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70. Dragonfly
🕑 Added 2025-07-01 15:43:45 +0000 UTC"The mage is ready. My technique has gotten better, so you should be able to get more out of him faster." I rumbled, leaving the cell of Arugal for his jailers to begin the interrogation.
His vacant eyes and a dumb, open smile from which saliva dripped down his shaved chin were my last view of this worgen aficionado. It was not glamorous.
He looked like he was under the effects of multiple potent drugs, and he might as well with what I did to him.
It was why there would be no torture or such. It wasn't that the Wild thought itself above, or that it didn't work. Quite the contrary, but that was against the relatively sane minds; otherwise, it rapidly became a mess.
And this Archmage was very much the textbook definition of insane and a plethora of other mental disorders, in addition to not being a weak-willed man.
It wasn't the most optimal method to gather data anyway. Cathartic at times, still. Even if the Wardens were professional and didn't let emotions guide them.
And that was without speaking of the impacts on the tortured. It wasn't pity, but we didn't want a corpse in all but name.
We wouldn't want to make the human a bumbling buffoon before we ripped out whatever we needed and then threw him back–after crippling him–to the Alliance.
Given that we did that, we were still debating what to do with him. I don't believe the Alliance would attack Dreaming, but we can never know.
He wouldn't have a swell time in either case.
Regardless… There were workarounds.
I was getting better with brains, not with healing them, well, when the damaged parts were of any consequence. There, plasticity was sufficient for the most part, but it was a case-by-case situation.
Beyond this, it remained impossible and was a complex case study involving soul, life force, neuron patterns, and more.
Wild Gods' rebirth operated differently. The soul instinctively molded the body into the shape it wanted, much like an imprint, and it was a natural process. I provided the optimal conditions and accelerated the process.
I could help in the rehabilitation process, but don't ask me to regrow a frontal lobe. I could, but it wouldn't be remotely the same. And with brains, it means either you end up with a vegetable, or worse.
But modifications of already existing structures? That was a possibility; it wasn't easy, but I did it for Arugal. He would happily, if sluggishly, answer like a good lobotomized puppet.
I had other matters to attend to, so I left the Barrow Deep, and I couldn't have been happier; the place was haunted.
Literally, beyond that, it was one of the oldest, largest, deepest, and most extreme prisons of Azeroth.
Wards and seals stopped most things from coalescing. But I could still hear whispers, sobs, and mad rambling of spirits. And there was a variety of naturally occurring pure undead, from ghosts to skeletons.
It was, as one might expect, very unpleasant.
Anyway, there was still the worgen situation.
Daral'nir had thousands sealed, waiting to be helped. And let's say the furbolgs shined; we weren't a source of anger, and at worst, we could handle it.
Taurens were good too, those people were from a time period where the night elves weren't aloof to anything judged below them.
Then there was the Gilnean worgen and Gilneas as a whole.
Here, too, much was to be done. Luckily, none of those were of immediate concern to me anymore; the past-humans would be kept safe and helped as agreed, and they would be free to go.
What they wished for after this debacle was up to them.
While I don't see Darius making his pack join the Wild since he wasn't going to abandon his non-worgen people or his daughter.
But he would remain a stalwart ally.
That was the thing with a species that didn't have honor based on convenience. Mostly.
Hypocritical, perhaps yes, perhaps not, but the Wild was devoted to the survival and prosperity of the natural world.
And as I arrived at the Hollowmaw, I was informed about something that would put the above to the test.
It was a terrific piece of information, and the proof that things could always get worse.
"Goblins… arg… of course it would be them. Disturbing shit they shouldn't." I growled, the papyrus in my claws barely holding together if barely.
I wanted to rip it apart.
"I… share your disapproval… of those green varmints, Ohto. Yet … the fault lay with… fate. There… is… nothing… we can… do but… overcome," Liande remarked, her branches vibrating with unknown emotions, and I sighed in resignation.
The Ancient of Lore was right. I breathed deeply and with Nature magic soothed the incoming headache.
It was just incredibly frustrating all the Wild's effort for those greedy shit stains to pierce in the middle of a silithid hive tunnel at random.
By the ancestors, it had to be them, and now, because it wouldn't be funny otherwise?
And now Ahn'Qiraj wouldn't likely bother with stealth for much longer. Not that they would have, but it was sooner than strictly desired.
At least with the Horde, they shouldn't know how vast our intelligence network is, but they weren't a mindless swarm of oversized ants.
We went from our best estimate of months to a year's worth of time to prepare to, at best, a few weeks.
To top it all off, we now had somewhat of a grasp of how far the qiraji reached, and Durotar was thousands of kilometers north of the Scarab Wall.
"But that means biological samples…" There was excitement seeping in my voice, and it didn't take long for me to get my paws on some, less than four days to be exact.
There was a meeting at Hyjal Summit, and the conclusion was for the Horde to contact us first while we prepared.
And as a part of that, my obtaining the Void slave races to study was voted in unamity.
The Horde wasn't exactly skilled at cleaning things; they defeated what they freed, but left a lot behind that they deemed useless.
A squad from the Wild Hunt did the trick to take what was left and steal what they didn't have adequately defended.
Rot wasn't a concern either, as leaf recipients were made with the purpose of conserving biomaterials in sterilized and fresh environments.
And in the meantime, we let the Horde do what they wanted, which was to fight the bugs.
It provided us with plenty of important data without risking our lives. And the task of studying them befell me and my most trusted and talented students.
Students… proper ones in biomancy, not small lessons here and there. Full course, they had a fraction of my knowledge and experience, but they lifted a lot of weight from my shoulders.
The laboratory wasn't empty any longer; what happened to Groot wasn't the trigger to that happenstance. I had students for a few years, they just–shameful as it was–not my focus.
Yet my little buddy's death pushed me to correct this, to make biomancy an actual magic brand instead of a hyper-specialized branch of the Cenarion Circle.
Otherwise, it would have remained floating around with some druids and shamans using what I taught. This was also part of the Wild Hunt, given the potential result of reckless biomancy.
The most important aspect was trust; no matter the skill, if someone didn't follow the guidelines without supervision, they might as well create a biological hazard right there.
Additionally, I didn't have the gift of ubiquity. However, a problem arose: skilled healers and creators of life were always highly sought after.
And while none had Life mana given it was innate, a far cruder alternative could be harnessed.
Either through golden acorns or personalized plants that purified life force. There was also my 'blessing,' but that remained theoretical for now.
It was strange to think of myself as some kind of budding demi-god, but my brothers didn't choose me for my mind or body alone. However, that was an inevitability, if I lived, not a current reality.
Be that as it may, biomancy needn't be much more; the hard part was education, since I didn't start with inexperienced cubs. Still, with assistants at my disposal–what a relief–things didn't depend only on me.
So, studying those silithids and qiraji was progressing smoothly, evidently. But first, I did it alone to verify if there was a risk of infection and Void taints, which were present in surprisingly low amounts.
In fact, it was to the point they weren't a product of Shadow magic, well, not entirely. They weren't voidspawns; they had standard biology and weren't abominations.
They weren't like the Emerald Nightmare; they were akin to any life form, only with an inclination and affinity to Void mana. Like humans had with Arcane, or furbolgs with Nature, it literally was that.
It was certainly extremely high, artificially so, given they didn't feel alien. Their neuronal tissues were ensnared by it, linking to some form of mental restraint. But in and of itself, this didn't make them hazardous to others.
Precautions were still taken, and this laboratory had multiple fail-safes in place. Paranoia was a trusted friend and you never have enough with Old God bullshit.
"Teacher… what is this?" Tur Ragepaw asked, one of my best and far bigger than the little cub I saw almost seven years ago.
I shuffled over and stared at a pinkish piece of flesh attached to black chitin with a smooth interior. My gaze shifted to his notes, then my paw pulsed green and red.
I hummed, a low growl leaving my throat, the cellular structure flowing in my mind as a dozen ideas filtered through.
"Was this taken from deeper in the hive?" I queried, and received a hasty nod, along with a claw pointing to an open flower where the sample had been stored.
"Then we have tissue of a queen, or whatever the silithid equivalent is. More precisely, of what appears to be an ovipositor." I trailed off as Tur attentively listened, as did others nearby.
They were absorbing my every word like they were part of a gospel.
"What-what does it mean, teacher?" Lilin, a young dryad, timidly asked, and I answered.
"I suppose this information can be shared. The silithids can adapt on the spot, well, their broods can grow to fit an environment or deal with a threat." My audience was as intrigued, excited, and horrified by this information.
Anyone with half a brain would.
You couldn't give a silithid every adaptation without drawbacks.
Things didn't work like that; a thick exoskeleton affects agility and more. Advantages didn't come freely. It was a game of balance.
None of that diminished the threat the silithids represented; if anything, it did the opposite. They were a third of the equation to defeating the Kingdom of Ahn'Qiraj; the silithids were their army, beasts of burden, and everything in between.
I wasn't finished, though. "We don't know how, however. Is it the queen's choice? The hive bouquet of pheromones during incubation? Or something else? The qiraji? Is it even a reactive adaptation? Then what are the mechanisms? This is the value of our work; without solving the above, we can't strike true."
And I already had plans inspired by parasites and disease that could lead to the demise of entire beehives. Throwing people at an army of millions wasn't productive.
But that was naïve to believe this would suffice.
"Don't delude yourself, though. What we have here is the start; breakthroughs are for later. But progress is progress. Now, go back to work." And they did with ten times the vigor under my watchful eyes.
I didn't voice the very likely chance that each hive differed, and the closer to Silithus, the more tainted they would become.
Nevertheless, that may not be the case; we didn't detect any worrying quantities of Shadow magic. It was why we couldn't find the tunnels. There was nothing to sniff out.
And there were close to none better than us. There were only two options: either we were being played, or the Old God's cell was holding strong despite the leak.
'Useless thoughts… at least we have one hive to start with.' I pondered and did as my assistants did… so work.
And work we did. We meticulously examined the samples in depth, wrote down our findings and hypotheses, and cross-referenced them while cataloguing what made the cells react positively and negatively.
Nothing was to be left behind.
Every tidbit of data was valuable and worth every second and effort put into gathering it. It was fascinating as well, enough to serve as inspiration and more. It wasn't revolutionary, but it was just below that realm.
The silithids were a marvel of ingenuity. They weren't natural, or if they were, it couldn't be told any longer.
Just as a case study, they cracked open a myriad of possibilities for arthropods. The Wild was using them already, bee rearing was older than the night elves, and furbolgs were the first mortals to practice it.
However, druids weren't unfamiliar with using insects and the like either.
It never gained much traction, simply because they were less abundant and harder to control than the flora.
Well, less abundant in sheer mass, and you didn't have a hundred hornets as easily as a tree. Even if the hornets were faster, virtually impossible to dodge, and far deadlier, it was just that most weren't hornets. But it did poorly in defense and versatility.
It was very niche.
I did dabble in arthropods. Furbolgs were practicing selective breeding even without theories behind it, so with our bees, I had a good start.
And they weren't kind bees who stung and died after. Some were small and others not but they were all nasty lil' shits.
It just never had been a focus of mine. It was impractical, or had been, given my current chimeric state, making their transport easier.
Having a beehive in my bark would be no problem. I was large enough and came with the flowers.
The idea had been in my mind for some time: who wouldn't want raw honey on demand? A freak, that's who.
And a swarm of buzzing death was the scalpel and range I lacked.
But keeping perfect control of the bees?
No. Hardly feasible, even with pheromones, and why it remained an idea even with the prototype bees I made. Without controls, bioengineered weapons or tools were dangerous to everyone.
Until now, that is.
Replacing the Void with Nature would require some effort, but the foundation was there.
This wouldn't be for me alone, even if this degree of symbiosis I wanted wasn't average.
The arthropods wouldn't be limited to vespids, even if eusocial insects are the best for this.
This was a river during spawning time. That wouldn't be the case for now; we were barely scratching the surface of silithid and qiraji biology.
My fugue was suddenly broken by 'intruders.' I sensed two arrivals from the Goldilocks; the laboratory was well-guarded, and any abnormalities went straight to me through the mycelium connection.
Their weight, in correlation with their footprints, suggested either that two kaldorei were somehow significantly denser than normal or that they weren't what they appeared to be. Their shrouded magical energies, plus the above, pointed to dragons.
Visage forms were exceptionally good, not perfect.
The weight was reduced immensely, but even a small drake weighed around a ton. Needless to say, a wyrm, their weight compared to what they mimicked was close but around half as heavy.
I didn't know who this was or what they wanted, but I supposed it was time. It was getting late. It had been what…
I looked at the clock, a masterwork of symbiosis between multiple plants created by Tur, Milra, and Lilin. I put it on display there. And there were many such things.
'Huh, roughly twenty hours… Damn…' Time sure flew by.
I allowed pause to eat, drink and shit or to do something else. But that didn't mean my students took the relaxation time I had given them.
They didn't want to do that. I don't want them to be self-destructive. I know they wanted to be perfect, but as long as they didn't slack off and were serious, I was happy and proud.
And being an asshole about it wouldn't have the desired effect of calming their enthusiasm.
"Everyone, you have the next quarter to clean and leave. Remember, a weary mind has flimsy results. Magic and elixirs aren't answers to everything." I called sharply, my words carrying all across the laboratory.
There were nods and vocal agreements, but nobody stood up and left immediately. In fact, some were moving faster as if to cram as much work before leaving.
I could almost hear their thoughts, the groans and moans of displeasure. I chuckled as I tidied up around me.
And twenty minutes later, I was alone, walking to the entrance, the organic doors and seals snapping open like sphincter and mandible.
Finally, the last door opened, and I was met with two handsome male elves. One was of the common purplish tone, yet with draconic horns, and the second was smaller, thinner, and of a pale pink with ears going high up.
However, it wasn't the high elf disguise that piques my interest, nor Itharius' presence, even if the latter wasn't ignored.
For him to visit one of my research facilities without first warning me was beyond unusual.
To be honest, his coming to me at all was unusual. He was a punctual and respectful dragon. And I was in front of half of the answer to my question.
"Oh, I suppose it was time for one of the reds to pay a visit." I rumbled calmly, eyes studying a pair of glowing blue ones doing the same, "Who am I speaking to? And greetings."
Comments
Petrox
So he could possibly give free will to the qiraji with parasites or create insecticide that would need better and better versions along the war.
