"Magnificent!" Talvash del Kissel said, zooming around Kowler on a miniaturized flying carpet that was perhaps the size of a dish rag with a similarly floating quill and inkwell and parchment jotting notes down at a blaring speed, faster than the gnoll could react. His neck hurt trying to keep up with the gnome; so too were his arms beginning to hurt from swatting the animated writing utensil away. It was a workout. "Simply magnificent! Why, I don't doubt you are among the finest specimens to have ever existed! A gnoll with sense! That speaks properly! That doesn't want to eat me- you don't, right? No? Fantastic! How unusual! Would you give me some of your saliva for research? Some fur? Blood? Tissue? Bone? Semen?"
"Er…" Kowler began, backpedaling when the gnome continued to invade his personal space.
Usfer's decree of finding Talvash was decidedly easier than he'd expected. Her directions of him being in the Mystic Ward were vague, especially considering the fact that it was a decidedly large area to scour through. One would think that it would be akin to finding a needle in a haystack, or something of that likeness.
It was not. All Kowler had to do was ask for a gnome by name and he was immediately pointed towards a blue-lit apartment on the far side of the Mystic Ward next to an inn with varying expressions of incredulity and pity. One dwarf even went so far as to reach up and pat him on the shoulder and wish him luck.
Kowler was quick to determine why.
Talvash del Kissel was among the most eccentric peoples to have ever been born amongst his race, to the point that many of his gnomish brethren actually shunned him, not that he cared. The totality of his hair was missing from an experiment gone wrong apparently, leaving him bald and beardless and eyebrowless and, according to rumor, relatively senseless. His left eye was also missing as a result of that accident, and in its place was a techno-magical substitute, a green whirling thing that never stayed still for long, similar to the one who bore it. Oxymoronical though it sounded, he looked like an adult baby. Wearing garishly purple robes, his voice high and squeaking, constantly smiling and ever curious and moving, Talvash was among the few things that Kowler instinctively disliked.
Happy people.
Well, no. That was untrue; Kowler found happy people to be impressive, truthfully. Hells, he even counted himself among such a number for the most part, especially now that he was no longer in prison. What he truly disliked were the people that were overly enthusiastic about everything for no reason. And Talvash fit that descriptor to a T.
He was enthusiastic to have a guest in his home. He was enthusiastic to have a new role for the Explorer's League, temporary though it may be. He was enthusiastic that he finally had the chance to share tea leaves he'd purchased two years ago with somebody. And, more annoying, he was enthusiastic to have a gnoll in his home, just as Usfer said he would be. She'd downplayed his interest, however.
"Let's not discuss my giving you any samples right now." Kowler told the gnome.
Talvash pouted. "Are you sure? I could pay you! In candy, that is; few children would visit my abode for Hallow's End. I don't actually have any money left after my last project, which is why this new job is so fortuitous!"
"What would you need any of this for anyways?"
"Research purposes."
"Yes, but research into what?"
"Research."
Groaning, Kowler made to change the subject. "We can talk of this later. How is the mission meant to go? Anything I need to know?"
"Ooh!" The gnome exclaimed, now flying upside down, his purple robe falling over his frame in such a manner that Kowler was now able to see a pair of tightey-whitey's. He really did not need or want to see that. And how was Talvash not on the ground as gravity demanded? "Well, we'll just travel by way of one of my carpets and head straight for the gnolls. There, you'll do whatever it is you mean to do, get the gold, and then we'll bring it back to Menethil Harbor and our duties will be done! It should only take a week."
"A week?" One would think that using a flying carpet would make things go quicker.
Talvash huffed, crossing his arms, his miniature carpet now circling Kowler. "We aren't leaving today. I have to pack! And then there's the detail that the enchantments upon my carpets are temporary, and I've used them to quite a degree. It will be easy to arrive, though harder to return."
"But still, a week? I thought we would just be able to fly directly to the Weltands. Shouldn't that take only a day at most?"
"Ah! You are thinking that we'd be able to just fly over the mountain. No, sadly there are rules, especially now that we gnomes live beneath this mountain. The Ironforge Airport does not allow that kind of travel; why, were we to do that, they'd shoot us out of the sky! Literally! No, as regulation demands, we'll be taking the longer route, through Dun Morogh to Loch Modan and then to the Wetlands. Still, I believe it will be a simple excursion!"
"Right, simple…" the gnoll mumbled. Putting it that way, it did sound simple, but words and actions had little in common. "And my disguise?"
"A disguise? Oh! Yes, your disguise! Of course, of course! Strip from your robes while I grab it." Talvash exclaimed, floating towards a wall covered head to toe in baubles and trinkets and knickknacks all shimmering with magical signatures of some form or another. A mirror was sat on the far corner of the wall.
Warily, Kowler did as requested and removed his robes, nude save his pocketed shorts.
The gnome grabbed a necklace hanging precariously by a loose nail and tossed it to Kowler with a cry of "Try this on!" The gnoll fumbled slightly, not having expected to need to play catch, but did not let it fall to the ground.
Surprisingly, it was actually quite a nice-looking amulet. It looked wrought of a special sort of silver, and the black stone sat in its circular divot let off a purple sheen that was clearly not natural.
Putting it on, a short flash of magic blinded the gnoll for a scant second. When he could see properly once more, he approached the mirror and examined his new form. It was of a human male, and quite a good looking one too, with high cheekbones, curly brown hair tied into a bun, and a well-groomed but full beard jutting from his cheeks by about a half inch. Of a shorter than average human height with a lean, muscular physique, there were only a few features that the gnoll recognized as his own; his nails were blackened still, a mane of tangled hair trailed down the length of his spine, and his eyes and pupils remained yellow and slit.
I look like a fucking Witcher, thought the gnoll, slightly incredulously though definitely preening. He'd not ever really played the games much, but he did know of them and knew some of the basics of their lore. Enough to know that that this was quite the interesting development.
Plus, Witchers were cool.
Perhaps he should look into getting a rune sword to match his new look.
"You are pleased, then?" Talvash asked, now hovering into the mirror frame, just above Kowlers head.
"More than pleased," Kowler admitted, experimentally moving around, marveling at how solid this illusion felt. "This is fantastic!"
"Happy to hear!" The gnome said cheerily. "I'm a sorcerer of little renown, I'll admit. But, not to toot my own horn, my skills with enchanting are quite advanced! That was actually made in order for me to graduate from the College of Dalaran in the School of Illusion some seven years ago."
"It's amazing." Kowler praised. "But I've never heard of an illusion this detailed. The wickerwands, while impressive in their own right, hold nothing when compared to this."
"I would hope not. Wickerwands are mere toys that implode if their enchantments are not used for long. What you are wearing right there is more than just a mere enchantment, it is a spell conduit!"
Now that was a term he'd never heard. "Spell conduit?"
"Oh, yes, you've likely not been told about them due to your upbringing. Understandable! Spell conduits are, in their most basic explanation, items that hold a specific type of spell. Quite rare, really. Some even call them the pinnacle of enchanting, though those people are ignorant on the depths that enchanting can go. Normally, spell conduits take the form of swords or weapons of some kind, imbuing them will spells that summon fire or drain vitality, and the creation of such was all that was required for graduation. I, however, wanted to go a different route. Weapons are boring, don't you think? Ask a smith, they'll almost always prefer an interesting project over weapons and armor. It was an expensive thing to make, the amulet material being of refined mithril with a large clump of cut obsidian resting inside, but I found it to be well worth the struggle it brought to my coffers! Mimicking the ancient dragons that commune with us in mortal forms, I instead chose to create a conduit for the polymorph spell."
At that, Kowler sucked in his breath, his annoyance at Talvash's mannerisms well-gone. To create a physical manifestation of polymorph meant that this was more than just an illusion, this was a real, tangible body. Polymorph was a spell that, in the game, was used to turn enemies into sheep, primarily meant to crowd control in raids and dungeons and was treated a bit like a joke. But it was also used by powerful beings like dragons or wild gods or titan keepers to better commune with their subjects and lesser on a more even playing field.
No wonder it was so solid.
But that then begged the question…
"Why did you go this route for your research? Surely there were other things you could have done outside of improving weapons? And how'd you even make this form?"
"There were indeed other things I could have done, and some I have accomplished later on in any case! But, as for my project, well…" Talvash pushed out his chest and thumbed his nose, looking proud. "There was a human girl I was interested in having coitus with back when I was schooling, but she held no desire for my gnomish form. And so, I devoted my last year of school into devising a way to, as the less intelligent would say, get into her pants."
Apparently, not only was Talvash del Kissel overly enthusiastic about basically everything, he was also without any form a shame.
A winning combination.
"And it worked?" the gnoll dubiously asked, already in the deep end. Might as well drown in it.
"Hm? No. No, it did not. Not in that case, at least. I was not well-read in human mating customs aside from the physical act at the time. As it were, I had no idea that she was married; rings on certain fingers seem quite silly, don't they? We gnomes don't practice marriages in such a sense, instead selectively procreating with those that impress us in a chosen field in order to produce offspring that will hopefully exceed their parent's capabilities in said field. Tinkers procreate with tinkers, mages procreate with mages, and warriors procreate with warriors, as was intended."
"Right…" Kowler drawled.
"Ah, but if you wish to know, you can indeed have coitus with that conduit! I thoroughly tested it with the Goldshire brothel. Quite the riveting experience. Oh! But regarding how I decided on this form for the conduit, admittedly I did not choose it. In fact, were I to wear the conduit, while we would look similar, we would not be identical. My form is hairless and green of eye, as I am. Polymorph spells, when not tailored specifically to an individual, will always carry over some traits from an original form."
"And whose form was this based off of then?"
"An old Kirin Tor guardsman whose body was preserved for research purposes many decades ago. Sadly, the body was destroyed during the demonic assault on the city four years ago, as were the major components of my research. At least the spell remains strong! That conduit is one-of-a-kind! …Quite literally, actually."
Kowler… kept his silence, knowing that if he opened his mouth again, more information he was not prepared to know would be flung his way.
Though it was surprising and highly ironic that Goldshire was home to a brothel. The Moonguard server likely weeps with joy. Or shame. It was entirely possible that there were no tears left to shed when it comes to that backwater server. Really, it was just hard to tell with those creeps.
And Kowler should know. He played on that server for three expansions.
To keep his mind further away from that cesspit, Kowler continued to observe himself in the mirror, marveling at his now human appearance. It was like a switch had been flipped in his psyche; he wanted this amulet, needed it. With this, he'd be able to finally learn magic without fear of prejudice or assault. And, buried in the darkest recesses of his mind though it was, the idea of having sex with someone that was not a gnoll was one he very much wanted to experience; simply put, gnolls like doggy style, Kowler liked missionary. Kowler had made his decision the moment he put the device on, that he'd find a way to make Talvash hand it over.
Not now, of course. Theft of property would likely turn his contract with the Explorer's League red, and thus both alienate him from the organization as well as make it impossible to join the dig. Plus, Talvash del Kissel had probably put some sort of a tracking charm on the amulet, just in case.
Later, after he'd looted Uldaman for all it was worth, he would do this. There were artifacts of interest and gold a'plenty to be found in the titan facility, surely he'd be able to find something Talvash would trade for.
Right?
\ v /
/ ^ \
Traveling by carpet was not a pleasant experience, especially not one designed for a gnome.
Talvash hadn't installed proper seatbelts for somebody not of his stature. Thus, with little in the way of holding on, Kowler was forced to rely on the decorative tassels found on the corners of the enchanted mount, which was already annoying enough. When high speeds and velocities and cold mountain air were mixed in with that, it quickly became an unpleasant affair.
The trip was long, the processes and border checks many, and there were fewer breaks than there should have been. More and more issues piled up, and Kowler had quickly determined that while speed was great, it was not the be-all end-all.
But this trip was not without its uses.
After a while, flight became just another mode of movement. Once the glory and wondrousness of being in such a predicament passed, Kowler grew bored. Landscapes and masses became one in the same after a while, and it could not have been helped. With little to do and time to pass, Kowler delved into a meditative state. And high in the sky as he was, the wind a constant companion on his breath, Kowler quickly determined that this was a different sort of meditation.
He'd kept to the earth and water so far in this life, intimately knowing them and well versed in their wants and needs, but air was a mystery to the shaman. Air encompassed much and was touched by all, but to understand air was dissimilar to what he was accustomed. Through communing with them in their home turf, Kowler learned that he was truly ignorant of the elementals he shied away from previously.
The spirits of earth and water and fire were rife with plights and fights amongst one another. Yet the air had few dilemmas with the other elements, none of which could Kowler really put out a hand in aiding. Air elementals often strayed from the seas and rarely interacted with all but the weakest of the earth's inhabitants. Regarding fire, only when smoke and ash took form did they quarrel, and even then those quarrels were quick to be muzzled as the fires were quenched and smothered. When the four elements fought, it was the cunning spirits of the air that would build conflicts with their elemental counterparts, only to be caught up in them later on.
Air's greatest grievance was with air itself. High up in Skywall, where the greatest of the winds resided, arguments and politics and bouts of violence were common, which would bring the rest of the air elementals that were not worthy of a station in that plane into the mix. Storms on Azeroth were not natural things as he'd initially assumed, but were instead born of elementals vying for supremacy. Should Al'akir or his princely generals or their djinn lieutenants get involved in these squabbles, hurricanes and cyclones and tornado's and all sorts of chaos would follow.
Kowler grimaced upon hearing that. Though he held little hope of communing and finding purpose with the air due to their cunning and treacherous natures, he at least thought he'd be able to trade favors from them in some manner. But with this knowledge, he understood that it was going to be even harder to fulfil a contract with a wind spirit of decent strength or intelligence.
And Kowler refused to debase his only magical abilities with a contract he found to be lesser.
Actually, speaking of magic…
"Talvash." Kowler said, catching the gnome's attention. They were now cruising overtop the beaches of the great lake that gave Loch Modan its name, with a cloudy, overcast sky looming towards them. The spirits of the air had warned him of a fight that was soon to occur, and the pair were scouting for shelter.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if you could teach me some magic." There was no risk in not asking, and annoying though the gnome was, he was still a mage and was expected to remain in Kowler's company until their mission was complete.
The gnome hummed, eying his gnoll companion shrewdly, a decidedly unusual look in Kowler's mind. "Hm. I suppose I could, but alas! Poor as I am, I cannot find the strength of mind to give lesson!"
The teasing tone in his voice and the pointedly apparent rubbing of his fingers together made what he wanted very obvious.
Money. Compensation.
Money and compensation that Kowler had very little of. Bruegal had given him a singular gold coin before they separated, just as he did for Targorr, and Kowler did not want to spend it just yet.
He did like to think he'd some skill in persuasion, however.
"Ah, but would it not be more interesting to see if a gnoll could use your form of magic? Just think! You would be known throughout the land as the gnome that helped civilize a species."
"Teaching one gnoll magic would lead to civilization, would it?" Talvash asked, both bemused and more than a little skeptical.
"Teaching me would lead to me teaching my kin. Eventually, we would then become civilized."
"An interesting proposal. However, I'll not waste my time on the possibility of a reputation that might be offered past my lifespan. I'm sure you understand."
Kowler blinked a few times at that thorough rebuttal and then thought on another strategy of assault. "Regardless, would it not uplift your reputation for just teaching a gnoll magic?"
"Were it a normal gnoll? Yes. You? Not particularly, no." Talvash admitted with a rueful shake of the head.
That was actually confusing to Kowler. "Why?"
"Simply because you aren't a normal gnoll. Were I to have raised an infant gnoll and documented its growth and made a showing to my colleagues that we could turn the next generation civil, or at least less aggressive, then my reputation would rise. But you are an outlier, an unusual case. Which, I must admit, is still quite grand! Regrettably, that does not mean anything in this particular scheme."
"But why not?"
"Because all creatures with intelligence can use magic." Talvash said. "Anybody and anything that has the most basic abilities of patience and comprehension can learn the arcane. Master it? Unlikely. But learn a few spells? Quite possible. You being an outlier and being smarter means that you would obviously be able to learn magic. Should a colleague of mine speak to you, they would realize how simple a matter it would be to teach you."
Kowler scowled, his being smarter than his average kin actually hindering him. Not that it had done much good as of yet, being honest. "Then what would it take for you to teach me some spells? Those samples you wanted?"
Talvash hummed. "No, I'll be getting those samples regardless."
"No you won't."
"Yes. I will." Talvish countered.
The seriousness in his voice and the assuredness in his tone actually worried Kowler. What was the gnome going to do that made him think Kowler would give away anything of his limited personage?
"But, for magic… Well, I suppose the simplest thing would be for you to make a trade. A spell for a spell."
"You want to learn shamanism?" Kowler asked with a furrowed brow. What kind of self-respecting mage would make for a less precise form of magic?
And could Kowler even teach shamanism when he'd had to muddle through it all his own? His version was probably bastardized in the first place and unsuited to being passed on.
Talvash shook his head. "No, or at least not what you currently know. What I want is something of a magical nature that I don't currently have. Something that might be interesting. I'll leave it up to your discretion. That or gold. Gold always helps."
The gnoll growled. "I have nothing. You know this."
"Well, you've your staff that you practice water magic with, though I doubt you'd be willing to part with it. But we are heading towards a gnoll camp known for taking supplies. It might be that they didn't just take from Ironforge. Hopefully your mission will be more fortuitous than expected!"
Annoyed, Kowler kept further quiet. It would not do to snap at his chauffeur, much as that would be satisfying. He'd a few more days with the gnome, and Kowler was certain he would be able to get a ride back with his height-challenged ally. That would add even more time with the gnome.
With a short nod to his own personage, Kowler then thought long and hard about what exactly might satisfy the mage that was guiding him. He remembered that Yowler had a fondness for shiny trinkets, and the few times he'd visited his fathers hut, there were various knickknacks scattered about.
It was possible that the Mosshides would similarly act in such a manner. Maybe there would even be enchanted items.
…Right?
\ v /
/ ^ \
Three days later they arrived in the Wetlands.
The storm in Loch Modan was not a particularly dangerous one. It was actually quite weak actually, though the gentle rain and harsher than normal winds did last over a day. But Talvash refused to fly with a dark cloud in the sky, stating that it might lead to faults of some sort with his carpet.
Kowler did not mind the delay, particularly when it gave him further opportunity to enquire about the learning of magic. Often, he was rebuffed by his traveling companion, but in boredom, Talvash would occasionally show some of his spellwork and briefly explain some theories and laws practiced by the sorcerers of the world.
Informative and interesting, but not wholly what Kowler was interested in.
He would take what he could get, however.
They arrived in the Wetlands and immediately went for the gnoll camp. As luck would have it, the gnolls kept to the south of the zone, which also happened to be where the pair entered from. With more luck to be had, they arrived during one of the rare occasions in which the rains had halted over the land.
It was when the camp was in view that Talvash began his descent. He did not go particularly nearby, worrying for his carpet and other knickknacks, but he still came close enough for Kowler to reach them with only a few minutes of walking.
"Are you ready?" asked the gnome.
Kowler grunted, palming his staff. "As I'll ever be."
"Then that will be all we can ask for. My conduit, if you wouldn't mind. You showing up as a human would not do any favors, I think."
Grimacing, Kowler removed the amulet from his neck, scowling as his natural body grew from his preferred one. Long snout, stubby legs, overly broad back and fur all over. He handed it to Talvash and silently vowed to get it back before the day was done.
With a twist, Kowler jumped down, off from the carpet. They were some three feet from the marshy ground, so he'd ample room. A splash echoed his fall, and he extended his senses, feeling for the elements in the puddles and muck, knowing that they would be his greatest aid.
What he sensed confused him. Though there were puddles and bogs and water sources all around, there were only a small number of elementals of water, with a similarly small smattering of earth elementals in the area. And those small numbers of elementals originated from the great river left over from Loch Modan's damn. There were more air elementals than there were the rest, and that should not be.
But then Kowler thought on it, and found that though it was strange, it did make a sort of sense. The Wetlands were a place of near constant rainfall, which left a near constant stream of puddles and bogs all around. Water sources that didn't form from the ground like Astreamor did, but were instead born of the sky, wrought of storms brought about by the conflict of the spirits of air. It was understandable then, that the water elementals were fewer than expected.
Kowler still thought it strange.
However, strange though it was, this strangeness brought with it a boon.
Trekking towards the gnoll camp, he presumed he wouldn't need to do much. Gnolls did not know one another by scent or relation, only by reputation. And most gnolls did not hold reputation within their packs, thus most gnolls did not know one another.
Or at least that was how it had been for the Redridge Pack.
Apparently the Mosshides were of a different breed.
A gnoll approached with a rusty sword raised high once Kowler got too close. Its fur was grey, and mossy strips were braided along damp clumps of overly long portions of its mane. That must have been what gave their pack its name.
"You stay back." The gnoll scowled, brandishing its weapon. "Back, back!"
Kowler did not stay back. He instead lifted his staff and willed the water all around him to surge onto the foe before him. As if an eager puppy the waters moved with quick purpose, forcing the Mosshide down into a watery depth. It struggled and sloshed around the muck, screeching out for aid, but after a while, the struggling grew less and less, and then there was none, and the quiet returned.
Because there were so few water elementals to be found in the Wetlands, or at least in this portion of the Wetlands, the waters and puddles were theoretically unclaimed, which meant that Kowler, who was a shaman intimately connected to the elemental known as Astreamor, was able to will the influence of his contracted spirit onto these waters and claim them for his friend. There was no theory involved, it was a matter of domain and conquering.
Bringing his staff down, Kowler watched as the puddles were sucked into the wooden portion where Astreamor's sliver of power resided. He could feel the joy that his friend felt with this water, and with that joy, Kowler knew he'd be able to do even more with his power soon enough.
His contract was a mutual thing; make Astreamor stronger, and then borrow that strength as permitted. Elementals grew stronger by taking on more of their nature, more of their element. Thus, it only made sense that with unclaimed water, it should go to his friend.
The waterways of Stormwind were different from this. Though those waters too were unclaimed, they were sourced from a mountain spring that most assuredly was. Kowler was only able to manipulate the water, but there was no claiming to be done. Had he made the attempt, had he tried to usurp those waters for Astreamor, it was likely that whatever elemental was housed atop that mountain spring would show its displeasure.
Displeasure when it came to the elementals of Azeroth was oftentimes likely to lead to death.
But that was in the past. This was the here and now, and the here and now was decidedly to Kowler's advantage.
He approached the body of the gnoll he'd just drowned and looted what he felt was worth taking. A pair of leather arm guards, ratty and ragged, and its-her rusted sword. Kowler's staff, while useful, was not a bladed weapon. It was never a bad idea to have one on hand.
Then he sniffed her body, and similarly sniffed the air. Just because a camp was in one direction did not mean the pack would all be there. But the scent on the air did decree that the pack was in camp, and so he followed suit.
As he continued toward the pack, he willed more and more open sources of water to follow along, trailing from the murky, bogged floor. Gallons upon gallons were at his disposal, and he liked it much.
When he arrived at the camp, he took it in as best he could. As was the case with the Redridge pack, the lands the Mosshides claimed were scattered and ununiform. Huts and tents of various materials were strewn all around, and a mass of gnolls were settling around, basking in the open air, likely enjoying a rainless afternoon for the first time in weeks.
Perhaps the most curious thing, especially curious to a shaman, was that there were not just gnolls in the camp. A fire elemental flanked a particularly large and roaming gnoll, blurrily distinguishable from a standard flame. But it was possible to tell, and it was reasonable for the Mosshides to have developed partnerships from the Firelands. The Wetlands were, as the name suggests, quite wet. Though gnolls had strong temperaments towards the cold, it was never a fun thing to be drenched as a standard. Fire elementals could dry their waters away, and they were easier to contract than other elements. Fire was the hungriest, most gluttonous of the elements, and was easy to satisfy so long as it was well fed.
By way of the charred corpses lining cooking spits, Kowler was quick to determine what they were well fed on. He could not tell if they were gnolls or orcs or dwarves, but he knew that those corpses were humanoid, and that was enough.
Willing the waters he'd collected to slink forward, Kowler waited for a moment before entering the camp. Immediately, he was set upon by a trio of hungry gnolls, and with a similar speed, that trio was held down by water.
Wary of the other gnolls watching this altercation, Kowler did not drown them, knowing that that could take time. Instead, he stabbed them dead with his newly acquired sword. This showing of strength had the other gnolls give him a wide berth, and only the gnoll with the fire elemental approached.
The scent on this gnoll was distinctly male, and he was obviously the alpha of the pack. With grey spotted fur and moss wrapped all over, an axe and mace in hand, the mace shimmering with heat, and a snarling visage, Kowler decided that this alpha was well placed.
"Gazz no know you." The alpha declared balefully.
"Kowler no know you neither." Kowler responded, using the halted Common that gnolls preferred. Big words were not their favorites.
"Not pack?"
"No."
Gazz chuffed out a dark laugh, brandishing his weapons with clear intent. "More bones to gnaw on… yes, yes." And with a lurch, he rushed Kowler, his elemental companion holding pace.
He was larger and faster than Kowler was, and better suited to this type of fighting. But Kowler did not fight fair, and he'd little reason to bother. With a twitch of his totem, the waters he'd grasped heeded his intent and slammed down onto Gazz. He whined and struggled, and actually made some headway, but it was not the gnoll that Kowler was interested in at that moment.
That fire elemental screamed. It was a horrifying, pathetic sound, and yet Kowler could not keep his attention from the creature. It fought and flailed and failed to combat the waters, and when it was overtaken, its body quenched with a sizzling hiss, leaving not even ash in its demise.
When it fell, Gazz's mace broke open, revealing a now dull core of power. The mace had been the totem Gazz used for that elemental, and with it dead, the core was all that remained. And with only an axe in hand, and still struggling for purchase, Kowler came forward. With a quick movement, he chopped off Gazz's weapon toting hand, and picked up the weapon, casually ignoring the alpha's painful bellow.
It was a good axe. Made of dwarven steel and brandished with some sort of inscription. No enchantments were placed upon it that Kowler could discern, but the weapon was fine enough that it suited the leader of the Mosshides.
It just so happened to have suited Kowler better.
With a twirl, axe in hand, Kowler beheaded Gazz, and let up on the waters holding the former alpha down.
That felt… easy.
So! That was the newest chapter, bit of a trip, but all in all, I think it established some good precedence.
The conduit was always intended to be used. I wanted Kowler to be able to shed his gnoll form sooner rather than later, though the Witcher bit was decided after binge watching the Netflix series. Good stuff. That's also where the title of this chapter comes from. Check out the song "Toss your coin to the Witcher." It's a fun little tune.
Primarily, I wanted to use this chapter to expand on the trickiness that is being a shaman. That, and showcase some more of the magic of this world, while also allowing Kowler the chance to be a little brutal. He doesn't get as many options for that as he'd like. Which is a shame, because he's quite good at it.
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