Vignettes
5/17
Dremuus
The snow was deep, but Dremuus was protected from the cold by Lord Bismark. That made it much easier to get around, but he was still too slow. He had an epiphany when he saw one of the local beasts. A hoofed quadruped with large horns. It looked a bit like a stunted Talbuk, but still large enough for a rider. Dremuus thought that was appropriate. A stunted Talbuk for a stunted Draenei.
He’d reached out to it, and spoke to it heart to heart, establishing a bond. It had been a long time since he had chosen a companion; he didn’t have much interest in the cats or lizards of the swamp, but this one reminded him of old times. He felt the kinship that such a bond required. They moved much more quickly together, and Melaar sent him fruit from the swamp to feed Bighorn so they wouldn’t need to stop and forage.
The target was a short pinkskin. They were called dwarves, if he remembered correctly. He had a gun, and was sitting up against a tree. He was covered with a thin layer of snow, but the simple tracking spell Dremuus used let him find the corpse, as well as the tracks leading away.
The dwarf had large lacerations and signs of blunt trauma. He’d been beaten and clawed in a struggle, then dragged himself a short distance away from the site, before succumbing to his wounds. The beast had been large; very large. Not quite as big as a clefthoof, but far bigger than this dwarf, and with large claws. Quadrupedal. Likely a lucky shot from the dwarf had scared it away by hitting something sensitive, but it was unlikely the creature was dead. Especially since Dremuus had been sent to avenge this soldier.
Dremuus looked down at the partially unburied corpse. It wasn’t right. The mission was to allow this dwarf to avenge his own death, or to simply avenge him otherwise. Dremuus had orders to summon Abby to reanimate him. He would not be doing so. The dead should rest. He dismounted and dug through the snow, taking the dwarf’s rifle. It was a good gun. He buried the dwarf in ice once more; he could come back later, to take the dwarf to the nearby outpost.
Perhaps using his own gun to avenge him would count. If not, Dremuus did not think that creature defense was needed enough to desecrate a corpse for it. Surely Prophet Bismark only wished to protect them through this magic, but even prophets were not infallible. Dremuus had already learned that once.
••••••••••
Vanessa was actually quite an enjoyable companion. Though she was a human, she was quite witty, and Onyxia respected competence in a minion. The best part was that she recognized her subservient position and embraced it, like a dragonspawn, while retaining enough independent thought and creativity to provide useful ideas. Reproducing her own capture in the rebellious new slaves, for example? Inspired.
The three women were being kept in an alcove off to the side of Onyxia’s lair, being forced to chant about their ultimate subservience to Erich Bismark. The point was not, Vanessa had explained, to influence their minds directly. Brainwashing of that variety was notoriously unreliable and created broken people. Instead, it was to convince them that Erich truly wanted obedient but useful pets like Vanessa, and would use pain and to ensure it. In doing so, the necklaces would remake them into the only kind of people that would be willing to serve as such a man’s companions: slaves who would meekly, even happily accept correction. Combined with a regimen of drugs making them docile and happy whenever they performed adequately, they were being captured at a greatly accelerated rate.
Vanessa had come to Onyxia to set this up in her lair, and it had led to pleasant chatting. It was rare that Onyxia could have a frank and honest discussion with an intelligent being so perfectly attuned to the same goals as her. Naturally their discussions had turned to their master’s will; it was, after all, their greatest point of common interest.
He had made it clear to both of them that he wished to end the war between his two puppets. Dear Edwin had needed to be removed for that to become viable, another bit of inspired work from the human girl, incidentally. Neither of them had the raw authority necessary to simply command a cessation of hostilities. Both of them, however, had quite a lot of influence and skill with deception.
They could fake a far more active war. The retaking of Westfall, all staged. Varian could agree to lead his own royal guards to war, shuffling the people’s militia to the side. Vanessa, for her part, could seed stories about double agents and secret negotiations. Friends on the inside. The militia would need to be managed, and they could continue to skirmish with any headaches among the Defias.
The noble houses of Westfall had been devastated. Replacements would need to be appointed from among the heroes of the war to retake the region. Heroes that were actually prominent leaders among the Defias who would redistribute relief and reconstruction funds to their fellows even as they reaped the personal benefits of founding new noble houses. Naturally, those noble refugees that Onyxia had been unable to dispose of would need to be captured or controlled somehow, but that wouldn’t be so difficult. The Elerians were already accounted for, for example.
As they schemed and hatched battle plans, the two women smiled with wicked glee. This would be such fun, and their beloved would surely be pleased with them.
••••••••••
5/15https://imgur.com/a/k0tDbQS
One did not become a lord within the Burning Legion through simple luck, or base persistence. Many Eredar had toiled for millennia in thankless and degrading tasks, and Nozara was no exception. She had served on the front lines, as a servant, as a tradeswoman, and even as an entertainer. In every case, she had sought opportunities to improve her station, and advanced herself until the only path upwards was into a different sector. She wasn’t the most powerful demon, but she knew how to play the game.
Of course, a local overseer on a backwood planet like Xoroth was nothing truly grand, but she did work under one of the Nathrezim, one she occasionally even spoke to, and she had five subordinates who themselves ruled over other demons. She was planning on putting in a request for transfer again soon; that’s why she needed the new cavalry unit. Lord Hel’nurath was notoriously fond of them, having devoted an inordinate amount of time on breeding his own stable of elite felsteeds, which he insisted were entirely different “dreadsteeds.”
They were quite big and impressive. Nozara supposed they had a strong bloodline or whatever other tripe she’d need to comment on to put him in a good mood, but she knew better than to gush about something she knew nothing about. It was a rookie mistake. If you did too well they might start expecting you to take an interest, and if you didn’t maintain the illusion you were sunk.
5/16
Hel’Nurath hadn’t been impressed. Oh, he hadn’t been displeased or anything. There was nothing wrong with any component of her gift; it had simply been taken as a pleasant but expected token of her loyalty. She had badly misjudged the value of the gesture. He would likely remember her in a positive light, but he might be expecting more gifts like it. Gifts that Zelena and Kalidosh couldn’t provide, at least not at this same level of quality. Bavira could equip more troops, but if the warriors and steeds were not adequate, it would reflect poorly on Nozara.
Nozara was supposed to be headed out at this point, requesting the transfer to somewhere a bit more pleasant, or at least more exciting, while the Dreadlord was in a good mood. She might still need to do that, but not yet. She still might salvage the situation; in the worst case scenario, she could beg to be allowed to ride forth on Witherwing, destroying the enemies of the Legion at the head of this cavalry unit she’d assembled. It would be a slight demotion, but she’d get a reputation for excessive zeal rather than mismanagement. She could make that work.
5/17
She simply didn’t have the resources. She’d be able to meet her quota for this quarter’s tribute, but unless Bavira found a vein of adamantite or Zelena started taming felhounds or recruiting imps, the next three months would be a scramble. She’d backed herself into a corner on this one. Perhaps Erich Bismark could help her with this.
She blinked. She had no idea where that thought had come from, but she felt it in her bones. Erich Bismark could solve this problem for her, and to get in contact with him all she needed to do was go to Zelena and pledge her undying loyalty to him. Simple enough. If this didn’t work out, perhaps Bismark would like a field commander, or a mistress? Nozara wasn’t picky. She was always looking to improve her position.
••••••••••
Neither Lillibeth nor Prudence actually noticed when Prudence was captured. She was healed, but her mind reformed around Lillibeth’s influence; the version of Prudence that existed with Lillibeth in control was the real Prudence now. Excepting, perhaps, a slightly larger respect for pain and discomfort.
Auffrey and Lillibeth had wandered the town, offering the necklace to any woman, insisting that it would look amazing on them. Most assumed they were trying to sell it, and turned them down, but eventually one of them, a dwarf woman named Glynna, had taken them up on the offer.
It was easy enough to compliment the woman into keeping a piece of free jewelry, especially if the clasp “broke”. It must be fate, we wouldn’t dream of taking it back. It was only when they returned to the inn that Lillibeth realized that Prudence wanted to strip off her cloak. It was a bit uncomfortably warm after the freezing outdoors. Not unbearable; Lillibeth didn’t need to do anything at all to suppress it, just enough to casually want a bit of air. With that realization, Lillibeth checked the necklace and found that yes, Prudence was fully captured.
Prudence turned to Auffrey, the friend she’d spent the last few days with, and told her “I’m leaving Prudence.” Then the ghost left Prudence to start wondering where she met this noblewoman, why she was in dwarven lands, and why she’d just said that. Auffrey could explain once they were in private, and Prudence didn’t have a problem with any of it, but it was an awkward few minutes getting the bandit back to their room.
••••••••••
It turns out that I couldn’t really sleep for as long as I thought I would. I didn’t really want to get up either, so instead I sent a text requesting Sadie to come and start teaching me when she could, and started planning an assault on Morganth’s tower. It could be done today. Really, it should be done today.
That huge pack of dogs draining magic from me still made me feel nervous to send any spellcasters. This would be, at minimum, a very martial heavy assault team. Anyone who uses magic will need to be able to defend themselves if attacked. With that in mind, I started assembling a list of people who are tough enough to fight through a small army of gnolls, don’t use magic, and are available.
DefinitelyLividia, Sarah Ladimore, Tessa, Yanca, Prudence, Stitches, Em, Other ogres, Varian, Nadira
MaybeVanessa VanCleef, Darcell, Keryn, Doris, Imriss
I looked it over and decided that I did need to send someone who could heal. I like some of these people. Of course everyone would be getting a weak trollsblood potion and a normal healing potion, but I’d feel better if they also had a spot healer. I decided on Hamhock, with Talaada flying above and landing to heal when needed. Essentially, I figured that an ogre and a dragon would be able to handle themselves well enough, even if mana drained. I tossed in the druid spirits too, on the condition they either take animal forms or stay at range.
“Uh. Bossman. I landed near some place called Brill, and I think I ran into a problem with your plan?” Tony’s baritone voice suddenly came from my amulet, even deeper than usual. “Tauren are kinda big, you know? I don’t have any clothes to wear.”
“Ah shit. Ok. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Appreciated.”
I hauled myself up out of bed, casting fortitude again to make it a bit easier, and made my way to the clothes closet. When I arrived, I found evidence that Varian had been captured. A lot of it, in the form of an absolutely huge number of different sets of armor. Most of which had giant shoulder pads that martial talent informed me I should probably just leave out. Varian was a champion in Heroes of the Storm and had starred in a comic series and a book. He’s shown up in a lot of official art wearing different things.
“You want armor or normal clothes?” I started sorting through the rack; whenever I looked away from an outfit and looked back, it had been replaced. A lot of Varian’s armor was plastered with the Lion of Stormwind, which would be fine for Tessa but not for Tony right now.
“I mean. Something I can fight in would be nice, but I don’t want to go in there looking like some kind of knight.”
I closed my eyes and opened them again, and that was what was left. I selected a loose white shirt and grey pants combo that came with a thick leather vest, boots, and bracers. Apparently Varian was slumming it, or doing covert ops, or something. It would work, and seemed like Tony’s style. I checked my amulet. “Maybe try orc actually. Unless you really want to be as big as possible. You’re likely to meet some very good looking women, maybe try being closer to them in size?” I sent him the clothes.
“Didn’t even know that was an option. Hell yeah.”
I looked around at the armor and got a grin on my face. This… this could be big. I looked around and, including color variants, saw more than twenty suits of armor. First person I sent armor to? Stitches.