11-10-2010, 08:22 AM
Foreword
Spoiler:
The following excerpt from More Magic and Mayhem inspired this story/concept. All of the devices, inventions, technological items and modifications portrayed in the post(s) are found in the various RPG books and/or in-game.
“Magic suffuses the world of Warcraft, and throughout Azeroth it is a driving force for change. Mages, shamans, paladins and others employ it as a means to an end, using energy to create spectacular and miraculous effects that defy the reason of science. Yet science, an art mastered by the tinkers and alchemists of both the Alliance and the Horde, has become a new force for change, a frightening force that is capable of competing even with powerful magic.
The craft of the tinker, gadgeteering, mechanics, call it what you will — across Azeroth inventors are spilling out wonders powered by phlogiston, chaos energy, power cores or the energies of the elements. From the weird contraptions crafted by diminutive gnomes to the often malicious devices forged in goblin workshops, the range of abilities and permutations of these machines challenge the might of magic with principles and methods that rely on the tried and tested rules of the physical world. The element of the fantastic that permeates these devices is based on their rarity and the wonder they bring.
Technology sets the world of Warcraft apart from stock fantasy; while players still have access to mages, necromancers and priests casting arcane bolts and calling upon divine favor to deliver miracles to the masses, they also have a new type of power. Technology is a wonder of a new age; and the craft of creating devices from metal, steam and innovation possesses equally powerful capabilities compared to magic. Technology allows everything from spring-heeled boots to automatic lock-picks, to steam powered armor, tanks, and even fabulous flying machines like gnomish airships and goblin zeppelins. All of these miraculous devices rely on principles that anyone, even characters without magical training, can quickly learn to master and even create.
It is a renaissance of power, as a normal mortal with a rifle can easily become as big a threat as a slavering orc berserker. Technology represents choice, the choice of another path to follow, another way to harness power and craft. Where magic requires a massive investment of energy and time, the rewards of technology are almost immediately accessible. The possible complexity of his devices only increases with a character's experience, and there are feats aplenty to aid a cunning tinker in his craft.
Technology is as mysterious as magic to those who cannot comprehend it. To the peasant or farmer, to the cobbler or woodworker, technology is inscrutable, yet it does not have the aura of the forbidden that magic carries. Magic is the stuff that draws forth fel demons and swells the ranks of the Scourge. Mages, warlocks and necromancers — those who use arcane magic put the world at jeopardy with every spell and enchantment they cast. Everyone in Azeroth knows that magic use spirals to a dark place where power corrupts absolutely and irrevocably. Technology has a different face.
The craft of technology requires sheer know-how and ingenuity. The fundamental steps to learning technology are materials that are accessible to even a normal farmhand — and all it requires is the desire to discover. The peoples of Azeroth understand that hard work is at the core of technological discovery, and any craftsman can comprehend the work that has to go into some mighty device in order to complete it. That the craft requires little more than some planning, a good idea, and a bit of cavalier invention makes it all the more charming to those who seek to master it. Magic may corrupt, but technology is a powerful counterweight to the potency and corruption of the arcane.â€Â
“Magic suffuses the world of Warcraft, and throughout Azeroth it is a driving force for change. Mages, shamans, paladins and others employ it as a means to an end, using energy to create spectacular and miraculous effects that defy the reason of science. Yet science, an art mastered by the tinkers and alchemists of both the Alliance and the Horde, has become a new force for change, a frightening force that is capable of competing even with powerful magic.
The craft of the tinker, gadgeteering, mechanics, call it what you will — across Azeroth inventors are spilling out wonders powered by phlogiston, chaos energy, power cores or the energies of the elements. From the weird contraptions crafted by diminutive gnomes to the often malicious devices forged in goblin workshops, the range of abilities and permutations of these machines challenge the might of magic with principles and methods that rely on the tried and tested rules of the physical world. The element of the fantastic that permeates these devices is based on their rarity and the wonder they bring.
Technology sets the world of Warcraft apart from stock fantasy; while players still have access to mages, necromancers and priests casting arcane bolts and calling upon divine favor to deliver miracles to the masses, they also have a new type of power. Technology is a wonder of a new age; and the craft of creating devices from metal, steam and innovation possesses equally powerful capabilities compared to magic. Technology allows everything from spring-heeled boots to automatic lock-picks, to steam powered armor, tanks, and even fabulous flying machines like gnomish airships and goblin zeppelins. All of these miraculous devices rely on principles that anyone, even characters without magical training, can quickly learn to master and even create.
It is a renaissance of power, as a normal mortal with a rifle can easily become as big a threat as a slavering orc berserker. Technology represents choice, the choice of another path to follow, another way to harness power and craft. Where magic requires a massive investment of energy and time, the rewards of technology are almost immediately accessible. The possible complexity of his devices only increases with a character's experience, and there are feats aplenty to aid a cunning tinker in his craft.
Technology is as mysterious as magic to those who cannot comprehend it. To the peasant or farmer, to the cobbler or woodworker, technology is inscrutable, yet it does not have the aura of the forbidden that magic carries. Magic is the stuff that draws forth fel demons and swells the ranks of the Scourge. Mages, warlocks and necromancers — those who use arcane magic put the world at jeopardy with every spell and enchantment they cast. Everyone in Azeroth knows that magic use spirals to a dark place where power corrupts absolutely and irrevocably. Technology has a different face.
The craft of technology requires sheer know-how and ingenuity. The fundamental steps to learning technology are materials that are accessible to even a normal farmhand — and all it requires is the desire to discover. The peoples of Azeroth understand that hard work is at the core of technological discovery, and any craftsman can comprehend the work that has to go into some mighty device in order to complete it. That the craft requires little more than some planning, a good idea, and a bit of cavalier invention makes it all the more charming to those who seek to master it. Magic may corrupt, but technology is a powerful counterweight to the potency and corruption of the arcane.â€Â
Saved by the...
Spoiler:
Cold, dark and damp. Those would be the first words that would come to Nim's mind, were she asked to describe her current location. Perhaps ‘going to be attacked at any moment, whilst being trapped inside a collapsed tunnel' would've worked better, but she liked to keep a measure of optimism in her thoughts. After all, it was for a good cause. Nim Evenstride had taken yet another in her line of mercenary jobs, this time not against the Burning Legion, but aimed at a group of bandits that had camped in a cave in the Northern mountains of the Swamp of Sorrows.
She shook her head, muttering to herself as her fingers worked hurriedly to fit a small, glinting silver power core into the shell of a small harvest reaper she'd built inside the collapsed tunnel out of the spare parts she'd picked up on the way there. “It was supposed to be just another job. Fellin' great...†she sighed.
“Oh well. It's not the first time an employer tried to stage an ambush for me. Blew the entrance to the cavern... Still, they're digging in and I don't have that much air. It won't matter in a little bit, though. I bet they're after the vial of plague I got from that Death Knight... Besides, I've got a few grenades, my rifle, ammo... Aaand...†she pulled her hands out of the reaper's casing and closed it, pressing a big red button – salvaged out of the self-destruct device of a goblin shredder – next to it. Nothing happened.
Nim sighed. She reeled in her right leg and gave the harvest reaper a sharp punt between its wooden, stiff legs. It bounced a little, then smoke came out of its casing and it hobbled around the elven girl, spinning its wooden barrel torso and making slashing motions with its metallic claws rather randomly through the air. She crossed her arms over her gut, nodding once. “...You. I name you... uhmm... Punt.†She grinned. “Yup.â€Â
A low, rumbling sound came from the entrance to the tunnel, and Nim reached for her rifle, taking it off her back and checked it over rapidly, her eyes scanning over its most prominent features. The Darksilencer on the muzzle, the adjustable scope, the modified butt to accept ammunition magazines, the two bayonet blades and one spike to stick into the ground when shooting from a prone position... or to stick into an enemy's body should they get too close for comfort. She shrugged and reached down for her belt just as light started creeping through a slowly growing hole in the rubble at the entrance and pressed a button on the device there, disappearing suddenly from view.
Into the tunnel hobbled three humans, fairly well armed and armored. Nim frowned from her cloaked state. The quality of their equipment put them above your average mercenary. Still, she did nothing but watched the mini-Harvest Reaper make its way over to them, churning out plumes of smoke as it went.
“...The fel is that?†one of the men said, leaning down to examine the construct. “Looks like one o' the toys I got my son once for his birthday. Only, that one didn't have claws.†Said another, tipping his head to the side.
“Naw. It's one of them Harvest Reapers. Only it's tiny. Doesn't pose a threat. Look for the girl.†The third said and looked around. ‘Punt' buzzed and whirred defiantly at them, as though asserting itself. One of the mercenaries coughed from the smoke coming from the tiny reaper. “Oh, look. Lil' thing has an attitude. Ain't you cute?...†asked one of the men, grinning. ‘Punt' started spinning rapidly, claws outstretched, and managed to cut at the calves of all three men, who quickly turned towards it and swung their swords at it. “Kill it! Kill it!†one shouted.
‘Punt' took quite a few blows, and, shattered, fell. “Well, that was all felled up...†a man grunted, peering over the wreckage of the construct. “Right, now do your jobs and lo-“ he was cut off, as ‘Punt' let out a last, angry little buzz and exploded violently, the power core inside it detonating and blasting the three men apart, into the walls of the tunnel, and also clearing its entrance.
Nim dropped out of cloak, letting the device on her belt cool down. She shook her head. “...You were a hero, little guy.†She murmured, walking out towards the exit, rifle in hand. As her eyes readjusted to the daylight outside, she spotted another of the mercenaries, his back turned as he scanned the marshes. Nim didn't wait for him to turn. She raised her rifle, took aim rapidly, and pulled the trigger. Poff! – A bullet left the barrel with an angry, quiet huff in a small cloud of black dust, and the man fell forwards, flat.
Something rustled behind her, but Nim didn't get the chance to turn. She was fast, but not that fast... She barely managed to turn halfway and something splattered all across her side and the side of her face. Something warm. She opened the eye she'd squeezed shut to the incoming substance and glanced rapidly at herself - she had been splattered with blood. She looked to the source, only to find yet another mercenary, a silvery-green blade sticking out of his chest, his mouth open in a silent scream. From his hand dropped an elaborate scimitar as he stood there.
The man slowly slid off the blade, dropping limply to the ground, a female Kaldorei in scanty green leathers standing behind him, flicking the blood off her sword. “Nim Evenstride?†she asked, indifference in her voice, her facial expression concealed behind a metallic mask similar to the one Nim herself wore.
“I... Yes-Who are you?†Nim immediately pointed her rifle at the stranger.
“I'm the one who's escorting you to the Netherstorm. You're wanted there. I've been contracted to get you there in one piece.†The Kaldorei said, her tone as placid and calm as before.
“Right... And I can trust you... how exactly?†Nim did not lower her weapon.
“I just saved your ass, Blood Elf. I've got a job to do, and I will do it, with or without your consent.†The Night Elf replied, disdain echoing in her voice.
Nim nodded, sighing annoyed. “Alright, fine.†She lowered the rifle, but did not holster it.
“Good. Come.†The Kaldorei said, and they set off South, towards the Dark Portal.
She shook her head, muttering to herself as her fingers worked hurriedly to fit a small, glinting silver power core into the shell of a small harvest reaper she'd built inside the collapsed tunnel out of the spare parts she'd picked up on the way there. “It was supposed to be just another job. Fellin' great...†she sighed.
“Oh well. It's not the first time an employer tried to stage an ambush for me. Blew the entrance to the cavern... Still, they're digging in and I don't have that much air. It won't matter in a little bit, though. I bet they're after the vial of plague I got from that Death Knight... Besides, I've got a few grenades, my rifle, ammo... Aaand...†she pulled her hands out of the reaper's casing and closed it, pressing a big red button – salvaged out of the self-destruct device of a goblin shredder – next to it. Nothing happened.
Nim sighed. She reeled in her right leg and gave the harvest reaper a sharp punt between its wooden, stiff legs. It bounced a little, then smoke came out of its casing and it hobbled around the elven girl, spinning its wooden barrel torso and making slashing motions with its metallic claws rather randomly through the air. She crossed her arms over her gut, nodding once. “...You. I name you... uhmm... Punt.†She grinned. “Yup.â€Â
A low, rumbling sound came from the entrance to the tunnel, and Nim reached for her rifle, taking it off her back and checked it over rapidly, her eyes scanning over its most prominent features. The Darksilencer on the muzzle, the adjustable scope, the modified butt to accept ammunition magazines, the two bayonet blades and one spike to stick into the ground when shooting from a prone position... or to stick into an enemy's body should they get too close for comfort. She shrugged and reached down for her belt just as light started creeping through a slowly growing hole in the rubble at the entrance and pressed a button on the device there, disappearing suddenly from view.
Into the tunnel hobbled three humans, fairly well armed and armored. Nim frowned from her cloaked state. The quality of their equipment put them above your average mercenary. Still, she did nothing but watched the mini-Harvest Reaper make its way over to them, churning out plumes of smoke as it went.
“...The fel is that?†one of the men said, leaning down to examine the construct. “Looks like one o' the toys I got my son once for his birthday. Only, that one didn't have claws.†Said another, tipping his head to the side.
“Naw. It's one of them Harvest Reapers. Only it's tiny. Doesn't pose a threat. Look for the girl.†The third said and looked around. ‘Punt' buzzed and whirred defiantly at them, as though asserting itself. One of the mercenaries coughed from the smoke coming from the tiny reaper. “Oh, look. Lil' thing has an attitude. Ain't you cute?...†asked one of the men, grinning. ‘Punt' started spinning rapidly, claws outstretched, and managed to cut at the calves of all three men, who quickly turned towards it and swung their swords at it. “Kill it! Kill it!†one shouted.
‘Punt' took quite a few blows, and, shattered, fell. “Well, that was all felled up...†a man grunted, peering over the wreckage of the construct. “Right, now do your jobs and lo-“ he was cut off, as ‘Punt' let out a last, angry little buzz and exploded violently, the power core inside it detonating and blasting the three men apart, into the walls of the tunnel, and also clearing its entrance.
Nim dropped out of cloak, letting the device on her belt cool down. She shook her head. “...You were a hero, little guy.†She murmured, walking out towards the exit, rifle in hand. As her eyes readjusted to the daylight outside, she spotted another of the mercenaries, his back turned as he scanned the marshes. Nim didn't wait for him to turn. She raised her rifle, took aim rapidly, and pulled the trigger. Poff! – A bullet left the barrel with an angry, quiet huff in a small cloud of black dust, and the man fell forwards, flat.
Something rustled behind her, but Nim didn't get the chance to turn. She was fast, but not that fast... She barely managed to turn halfway and something splattered all across her side and the side of her face. Something warm. She opened the eye she'd squeezed shut to the incoming substance and glanced rapidly at herself - she had been splattered with blood. She looked to the source, only to find yet another mercenary, a silvery-green blade sticking out of his chest, his mouth open in a silent scream. From his hand dropped an elaborate scimitar as he stood there.
The man slowly slid off the blade, dropping limply to the ground, a female Kaldorei in scanty green leathers standing behind him, flicking the blood off her sword. “Nim Evenstride?†she asked, indifference in her voice, her facial expression concealed behind a metallic mask similar to the one Nim herself wore.
“I... Yes-Who are you?†Nim immediately pointed her rifle at the stranger.
“I'm the one who's escorting you to the Netherstorm. You're wanted there. I've been contracted to get you there in one piece.†The Kaldorei said, her tone as placid and calm as before.
“Right... And I can trust you... how exactly?†Nim did not lower her weapon.
“I just saved your ass, Blood Elf. I've got a job to do, and I will do it, with or without your consent.†The Night Elf replied, disdain echoing in her voice.
Nim nodded, sighing annoyed. “Alright, fine.†She lowered the rifle, but did not holster it.
“Good. Come.†The Kaldorei said, and they set off South, towards the Dark Portal.
The Netherbane
Spoiler:
As a Kaldorei and Sin'dorei neared Area 52, the former of the two stopped. Purple lightning cracked the skies above, which were so deep into the Twisting Nether that the very skies seemed to churn with its chaotic flows. Mana flowed in cyclone-like formations into one of the Mana-forges in the distance, as the Night Elf turned towards the other and spoke – breaking a very long silence.
“You're to go in and find out where Nova Anchorage is. You're expected there in half a day. Good luck.†She said, and gestured to the goblin walled town. She turned sharply on her heel.
“Wait, so... That's it? I just go in and ask about some Nova Anchorage? What's this about anyway?†Nim asked, watching her.
“I don't know.†The Kaldorei answered without turning and sprinted back towards Blade's Edge.
Nim sighed. “Oh yay. Then again, this is just another day in the life of Nim Evenstride. A crappy one at that.†She muttered, moving for the town, holstering her rifle across her back just as she entered. She proceeded to ask around...
...Ten hours later and still, she found no answers. What she did find, however, was a human woman just standing in the middle of the Northern entrance to the goblin city and looking quite possibly as confused as she was as she found her flask – presumably of some alcoholic beverage, empty. The human looked to Nim and asked her where the tavern was. Nim pointed her in the right direction and offered, out of boredom, to buy her a drink.
She accepted, and the human, who was called Erizabeth, got her drink, whilst Nim herself offered her a bomb. Erizabeth took it, and for about an hour they simply made tense conversation with one-another, before saying their farewells as Nim went off for another round of asking. She eventually reached a Nether Rocket rider. A goblin with a rather insane hairdo, a blue Mohawk cutting along his scalp.
“Yeah? Waddaya' want?†he asked, looking up to Nim suspiciously. He didn't like Blood Elves. They were always up to something. Especially here, in the Netherstorm...
“I'm looking for a place called Nova Anchorage.†Nim said simply.
The goblin's eyes widened for a moment, but then his expression returned to normal. “What's in it for me?â€Â
“A fist-full of silvers.†Nim answered, slipping a hand in her pocket.
“Goblin fist or Blood Elf fist? Y'know, it doesn't really matter... Give.†He held out his grubby green hand, palm facing upwards. Nim deposited the coins without counting them into his hand, gritting her teeth behind her mask.
“Right. What'cha' wanna do is head South-East, until you reach the end of the continent. There should be a mana-forge on the other side o' the gap in front of you, and Nova Anchorage should be on your end. ‘S just a clump of floating rock – Dunno why you wanna go there – but it's used by us Nether Rocket pilots t' land.†The goblin said, grinning as he pocketed the cash.
“Pleasure doing business with you.†Nim said, rushing out of town and for the Anchorage point.
There was just a half an hour to her deadline as Nim reached her intended destination. There, she found a tall, apparently Human man, standing up straight, in his black, long trench coat, a military-looking cap on his head covering his gray hair, below which were a pair of bushy white eyebrows made their home, one of which was parted in two by a jagged scar that continued over an eye covered by a mechanical device supposedly replacing the lost visual organ, lenses glinting from it. The man had a short, well-trimmed beard and looked rather plain. He took a drag out of a thick cigar and tapped it with his index finger, ash falling to the purple soil beneath his black boots.
The man cleared his throat before speaking. “So you made it in time, hmm? Not that I mind watching the Nether for twelve hours on end. She is a terribly beautiful thing...†he said, glancing over his shoulder into the depths of the Nether, before looking back towards Nim.
“Y-Yeah..†Nim caught her breath, nodding. She stood up slightly straighter. “So, you called me here? Who are you to bring me from one world to another anyway?â€Â
The man chuckled, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Me? I am Avern Halsford, though you will most likely come to call me Captain from now on, miss Evenstride.â€Â
“Avern, then... How'd you know who I am? Or where I'd be?†Nim asked, suspicion in her voice.
“We know everything there is to know about you, miss Evenstride. No living immediate relatives, no friends – I am sorry to inform you that the Death Knight you procured that batch of plague-puss from is dead – And best of all, no standing contracts. You are also neutral as far as racial respects go. For all intents and purposes, you do not exist - You are a ghost. Though, of course, this may be subject to change in the future.†Avern answered with another smoky chuckle.
Nim stared at him for a moment. “So, you've had me followed or scried on. Sounds like a lot of bother for someone that doesn't exist – like me.â€Â
Avern shook his head, taking another drag of his cigar. “Not in the least. Especially not since I am here to offer you a job.â€Â
“I'm a freelancer. A soldier of fortune. I don't take permanent jobs...â€Â
“Ah, but you see, this one is precisely the job for a soldier of fortune, for in truth, there are few ties that would bind you to it save secrecy. Don't you wish to know what it entails?â€Â
Nim sighed. “All right. I'll bite. What's it ‘entail'?â€Â
Avern smiled. “You will fight the Legion's forces on Draenor and beyond. Azeroth is included. By use of technology and physical skill, as I assume you have no Arcane potential.â€Â
“I have none. Alright, but I'm not a one-girl army and you don't look much like a fighter, old man... And Demons are pretty hard to kill.â€Â
Avern nodded. He slipped a hand into an inner pocket of his trench coat and took out what seemed to be a pocket watch, opening it and pressing on something inside. It took a moment for anything to happen, but soon a rumbling noise came from above and they both looked up sharply.
A half-bullet shaped mass of gray metallic plating slowly became visible against the multicolored sky, a little ways above them. White runes glowed dimly on its underside, alongside four metallic boxes with ventilators and heavier plating than the rest of the object which were two on each side.. Nim blinked. She recognized the boxes as Gnomish Gravity Negators. She tipped her head to the side, the very lowest point of the floating half-bullet opening, a rope ladder uncurling down to the two. Avern proceeded up it.
“So... Some weird floating gunship? Looks like a destroyer ship, only with gravity negators instead of sails. And smaller and with... What? No cannons?†Nim asked as she moved for the end of the ladder, which slowly receded up into the floating vehicle.
Avern looked down. “It's nowhere near the size or firepower of an actual Gunship. This is the Netherbane Two and I am its captain. Magic and Technology alike function in a discordant opus to allow this ship to function. It has only one cannon – embedded into the bow. The other ports are water-tight windows and Dwarven Reciprocator ports. Two Phlogiston Extractors work on it constantly to provide power for both its Phlogiston Furnace-“ he pointed to the rocket-like exhaust on the end of the Netherbane Two. “-And our usual technological devices. I try not to let Chaos Technology get on board, though Fizzypop, our gnomish engineer, tends to disregard that.â€Â
Nim grinned beneath her mask. She nodded quietly as the rope ladder reached the keel and receded up into it. Nim looked around, and saw a narrow hallway, at one end being a flight of stairs, at the other the inner side of the phlogiston furnace, plastered with metallic plating which, she assumed, was applied with heat-sink in mind. She looked over to Avern. “So, what happened to the Netherbane One?â€Â
Avern shot her a stern gaze and gestured to one of the doors. “This will be your room – Which you'll be sharing with another of the crew. A human by the name of Tara Spinner.†He then gestured to the stairs. “However, the crew wishes to meet their newest – well, all save for Fizzypop, as he keeps himself in the lab at all times, and Number Six, whom remains locked in the cargo hold beneath our feet. After meeting the crew, you may sleep, as you're probably tired after the journey here.â€Â
“Fine by me. Let's see the crew.†Nim shrugged, following Avern upstairs, boots tapping quietly on the metallic floor. The level above had the ports for four Dwarven Reciprocators – six-barreled firearms that shot their bullets in quick succession by spinning the barrels and firing them successively – and the windows next to them. To the front of it all, next to the stairwell, the butt end of a black cannon was, with a few different kinds of cannonballs next to it. On the opposite side of the level, a construct stood in dim lighting, behind another narrow hallway with doors on its sides.
Continuing upwards, the two reached the actual deck of the Netherbane Two, where an assortment of people stood, peering over at the newcomers.
Avern smiled over at Nim. “Well? Introduce yourself.â€Â
Nim nodded once and moved for the first in the line of people. A human girl, which couldn't have been past her mid twenties, with clear goggles strapped to her forehead and a heavy pair of armored gloves in her hands. The girl grinned over at Nim. “Hey. So, you're my new roommate, huh? Never thought Captain'd bring a Blood Elf on the Netherbane Two. But hey.†She shrugged. “Nice to meet you. Like you probably heard, I'm Tara. Tara Spinner. We can talk more when you go off to nap. The others are prolly waiting.â€Â
Nim nodded. “Nice to meet you too. Like you've probably heard as well, I'm Nim Evenstride.†She said, loud enough for all in the line to hear. She moved on for the next in the line. A massive, burly Orc, that frowned as he looked down on her. “Grim'krosh.†He said in a deep, bass tone, and only continued to stare, before saying “Steam Warrior.†With so much pride that it seemed as though his black scalemail would burst. Nim nodded. “Right. Well...†she moved off for the next one.
“Bann Radathar.†The Dwarf recommended himself. He held a hand out for the elf to shake and she did so. His left hand was occupied with a hammer, hefted over his shoulder, which had its head modified into a Steam Ram. A modification that made the head of the hammer expand rapidly upon impact, making the weapon even more formidable than before. “Tech-Paladin o' the Light, lassie. They call me Legion-hammah.â€Â
The next was a Draenei, his long, gem-filled ponytail reaching down to the base of his tail. He wore fairly elaborate purple robes, and at his hips lay two swords – One had wiring all about its blade, connected to a power cell on the hilt, the other having metallic teeth along its edge, going into a miniaturized motor on the guard – which Nim recognized as a Voltaic Coil sword and Chatter Blade respectively. “Taar. Techno-Mage of Argus, little one.†He said, smiling and bending down to her eye-level. “It is I who am responsible for the Netherbane's non-technological maneuvering, shielding and arcane weaponry. Thirty thousand years of practicing Arcane magic allow me this. Tell me, little one, what is it you wish to accomplish aboard the Netherbane Two?...â€Â
“I... I wish to fight the Legion. As I have back in the Black Temple, and before that with Kael'thas' troops. Fel, it's the Legion that spawned the cursed Undead that ravaged my homeland. I'm going to get back at them, one way or another...†Nim answered, nodding once, firmly.
Taar straightened, not losing his smile. “Tread lightly, little one, for the path of vengeance can lead to your own destruction, as well as that of the enemy... Now... Rest.â€Â
Avern nodded once. “So, that's the end of that. Miss Spinner, if you would accompany miss Evenstride to her room.†He said, turning as the others dispersed.
Tara nodded once, grinning over at Nim. “C'mon.†she said, skipping for the stairwell and descending with Nim in tow. They reached the room and entered it, Tara unlocking it with a key, a copy of which she passed to Nim. The elf pocketed the key as she looked around.
The room itself seemed somewhat bare, save for a vertical locker, a workbench and a couple of wall beds, that Tara pulled down from the walls. The floor was littered with gadgets and parts, and the human girl shrugged. “Eh. Sorry about the mess. Umm... You can find spare gear in the locker and whatnot. For ammo and weaponry, see Fizzypop. Though, he's usually grumpy – Scratch that. He's always grumpy.†She said, thumping down on one of the beds.
Nim wandered over to the locker, nodding. “It's fine. I could probably make something out of the parts. It'll be fun.†She said, unlocking it with the key she'd received. She peered inside and took out what seemed to be a multi-part black, gold and white skin-tight suit made of an either leathery or rubbery material. She couldn't discern what it was. She glances over her shoulder to Tara. “So, what's this?â€Â
“That?†Tara looked over lazily. “Oh. It's just an environment suit. Basically, it's a durable leather and rubber skin-tight suit that sutures itself up if you get cut. And it's actually really comfy. I never got one. Not my profession, so to speak.†She chuckled. “Also, you put it on whilst not wearing anything beneath it. So, if you wanna try it on, I'll look away or something. And I think it's more comfortable to sleep in than normal clothes. There's gloves in the glove compartment to the left of the locker, I think, and boots down at the bottom.â€Â
“...Are you just trying to-Nevermind. All right. Turn around.†Nim said, and watched her turn to face the wall. She herself put on the environment suit as instructed and blinked. “...Hey, it really is comfortable.†She grinned, having also taken off her mask. “I could totally sleep in this. And fight in it too, I think. Feels... Flexible.†She stretched.
Tara turned, grinning as well. “Yeah. It's what it's for.â€Â
Nim nodded, and plopped herself down on the bed, stowing away her gear in the locker, all save her rifle, which she cradled in her arms. “So, what do you do?... From the way you're playing with that bomb, you're a sapper, right?â€Â
“I knew you'd ask. I also know a few, trace thoughts going along the very surface of your mind.†Tara said simply. “...The cold of the Nether... But yeah, I'm a demolitionist. I was to be trained to be an Infiltrator, the mind-messing type. But I was found to be too chaotic and, hell, I loved bombs, so, here I am.†she said, nodding.
Nim looked down at herself. The Nether was indeed fairly cold, and she had been changing. She blinked, blushing and looking away. “Right. So, a vaguely telepathic bomb maniac.†She muttered, then lied down, rifle in her arms, and pulled the coverings over herself, facing away from Tara.
“Heh. Sorry... G'night.†Tara said, facing away from her.
Nim mumbled a good night and closed her eyes, drifting off, to sleep...
“You're to go in and find out where Nova Anchorage is. You're expected there in half a day. Good luck.†She said, and gestured to the goblin walled town. She turned sharply on her heel.
“Wait, so... That's it? I just go in and ask about some Nova Anchorage? What's this about anyway?†Nim asked, watching her.
“I don't know.†The Kaldorei answered without turning and sprinted back towards Blade's Edge.
Nim sighed. “Oh yay. Then again, this is just another day in the life of Nim Evenstride. A crappy one at that.†She muttered, moving for the town, holstering her rifle across her back just as she entered. She proceeded to ask around...
...Ten hours later and still, she found no answers. What she did find, however, was a human woman just standing in the middle of the Northern entrance to the goblin city and looking quite possibly as confused as she was as she found her flask – presumably of some alcoholic beverage, empty. The human looked to Nim and asked her where the tavern was. Nim pointed her in the right direction and offered, out of boredom, to buy her a drink.
She accepted, and the human, who was called Erizabeth, got her drink, whilst Nim herself offered her a bomb. Erizabeth took it, and for about an hour they simply made tense conversation with one-another, before saying their farewells as Nim went off for another round of asking. She eventually reached a Nether Rocket rider. A goblin with a rather insane hairdo, a blue Mohawk cutting along his scalp.
“Yeah? Waddaya' want?†he asked, looking up to Nim suspiciously. He didn't like Blood Elves. They were always up to something. Especially here, in the Netherstorm...
“I'm looking for a place called Nova Anchorage.†Nim said simply.
The goblin's eyes widened for a moment, but then his expression returned to normal. “What's in it for me?â€Â
“A fist-full of silvers.†Nim answered, slipping a hand in her pocket.
“Goblin fist or Blood Elf fist? Y'know, it doesn't really matter... Give.†He held out his grubby green hand, palm facing upwards. Nim deposited the coins without counting them into his hand, gritting her teeth behind her mask.
“Right. What'cha' wanna do is head South-East, until you reach the end of the continent. There should be a mana-forge on the other side o' the gap in front of you, and Nova Anchorage should be on your end. ‘S just a clump of floating rock – Dunno why you wanna go there – but it's used by us Nether Rocket pilots t' land.†The goblin said, grinning as he pocketed the cash.
“Pleasure doing business with you.†Nim said, rushing out of town and for the Anchorage point.
There was just a half an hour to her deadline as Nim reached her intended destination. There, she found a tall, apparently Human man, standing up straight, in his black, long trench coat, a military-looking cap on his head covering his gray hair, below which were a pair of bushy white eyebrows made their home, one of which was parted in two by a jagged scar that continued over an eye covered by a mechanical device supposedly replacing the lost visual organ, lenses glinting from it. The man had a short, well-trimmed beard and looked rather plain. He took a drag out of a thick cigar and tapped it with his index finger, ash falling to the purple soil beneath his black boots.
The man cleared his throat before speaking. “So you made it in time, hmm? Not that I mind watching the Nether for twelve hours on end. She is a terribly beautiful thing...†he said, glancing over his shoulder into the depths of the Nether, before looking back towards Nim.
“Y-Yeah..†Nim caught her breath, nodding. She stood up slightly straighter. “So, you called me here? Who are you to bring me from one world to another anyway?â€Â
The man chuckled, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Me? I am Avern Halsford, though you will most likely come to call me Captain from now on, miss Evenstride.â€Â
“Avern, then... How'd you know who I am? Or where I'd be?†Nim asked, suspicion in her voice.
“We know everything there is to know about you, miss Evenstride. No living immediate relatives, no friends – I am sorry to inform you that the Death Knight you procured that batch of plague-puss from is dead – And best of all, no standing contracts. You are also neutral as far as racial respects go. For all intents and purposes, you do not exist - You are a ghost. Though, of course, this may be subject to change in the future.†Avern answered with another smoky chuckle.
Nim stared at him for a moment. “So, you've had me followed or scried on. Sounds like a lot of bother for someone that doesn't exist – like me.â€Â
Avern shook his head, taking another drag of his cigar. “Not in the least. Especially not since I am here to offer you a job.â€Â
“I'm a freelancer. A soldier of fortune. I don't take permanent jobs...â€Â
“Ah, but you see, this one is precisely the job for a soldier of fortune, for in truth, there are few ties that would bind you to it save secrecy. Don't you wish to know what it entails?â€Â
Nim sighed. “All right. I'll bite. What's it ‘entail'?â€Â
Avern smiled. “You will fight the Legion's forces on Draenor and beyond. Azeroth is included. By use of technology and physical skill, as I assume you have no Arcane potential.â€Â
“I have none. Alright, but I'm not a one-girl army and you don't look much like a fighter, old man... And Demons are pretty hard to kill.â€Â
Avern nodded. He slipped a hand into an inner pocket of his trench coat and took out what seemed to be a pocket watch, opening it and pressing on something inside. It took a moment for anything to happen, but soon a rumbling noise came from above and they both looked up sharply.
A half-bullet shaped mass of gray metallic plating slowly became visible against the multicolored sky, a little ways above them. White runes glowed dimly on its underside, alongside four metallic boxes with ventilators and heavier plating than the rest of the object which were two on each side.. Nim blinked. She recognized the boxes as Gnomish Gravity Negators. She tipped her head to the side, the very lowest point of the floating half-bullet opening, a rope ladder uncurling down to the two. Avern proceeded up it.
“So... Some weird floating gunship? Looks like a destroyer ship, only with gravity negators instead of sails. And smaller and with... What? No cannons?†Nim asked as she moved for the end of the ladder, which slowly receded up into the floating vehicle.
Avern looked down. “It's nowhere near the size or firepower of an actual Gunship. This is the Netherbane Two and I am its captain. Magic and Technology alike function in a discordant opus to allow this ship to function. It has only one cannon – embedded into the bow. The other ports are water-tight windows and Dwarven Reciprocator ports. Two Phlogiston Extractors work on it constantly to provide power for both its Phlogiston Furnace-“ he pointed to the rocket-like exhaust on the end of the Netherbane Two. “-And our usual technological devices. I try not to let Chaos Technology get on board, though Fizzypop, our gnomish engineer, tends to disregard that.â€Â
Nim grinned beneath her mask. She nodded quietly as the rope ladder reached the keel and receded up into it. Nim looked around, and saw a narrow hallway, at one end being a flight of stairs, at the other the inner side of the phlogiston furnace, plastered with metallic plating which, she assumed, was applied with heat-sink in mind. She looked over to Avern. “So, what happened to the Netherbane One?â€Â
Avern shot her a stern gaze and gestured to one of the doors. “This will be your room – Which you'll be sharing with another of the crew. A human by the name of Tara Spinner.†He then gestured to the stairs. “However, the crew wishes to meet their newest – well, all save for Fizzypop, as he keeps himself in the lab at all times, and Number Six, whom remains locked in the cargo hold beneath our feet. After meeting the crew, you may sleep, as you're probably tired after the journey here.â€Â
“Fine by me. Let's see the crew.†Nim shrugged, following Avern upstairs, boots tapping quietly on the metallic floor. The level above had the ports for four Dwarven Reciprocators – six-barreled firearms that shot their bullets in quick succession by spinning the barrels and firing them successively – and the windows next to them. To the front of it all, next to the stairwell, the butt end of a black cannon was, with a few different kinds of cannonballs next to it. On the opposite side of the level, a construct stood in dim lighting, behind another narrow hallway with doors on its sides.
Continuing upwards, the two reached the actual deck of the Netherbane Two, where an assortment of people stood, peering over at the newcomers.
Avern smiled over at Nim. “Well? Introduce yourself.â€Â
Nim nodded once and moved for the first in the line of people. A human girl, which couldn't have been past her mid twenties, with clear goggles strapped to her forehead and a heavy pair of armored gloves in her hands. The girl grinned over at Nim. “Hey. So, you're my new roommate, huh? Never thought Captain'd bring a Blood Elf on the Netherbane Two. But hey.†She shrugged. “Nice to meet you. Like you probably heard, I'm Tara. Tara Spinner. We can talk more when you go off to nap. The others are prolly waiting.â€Â
Nim nodded. “Nice to meet you too. Like you've probably heard as well, I'm Nim Evenstride.†She said, loud enough for all in the line to hear. She moved on for the next in the line. A massive, burly Orc, that frowned as he looked down on her. “Grim'krosh.†He said in a deep, bass tone, and only continued to stare, before saying “Steam Warrior.†With so much pride that it seemed as though his black scalemail would burst. Nim nodded. “Right. Well...†she moved off for the next one.
“Bann Radathar.†The Dwarf recommended himself. He held a hand out for the elf to shake and she did so. His left hand was occupied with a hammer, hefted over his shoulder, which had its head modified into a Steam Ram. A modification that made the head of the hammer expand rapidly upon impact, making the weapon even more formidable than before. “Tech-Paladin o' the Light, lassie. They call me Legion-hammah.â€Â
The next was a Draenei, his long, gem-filled ponytail reaching down to the base of his tail. He wore fairly elaborate purple robes, and at his hips lay two swords – One had wiring all about its blade, connected to a power cell on the hilt, the other having metallic teeth along its edge, going into a miniaturized motor on the guard – which Nim recognized as a Voltaic Coil sword and Chatter Blade respectively. “Taar. Techno-Mage of Argus, little one.†He said, smiling and bending down to her eye-level. “It is I who am responsible for the Netherbane's non-technological maneuvering, shielding and arcane weaponry. Thirty thousand years of practicing Arcane magic allow me this. Tell me, little one, what is it you wish to accomplish aboard the Netherbane Two?...â€Â
“I... I wish to fight the Legion. As I have back in the Black Temple, and before that with Kael'thas' troops. Fel, it's the Legion that spawned the cursed Undead that ravaged my homeland. I'm going to get back at them, one way or another...†Nim answered, nodding once, firmly.
Taar straightened, not losing his smile. “Tread lightly, little one, for the path of vengeance can lead to your own destruction, as well as that of the enemy... Now... Rest.â€Â
Avern nodded once. “So, that's the end of that. Miss Spinner, if you would accompany miss Evenstride to her room.†He said, turning as the others dispersed.
Tara nodded once, grinning over at Nim. “C'mon.†she said, skipping for the stairwell and descending with Nim in tow. They reached the room and entered it, Tara unlocking it with a key, a copy of which she passed to Nim. The elf pocketed the key as she looked around.
The room itself seemed somewhat bare, save for a vertical locker, a workbench and a couple of wall beds, that Tara pulled down from the walls. The floor was littered with gadgets and parts, and the human girl shrugged. “Eh. Sorry about the mess. Umm... You can find spare gear in the locker and whatnot. For ammo and weaponry, see Fizzypop. Though, he's usually grumpy – Scratch that. He's always grumpy.†She said, thumping down on one of the beds.
Nim wandered over to the locker, nodding. “It's fine. I could probably make something out of the parts. It'll be fun.†She said, unlocking it with the key she'd received. She peered inside and took out what seemed to be a multi-part black, gold and white skin-tight suit made of an either leathery or rubbery material. She couldn't discern what it was. She glances over her shoulder to Tara. “So, what's this?â€Â
“That?†Tara looked over lazily. “Oh. It's just an environment suit. Basically, it's a durable leather and rubber skin-tight suit that sutures itself up if you get cut. And it's actually really comfy. I never got one. Not my profession, so to speak.†She chuckled. “Also, you put it on whilst not wearing anything beneath it. So, if you wanna try it on, I'll look away or something. And I think it's more comfortable to sleep in than normal clothes. There's gloves in the glove compartment to the left of the locker, I think, and boots down at the bottom.â€Â
“...Are you just trying to-Nevermind. All right. Turn around.†Nim said, and watched her turn to face the wall. She herself put on the environment suit as instructed and blinked. “...Hey, it really is comfortable.†She grinned, having also taken off her mask. “I could totally sleep in this. And fight in it too, I think. Feels... Flexible.†She stretched.
Tara turned, grinning as well. “Yeah. It's what it's for.â€Â
Nim nodded, and plopped herself down on the bed, stowing away her gear in the locker, all save her rifle, which she cradled in her arms. “So, what do you do?... From the way you're playing with that bomb, you're a sapper, right?â€Â
“I knew you'd ask. I also know a few, trace thoughts going along the very surface of your mind.†Tara said simply. “...The cold of the Nether... But yeah, I'm a demolitionist. I was to be trained to be an Infiltrator, the mind-messing type. But I was found to be too chaotic and, hell, I loved bombs, so, here I am.†she said, nodding.
Nim looked down at herself. The Nether was indeed fairly cold, and she had been changing. She blinked, blushing and looking away. “Right. So, a vaguely telepathic bomb maniac.†She muttered, then lied down, rifle in her arms, and pulled the coverings over herself, facing away from Tara.
“Heh. Sorry... G'night.†Tara said, facing away from her.
Nim mumbled a good night and closed her eyes, drifting off, to sleep...