Chapter Seven (Warcraft)
The sweltering heat mixed with the forges' eternal clangor to craft weapons and armors for the mighty dwarfs of yore. Our passage was met with indifference, even as stocky and well-built warriors rushed through the large stone paths of the city, rumbling like earthquakes in motion. The noise of steel clanking against steel, of water hissing and of the curses grumbled loudly as this or that piece came out wrong from an apprentice's hands. There were a variety of people standing by the forges, some asking for help from master armor smiths, others buying permission to work on the anvils themselves.
"Welcome to Ironforge," I said as I looked at Fuuka, who was lost in awe of the small stocky dwarfs rushing by. "Don't call any of them tin cans, or they'll probably throw you in the gallows," I continued with a shrug, "Let's find a bench to sit so you can concentrate."
Fuuka's gait by my side was hesitant at first, but then grew bolder as she realized nobody was really bothering with us. Everyone had things to do, and people walking by in the edge of their vision didn't matter one bit. Unless you actually appeared in a new plane with thunder and lightning to announce your arrival, it didn't register in the eyes of others that someone had just appeared out of thin air, especially if they began walking the moment they appeared.
A nearby stone bench was where we took our seat, the thundering of hammers second only to the simmering of the volcanic magma deep beneath Ironforge's greatest forges. Fuuka breathed in and out deeply, her eyes closed in concentration as she seemed to tense every now and then at the clanking of steel, or at the passage of a particularly loud dwarf. There was a sizzling pop, a small thump, and a large dose of soot ended up covering Fuuka's face as she began to cough, dark dust leaving her lungs as she wheezed.
"Differently from White Mana," I remarked, "Red Mana has passion," I chuckled. "It seeks adventure and freedom, so it has to be contained differently from White Mana." I twitched my fingers, letting the crimson energies flow and burn brightly as it flew right and left, and yet always returned to my knuckles, or my palm. "You can't control it. You just call it and then send it off," I twirled my fingers, and the red light show ended abruptly. "Don't worry about trying again. This world has mages, so they'll simply think you're experimenting."
Fuuka nodded, and then opened her hands wide as she closed her eyes again. This time, the crimson energies of mana flowed through her fingertips and twirled freely in the air. "You can't control, so you need to direct," I said. "You need to entice, and you can but suggest, if you do that, or if you just holler, Red mana is going to obey...for a certain definition of obeying," I sighed. "It usually ends in fire and explosions."
There was a spark, and then the fire leaped out to strike at the cobblestone road, melting a few cobblestones into a single block. "On the plus side," I said as I watched more sparks fly out of her fingertips, "You can't set anything on fire right here."
As if to prove me wrong, a single spark shot out and hit right on the beard a patrolling dwarf, making him blink and turn his eyes on us as Fuuka winced. "You just thought about how their beards were flammable, didn't you?" I said nonchalantly, even as the dwarf neared with an angry glare, patting his beard to snuff off the flames. I stood up, and Fuuka mimicked my move.
"Ye morons!" he snarled as he came to a halt in front of us, jabbing his index finger right in Fuuka's midriff, making her cough since it was an armored gauntlet, and there had been some strength behind the blow anyway. "The fuck are ye trying to pull practicing magic right here? Fucking go outside! Hitting mah beard like that! Ye should know better, master wizard!" he glared at me, and I simply smiled.
"She's an overtly excited apprentice," I acquiesced. "I apologize for her," I bowed deeply, "Let me pay the fine and offer you something cold to drink," I twitched my fingers, and as I brought out from thin air a large pitcher of cold brew, the guard blinked. I also brought out a pouch filled with gold coins. "The fine for burning a dwarf's beard is four hundred gold coins, am I right?" I asked nonchalantly.
"Ah, ye had me at the cold beer," the dwarf grumbled, "But I ain't complaining about the gold. Just go elsewhere," he added as he pocketed the pouch and grabbed the pitcher, taking a deep gulp of the thing and exhaling in bliss. "That hit the spot," he said, rasping his throat and spitting out to the side a bolus of soot and spit the size of a small tennis ball. "Really did," he added, his voice slightly less coarse than before. "Even fixed my throat!" he chuckled, patting with his right hand my sides. "Ye'r all right! Ye here to admire the view of the great forges?"
"In part," I acquiesced. "And also to help in the reconquest of Gnomeregan," I continued smoothly. "My apprentice and I will head there later today," I smiled. "Hopefully, rather than beards she'll be burning Troggs."
Fuuka blinked, and then opened her mouth as if to say something, only to hold herself at the last instant.
"Ah, well, good luck," the guard said, finishing the pitcher with a few more deep gulps, and just as he did, the pitcher disappeared in thin air. "If ye see any of those mad gnomes...they deserve a quick death." He shook his head, muttered a short prayer of sorts, and then waved us goodbye as he went his way.
"What's this Gnomeregan?" Fuuka asked. "And...what's a Trogg?"
I smiled.
"Why tell you, when I can show you?"
Don't worry Fuuka, by the time I'll be done...
...you will feel like a hero.
