magical trail. Perhaps there was an analog of a tactical table in the capital, I don't know. And now, when the capital is gone, there's no way to check.
In short, I integrated this entire system into one, and when we decided to settle in Theramore, we began deploying this stuff here as well. It's even easier here; the city isn't going to fly away, which means the territory is studied in advance, it's easier to control, and easier to place markers that will become beacons for transmitting coordinates. Well, as for the fact that the conservative gentlemen are hesitating, that's their problem. And the network isn't fully established yet; after all, the area is much larger, it's harder to cover, and golems need not only to be built but maintained. But even in this form, with holes and flaws, it is very useful.
Right. Mother is serious, so I will be too.
"Understood, Lady Clarinel, I'll send it now."
I raised my gauntlet, summoning the interface. And to think I once wanted to hide it, using it as a secret weapon, pff. But the function is just too useful, and everywhere. Select the right golem, give a standard command. Now let's see which of the scout birds is closest and redirect it.
R-3 — Move — Sector D-5 — Sector E-6 — Patrol — Search — Execute.
That's it; now the bird will fly to the required coordinates and begin surveying the zone. By the way, this is the reason why few people can use my birds; you have to memorize both the birds and the standard commands so the damn thing doesn't fly off to who-knows-where. And very few people have a control panel.
"Done. The bird will arrive at the location in a few minutes. While we wait, what's the deal with the ship, exactly?"
Captain Garran answered. Not a bad guy, wears white Armor, stern, mustachioed, a knight.
"A few hours ago, the ship 'Row and Row' abruptly weighed anchor and headed for the shore, signaling an attack. It ran aground, so the patrols didn't risk approaching, fearing damage; we'll have to check it ourselves. Most likely—the ship took on water, tried to reach the shore, but didn't make it. Some sea brute or murlocs. These parasites have sunk quite a few ships in recent years."
That's true; over these two months, we've wiped out six murloc villages located close to Theramore. "We" meaning me and the other students. And they still keep appearing and appearing. Now, it would be fine if they just chilled there and didn't touch anyone, but first they actively block access to the body of water where they've settled, then they start making raids on the surrounding territories, killing livestock, kidnapping individuals, attacking travelers, devouring all the fish. And no body of water is safe from this plague.
You're a simple fisherman from Elwynn, going to your favorite lake as usual, which used to be free; you arrive, and there are already murloc huts and these brutes are already running to butcher you for dinner. You run away, but your neighbor's cow is killed, and a traveling Priest is snatched during a crossing and starts being carved up for fodder. And there are no other options: it's either you or them.
How do I know all this? I've heard enough from the locals, especially those who lived on the coast or near rivers. Those are the ones who curse these creatures with the foulest words; you just have to keep up with writing them down. Though the way they sank a ship, if it was murlocs, is something I'm hearing for the first time.
A few minutes later, the bird arrived at the point. Everyone leaned over the tactical table, where the image in the required sector began to update. Now we'll find out what happened there.
"On site, surveying the territory."
Another command, and the bird switched to direct control, the image going straight to the helmet. Far-sight is a cheat. The ability to project far-sight onto a special magical lens… Well, Jaina and Anduin will talk using enchanted plates, so what am I on about? She was the one who showed me some techniques, improving the spell I used for this. A new spell rank, hee-hee. Right, don't get distracted. Ship, ship, ship… Where is the ship?
Overall, the place where the bird found itself didn't differ from other areas of these jungles. A solid wall of fairly low trees, interspersed with rivers, canals, and small lakes. A stony beach to the horizon. On the water, a ship of the Expedition fleet is visible. Birds, animals, and many insects. Right, there it is, the ship.
"Found it. Closing in," punch in the command so the projector-golem also shows the illusion.
Golems copying other golems. Simple, but it allows the image to be distributed where needed. And no humanoid forms, just a construct for a specific task. So simple, but many are too attached to the idea of humanoids to create something like this.
Aha. The ship is submerged in the water so that even the deck is hidden beneath it; only the masts stick out, a bit of the bow and the sides located at water level. It seems they didn't quite make it to the shore. The sails are raised, fluttering in the gusty wind, torn in a couple of places. The rear mast is tilted, but the central one stands vertically. Several seagulls are sitting on the masts. The deck is submerged in water by about a meter. On the coast, visible are…
"Disgusting…" suppressing the revulsion at the sight of partially gnawed bodies lying on the shore was not easy, "it's murlocs. They are eating the crew."
The sight was not appetizing at all. It seems the people from the grounded ship tried to land on the shore. But for the murlocs, they were just targets. Overturned boats, dead people. Those who managed to swim ashore couldn't get far. It looks like there was a panic. How… just… vile.
"Survivors?" the Captain clarified sternly.
I spread my hands; it's all I can do:
"Only murlocs on the coast. If anyone is left, they went into the forest. The bird… can search, but it will take time."
Captain Garran shook his head.
"No time, we leave immediately. We'll search on site. We'll need a hunter, someone who can read tracks. And a Mage," he looked at me, "who could help with scouting. And just freeze the brutes."
I can understand his logic. Murlocs, for all their danger, are fairly fragile creatures. Thin bones, not the toughest hide. Yes, they swim quite briskly and are extremely mobile in the water. They can use tools and magic, which puts them above ordinary predators. But they don't take a hit well at all. A more or less trained Human kills one or two murlocs without problems. Three or four against one? You have problems. Five or more? "A crowd can take down even a lion." And your skill certainly won't help you in the water, where your movements are restricted, while for murlocs, it's their natural habitat.
Mother, however, hesitates, clearly unsure whether to send me. And what about me? Yes, I remember I wanted to sit in a shelter while my weapons destroyed the enemy from a safe distance. But let's be honest—murlocs at the moment aren't exactly very dangerous for me. Especially with the enhancement of mechanisms and an Elemental. Which I will take with me. Yes, even without the Pepelats, on the "Crane," I'll be able to use something.
I didn't manage to convince her immediately, and only under my word of honor to equip myself with tech, taking at least Stan with me, besides the dozen Guards who would go anyway. Though it bothers me, production is currently so backlogged with orders that there's simply nowhere to churn out heavy drones. The city is large; various structural elements are needed constantly. Tools, rollers, metal elements...
And I can't just up and ignore it, starting to make what I need. More precisely, I can, but at that moment, all the earned reputation would just go out the window. And I don't want to give up all those perks, such as orders from the army and resources from them as well. That's why I'm mostly accumulating my inventions now rather than creating them. When there's a full-fledged base—then we'll play. Though even then, the agreement shouldn't be broken. I'm not a Goblin, though even they handle this extremely carefully.
To put it bluntly, the maximum that was available to me was to get a "Crane" for personal use and quietly churn out Manhacks. And modify the walker, of course. In particular, the machine itself has a wedge-shaped hull to protect against projectiles, hiding the legs. And I hid Manhack blocks in these "gills," two sets of eight. And that's already a serious argument against an unarmored opponent. Considering they are airtight, actually, and can operate at shallow depths.
Also, the "Crane" comes with a flechette-firing cannon, but given the water, I don't expect too much from it. As well as a personal Magic Shield, on which I spent a couple more crystals. After some thought, I decided not to take other golems; they are poorly prepared for combat in shallow water. I'll summon an Elemental; it'll make things very "fun" for the murlocs with icicles. Especially since icicles don't sink; they float. Or I'll summon Bizarre Billy. He can be assembled from anything, though in the water he won't be too good, again. Because he's heavy and sinks far too easily.
In short, just fifteen minutes later, my walker, splashing water, left the city and ran onto the beach. I'm in a helmet, so I'm well covered in the front plane, even excluding the shield. From the sides, it's a bit worse, but also acceptable. And I can speed up without fearing mosquitoes or birds to the face. And opposite on a boat, these fans of a healthy lifestyle are swinging oars under the rhythmic commands of a Sarge. They would have run anyway, but seriously, it would have been even longer.
"Not a priority," as they explained to me why even an elemental motor couldn't be stuck on the boat, "soldiers have run, are running, and will continue to run."
Replacing horses with iron ones for knights—that's a priority. But driving those same knights against murlocs—no. So it turns out that someone has to run on foot or row a boat in full plate. I don't even want to think about what the aromas will be like in a couple of hours. So we moved. Those on the boat and my walker along the shore. Hmm, by the way... I'll have to teach the machine to run on water...
So, the run won't be particularly far, about twenty minutes at the speed of the boat. Actually, from that point on the coast where the ship ran aground, Theramore is visible. Another question is that you can't get there through the rough terrain. And yes, I could move faster, but the soldiers can't, so I have to hold back.
"Stan, you didn't die back there, did you?" I threw back.
Yes, instead of golems, I have a passenger. Generally, as part of community service for reputation and for the glory of the city, I've gotten to know half the local students, mostly Mages and hunters, but still. There are those I'm paired with most often. Though, specifically, this person seems to be very afraid of me for some reason. I have no idea why.
"I'm fine, Lady. Everything is alright."
I just rolled my eyes. Ever since this Mage student met my relatives, he's become disgustingly polite. And he tries not to cross paths more than necessary. And yet they still pair him with me. And it doesn't seem intentional, as I understand it. Apparently, someone is just unlucky.
"Stan, oh Stan. Why do you shake like that when you see me?" while we're traveling, we might as well talk.
"Everything is fine, Lady. I'm not shaking at all."
Yeah, I believe you. There's a definite difference in behavior from when he first met me, when he saw the machine, and when he realized it was actually mine. He left Mother already crushed, even though I wasn't present for most of the conversation. Seriously, what did they say to him there?
"Tell that to someone else. What, did you get scared of my relatives?"
I felt the sigh against my back, literally. By the way, he holds on so carefully that I'm just not sure how he manages not to fly out of the saddle at every jump of the walker. And there are no handles; he can only hold onto me, like on a motorcycle.
"Everything is fine, don't worry."
The whole time we were traveling, I was pestering him. I sincerely don't understand the reason for this shyness. We've done some crap together, so why be embarrassed now? But he clearly didn't want to talk, and I needed to monitor the targets through the bird. Fortunately, the murlocs clearly aren't planning to go anywhere, busy devouring the crew. No, gorging. Self-forgetfully, like... like animals. They didn't even set sentries!
This just makes me feel aggression and my teeth grind. And these are the brutes I felt sorry for? These wretched animals I wanted to give a chance to? I looked, trying to find at least something worthy of sympathy. Something that raises murlocs above foul locusts worthy of total extermination. But I found nothing. I want to destroy them for what they've done. Nonentities. Now I see. These wretched, chaotic creations will die.
"I see about two dozen enemies." Targets. "Holding position on the ship. Stan, when we arrive, be ready to summon an Elemental. The fight..." Slaughter. "On the water will be difficult; the deck is partially submerged."
It took the guy a few seconds to grasp the essence of what was said.
"But won't the soldiers be covering us? Close combat—that's their job."
I laughed; thanks to the helmet, the laughter came out quite hollow, like back then with the cultist. Heh. What nonsense. Their puny souls will be torn from their bodies. My hands are shaking with anticipation. And the desire to take revenge for the fact that they disappointed me. For the fact that I wanted to give them a chance but received nothing but disappointment. No, I will deal with them immediately.
"The deck is submerged by about a meter. Soldiers in such conditions will be quite immobile unless the murlocs overturn the boat. No, Stan, we start first."
Now he really got tense. It's all useless.
"This is madness! It's twenty meters from the shore to the ship! And it's full of murlocs; they'll devour us faster than we can fly there!"
Noooo. Everything is thought out, everything is calculated. They don't have a single chance. They are doomed.
I didn't answer the guy, focusing on the controls. On the coast, as I had seen through the camera, four murlocs were found, busy with the bodies of the crew. They were dragging them somewhere deep into the forest; it seems they have a village there. The soldiers on the boat are rowing too slowly. When we began to close in, I just gave it full throttle and stopped moving the "Crane" in unison with the boat. They are doomed.
Now, through the magnification, I can see torn clothes, arms, legs, gnawed by the sharp teeth of fish-me... monsters who don't care who they eat. A chill ran down my spine, and its source was my hands. More precisely—the seals on my hands. Frost ran through my whole body, and my fingertips went numb. Unexpectedly, their sensitivity was taken over by claws.
"Absorption..." I didn't notice when I activated them.
I felt the cold again. Felt the hunger. For the hand had become a powerful, clawed tentacle, reaching forward. Toward the puny slaves who dared to flee from our will. And then there was peace. Our eye turned to these puny, weak beings. They are afraid. They are frantic. Running. All of it is meaningless. They are already doomed. We see how their bodies settle into dust, how their existence ceases. Why do they resist the inevitable? They don't understand that everything is already finished. Their story is cut short. They are but an insignificant obstacle. An end, as meaningless as their existence.
A burst from the flechette cannon pierced their wretched bodies. Dangerous, but flimsy. The murlocs were blown away, splashed all over the area. But I didn't look; our eye sees everything. And everything went as we expected. The machine stepped over their empty shells; we noted in passing that even those still alive didn't even try to resist the inevitable. Already better. We looked into the eyes of the weakening body but saw in them only resignation. Doomed. Well done.
"And now you too shall fall. Accept the predestined end."
The machine stopped opposite the ship, taking steps back while the mind searched for the sequence that would lead us to the end. Here. Now nothing will save you. The machine rushed forward, pushing off with powerful legs, and made a jump. Behind us, we observe panic. Only the meaningless panic of a fool incapable of changing anything. Metal legs, splashing water, struck the deck with a thud; claws dug into the wood so as not to slip.
"Davi, no!"
I brushed it off, briefly noting the presence of an interference. This one is useful. For now. We are here for this, to end the path of these nonentity creations. So it shall be. Obeying the command, the small ones left the compartments with a mechanical click, unfolding and spinning their blades. Our will leads them. The weak heard our arrival but did not submit. Did not resign themselves. In vain. Icy waves crashed upon them, binding their bodies, breaking their bones.
The small machines with a screech cut limbs, tore flesh, forcing their minds to thrash in the pleasant agony of realizing futility.
"Useless…"
A particularly stupid individual climbed up the ship's mast, as if that would help it. And at the moment of its jump, we deactivated the protection and thrust forward our claws, impaling the creature. Energy pierced it, flowing from us, and then back, bringing memories. Useless one, you served as a landmark. The flesh crumbled to dust, and they finally understood that all of this was useless. They ran.
"No escape. No hiding. No protection."
We waved our hands, and the shadows of our mind filled their stupid heads, filling and overflowing them with thoughts. We became them; they became nothing. They fell, unable to bear the futility of their existence.
"Davilinia! Stop it!"
Noisy.
"This is not the end. Their homes shall fall, their minds shall break. Immediately."
The machine set in motion. We saw in the memory of this creature the path to their settlement. It will be destroyed. Now. We reached forward, attaining the minds ahead. Hmm, not ready yet. They don't know yet, don't expect it. It doesn't matter. Our will shall lead others.
"Appear! Devour them."
Obeying the command, stone took on flesh, entwined with logic. And moved toward the song of their minds. The shadows of their thoughts filled with fear, the understanding of their own doom. This is the end.
"From the side!"
The power gathered in my hands crashed… not upon the nonentities, but upon the spawn of life that had approached, concealed. We met eyes, a massive leopard covered in glowing signs and us, the bearer of many eyes, the order of power. In its eyes, there is no understanding. Know the end!
"Meaningless, spawn of life. All of this is meaningless."
The creature attacked us, throwing us from the saddle. But it won't help; the protection is absolute. We fell into the grass, which was quite high. And the creature landed on top. Its efforts are futile; there is nothing to hope for. Claws pinned us down but caused no harm. And now, our turn.
"Leave her, she is no longer in your power!" the nonentity struck with his magic at the beast; it jerked, filling the meaning with pain, but the beast did not leave, "stop it, foolish child! Don't you see, your friend is possessed? I will help, just don't interfere!"
"Useless."
The world flashed. We fell down, into the forest… Ancient and mighty, full of wonders. Its branches entwined, burned, tore. The world gained meaning and filled with hellish pain! And more! And more! The forest pressed, burned, and tore out, absorbed. We crumbled, hidden by branches, entwined by roots. I… am dying? Why?
And then it all ended. I wheezed, trying to breathe. It's quite difficult when a two-meter cabinet has pinned you down with his muscular palm so that it's hard to even move. It hurts, damn it, and where did my shield go? I wheezed:
"Hand! Breathe!"
The Elf removed his limb from my stomach and carefully grabbed my shoulders but didn't let go. Now that I can breathe, I can also examine this handsome guy. A well-built brunette with pale-purple skin, glowing yellow eyes, and a black beard. Pointy-eared. In a blue robe. In his eyes, there is surprise and… concern?
I must admit, I was also a bit shocked when I realized who I was looking at. A Night Elf. A male. And what are you doing here? Malfurion Stormrage shouldn't have woken you guys up yet; he's sleeping himself, isn't he? I couldn't have changed history that much!
"And shouldn't you, like, be sleeping, comrade?"
The Elf seemed surprised.
"I dare say that if that were the case, you would still be consumed by darkness."
I hear you; the question was inappropriate.
"Thank you," I moved, "I'm Davilinia, and that misunderstanding on the walker is named Stan."
The Elf nodded, finally rising from his knees and offered a hand, helping me up.
"My name is Alastir. I am a Druid of the Kaldorei. I explore Kalimdor, eradicating darkness. I am glad I arrived in time."
I had to explain to the uncomprehending guy, who was openly staring at the long-eared one from the height of the "Crane."
"It's a Night Elf. Though, I'm a bit surprised he isn't sleeping. Stan, let's be more polite, seriously. I'm also surprised, but you don't have to show it like that."
The Elf brushed himself off, then replied:
"And I am surprised that a child of the Sun knows such things," and he looks questioningly, "my kin fell asleep only after the exile. You should not know of this."
I snorted. I don't want to explain at all. I feel just a tiny bit like crap. But he helped, and giving an answer would be right.
"It's a long story, Alastir," and giving up on everything, I tore off the gauntlet; my hands were just too cold, "my mother…"
My already pale skin had become a bit bluish, with blue veins, and definitely unhealthy. Right now, my skin tone isn't much different from the Druid's own. It can't be, no-no-no-no-no. I tore off the helmet to see the reflection in its visor…
"Blue. They are blue!"
Blue eyes. I look almost like a damn Void Elf, but my eyes didn't change color. That means they made it. They made it. Stan, still sitting up top, asked in surprise:
"What's wrong with you? You look bad."
But I didn't care; the sob turned into a chuckle, and that—into a laugh.
"I didn't turn! Hooray! I didn't turn! Oh?" a slap helped me come to my senses. And also the concerned look of yellow eyes.
Satisfied that I wasn't doing anything stupid again, the Elf stepped back.
"I'm afraid you will have to tell your story immediately. What I feel in you—is wrong. It should not be in anyone, especially—in a child. What was done to you?"
And he looks in a way that makes it clear—he won't let it go. On the other hand, a Night Elf. A real Night Elf Druid. Not sleeping. Did I mess something up, or is the long-eared one quite the unique individual? But I can understand his concern. If he senses the void… And I, judging by the changed skin color, caught quite a bit of it. And judging by the memories too. I'll have to think about how I managed that; the experience wasn't the most pleasant.
"I propose a deal, Druid. A story for a story. And we have a mission here, actually. Finish up here, then return to the shore. I'm curious why a Night Elf isn't sleeping. And my superiors will clearly want to talk to you," I tried to seize control of the golems, but the burning became indescribable, as if I'd grabbed a hot pot with my bare hands, "and the golems need to be put to rest. Pick up the hacks on the shore, and the soldiers are still there."
The golems are merrily tearing apart the murloc huts; the noise is indescribable. Fortunately, this pair is distracting attention so much that the murlocs themselves aren't coming at us, too busy with their own survival.
The Druid looked toward the settlement and nodded.
"Agreed, they must be exterminated before we leave. And I want to learn more about your people and about you. And also about why the darkness almost consumed you. It should not be so, child."
I nodded.
"Acceptable."
Next, as an organized crowd, we finished breaking the murloc village. Flooded it with ice, rather. The Druid helped with starfall and stumps, which are Treants. Living chunks of wood running on roots and hitting the target in the face with branches like a whip. I've encountered them more than once during experiments in nature. But for the first time, these wooden things were on my side.
Along with the murlocs, we had to kick around some elementals too, which, glowing with purple veins just like me, put up fierce resistance. Strong, but not for long. And while Stan stared at our new acquaintance, we shared a bit of information with each other. The Druid said:
"I am a wanderer, seeking traces of darkness according to a prophecy."
Oh, again. Who would have doubted it. Prophets and prophecies, it's becoming a bad habit. Though I'm the same way, so it's not for me to complain about it.
"Well, and I arrived with an expedition of Humans and Elves, fleeing from the Undead and demons devouring the neighboring continent. They'll get here soon too."
The Elf nodded, pointing to the horizon. We went back to the shore on foot to have a chance to talk. Curious, after all.
"I saw those omens in the temples of the Qiraji," we just came out onto the shore, where the boat with the soldiers had already docked with the ship, forcing them to wade waist-deep in water, "and this fleet is one of the omens of darkness."
Well, that's how it is. It seems we definitely have another prophet here. Where do they all come from in such quantities?
The soldiers, seeing the Druid, tensed up. But they relaxed a bit when I cheered them up with a couple of pieces of news.
"First—I will escort him to the camp; the superiors will want to talk to the locals. Second—we froze out the murlocs, along with the village. Avenged this," I pointed to the fire into which the remains of the dead were being thrown.
The Druid examined the fallen with an extremely calm gaze.
"It seems they were eaten by these creatures."
I nodded.
"Murlocs, yes. That was the moment I snapped."
And yes, I had to tell about the destruction of the well and the poisoning by necromancy. I'm not mentally ready yet to be candid about my experiments, especially with this specific Druid. This gentleman is far too curious and suspicious. Everything is interesting to him. The walker, me, Stan, our city, society, the circumstances of the flight, and the activity with magic. If he hadn't actually stopped me, I would have been wary of telling even this. And he also explicitly said he doesn't like the void. I have no idea how he'll react to my experiments "on the edge of a foul."
So I got off with general things. We'll bring him to Theramore, and let them deal with him there. I'm bothered by this guy's attention. No, thanks for setting my head straight, of course, but what the hell? You're not a pedophile, are you?
"Eh, now it's the end for the ship too, and the cargo," one of the guards muttered sadly.
And then an idea occurred to me…
"Maybe not the end. Ultimately, ice is lighter than water. If we freeze enough on the bow and stern, we'll get floats."
The Sarge gave the go-ahead.
"That would be very good, Mage. Try it, if you're sure."
In short, an hour later, we raised the ship from the bottom. The water washed away the blood, but bodies and bones still lie in the corners. A funeral ship. In a sense, these people will reach those shores they so longed for.
I, however, by hook or by crook, hid the bluish skin. Under clothes, under armor. I need to figure out what's wrong with me. Where I made a mistake in the calculations. The seals shouldn't have worked like that. And do it without attracting the attention of overly emotional orderlies. I didn't ask the Elf not to tell; to him, I'm just a child. Good thing he at least agreed to finish the job.
In the end, we reached Theramore like barge haulers. Pushing the ship along the shore, using the power of one "Crane" and the boat, to which we tied a rope. Lightening the ship as much as possible with magic and creating ice buoys, of course. The Druid doesn't particularly get into our conversations, but he listens to everything. I don't like him; he's suspicious somehow.
So the whole way back I was silent, ignoring the background noise in my head. I should deal with the problems quietly. Time won't wait.
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