A Real Drengr 11 (Patreon)

“I have to say, that went a lot better than I’d been anticipating,” I mused as Chromie gulped down breaths of air, the disguised dragon coated in a layer of sweat and her hands on her knees.

We were back at my family cabin, in the present. It was the first chance I felt like I'd gotten to rest ever since landing in Lordaeron, and I was grateful. But I couldn't help but worry about what would happen to the villagers after Chromie had pulled us back to the present. It was clear that they'd escaped, but what then?

"So how many made it out alive?" I asked Chromie.

"More than would have," she said with a shrug, "Without your help, maybe fifteen, at most. Now, almost the entire village."

I let out a sigh of relief, falling to my knees and sitting on the ground, leaning against the doorframe. I could feel the weariness of the past week taking over me, and the pain of the wounds the undead had given me. I knew that they were mostly healed, thanks to the healing potions I'd chugged down, but I felt every one of them as my body was taxed to its limit.

"What're you doing?" Chromie asked.

"I'm tired," I mumbled, closing my eyes.

"It's the middle of the day, we just got here," said Chromie.

"Yeah, well I was fighting undead the entire time, and you did the same, so shut it," I groaned.

"Fine, fine," she sighed.

I heard a quiet ruffle of cloth, before a small, gnomish body pressed against my side. I didn't look at her, but I had to fight back the urge to lean against her. Instead, I just allowed my eyes to close as we sat there in silence for a few moments.

"Thank you, by the way," I said, my words coming out slow and slightly slurred, "For... all of this."

"You're welcome," was all she said in return, her voice soft and quiet.

When I awoke, it was several hours later, the ambient light level having dropped to nearly nothing, Chromie snoring like...well like a dragon. I grinned a little, chuckling in amusement as I looked down and noticed her snuggling against me. A blanket had been pulled up over us from somewhere, and she looked adorable as she slept.

It felt... good.

I sighed and leaned back against the doorframe, the warm and cozy feeling that had spread through me causing my mind to wander back to the events of the previous day. I couldn't help but let out a self-deprecating laugh. I had no idea how I wasn't dead, how Arthana hadn't caught up to me. But maybe I did, even as I thought that, it was almost like the gods had protected me.

Which was a stupid thought, if ever I had one. I was no hero, I wasn't some champion of justice. I was just a crafter. My job was to make shit, not save the world. I was just a regular person.

But there was no denying that I'd helped these people, I'd fought on their behalf. And for that, I felt good. It felt like I'd made up for failing them once before. Not that I was a saint, I'd probably feel bad for all the dead when I thought about it later, but I had done the best I could to help these people.

Which led me to thinking of Chromie. She'd pulled me and the survivors back to this time, which I was grateful for. She'd given us a second chance. I knew she had a lot of power, but I was curious just how much she could really do. Maybe she could help me find out how the fuck I had managed to survive Arthana.

Later, after she'd had more time to rest. I had no idea how much energy time travel took, but I didn't think it was a small amount. In the meantime, I got up, taking care not to wake her. There was a key problem I needed to solve before I could rejoin the expedition heading to the Scarlet Monastery. I’d used Truth as an impromptu javelin against Arthana, and unfortunately, hadn’t gotten it back before Chromie took me back to the present. Long and short of it: I needed a new weapon.

The kitchen was pretty barren, and the one thing that had been left there was a cookbook, originally compiled by one of the families that had moved away from the area. It was from back in the days when Darrowshire had been part of the Barov region, a book that explained the old recipes for cooking with the local ingredients, such as the bitter and spicy sausages made from the local deer and pig. I put it into my bag, forcing myself to focus.

I didn't have a forge to make a proper weapon, but I had enough odds and ends, along with the Dragon Teeth, that I could cobble something together. It would look about as elegant as a club footed ogre in a blood elf's ball gown, but I'd be able to make something that would work.

After getting dressed in fresh armor and taking care of my hygiene, I went out and did my morning exercises. It was a small and simple set of movements that I'd developed for myself years ago when I had first begun training. I didn't know if it had any real benefit to them, but it helped to keep my mind focused on the present and not on the future, where I knew Arthana would eventually find me.

Then, after the exercises, I spent some time collecting the odds and ends that I had available to me. The Dragon Teeth, half a dozen odd bones, some scrap ore of half a dozen different metals, roughly twenty feet worth of sinew, and about two feet of scrap leather. I could work with this. The bones were arranged into a rough handle shape, the sinew was cut into several strips that were then tied around the ore scraps and one end of the makeshift handle, the leather was wrapped around the opposite end to make a more comfortable grip, and then I started the painstaking process of turning the Dragon Teeth into a powder.

Once that was finally done some hours later, I closed my eyes and focused, as I sprinkled the powder over the makeshift flail. On its own, the flail would have fallen apart the moment I tried to pick it up. But with the powdered Dragon Teeth and a pouring of my own heart and soul into it, it would become a very potent weapon.

When the enchanting process was finished, I looked at my new weapon. It looked as rough and crude as the raw materials that had gone into it, but in my hands, it felt like a finely crafted piece. It wasn't as strong as something forged in a proper smithy, but I hopefully wouldn't need that much force. The entire piece was now enchanted, the Dragon Teeth that I'd used imbuing greater strength and power to it than most would ever imagine being able to achieve. All it needed now was a name, to give the power within it purpose. After staring at it for several minutes, I finally felt a name resonate within me, and I knew its name.

"Desperation," I muttered, the word etching itself into the haft, just above the leather wrap.

"So that’s how it was made," Chromie said, making me all but jump out of my skin.

"Gah!" I gasped, looking up at the dragon as she sat there, looking down at me with amusement in her eyes. "By the Light, you really do sneak up on me!"

"I'm a dragon," she replied, as though that explained everything. Which, I supposed it did, to her. "Are you ready to go? I can take you to the Tirisfal Glades, but that's as far as I'm allowed, I'm afraid. Are you good to go?"

I nodded, before walking back inside and pulling on my pack. "Yeah, I think I'm good to go. The sooner I get to the Monastery, the sooner I can make up for my failures, right?"

"A noble sentiment," she mused, "I think I like this version of you better than the other one."

"Other one?" I asked, pausing midway through buckling on my belt. "What other version of me are you talking about?"

"The one where you don't go back and end up...on second thought, never mind, it's not important," she said, waving my very legitimate concern away. "Ready?"

"Now hold on a second, the one where I wha…" I began, intending to get some answers. Only for her to cut me off.

"Then here we go," she said with a wide grin.

I saw her reach out for me, but before I could take another breath, everything around me seemed to warp and bend, and the world began to fall away from me. I could hear Chromie's voice, almost as though it was from far away, saying, "See you soon!"

[hr][/hr]

"Here we are!" Chromie said with a triumphant grin, pulling me out of the swirling vortex and depositing me next to a tree on the side of a hill.

It took me a moment to get my bearings, and if I'd had anything in my stomach, I was pretty sure I'd have thrown up. That didn't help the sensation that I was falling, my stomach twisting itself in knots, and the only thing that made me feel better was Chromie's hand on my shoulder, keeping me from falling over. I got my balance, leaning against a nearby tree as I tried to get a grip on myself.

"We're in Tirisfal," I mumbled, glancing around.

"Yep!" she said with a grin, "I brought you a liiittle closer to the Monastery than I was supposed to, but you know how it is: teleportation's so hard to get right sometimes."

I didn’t answer her, I just held my stomach. Teleportation had never agreed with me, not even hearthstones, and those things were so idiotproof that even after studying them for decades I hadn’t seen a way to make them fail. This had to be one of the worst experiences I'd ever had. It felt like I was trapped in the moment between falling and flying, before everything around me had warped and twisted and turned into a swirling mess that made my eyes want to close.

"Ugh..." I groaned, sliding to my knees and leaning my head against the tree.

"Oh dear," Chromie murmured, moving to stand next to me, her hand gently patting me on the back. "Are you alright? Does it hurt?"

"It's not... not that," I said, letting out a long breath, "Teleportation just never agrees with me, no matter who does it or how it's done."

"Ah, that's good," she said, still patting my back.

"It's good," I repeated, turning my head to look up at her, my voice rising to a questioning tone. "It's good that I'm sick to my stomach and it hurts so much I feel like I'm going to die from it?"

"No no no," she replied quickly, holding her hands up as if to calm me down. "It's good because if you're getting sick from teleportation, then that means you're not sick with late onset chronal-bowel rot. It's rare, but sometimes happens."

I stared at her, blankly. After a few minutes of letting my stomach settle, I had to ask a single question, "'Chronal-bowel rot'? Do I want to...on second thought, I do not want to know."

"Agreed," Chromie easily said. "But don't worry about it, it's only happened a few times."

"A few times," I repeated.

"Yep! But never to me, and that's what counts."

"Sure," I sighed, letting out a long breath. "Anything else? Before I regroup with the assault force on the Scarlet Monastery?"

"Nope, that's all!" Chromie said brightly. "See you again soon! I think… I always lose track."

"Goodbye, Chromie," I said, pushing myself to my feet, steadying myself against the tree for a moment before starting down the hill.

[hr][/hr]

The march down to the main road of the Tirisfal Glades went far more smoothly than I’d expected. I had honestly fully expected to get lost or miss the rendezvous point we’d been told to meet at. But here I was, mingling in the back with a dozen champions and countless more mercenaries. The walk here… it had felt like I was being led down a straight and clear path. A feeling of dread that had been hanging on my shoulders ever since we first started making our way to Darrowshire had lifted, leaving me feeling refreshed, somehow.

Maybe it was because the assault on the Monastery would take place later today, after night had fallen. That was the plan, at least. So maybe I was just going to see that last little bit of optimism in me come to fruition. Either way, I didn't want to think too much on it, lest it disappear. I didn't know what else to do, so I started running over the plans in my mind, trying to keep my thoughts focused on what we would be doing later.

Part of me, thinking back to my childhood on this world, hoped I'd be able to talk Kylie Thackeray out of fighting. Yes, it had been over a decade since I'd seen her, but I still had countless good memories of her growing up. I mingled about the camp, looking up at the Scarlet Monastery, only to blink as an idea occurred to me.

I might be able to get Kylie and Sally out of this alive. Sally never locked the upper windows of rooms that she stayed in, I could probably sneak in and try to convince my childhood friends to leave with me. It was the only real chance I saw as being available to me that didn’t end with their deaths.

Slipping out from the camp, I made my way to the far side of the Monastery. If Sally claimed the room I suspected she did, then her room would be against the outer wall, facing the water. It’ll be a bitch to climb, especially free hand, but I had to try. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t.