Journeys - 9 (Patreon)

Gnomeregan is a strange place, not that it's a surprise to anyone who's met a gnome.
Beta's still on holiday, so any mistakes are entirely my fault.

Since we're in Gnomeregan, have an attached image for Frazzle. Decent gnomes can now be generated – and it even gets the three fingers right.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Friends, I bid you all welcome to Gnomeregan!" Came the high pitched voice of what could only be High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque, the peculiar cogwheel powered crown-goggles combination resting atop his head giving him away. His eyes were bright with curiosity, and the wide smile on his face was mirrored on those of the half dozen gnomish and dwarven dignitaries that accompanied him. "Well! Not Gnomeregan proper, of course," he waved a hand flippantly, "but Deeprun Port. Which is close enough for a greeting!"

Despite the clear efforts of the gnomish king to be welcoming, even reassuring, few of those on the Indefatigable's deck paid him much heed. Many of the sailors held a white knuckled grip on the ship's ropes and railings, even Admiral Candren looking out at the madness of the port with wide eyes.

Of everyone only Darius seemed unruffled, but when the insanity had first gripped the ship I had seen even his demeanour falter.

My eyes drifted back the way we came, at the furious and frothing waves that crashed through the still closing door of the port onto its fortified seawalls. Waves that were, at their highest, at least fifty feet below the keel of the Indefatigable.

If not further.

In true gnomish style the gnomes hadn't simply been carved out of the mountain as a natural port. No, that would have been too... mundane for the race of tinkers and mad scientists.

The tugs had brought the ship into what I, and many others, had assumed was some sort of drydock to be secured away from the rough seas. An assumption that was quickly vanquished as rather than the waters had failed to recede and, instead, the entire structure proved itself to be a terrifying mixture of lock and elevator. A crane descending to lift the ship, tugs, water, and all up to be held beside the dock on which the High Tinker now stood.

I had felt a yawning pit in my stomach as we swung about, the ship rocking violently towards dangling submarines in various states of completion as we rose. The sense of danger we had all felt only began to fade once we connected to these upper docks with a resounding thud, and the reassuring sound of a dozen clamps locking us in place.

Letting out a wet, still nervous giggle, I squeezed Vivi's hand. For all the gnomes weren't goblins, actually believing that unexpected and unintended explosions were a defect rather than a bug... their attitude towards danger and belief in safety standards left much to be desired.

But one couldn't deny that had a certain style to them. One which, now that the stomach churning fear had passed, was a thrill to witness in person.

"We thank you for your gracious welcome, High Tinker Mekkatorque." Darius said evenly as he dipped his head to the exuberant greeting of the gnomish king. "Might I introduce Sea Lord Frank Candren, who is yet admiring your fine..." My eyes widened as Darius' eyebrows twitched in a rare break of his stoic demeanour. "Port facilities. Along with Witch Gwyn–"

"Oh, bah." A gnome at the High Tinker's side interrupted. She raised her hand and flicked her wrist, a brief moment of arcane power surging around her an a formula forming before she vanished–

–and reappeared beside Frazzle, just on my left. "Fralatina!" She yelled, hands snapping out before Frazzle could back away and grabbing her cheeks. "You've..." Her eyes narrowed and her head cocked to the side. "Been eating surprisingly well! How unusual."

"–eth Arevin." Darius finished my introduction before turning to raise an eyebrow at the gnome. "Might I ask your name, Archmage?"

"Hmm?" Finished with Frazzle's cheeks, she turned to fussing over her hair – against Frazzle's furious protests. "Aha! Of course, Kinder Tinderstap, Archmage of the Kirin Tor and grandaunt of little Fralatina here. A pleasure to meet you in person, Lord Crowley, and thank you for taking care of my dear little grandniece." She bobbed her head politely to him before suddenly letting Frazzle go to spin and point a finger at me, one hand on her hip and her greying pink hair levitating under the influence of arcane energies that set my teeth buzzing. "And you! You're not as tall as I thought you'd be."

"Gwen's a perfect height, thank you." Vivi retorted before I could, pulling me close enough that her breath tickled my ears. "Not everyone needs to be tall."

"So very true! Tallness serves humans well, I am sure, but I am glad of my fine stature!" High Tinker Mekkatorque laughed, puffing out his chest with pride for a moment. "But, Archmage Tindersnap, there is a process to these things."

Crossing her arms and huffing loudly, the archmage flicked her wrist again, disappearing from the ship to return to the high tinker's side in another flash of arcane power.

"Bleeding crazy gnomes..." One sailor cursed under his breath.

Another shook as he pulled his hands away from the ropes he had been grasping. "Mad, they are. Brilliant but sodding mad."

"Men, back to work!" Admiral Candren snapped abruptly, pushing aside his shock as he heard the growing mutterings of the crew. "Moor us properly against the docks and get the plant down!" He visibly calmed as the crew jumped to follow his commands, he and many others finding surety with tasks that they knew and understood. "I want the ship secured on the double!"

"Finally." Another gnome grumbled loudly. "We've wasted enough time as it is. If we get these introductions and talks over with I can get back to to resolving our trogg problem once and for all before dinner."

"Ah, poppycock." High Tinker Mekkatorque brushed him aside with a wave of his hand. "We haven't had Gilnean guests in many a year, let alone ones such as these! They are due our attention and respect, Sicco." He beamed up at us as the plank was lowered, bridging the gap between ship and dock. "Please, join us for refreshments. We've prepare hearty meals and some ale for your perusal, as well as finer quarters for a discussion than the open air of Deeprun Port!"

He continued talking, responding to Darius' completion of our introductions, and introducing his advisers in turn, but I tuned out most of it. My attention fixating on the gnome at his side that had complained.

Sicco Thermaplugg. The mastermind behind the irradiation of Gnomeregan, the near extinction of the gnomish race, and the one I'd already warned them about. He was right there, standing by the high tinker, as if nothing was wrong!

-oOoOo-

"I don't like it here." Trix mumbled, shuffling closer to me and holding Tricks tight to her chest as she looked around. "It's... it's noisy. And heavy. And the air tastes funny. And–" She bit her tongue, glancing around at our hosts before ducking her head guiltily. "Sorry. Can I... Can I go back to the ship?" Tricks mewled slightly in her arms, disliking the situation herself.

Grimacing, I shook my head. "Not until our welcoming party is done." I whispered back. I understood exactly what she meant, the feeling of... oppression that refused to go away.

It hadn't been noticeable in Deeprun Port, less so than the times I visited the capital or my time in Dalaran, but up here, in Gnomeregan proper? The air was circulated by fans, all but the faintest hint of the mountains above stripped away long before it reached us. Each and every wall was plated in metal and machines, even those few places where the great mechanisms of the city were absent leaving no room for life to flourish. Then there was the sound, the unending thrum, hum, and clang of technology that pervaded the city.

There was no escaping any of it. Not even the lights themselves, which were not so much uncomfortable with their fluorescence as uncanny, added to the feeling of suffocation. Perhaps that was just an artefact of remembering them from before, but it still left ill at ease with my presence here.

More so even than the continuing activity of Sicco Thermaplugg, though he had thankfully quickly departed once the necessary introductions had been dealt with.

"Please?" Trix whined, looking up at me pleadingly. "It's awful."

"I know. I'm sorry – we can't be rude." And, unlike in Kul Tiras, I couldn't leave her behind. Not when the gnomes cared about apprenticeships as much as they did, be they technical or magical. "There's a good chance you'll have to accompany me more–"

An arcane buzz overcame the suffocating stillness in the air as Archmage Kinder approached. "There you are! Just the human I was looking for." She looked me up and down, only giving Trix a second glance as she fixed her eyes sharply on Tricks' illusionary disguise as a regular fox. "Hmm. Fascinating. A spirit beast? One with innate magics too," she sighed, "ah, Uncle Kindler would've loved to examine you. He loved cataloguing the magical creatures of the world and their abilities..."

For a moment she seemed lost in reminiscence, but quickly caught herself. "Where was I? Oh ye." She coughed into a tiny fist and straightened her posture. "Adapt Arevin, you are hereby invited to visit Thaumaturgical University of Gnomeregan as a guest speaker on the subject of the the Six Alignments of Magic."

"What would that entail?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her as I stepped between her and Tricks protectively. No one was examining my foxy friend without my say-so. "I haven't exactly had a chance to prepare a lecture."

"It's more of an informal debate." Archmage Kinder dismissed my concerns with a wave of her hand. "Or maybe an informal argument? I haven't paid that much attention, I used four alignments and that was good enough for me and, my teacher, and my students!"

I huffed at her, crossing my arms. "But it was wrong, because it's Light and Void, Order and Disorder, Life and Death. I told this to everyone in Dalaran years ago!"

Archmage Kinder put a hand on her hip. "Did you have proof? Go under the examination of a mage-seer to test the variation of your magic for the possibility of a mutated Arcane or Light focus?" She shook her head. "You did not."

Staring at her for a moment I forced myself to settle down. "Alright." I wasn't really opposed to the idea, I just... Gnomeregan was uncomfortable. "I suppose I should."

"Excellent!" She nodded with satisfaction. "In the event that the six alignment formulation is proven correct you will of course be granted contributor status, alongside being noted as the originator for any insights derived from the examination of your Life aligned magics." For a moment she paused, tilting her head at me. "It's somewhat of a shame, had Gelbin had his way you might've ended up an honorary Tinker."

"Aren't those your government?" Trix blurted out, retreating slightly as Archmage kinder's eyes turned on her.

She waggled a hand in front of her. "Somewhat. Any Tinker can stand for appointment to the Tinker's Court, and from there become part of the governing body of Gnomeregan. Even honorary ones, if they want." She giggled lightly. "Not that it'll happen since we talked Gelbin out of giving you the medal he wanted. We all appreciate the help you gave us, but it's probably better we at least try to keep your abilities a secret, isn't it?"

My mind flashed back to Detheroc, the way he had wanted to capture me for the Legion. "It's... a bit late for that." I mumbled. I'd not even tried to keep it a secret, just wanting someone, anyone to listen to me.

"Gwen!" Vivi called from across the refreshment hall. "Come hear Commander Stormpike's story, it's amazing!"

"I see my time with you is up." Archmage Kinder said. "The lecture is at two o'clock sharp, two days from now. There'll be someone to collect you from your quarters. Now, I best go find my nephew and grandniece before they hide from me!"

I hesitated at going to Vivi, looking at the retreating gnome. "Wait! What's going on with... Thermaplugg?" I said, glancing around at who might be listening with her mention of secrecy on my mind.

She glanced over her shoulder at me and shrugged. "It's just a power struggle? They happen. It's fine. The trogg issue is under control and if Gelbin can't manage a recalcitrant tinker, or a dozen, he doesn't deserve his position. Bye now!" With a wave of her hand the arcane magic in the air surged, and she vanished in a flash of fizzing pink light.

"Gwen, c'mon!" Vivi called after me again.

"Coming!" I called back, putting the utterly ridiculous attitudes of the gnomes out of my mind to grab Trix and drag her over to Vivi. I just had to hope they actually knew what they were doing – it's not like I was a gnome expert.

-oOoOo-

"We're here!" Frazzle chirped happily, skipping off of the tram ahead of Vivi and me as we followed with arms around each other at a more sedate pace – for all the trams were a bit too fast on the acceleration front, they did provide a nice excuse for clinging to Vivi. "It's every gnome's dream to have something here, you understand. And a lot of us do! Though most of us have to settle for simple revisions and technological advancements."

Spinning around on the balls of her feet, barely keeping herself from bouncing with joy, Frazzle beamed back at me with the widest smile I'd ever seen on her face. "But us? We're in the chambers of innovation. For making things that are truly unique, solving entirely new problems in new and novel ways!"

The moustached face of Mischer, her father, beamed back at her. "And we're so very proud of you for it." He paused, tapping his chin. "Well, I'm proud, but Finnathon is rather jealous!"

"Dad!" Finnathon protested, coming out as a startling squeaky whine. "I'm not jealous."

Even without all the narrowed eyed glares and glances he'd been shooting at her since Frazzle introduced me to her family, I could see from his pouting face general surliness how much of a lie that was. Gnomish culture didn't do much to teach them subtlety.

I could give him some advice that'd likely see his name alongside Frazzle's if he followed it, tell him to find a problem that needs a solution rather than making the most fanciful solution in search of a problem as possible. But I doubted he'd listen – what I'd seen of Frazzle's brother told me he was a gnomish engineer through and through, caring less about what his inventions did and more what they theoretically could do.

"C'mon," Vivi jostled me lightly with a smile on your face, "let's go see what you've accomplished."

"Couldn't have done it without your help." I smiled back, mind drifting to the sight of Vivi sweating in very light clothing as she worked my forge. "Never could've done the metalwork without you, I'm awful in the forge."

She poked my belly. "Maybe if you did more exercise your arms wouldn't struggle to lift the hammer!" She teased, then pulled me tighter. "But I how soft you are. So I'll forge everything for you."

Her words tickled my ears, my cheeks flushing crimson as we entered the University of Technical Brilliance's campus. It wasn't quite a private date, hearing the babble of my gnomish friend as she spoke eagerly about the processes and tribulations we'd faced making the machines we did back in GIlneas, but it was still nice.

Maybe she'd like the museum the Hall of Explorers kept? It was a shame they didn't have an art gallery, that was a place people went on dates... wait, was Brewfest going to happen this year? I had no idea if that tradition had started yet and it was nearly the right time of year for it. Autumn really wasn't far away; neither of us were much for drinking, but it'd still be fun to take part.

-oOoOo-

"Fruity." Magus Stormkettle declared as I grew the provided plants all across the auditorium, delving the roots deep in the gathered soil so that I could make it into a veritable underground jungle. It was still suffocating down here, but this took the edge off. "No other way to describe it. A hint of citrus with the soft juiciness of a tangerine." She smacked her lips slowly, tasting the air, and then one of the leaves directly. "Perhaps a hint of mead? I had some once, surprisingly tasty."

Hearing the way Magus Stormkettle described her mana-sight was fascinating to me. And not just because it was so bizarre – I'd known, intellectually, since my time in Dalaran that everyone felt magic differently, and that the most extreme forms of mana-sight like mine were highly variable forms of synesthesia but hearing it directly?

It gave me an appreciation for just how many layers of magic I heard, tasted, felt, and saw. Abstracting the sheer numbers of ways magic could be used just down to just the taste or feel of food would be horribly limiting. Still, it was clear Magus Stormkettle had put a lot of work into becoming good at what she did – and knew how to draw more information from what she had.

Of course, hearing her describe each and every type of magic as a some kind of foodstuff was still amusing. She was an oddly hungry little gnome.

"I always felt it as a pulse." I added my own description. "The rhythm of a heart beating within the magic, an ebb and flow of power as it rises and falls. Following the rhythm even makes my spells stronger, at least by a little." Not that I didn't get scents too. Warm and freshly tilled soil, the earthy undertones of a forest's undergrowth, the powerful musky scents of animals. But those were all variable.

Life had a beat, a rhythm, to it. It was the one universal constant I'd found with Life magic, like the electric buzz of the Arcane.

"Does that not mean that it falls under shadow magic?" Adept Thistleheart asked loudly from the stands. He was leading the four alignment argument so far. "You have always described shadow and the void as sour. Citrus is sour."

Opposite a blue haired gnomish man jumped to his feet and cleared his throat loudly. "While most citrus fruits are known for being sour, the definition of a citrus fruit is the specific formation of the pericarp into a largely undesirable flavedo and mesocarp, while the endocarp is the primary–"

"Oh, do be quiet." Another gnome shouted at him. "This isn't a botany class! Citrus fruits don't have to be sour, that's good enough."

"But being accurate is–"

Magus Stormkettle sniffed loudly as an argument began in the stands. A moment later it was silenced, but not due to the two stopping, but because a barrier had been erected around the two – and those trapped between, who looked rather put out by their seating arrangements.

"If I meant sour," she said into the now quiet auditorium, "I would have said sour. Unless you believe that I achieved my position as Magus on false pretences, Adept Thistleheart?" She planed both hands on her hips and stared him down until he sat. "Good. No, I would not say that this magic necessarily has any of the four primary flavours; not sweet, not sour, not spicy, and certainly not meaty. Or if it has any, it has all of them equally at once – practically the very opposite of that rancid corpse you had me sniff this morning!"

Despite the finger fiercely thrust in her direction, Archmage Kinder was unfazed. "It was needed to establish a proper baseline, you know this, Juliaster. Is there a sense of temperature?"

After glaring at Archmage Kinder for a moment, Magus Stormkettle turned back to my plants and plucked a rose from its bush and ate it whole. "No." She said, slightly muffled by the petals poking through her lips. "Yes. Vibrant? Not hot, not cold, just comfortable. So not fire or water, and it's not stiff enough to be earth. Or floaty enough to be air..." She turned to face the auditorium. "Unique. It's not one of the four, or the elements. I stake my sight on it."

Archmage Kinder grinned, nudging the gnome at her side, who, after a moment went on to nudge Frazzle at his side. "Well then. With Magus Stormkettle's expert verdict complete, we will now hear from the caster themselves! Adept Gwyneth Arevin, please, speak on your magical alignment."

I met the gaze of the hundreds of gnomes in the room, so many of them gazing up at me expectantly. "Life is, fundamentally, the magic of life. As strange as that tautology might sound, it is the fundamental truth; all things that live, grow..."

Rather than come up with entirely new material for the assembled scholars of the Thaumaturgic University of Gnomeregan, I chose to reuse some of the more theoretical lessons I had taught my students. The ones intended to give them an understanding of what they wielded alongside how to do so – albeit, considering my listeners were scholars rather than the children often literal dirt farmers, I could use somewhat more advanced language.

There wasn't a chance that even Trix, who was well used to my oversized vocabulary by this point, had any idea what a tautology was.

-oOoOo-

"I do apologise for how long it has taken for this meeting to happen." High Tinker Mekkatorque apologised as we sat in the surprisingly comfortable, and height adjustable, chairs surrounding his planning table. "So much to do and so little time to do it in! If it isn't the blasted troggs distracting me from my tinkering time, it's dealing with the Tinker's court, and if it isn't them..." He sighed and shook his head. "Enough of that. Vannadar?"

Vannadar Stormpike, thane of the Stormpike clan – Alterac Valley, the dwarves that'd fought the Frostwolves in Alterac Valley – grunted as he adjusted the knobs and dials of the table.

Before our eyes, even eliciting a hint of real surprise from Darius, the map flexed and flowed, going from a topographic representation of Khaz Modan to one that showed northern Lordaeron. All the little lines and blobs that had shone the cave network they had been fighting the troggs in vanishing in favour of splotches of blues, reds, greens, and an unsettling swath of grey mixed with dark purple.

It took me a moment to place what I was seeing exactly, but soon enough it clicked. "You went to Tyr's Hand, bypassing the Eastweald entirely." I said, pointing at the largest patch of blue on the map. "You're supplying them by sea?"

"Right." Thane Stormpike huffed as he finished the last adjustments. "We figured there wasn't much point working in Silverpine until you finished up with killing each other behind that wall of yours. Got the Ironbelly out running supplies to the lot up there. Keeps us in touch with the Wildhammer too since we go past them."

He paused and frowned before continuing. "Elves too, I guess. Lot of 'em ended up in Seradane after Falstad rescued them or something. Still no damn port on that cliff though, it's a ruddy hike and a half to get up there."

"We've ignored Marshal Garithos' requests for support so far." High Tinker Mekkatorque piped up happily. "He wasn't terribly about that, let me tell you. Some of our scouting has indicated other survivors–" he pointed at the dots and smudges of green surrounded by purple, "–but has yet to establish proper contact. The largest ones so far have been the township of Darrowshire, and some surprising holdouts near Blackwood!"

Just about all of Lordaeron's heartland was covered in the greys and purples of the Scourge. Stretching all the way across from the Tirisfal Glades, through the Northlands, and deep into the Eastweald. The only bright spots being the coast around Tyr's Hand, trailing into green around Seradane and more blue by Aerie Peak.

The dotted pockets of green marking possible survivors were depressingly few and far between. Far too many of the marked villages and towns were purple, showing confirmed Scourge control of the area.

Things didn't improve much as Darius began directing the changes found by Gilneas' forays beyond the wall. Red was used for the worgen infection still plaguing the Arevas region, just like it was used elsewhere for trolls and other hostile forces, and only Silverlaine Keep was added as green.

It painted a dismal picture of the continent, everything north of the Alterac Mountains being lost to the undead.

But, there were a few places I was sure had survived that weren't marked. Significant enough holdings that they would make a significant difference to the map.

"What about Hearthglen and..." It wasn't the Scarlet Monestary yet, and I peered down at the name on the map. "The Mereldar Monastery? Has there been any scouting expeditions to them?"

Thane Stormpike snorted dismissively at my question. "No chance. Whole place is trying to kill you one way or another. If it ain't a walking corpse angry that you ain't, it's so plagued that eatin' it will kill you stone dead. Farthest we've gotten is here." He tapped the northern shores of Darrowmere lake. "An' it's dead. Black with rot and sick. Be a miracle if anyone out there's alive."

"Hearthglen, Hearthglen..." High Tinker Mekkatorque mused. "There was a strong presence of the Silver Hand in the area if I remember Sir Mograine's words correctly." He tweaked the map, adding a patch of green over the town. "It's worth examining further at least!"

"The Old Monastery of Mereldar is where the Archbishops of Lordaeron are granted their title, and where their priesthood is trained." Darius said, briefly catching my eye for confirmation, which I quickly gave him. "Should anywhere in Lordaeron have the blessings with which to withstand the foul onslaught of the Scourge, it would be there."

High Tinker Mekkatorque bobbed his head in agreement, adding another patch of green. "A fair conclusion. Our own reports of Light's Hope Chapel and its blessings repelling the undead back it up as well."

Running his hand through his beard, Thane Stormpike sighed. "Gonna be a while 'fore we can reach 'em. Gotta try though." His eyes sharpened as he stared at the map, determination filling them. "Can contact the Hearthglen lot with gryphons if we plan it right, but Tirisfal... easier from your side, Crowley."

"Before that, I do have a question for the High Tinker if I may." He said, waiting for the gnomish leader to wave his hand in acquiescence before continuing. "Forgive my rudeness, but might I know the reason for the delays you have imposed on our journey to Ironforge, High Tinker?" He gestured to the map. "While I understand the value of the planning at hand here, it would be more suitable to do so in Ironforge with King Magni and the other leaders of the Alliance in attendance."

I blinked at him as silence reigned in the meeting room. The High Tinker rubbing at his head almost sheepishly was the only sound beyond hushed whispers amongst the onlookers.

"Um." I blurted out as Thane Stormpike started to rise angrily, breaking the quiet before he could. "What?"

"Ahaha." High Tinker Mekkatorque laughed softly. "I've been caught! No need to worry about rudeness, if anything I have been the rude host fabricating all these reasons to keep you here!"

Halfway out of his seat, Thane Stormpike shot him a glare. "Was King Magni's order." He grunted, settling back into his chair.

"More of a request, really." High Tinker Mekkatorque explained. "Passed on from King Wrynn. He wanted all of the Alliance leaders to be present and situated before your arrival, you see. Something about making a show of solidarity as Magni explained it – frankly, I would rather we just accepted your return and got down to business. But, well," he rolled his eyes, "humans are a strange sort. Though I mean no insult by it."

"Honestly... I can't deny it." I said, finding some amusement at the blunt statement. Gnomes were peculiar in their own way, but humans had plenty of foibles of our own. "It'd be a lot easier to get things done if we had less, uh," my cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I glanced at Darius.

It was not the right place or time to say what I'd been thinking!

"Dick measuring contest." Thane Stormpike supplied for me. "You lot are famous for them. Never saw the point meself, ladies aren't much impressed anyway."

The look of mild disapproval Darius sent my way made me shrink in on myself in my seat. After a moment he relented, turning back to the High Tinker and his adviser. "While I regret that King Wrynn saw the need, I understand his desire to strengthen the negotiating position of the Alliance. It seems we will be enjoying your fine accommodations for a time longer, High Tinker."

"You're very welcome!" He replied happily. "Now, back to the business of planning how to save as many Lordaeronians as we can!"