Before we begin, aka the preamble: In case the post title did not make this clear, this is the final part of a three-part story that I originally wrote in plain text format over a period spanning between one and two months. The previous chapter can be found here, and the first chapter can be found here.
So, a recap: In the first chapter, we are introduced to Mage-General Kronisk and his fiancée, a Dwarvish woman who goes by the name of Corrigwen. After she speaks to Gilmick‘s class about why nature makes creatures different, and attends a pair of concerts with Kronisk, she and Kronisk traverse the Wunderwerck to Azeroth so that Kronisk may meet Corrigwen‘s family.
When Kronisk does meet the family, there is a slight difficulty on their part in sussing him out (so to speak). And when Kronisk‘s attempt to communicate in grok-able terms to Corrigwen how he sees the importance of their relationship demands more of him than he expected, it ends with him needing a small degree of medical assistance. Last we saw, he went to sleep in a state of some confusion. We pick up the next morning…
When Corrigwen awoke, she went into one of the house’s bathrooms, bathed, put on some fresh clothes, and made her way to the dining area. There, she was pleased to find all of her siblings and both of her parents at the dining table. Kronisk sat at one side of the table, looking perplexed. Quickly, she climbed into the seat next to Kronisk, giggling and apologising for oversleeping. When Kronisk told her in Kali-Yuga Dwarvish that he was glad she was finally coming to rescue him from her sisters, Corrigwen laughed uproariously. This caused a noticeable pause in the conversation, as none of the others around the table understood what Kronisk was saying.
With a grin, Corrigwen told them that they need not concern themselves, it was a closed communication between her and her fiancé. This caused some excited, wondering chatter between Corrigwen‘s two sisters, and some grumbly speculation from her four brothers. Thorin and Bain, for their parts, said nothing.
As they got themselves some soup, bread, and fruit from the Lazy Susan in the middle of the table, Kronisk and Corrigwen listened to some questions from Corrigwen‘s siblings. When Dwalin asked Kronisk how he met Corrigwen, Corrigwen could not help but grit her teeth.
“I fell out of the sky,” Kronisk said, shifting a little and facing Dwalin directly. Kronisk could see Ibon on one side of Dwalin. From the manner in which Ibon‘s face shifted into that classic what-the-hell expression, he knew he had achieved the desired effect. “For what seemed like hours, I fell through sky until I landed hard in front of Northshire Abbey. When I landed, Corrigwen was there, and came to my aid. After I worked my way up, I went questing with her, and mostly have done ever since.”
“Yer making that up,” Dwalin awkwardly said to Kronisk.
“He is not,” Corrigwen chimed in. “Had ah one of the devices that he brought with him, ah would have made a recording of him landing.”
“So when did he propose?” Marin asked, pointing a finger at the ring on Corrigwen‘s finger.
“‘Bout two months ago,” Corrigwen said to Marin, and by extension the rest of the table. “The rings were made a couple of weeks after that.”
“Interestin’ that none of us knew anything bout this til now,” Derin said in spite of Thorin trying to signal him to hush.
“That be by mah design,” Corrigwen said with a giggle. “Kronisk here, he wanted to come and meet ma and da, an’ formally request me hand in marriage.”
Kronisk said nothing. He was aware that the Dwarrow around the table were looking back and forth between him and Corrigwen.
“So why ye talk him out of it, Corri?” Glim, the eldest of Corrigwen’s brothers, asked.
“She told me that she was scared I might rethink it after meeting her family,” Kronisk stated in perfect Azerothian Dwarvish. “I think the exact words she used were that she was frightened to the point of shivering that I might meet her siblings, and decide I had somewhere else I really needed to be for a few centuries. She is, of course, very much mistaken in that regard. I can, however, see where she gets it from.”
Both Thorin and Bain laughed so loud that cutlery on the table vibrated in response. The younger men at the table, especially Glim, gave Kronisk a very disapproving, angry look. Dwalin and Marin, for their part, looked dumbfounded.
“There is only one person in the world who could ever make me cease to love her,” Kronisk continued when the laughter died down. “She sees them in the mirror every day. And even then, the effort required would be commensurate with the effort I would expend to make the lives of anyone who sought to deprive me of her seem like a festival of suffering.”
Kronisk punctuated this statement by putting the napkin he had used to dry his fingers back on the table, near his plate. Soaking a piece of bread in soup and eating it, he waited for input from those around the table.
“Ye not seem to be from around here,” Brór, the last of Corrigwen‘s brothers that Kronisk had been introduced to, said. “None of yer mannerisms, speech patterns, or attire seem to match anything in any land ah am familiar with.”
“There is only so much that I am allowed to tell you as concerns where I am from,” Kronisk said dryly. “You must be Brór, the brother that Corri told me was part of the Explorers’ League. Tell me, have you had occasion to visit and travel through the so-called Dark Portal?”
“Aye, ah have,” Brór confirmed. “Ah went through the Dark Portal a year ago, when the League decided ah were sufficiently well-trained. Ah went through, looked at it for a few minutes, then ah walked back out again. Well, ah came back in after a while and did some more training. Then ah got out of there as quickly as ah could and got on the boat to Northrend.”
“Your reaction to the place I hear was called Draenor would differ from your reaction to the place I am originally from in only two ways,” Kronisk said matter-of-factly, placing a considerable emphasis on the word “originally”. Eating more bread and soup, he continued between bites, “First, it would take you seconds to run back through the portal, to where you came from, screaming in fear. Secondly, you would never want to return for all of the gold that the Alliance would be able to offer.”
“It sounds like a fun place,” Brór said with a slight grumble. “Am ah to understand that it is accessible through a portal?”
“That it is,” Corrigwen said, wanting to direct the conversation elsewhere. “But it not be important now. Let us just say that Kronisk really didnae like the place he was from, and ah found it a pleasure to help him get settled amongst our world.”
“Well, me kin,” Thorin said as Kronisk finished the last of the food before him. “Our guest and ah have some things we need to speak of, man to man. Corri, ye take your sisters to make sure the stock be fed, please. Yer hair-brained brothers will help yer ma clean up breakfast.”
Corrigwen, Dwalin, and Marin rose from the table. As her sisters went toward the doors into the yard, Corrigwen turned to Kronisk and told him in one of Kali-Yuga’s Elvish languages not to worry, it was only father and future son-in-law stuff. The entire family stopped in their tracks at the broad, wilderness-evoking language that came from Corri‘s mouth. Her siblings all concluded that if Corrigwen had learned this tongue in her dealings with Kronisk, she was not making it up that she loved him for how much wider and more open her world seemed with him in it.
As Corrigwen went into the yard with her sisters, and her brothers followed their mother towards the kitchen sinks with crockery in their arms, Kronisk followed Thorin up a flight of stars to the upper floor of the house. There, he found a second lounge that was the Azerothian equivalent of an entertainment room, like where he would put a ridiculously large display unit. He also found a room in which he and Thorin could look out windows and see the entirety of the hilltop on which the house stood.
“Ye keep letting out lil hints,” Thorin said to Kronisk. “Ye are not from anywhere on Azeroth, but ye will not tell any of us where ye be from.”
“It depends on how you mean ‘from’, really,” Kronisk said with a sigh. “My position on Azeroth, and where I am from, is a complex one. Do you know what I mean when I use the words Bronze Dragonflight?”
“Aye, they be guardians of time and history,” Thorin said. “They be a right mad lot, if ye dun mind me sayin’.”
“My job on the world I am from is similar to theirs here,” Kronisk said flatly. “I work with them here from time to time, too. And no, I am not a dragon. My boss is, but that is neither here nor there. Now, you need to understand that when I say the world I am from, I do not mean the place I am from originally.”
Thorin only blinked, dumbfounded. This was one of the rare occasions when a Dwarf was at a loss for words in the house that he was the indisputable head of.
“The place I am from originally is far away from here,” Kronisk continued. “No portals of the kind your son means will take you to it. Even I can only travel there by complicated means. It is dead. Every trace of the life that once grew there has died. It sits in part of a system, far from here, with none of the light its star radiates ever reaching it. And I will not say anything further about it because you do not need to know.”
“Corrigwen knows all of this, too,” Thorin said.
“She knows, but I was not the one who originally told her,” said Kronisk. “During most, if not all, of those occasions when you did not know where she was and not even Brór could find her, she was with me on the world I now call home. There, she has met the people I work with on that world, and acts like an ambassador of sorts for all the peoples of Azeroth. She is very much admired there.”
Thorin made a few awkward steps, absolutely surprised. “This is all…”
“A lot to take in?” Kronisk asked.
Before Thorin had a chance to answer, however, screams were heard from the yard. With a start, Kronisk and Thorin ran down the stairs, through the house, and out of the front door. Kronisk let out a quiet shriek of his own, one that only Thorin heard, when he realised what Dwalin and Marin had screamed about. Corrigwen had disappeared. Wherever she was, she was not in this yard. And that was when Kronisk noticed the shadowy, Wyvern-like shape in the sky.
Running his finger over the Uridium band in the centre of his engagement ring, he used his projection ability to call out to Corrigwen.
Corri? Can you hear me, my love? What happened?
A bit angry-sounding, very grumpy, Corrigwen‘s voice came through in Kronisk‘s mind. She is fine, he thought to himself. He explained to Thorin as she appraised him of the situation through the use of projection and the ring on her finger. She came through a good deal more faintly, but enough for Kronisk to appraise the Dwarrow near him of what was happening.
“Some sort of Wyvern has picked her up and is carrying her to the North,” Kronisk said flatly.
By now, Brór and his brothers had run out to join the group.
“I kin have the Explorers’ League here with enough Gryphons to follow in ten minutes,” Brór said.
“Do so,” Kronisk said to Brór. “I will give chase by my own means. If what she is telling me is right, they are taking her towards the Undercity.”
Bain let out a shriek and fainted as Dwalin and Marin caught her. She gathered herself and began to excitedly talk about how they would have to level Undercity to get Corrigwen back.
“Let me assure you, milady, that will not be a problem,” Kronisk said as he took what appeared to be a two-feet-long metallic rod from a pocket.
As the Explorer’s League and their gryphons become visible on the horizon, Kronisk threw the rod up in the air. As lights and glowing shapes appeared around the rod, Kronisk leaped up at it. Before the eyes of the Dwarrow, these lights formed into what looked like some insane sort of flying machine, complete with broad wings and engines. Flying away in it at a speed incomprehensible to all who saw it, Kronisk sped off in the direction the ring on his finger was telling him the Wyvern was headed in. Thorin only had time to make out the bright, unnatural-looking lights and jet-like engines on the craft to understand that Kronisk was not lying about how secretive and powerful his position was on one world.
As Thorin, Brór, Glim, Ibon, and Derin climbed onto gryphons, they explained what was happening to the representatives of the Explorers’ League that had brought the gryphons. Together, the combined group flew in the direction that Thorin, for reasons that none of the other Dwarrow in the group understood, seemed to know that Kronisk was going in.
When they arrived at the Angerfang Encampment, what they found puzzled them. The Orcs were all here, but Corrigwen and Kronisk were not. A dead Wyvern, obviously shot with whatever terrible weapons Kronisk‘s machine possessed, lay amongst the Orcs. Landing in an engagement position, the Dwarrow readied themselves as Brór asked in the limited Orcish he knew if these Orcs had seen a young Dwarf woman being led away from here.
“Humans came,” the leader of the Orcs told him in very child-like common speech. “Led her toward cave to South. We not with them.”
“Then ye will not mind leaving us be to go and get her back,” Thorin said.
As the Orc shook his head, the Dwarrow climbed on their gryphons and flew South. Outside of the cave that Brór told his father and brothers was to the Northwest of Slabchisel’s Survey, they found numerous corpses of spiders, and what looked like Humans near those. Swooping down, the group dismounted, then immediately engaged the Humans, roaring that they wanted Corrigwen back, right now.
With fists and axes flying through the air, the Dwarrow fought these Humans, and vice versa, in a manner akin to rabid dogs. These Humans were a curious sort. Enough of them were barely tall enough to be mistaken for the same kind as Kronisk, but many were short enough that the Dwarrow could punch them in the throat with an uppercut. Fighting back with batons or swords, these Humans yelled at each other in words none of the Dwarrow could understand, not even Brór.
Then Brór noticed the more decoratively-attired Human, probably the leader, standing within the cave. Behind him were two Humans of similar size to the leader, but attired more in the manner of these foot-soldiers, holding a squirming, angry Corrigwen. Wherever Kronisk was, he was not around here, Brór believed. But the Human standing and watching the fight, Corrigwen knew (and hoped none of her family knew), looked uncannily similar to the Kronisk that she saw on Kali-Yuga. He was noticeably shorter, barely above five and a half feet tall, and somewhat bulkier.
And as Brór, Glim, Ibon, Derin, and Thorin fought these other Humans alongside Brór’s friends from the Explorers’ League they heard a great, puzzling sound from the air. A stream of musical notes, with a sound like that a machine might make as music, seemed to pour lightly from the air. A series of notes, deep like the voice of male Dwarf, lurking, twisting, crawling. It sounded like something a machine would play to signal the very end of the world.
And with a bear-like growl at the end of one twist of notes, Kronisk descended, coming to a booming impact right in front of the cave, folding his limbs this way and that on his way down. But none of the Dwarrow recognised him. Corrigwen did. This was not the Kronisk that Azeroth knew. It was the one from Kali-Yuga, and Terra. Striding toward the Human Captain, Kronisk began to snarl.
“I killed you once before, you old molester,” Kronisk said angrily. “Make me kill you again, and you will spend eternity wishing I had never been born.”
Pulling what appeared to be a miniature gun, or rather a miniature of the kind of gun found on Azeroth, from his belt, the Captain told Kronisk things that made Corrigwen struggle even harder against the men holding her. He said, simply, that he was going to take away yet another thing Kronisk invested his feelings in. Corrigwen did not have time to see Kronisk‘s response. Swirling about with all of her might, she swung one of the Humans holding her into a position between her and the Captain as a report issued from the gun. The bullet struck the Human in the chest, sending small splatters of blood out in Corrigwen‘s direction.
As the dead Human loosened his grip, two things happened. One, Corrigwen took her now-free arm and used it to punch the other Human holding her in the groin. Two, Kronisk took a whip from his belt and cracked it, sending the tail out and wrapping it around the Captain’s wrist. The whip was, much like every other device Kronisk used in front of her for the first time, puzzling to Corrigwen‘s sight. The handle was made of steel, and the entire tail was a shimmering length of multiple rings of black light.
And then Kronisk yanked the whip in a wide arc, pulling the Captain by the arm and swinging him off his feet, flipping him directly into a wall. The gun crashed to the floor somewhere between where the Captain had left the ground and the wall that Kronisk had slammed him into.
By now, the spiders within the cave had gathered to see what these Humanoids were doing within their home. They were upset by the slaying of so many of their kind, in the abstract way that spiders were upset by such things. But they were more terrified of the rage and anguish that their compound eyes could see coming out of Kronisk.
Corrigwen had seized the other Human that had held her by the neck. As Kronisk instructed her to kick the gun over to him as she brought the Human over, she did so. Bringing the Human who had taken hold of her and still lived toward Kronisk, she shivered as Kronisk picked up this odd, tiny-looking iteration of a gun. Holding it in one hand and making sure it was ready to be fired again, Kronisk held the muzzle of the gun in front of the Human’s eye.
“Cover your ears, my dear,” Kronisk said quietly. “This is going to be loud in here.”
Kronisk pulled the trigger, blowing the eye and most of that side of the skull into a mess of pulp and blood that landed on the cave floor a couple of dozen feet away. The spiders instinctively knew that this meant these Humans would go away and stop bothering their home soon. As the body fell to the floor, Kronisk pressed one switch on the gun with his thumb. Out of the bottom of the handle, a metallic inside of the handle, which Corrigwen realised on inspection was where it held bullets, fell to the ground.
“Hold this for me for a moment, please,” Kronisk said to Corrigwen as he held out the whip’s handle. “Hold it tightly, please.”
Gripping the whip, Corrigwen held the struggling form of the Captain still. And Kronisk began to change. Reverting to his Azerothian form, Kronisk held out his hand, into which Corrigwen placed the whip’s handle. Moving toward the Captain, he sneered like a sewage worker who had just discovered something particularly vile amongst the lumps of refuse he normally shovelled.
“This is so you know that I do not need anything, whip, gun, or stick, to break you like a bottle, you piece of country boy shit,” Kronisk said to the Human kneeling on the ground.
Angrily roaring the words “get up”, Kronisk seized the Human by the throat and pushed him out of the cave. Corrigwen followed, not getting too close for fear of getting in the path of whatever hell Kronisk was planning to unleash upon this man.
“Country boys,” Kronisk roared so loudly that it gave Orcs in the Twilight Highlands a fright. None of the Dwarrow around him other than Corrigwen noticed how he emphasised the first part of the word “country”, but the Humans certainly did. “I have your leader here. My quarrel is with him. If you are with him, I will hurt you as badly or worse as I am going to hurt him. If not, I will only kill you.”
The Humans looked confused. Loosening the whip from the Captain’s arm, Kronisk cracked it again and wrapped it around the Captain’s neck. Then, turning into a slightly taller black shadow, Kronisk began to swirl the whip, and thus the Captain caught in it, around in patterns. At first, he simply built up speed, but then he began to move the whip around in movements designed to make specific sounds. Corrigwen listened to the sounds and realised she had heard this music before. The sound of the Captain screaming even bent to fit into the music that Kronisk was making with his swings.
He was turned to steel, Corrigwen hummed in her head during one pattern of swipes. In the great magnetic field…
After six minutes of this, the Captain landed on the ground, and Kronisk returned to his usual Azerothian shape. Lying on the ground, the Captain of this Human force, bruised all over and leaking blood from multiple parts of his head, groaned and cried.
“Fukk me, he still lives,” Glim and Ibon said in unison.
“Of course he does, gentlemen,” Kronisk said as two black ghostly Humanoid shapes appeared at either side of him. “I killed this child molester, babifying piece of shit before. I thought he would stay dead. Now I am going to take him away from the universe and continue killing him until time ends.”
The two black shapes coalesced into people. As they greeted him in a language only he and Corrigwen understood to be the Ljusalfheim form of Elvish, Kronisk told them in the same language that he wanted this… man, Kronisk huffed with contempt, taken to the Wunderwerck’s Room 101.
“What is that?” Brór asked, and realised he had done so accidentally. The words “Room 101” in Ljusalfheim Elvish were just similar enough to Azerothian Elvish for Brór to guess them.
“Everyone knows what Room 101 is,” Kronisk informed the Dwarrow around him with a smile. He was doing this more for the benefit of the Captain that was still lying in a bloody, shivering mess at his feet, but he addressed the Dwarrow around. “It is where the one thing that every individual cannot stand is kept. It is where he will feel the one thing he has spent his whole life hoping to never feel. Forever.”
Nodding in a signalling manner, Kronisk opened a portal behind his two fellows. Nodding back, these anonymous agents dragged the Captain through it as he screamed the word “no” so loudly that he ruptured his voice box and began to make bloody gargling sounds. He was still screaming, or gargling, when the portal closed, cutting the sound off sharply.
“This Odin ah heard ye mention to Corri,” Brór said to Kronisk. “How do ah reach him? Ah want to tell him ah nae want ye to ever get that mad at me.”
This statement, Kronisk greeted with an echoing laughter that Corrigwen was equally sure people as far away as the Twilight Highlands could hear. As Kronisk put an arm around Corrigwen and walked with her and Brór toward the rest of the Dwarrow, he said one thing that made Brór expel a lifetime’s worth of air in relief.
“Now that the world I am from is no more, lad,” Kronisk told Brór. “You have met the only thing in the universe that could ever make me that angry.”
Chronormu had come to Thorin‘s and Bain‘s homestead in Dun Morogh with Sarin Bloodmirth in tow. Quietly, the little Gnome form she assumed for this conference told Kronisk and Corrigwen that nobody from Azeroth would pay Sarin any mind. She was so indistinguishable from the Dwarrow that populated Azeroth that even Brór had no idea she was any different. Only the runes tattooed on her neck and forearm gave any hint, and Brór was uninterested at this stage. In a room within the house, away from all others, Sarin examined Corrigwen enough, and listened to enough of her story, to know that her only injuries were from struggling against the things that had kidnapped her.
In a private conference, Chronormu and Kronisk explained to Thorin and Bain that this force of small-looking Humans and their smaller-looking Captain were originally from Terra, Kronisk‘s homeworld. With that Captain now in a place where his only company would be psychological torment beyond all limits of any creature’s endurance, and the rest of that squad having been executed, it was likely that word would travel back to what Kronisk called the normie lands eventually. Or so Chronormu reasoned. When Bain asked if that strange word meant would mean more people would be coming after Corrigwen, Chronormu laughed.
Quite the opposite, Chronormu assured Bain. Given that Kronisk was helping her develop her powers, and that he could disappear people to realms where they experienced nothing but pain, Corrigwen would have a big mark on her that to those people said something like “do not hassle under any circumstances”.
“There be something ah am just a wee bit unclear about,” Bain said to Chronormu. “That man who be threatening me lil girl like that. Who was he?”
Standing at one window, not facing anyone, Kronisk said simply, “Let me put it this way. All the fear and wonder that Corri said she felt about introducing me to you, her family? Well, now you know exactly why she will never get to meet any of mine.”
Of course, Kronisk had to keep it under wraps that Corrigwen had indeed already met one member of his non-family, as he put it at times. That member was a construct of his mother from times prior to his birth, who had somehow been brought to Azeroth to see him. But that was neither here nor there. The statement had exactly the effect that Kronisk desired. The questions that Thorin and Bain had about him other than what he was (an exceptionally powerful Mage who darted back and forth between their world and his, and loved their daughter) seemed far, far from their minds now.
Turning to face the group, Kronisk told all those around him, “I had not expected this to happen. I am sorry.”
“None of it be yer fault, lad,” Thorin said after a moment. “Had ye not been here to help, it could have gotten very messy.”
“I will be downstairs if I am needed further,” Kronisk said, and retreated to the lounge room in which Thorin and Bain had been sitting when Corrigwen first brought him to meet them.
Sitting on one chair and taking a device from one pocket, Kronisk put some ‘phones over his ears, plugged the cable into the device, and pressed a few buttons. Within a second, the comforting voice of what would sound to Corrigwen like a Halfling woman, along with a highly-skilled band, began to belt out a song about flowers being in fire.
When Corrigwen left the upstairs lounge, having been asked to do so by Chronormu, she found Kronisk still seated in the downstairs lounge. Her siblings, all six of them, had given Kronisk the widest berth. They were gathered outside in a formation near one of the pens that the animals rested in. After looking out the window and seeing this, Corrigwen turned her attention to Kronisk. She knew the song that was still repeating on that infernal music device. It was a song she knew he had taught to the Halfling vocalist he called Linula.
Corrigwen heard one vague echo from the speakers in the headphones. Given the volume that Kronisk kept this device at, it was hard not to.
“Who don’t know anything but themselves,” the voice on the headphones growled angrily.
Kneeling down in front of Kronisk, Corrigwen gently pulled the headphones away from his ears. As he reflexively turned off the device pouring music through them, he looked at her smiling face.
“Sometimes, m’dear, I think ye know everything but yerself,” Corrigwen said with the faint shimmer of a tear in each eye.
With that, Corrigwen quickly got up into the chair, into Kronisk‘s lap somewhat awkwardly, and kissed him hard. Carefully using the ability she had through the ring to let him hear what she thought, she told him that she loved him and wanted to be his wife as soon as they could arrange it. She did not care what her parents thought. Her mother was scared, but also admiring of the sheer balls that she had heard that Kronisk had displayed in getting her little girl back to her. Her father was respecting and admiring of the same thing. Her sisters were wishing that their husbands were able strike such fear into the hearts of their fellow men on their behalf, and her brothers were wishing they were physically able to do so on the behalf of whatever lasses they spent their time with.
And the response that came back from Kronisk‘s consciousness, drifting like a harmony from one of his more sedate songs, only made Corrigwen embrace him harder. They have something I would give all of this up for right now, he projected to Corrigwen. They are able to live with themselves.
That was when Corrigwen tightly gripped Kronisk‘s hand in hers, and projected with all of her might. She soon shook all over, and sweat poured out of her hairline like rain. Urging Kronisk to open his eyes, she held on tightly.
And when Kronisk did open his eyes, he saw something that puzzled, terrified, and comforted him. There, sitting just before the chair, to one side of Corrigwen, was the ghost of his ten year old self. And after a second, another form, one that at first made Kronisk gasp and shiver like he still was that ten year old, appeared beside the ghost of his ten year old self. Heavier, broader-featured, and with a dramatically darker skin texture, Kronisk did not need to look for long to know who this was meant to be. It was the spirit of what Corrigwen had been as a ten year old girl.
The ghost of ten year old Corrigwen put an arm around the ghost of ten year old Kronisk, and led him away, both of them fading from sight without saying anything.
You, me, the little boy that wants to have had a chance, Corrigwen projected to Kronisk before she let go of his hand. We will all learn to live with each other.
Well, there we have the conclusion of Kronisk’s Mirror, the latest piece of fiction to be barfed out of the recesses of my brain. So whilst we are here, I will share with you, the audience, what I like to think of as production notes.
Now, if you are thinking of angrily commenting about how I do not stick to the canon of the World Of Warcraft very well at all, save your breath. You are right, I do not stick to the canon of World Of Warcraft very well. There is a reason for this. Probably the most important is that when one goes out of their way to try to make the audience believe that a character or group of characters have the sun shining out of their anal passages and are automatically superior to another character or group of characters solely on the basis of being that character or group of characters, it builds resentment. When Blizzard attempt a Malcolm X meets Albert Einstein meets Saiyûki act with Thrall, to a man who is trying to get the public at large and governments to recognise that pouring bleach into the anus of a child solely because said child has a different neurology to his doctor is a crime, that is an insult. It would be more polite for Blizzard’s collective staff to strap me down and take turns shitting on my face. So if your objection to my material revolves solely around me not following some secret rule of their world, fukk you. In both ears.
Concerning the manner in which I have written speech from Dwarvish characters, it is a bit tricky. Conveying a mode of speech in written form is a lot less easy than it sounds. And when the people in question also have a different way of putting together phrases, it adds to the challenge. I have tried to err on the side of caution with this. However, if you have an objection to the way the dialogue is worded that you can phrase well, I will gladly hear it.
Finally, for those who did not catch it, the hinted-at song that Kronisk is listening to on his “pod” when Corrigwen interrupts is Flowers In Fire, the opening song from Cadaveria‘s fourth and so far best album to date, Horror Metal. There’s a number of different ways to interpret the poetry Cadaveria herself offers atop her backing band. I like to think of it as a metaphor for psychological addiction stemming from abuse, but I am obviously biased in that regard. That is the beauty of doom metal, black metal, and hybrids in between like Cadaveria. They expect you to think a bit about what you are hearing actually means to you.
Oh yeah, and if you happen to be a professional literary agent and wonder if I have more “marketable” (after a fashion) work, the answer is yes.
And with that, I thank all of you who took the time and made the effort to read this story in its entirety.