Chapter 16 - The Human Alliance

Dalrus stared down at his food plate, which consisted of a bowl full of stew and a glass of water. "You're kidding, right?" He said as he looked up to his brother, who chomped DOWN his meal down like a hungry wolf with a spoon. With his mouth still full, Felrus looked back at his brother inquisitively, then he swallowed down and asked: "What do you mean?"

Dalrus shook his head. "Don't they have... You know. Real food? Food you're supposed to eat, rather than drink?" He lifted a spoonful of the stew and watched as the thick broth clung on to his wooden spoon like glue with a wrinkled up face. To his annoyance, Felrus actually let out a joyful laugh at that. "Ah, right..." He said, patting Dalrus on the back. "You actually never ate anything other than Gilnean cooking, did you? Or anything outside our house, for that matter!"

"Yeah, look, I get that we can't hope for much commodity on a ship at sea... But come on, how do they expect the soldiers to be at their one hundred percent if they can't give us real food?" Dalrus sniffed the stew on his spoon, and wrinkled his face even further. "Crikey. I'd expect the orcs to be eating this kind of stuff, not us."

"Oy, don't be picky, Dal. We are at war, remember?" Felrus brought another spoonful of the stew to his mouth and chewed it down slowly before swallowing once more. "Provisions are not abundant, and we got dozens, hundreds of people to feed. Stews, broths and soups are the easiest and the most efficient dishes to prepare for large amounts of people. They keep you well nutritioned, they are quick and easy to prepare, and they use few ingredients. So if I were you, I'd get used to having this often. And besides..." A malicious grin crept up along Felrus' face. "I'm sure that after a full day performing your duties as a soldier, you'll see something like this as a gift from the gods."

"Lovely." Holding his breath, Dalrus shoved the spoon inside his mouth and almost choked on the strong taste. "Bloody hell, there's more fat in this than in our soap bars!"

The two brothers were just another pair of heads among the dozens of people filling the cantina halls within the barracks. All around them were many more people, ranging from young to old, humans, dwarves and elves, and Dalrus could have sworn he caught glimpses of people so minuscule they barely got past his kneecaps. He assumed those were probably dwarven children... Though he could have also sworn those 'kids' had only four fingers in their hands. There was a deafening cacophony of chatter all around them, and Dalrus would wince quite often from the noise spikes that would occur every now and then. They were to gather within the center of the keep later in order to receive their instructions about where they would be assigned to.

Having finished his meal, Felrus let out a long sigh of satisfaction and leaned back on his seat. "Haaah... Always good to enjoy a nice, warm meal." The warrior said, patting his belly. As usual, he was still wearing his full armor set. Dalrus had discovered that was quite the common practice amongst the soldiers. "Eh... I think I'll go get something at the inn. At least they have fruit there." The rogue commented, dropping his spoon onto the bowl and pushing it away. Felrus glanced his way. "You sure that's a good idea after all that noise yesterday? What if someone gives you trouble again?" Dalrus, however, was already getting up from his seat. "Don't worry, brother. I am quite the diplomat!" He declares, offering his brother a charming smile with a cocked up brow that made Felrus scoff. "Fine, but try and keep it cool this time, alright? We don't need any more hassles than we already have." But Dalrus was already giving him a 'Yeah, yeah' as he made his way out and through the barracks' entrance.

The garrison was a beehive of activity during that time of the day. Now that there was more sunlight, Dalrus could see there were, indeed, some people who were, in fact, smaller than the dwarves... And they were most definitely not children, if the beards and mustaches on some of them were any indication. Those minuscule people had disproportionately large heads and hands, and bodies so tiny and petite, Dalrus imagined he could lift one like a ragdoll. They sported only four fingers on each of their hands, and the vast majority were occupied with some kind of machinery; rifles and portable cannons Dalrus could wrap his mind around, but he actually stopped dumbfounded when he saw what could only be described as a robotic chicken carrying one of the tiny people on it's back. Amazed, he followed the mounted person towards the closest workshop, and there he saw the true wonders of the Human Expedition's machinery.

Noise, sparks and smoke were everywhere. The loud noises of metal banging against metal, then grinding, then the sharp, hissing sounds of hot metal being cooled off assaulted his ears in a deafening cacophony. Wincing, Dalrus covered his ears and looked around, trying to take in all the work going on there. He saw dwarves and those shorter people working together to assemble pieces he could not even hazard a guess what their purpose was. They would weld large pieces of metal together, install wires and engines, and suddenly their creations began to move. What drew his attention the most was what looked like a tiny house made of metal, but with wheels on its sides and the largest cannon he had ever seen sticking out of the top. He was amazed to think about something like that moving through a battlefield and wreaking havoc. His amazement and wonder were interrupted when he felt a sharp tug on his pants, close to his right foot. Looking down, he saw one of those tiny people scowling at him. He assumed she was a female, given how despite her petite figure, her curves and assets were rather... Disproportional. Her pink hair was combed back in a pair of pigtails sticking out the sides of her head, with protector goggles hoisted up to her forehead. From what he could tell, she was wearing suspension pants so tiny they would fit a doll, with a white tunic underneath and thick leather gloves on her big hands. She was clearly saying something, though Dalrus couldn't quite make it out through all that noise. Squatting down, he cupped a hand behind his ear and turned his head so it was right before her mouth. "WHAT?" He shouted.

And then he felt the girl grab his ear, pull him down and scream with an adorably high pitched voice: "THIS PLACE ISN'T FOR SIGHTSEEING! MOVE!" Wincing and rubbing his poor ear, Dalrus stepped aside and saw her drag along a cart full of what he would describe as junk and spare parts. Then he felt a poke on his right shoulder, and a slightly more grave - though not any less shriveled - voice said: "Excuse me, fella! This place is for engineers only! Would you follow me, please?"

Turning around, Dalrus saw the tiny man on the robot chicken he had followed earlier speaking to him, still proudly seated atop his mount. He was waving for Dalrus to follow, which the rogue happily obliged. They left the construction area and entered what appeared to be a lobby, with a small counter and a bored-looking dwarf lady shifting through some strange cards Dalrus had never seen before. They had images of creatures on the top, some text on the bottom, as well as numbers on the corners. FInally, Dalrus and his escort stopped by a couch on the side of the room, and he saw him tiny press a button on his robot chicken mount, which promptly lowered itself down on the floor so its rider could get off. The little man had an almost completely bald head, save for a few patches of hair on the sides, though that was well concealed by the goggles he wore around it. He had a big round nose on his friendly-looking face, and a sharp, well-trimmed beard surrounding his jaw. He was dressed in the same manner as the girl who shouted at Dalrus earlier. "Howdy there, friend! Name is Sticks Hardbones! Can I help you with anything?" He said, smiling up at the rogue.

"Ah... Yeah. Uh..." Dalrus scratched his head, puzzled as he looked down at the miniature person before him. "I, ah... I mean, I don't want to sound rude, but..."

"Ah! You're one of those Gilnean fellows, aren't you?" Sticks said, clapping his hands in understanding. Dalrus assumed his accent had given it away. "So this is probably your first time seeing gnomes, eh? I can't say I blame you, we spent most of our lives in our city! Then those despicable undead came and drove us off!"

Dalrus blinked. "You're a gnome?" He said, suddenly reminded of the tales of the gnomes he heard as an infant. Tiny people, who even as fully grown adults were barely taller than their newborns, who were very hard workers and capable of creating things that could move without the slightest bit of magic. "Oh, damn, you're a gnome!" He said, slapping himself on the forehead. "Blimey, mate! Sorry, I just... I never even..."

"Haha, quite alright, friend, quite alright! At least you didn't mistake us for dwarven children like those elves!" Sticks said, hands raised in a pacific gesture as he continued to smile at Dalrus. "We showed ourselves more around Khaz Modan anyway! I can't blame humans for not knowing much about us. Heck, I myself had never even spoken to a human before joining Lady Jaina's Expedition! But life sure is full of twists and turns, eh?"

It was really adorable how cheerful the little guy was. Dalrus was unable to hold back a smile of his own. "Well, if you say so! But truth be told, I was more amazed by what you were doing in there... I mean, I had seen tanks and mechanical gates before, but... This..." He gestured to the robot chicken who was rumbling and vibrating on the floor. "What the bloody hell even is this!? It's blowing my mind!"

Sticks seemed to be beaming with happiness. "Oh, you like it? This one is a personal design of mine! I call it the Automated Robotic Avian Walker Mark IV!" He patted his creation proudly on the head, and Dalrus saw a puff of black smoke come out of a pipe on it's rear end. "See, friend, we gnomes are a little lacking in the vertical department! So to make up for our shortcomings, we really focused ourselves on the marvels of engineering! Doesn't matter how small you are, you can always build something great!"

Placing his hands on his hips, Dalrus shook his head in amazement. "Yeah, no kidding... I mean, how does this even work? Do you use magic? Is this some kind of golem, or something?"

For the first time, Sticks lost his smile, and a comically grumpy expression took over his round face. "I assure you it is not! What you're looking at is a marvel of engineering! No magic is imbued whatsoever! The only thing it utilizes is an electrical battery to power its circuits! Everything else is the result of hard labour and years of research and maybe a few explosions!"

Squatting down so he was at eye level with the robotic mount, Dalrus leaned his head from side to side to watch it from different angles. "Holey moley... I didn't understand half of what you said. But it doesn't use any magic at all, then?" He touched it on the tip of it's metallic beak with his finger. It didn't react in the slightest. "Gnomes are really amazing if you can come up with stuff like this..."

Already he could see Sticks had a silly smile on his face once more and was turning away from him. "Ah, well, I mean, if you want to say it like that... I guess it really is pretty impressive, isn't it? A lot of people mocked my design choices, but clearly they had never understood the functionality of this body shape!"

Standing up straight, Dalrus peered back the way they came earlier, the loud noises coming from the workshop still very much audible even all the way there. "And what else are you guys working on in there? Some kind of giant machine to smash the Legion, or something?"

"Heavens, no! The energy core necessary to power up one of the colossal-sized constructs would be..." Sticks caught himself mid-sentence, then let out a little cough and perked up. "I-I mean, that is classified information! I can't give away our secrets to just anyone! I'm sure you understand."

"Ah, right... Of course..." Dalrus stroked his chin pensively, wondering what other kinds of mechanical marvels the gnomes had in stock. And then that moment he heard a little ding come from the other side. Turning around, Dalrus saw the door that gave out to the main street open up. A pair of elves came inside. Although he had seen some of them at the inn last night, this was the first time he was getting a real close look at them.

He could tell it was a male and a female. The female wore a long red dress, her smooth, silken dark hair cascading down her back and held up by a small tiara over her head. Her eyes were a deep glowing green, and her long ears could be seen jutting out the sides of her head, as could her equally long eyebrows. Her body was quite slender, but despite her thin limbs Dalrus could tell there was rhythm and purpose behind her every movement, even as she walked. Her face was rather thin, as if it were stretched up, with a long, pointy chin and high cheekbones. Her lips were a strong red, as were her fingernails. As for the male, he looked almost exactly the same, except he didn't have breasts. Both were carrying long staffs on their backs, adorned with jewels at the tip. 'Bloody hell, how do they tell each other apart?' He thought as he scratched his head in puzzlement.

"Ah, Ariella, Llaelnor! Great to see you again, friends! Are you here about your order?" Sticks said, turning around to face the newcomers.

The two elves turned in unison and both looked straight at Dalrus, who had one hand on his waist and the other on the back of his head. They held eye contact in silence for a long time before Dalrus pointed down and said: "Ah... He was the one who spoke, not me."

Looking down, they saw Sticks, who was still smiling at them. "Ah, yes. Something's turned up. We will be deployed before sundown and we need it immediately." The man said. Dalrus had no idea what gender could be attributed to the names Sticks said earlier. He decided to flip a mental coin, and call him Ariella. His voice was deep, grave and unmistakably masculine, despite his looks being the exact opposite of that. "We are leaving for our meal now with our fellow mages. We expect the package to be ready by the time we are finished." The woman, who Dalrus thought of as Llaelnor, spoke, her voice surprisingly grave, like the man's, albeit it had a noticeable feminine thone behind it.

"Ah, friends, to ask it before lunch, that is a little-" Without even paying attention to him, the two elven mages turned around and left. Sticks sighed and rubbed his head with the back of his hand. "Well, it's fine... I wasn't even too hungry anyway! Guess I'll be skipping lunch to finish their order, haha! Sorry, friend! It was great talking to you, but duty calls!" And with that, Sticks hopped onto his mechanical mount and trotted off back to the workshop. The dwarven attendant hadn't even looked up from her cards that whole time. "Uh... Well, alright then. Guess I'll, uh... Be going." Dalrus said to her, though he doubted she was even listening to him. With a shrug, he left the same way the two stuck-up elves had earlier. By the time he left, he felt a grumble on his stomach and was reminded why he left the barracks earlier in the first place. "Oh, right. Food." He said, turning around and making his way towards the inn. To his dismay, however, there was a huge line of people sticking out of the entrance. Letting out a sigh of defeat, the rogue hunched over and began to drag his feet back towards the barracks... Looked like he would be feasting on cold grub today.

"Oh, hey, it's you! Darius, right?" He heard someone call out to him. Turning around, he saw the waitress girl who had been working at the inn last night smiling at him, her hands holding each other over her long yellow skirt. She wore a dusty tunic that he presumed was once white from the waist up. "Remember me? I'm Trisha! I work at the inn at night!"

Standing up straight, Dalrus cleared his throat and smiled back at her. "Oh, yeah, sure, I remember! And it's actually Dalrus, not Darius. Shouldn't you be working now, sugar?"

He saw the girl lift her hands to try and hide her silly little giggle as he called her that. "Ah, no, mister! I only work the night shift. My sister takes the day shift! Can't say I envy her, look at all these people..." She looked back at the long line. "Then again, at least there aren't any mean drunks during the day. So I guess we balance it out!"

"Ah, yeah, I can see how that would work..." His stomach grumbled again, and Dalrus rubbed his belly. "Oh, sorry about that. I was on my way back to the barracks to grab some lunch..."

"Oh! You haven't eaten yet?" Trisha was suddenly beaming at him. "I was about to go eat myself! Maybe... You'd like to join me?" She shied away from him, the girl unable to look him in the eye as she fiddled with the edges of her skirt. "I mean, I never met an adventurer my age before... I reckon you gots lots of stories to tell, mister!"

His face brightening up in a smile, Dalrus eagerly nodded at her. "Oh, yeah, I'd love to, Trisha! As they say... Food's always better with good company, eh?" Once again the girl was hit by a giggle fit. He wondered if she would do that every time he complimented her. "Alrighty, then! Right this way, mister!" And with that, she turned around and quickly made her way around the inn towards the back, Dalrus following her closely. They made their way through a door that went directly into the kitchen. It was pure chaos there; a pudgy, middle aged lady was moving back and forth over a huge stove where three pots were cooking something that smelled delicious while meat was spinning over huge spit roasts to the side. A large wooden table with several plates was laying in the middle of the room, and Dalrus saw the lady occasionally fill a bowl or plate with food and leave it there. He could also hear the loud chatter and the shouts of the inn owner coming from the balcony on the other side. "This way, come on! And try not to get in Ma's way!" Trisha said, holding Dalrus by his wrist and guiding him along the wall to a stairway leading upstairs. The woman was far too busy to pay them any attention, so they climbed the wooden stairs up to the second story. The family's rooms were there; Dalrus saw a large one with a couple's bed where he assumed Trisha's parents slept, then another one facing that with two smaller beds, which he assumed was for Trisha and her sister. The girl kept guiding him down the hallway until they reached a balcony. "Pa' says this spot is just for us!" She proudly declared, and Dalrus stood there, his mouth hanging open as he took in the view.

The balcony was facing the ocean that surrounded Kalimdor. He could see the huge waves crashing against the shore below, as well as the watch towers surrounding the beach. "Holy nanners... This is amazing..." He said, breaking into a grin. Not like he was a stranger to the ocean, but seeing it from atop a rocking boat with thirty other men surrounding you from all sides and seeing it from a balcony with a girl were two completely different things. He noticed she was still holding his wrist, and slowly he curled his fingers around hers.

He saw the girl grow stiff, and he could clearly see she had suddenly become very nervous. It was subtle, but he could tell her pulse was racing. "Ah, yeah! I, uh... Right, the food! I'm gonna bring it over right now! You just wait here!" Rapidly, she let go of his hand, lifted her skirt a tad and raced down along the hallway. He could hear her steps on the wooden floor, and grinned in amusement at her nervousness. Turning back to face the amazing view off the balcony, he rested his elbows onto the wooden railing and hunched over, taking in the view as well as the warm sun washing over his face. The sea breeze ruffled his disheveled black hair, which was growing longer as of late. The sea salt had somewhat hardened his hair, causing several spikes to poke out in all directions whilst also hardening it a bit.

Time sure went by fast ever since they left Gilneas. He wondered how his parents were doing... He hoped they wouldn't be too angry or worried that he had decided to leave like that. Especially Silvius... Crikey, the old man would probably skin him alive if he knew what the boy had planned. Closing his eyes, Dalrus could even picture the angry man scowling at him, waving his dagger around...

"How long do you intend to run?"

And there it was.

"Only death awaits you here... There is no hope..."

'Cool story, mate. I liked it better the first five times you told me. Little less so the other twenty.'

"You think you can save him... That you can protect him... But little do you know... He is already doomed to a fate far worse than death."

'Come again?'

"Here you go!" Trisha's voice came from behind. Dalrus opened his eyes and looked back at the girl who was now holding a basket full of fruits, bread and a few strays of dried up jerky. On the other hand she had a jar of water and two cups. She was quite skillfully balancing all that on her arms. "I know it's not as fancy as you got back in your home, but it sure fills our bellies!"

Washing the dark alien thoughts out of his mind, he took an apple out of the basket with a 'thank you' and helped her fill the cups with water. Trisha silently munched on a slice of bread as Dalrus took a bite out of his fruit. "Mmmph... This is good stuff, love! Really juicy!" He declared once he had swallowed the first bite.

"Ah, yeah, it's them apples my pa uses to make some of his brew with. Says he learned the techniques from some strange furred creature from a distant land or something. It's great!" She broke her bread open and put a slice of jerky inside before taking a bite. "So! You're not from Lordaeron, right? My pa says you're from Gilneas?"

"That's right." He declared, spinning the apple over his finger to impress her before biting into it once more.

"Ah. Yeah, my pa don't like those Gilnean folks. Says you're traitors or somethin' for not obeying the king's call like vassals should." She casually said, taking a drink of water afterwards.

Dalrus almost choked on his apple. Smacking his chest several times, he coughed as he felt tears form on the corners of his eyes. "Blargh... Ex... Cuse me!? Vassals?" He said amidst gasps. "Oy, Gilneans ain't nobody's vassal, love. We are our own country, our own kingdom. We had no obligation to do what those coots back in Stormwind and Lordaeron told us to."

Trisha looked back at him with raised brows. "Really? Pa' says you people should serve the king and do as he said. And because you were too scared to fight in the war, things went the way they did. But he does say a lot of mean things about a lot of stuff, so I don't pay a lot of attention to it anyway!"

Dalrus shook his head in dismay. "No, that's not what happened at all, love. We simply decided we didn't want any more wars. So Greymane went and built a wall around our country so no one would attack or invade us anymore. And still we went through quite the ordeal when those walking corpses came knocking on our door..."

"Oh, wow! You mean you fought the undead? Those things were so scary! I only saw them from really far away..." She was staring at him with wide eyes. "But it was still so frightenin'... Some were missing half their face! And the smell... Eww, it was like rotting fish! Or rats... Or worse..."

He managed to chuckle at that. "Oh, trust me, it's nothing compared to the stench of a full army of those things... And still, those undead were pretty tame compared to the worgen that came afterwards!"

Trisha blinked in confusion. "What's a wuggin, mister?"

For the next hour or so, Dalrus and Trisha simply stood there, eating as Dalrus related to her the ocurrings on Gilneas since the first day he heard about the undead threat. He told her pretty much everything; the tales of the undead rising, his brother leaving to join the fight, the siege of Gilneas, how he single-handedly stopped an invasion within the city... And then the worgen invasion.

"...Claws like daggers! Seriously, I bet they couldn't even curl their fingers into a fist without stabbing themselves!" He was saying through a mouthful of bread, one hand holding the pastry as the other was curling his fingers over his head to better illustrate how long the worgen claws were. "Saw them slice through wood like it was butter! And those teeth... Oooh, boy. Don't get me started on their fangs!"

"Oh, wow... And how did you get out?" Asked Trisha, who was now resting both of her elbows on the railing so she could place her chin on her hands and stare up at him in awe. Dalrus could see every single one of her freckles shining against the past-midday sun.

Dalrus stuffed his chest out proudly. "Ah, well... With a quick mind, and even quicker reflexes, I-" His heroic tale was interrupted as a bell began to ring all over town. Then they heard a man on horseback racing along the streets as he yelled: "CALLING THE MEMBERS OF THE GILNEAS BRIGADE! REPEAT, ALL MEMBERS OF THE GILNEAS BRIGADE! YOU ARE TO REPORT TO THE BARRACKS IMMEDIATELY! ATTENTION, ALL MEMBERS OF THE..." His voice trailed off as he continued to race along the garrison, alerting all members of the Gilneas Brigade to report back to the barracks.

With a sigh of frustration, Dalrus stretched his back and smiled down at Trisha. "Well, love. This has been a real good time, but duty is calling!" And with that, he hopped on top of the wooden railing, looking down at the floor two stories below.

"Oh... Wait! I, uh..." Looking back, Dalrus saw the girl was once again fiddling with her skirt as she avoided looking at him. "I had a really great time, Dal! So, maybe... If you'd like, we could have lunch again, some other day?"

The rogue watched her in silence for a few more moments as she nervously tugged at her skirt and shifted the weight on her feet. Finally, he hopped off from his perch, then, walking up to the girl, he gently cupped her chin in between his fingers. She was very surprised by this, and it was with wide eyes that she looked up at Dalrus as he lowered his face against hers and planted a sweet, soft kiss open her lips. It only lasted a few seconds, but as he pulled back, his eyes were half closed and he was smiling warmly at her. "That would be lovely, beautiful." Were his last words before turning around and leaping off the edge of the balcony, landing on the floor with cat-like reflexes and strutting off towards the barracks with a belly full of quality food, a sweet new memory in his mind and an even sweeter taste upon his lips.