Field Trip: Mindscape III

In a basement in Brill, behind steel doors, Jakobus paced down the isles of his laboratory, a blackboard closeby. Occasionally, he glanced at his scribblings; endless rows of formulae incomprehensible to any but him. He ran a hand through his golden hair, the ring on his finger catching a few of them – the light pain as the hairs were pulled from their nooks in his scalp barely registered. Self-activating behaviors, Jakobus mused, before snarling at his own lack of focus and returning to staring at the board. It all added up. It was correct. It had to be.

The buzzer disrupted his tentative concentration, and he eyed it in shock; few knew the location of his laboratory. It had to be one of the informants he had carefully placed across the known world. “Yes?” Jakobus spoke into the device, awkwardly pressing the large red button the goblin had instructed him to press. He winced as a spark of electricity could be seen through the mesh of the voicebox. “Code fourteen-fiftyfour, sir” the reply came.

[As one, thousands of shades froze in their place, their eyes shooting up to behold the sky. Seconds ticked away, before they resumed their tasks]

“Where?” the scholar asked, already moving through his laboratory to collect his satchel. “In an abandoned keep in Silverpine Forest, sir”. With one hand, Jakobus stuffed the hood into his satchel as the other pressed the button: “Very well, dismissed. Expect payment tomorrow.”

[The Overseer lay back in her chair, her eyes focused on the ceiling: Sweet salvation may be close. She shivered as she felt the weapons being brought to bear – the factories spewing forth thoughts in thick clouds.]

Hood, robes, staff… all disappeared into the transdimensional bag he carried on him at all times, before Jakobus rushed over to the metal safe. Nervous fingers worked the dial, number after number marked by the small red triangle. Finally, the lock unlatched, and the safe slid open to reveal a red box inside. He snatched it hungrily, and opened it. Inside rested two vials, suspended on silken cloth. Their labels identified the murky liquids inside: “14. TH01” and “15.TH01”. Thank you, Aedran, the scholar mumbled as he set on the journey to Silvermoon. He would require Hera for this.

The girl was delighted with the field trip, his explanation that he was fearful of the objective fell on ears plugged with excitement. She wore an odd type of robes, Jakobus noted.  

[“Battle-robes, sir” the shade announced, before continuing. “Worn by battle mages, often enchanted. Recognizing traits are runes alpha epsilon and zan’gir script twenty-seven. Dalaran academy provides its students with self-repairing battle robes.”]

Hera was full of questions on the way; he answered them half-heartedly. He explained why he was hooded: the Undercity was full of informants, and they did not want their objective to know they were coming. The high-pitched voice twittered on with questions along the way, barely registering his warnings. Finally, he found the words to convey the gravity properly: “Potentially, this man we are heading to currently is the very same who is hunting me”. He looked around, his shoulders tense under his work robes. Hera’s eyes instantly shot to him, sharpness present in their gaze. She remained silent as they trekked through the blighted lands. “Do you feel watched, Hera?” the scholar asked, his eyes scanning the dead lands around him. “I always feel watched, sir”.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It did not take long for the girl to once again be enthralled with the field trip. “I heard there were strange beasts in the area. 'Worgen', they call them” she spoke to him, an excited expression on the face turned to her mentor.

[“Worgen, sir. Wolf-like creatures of questionable origins. Readings have involved: “The Tale of the Silent Death” and “The Horrors Under Your Bed”. Data is questionable at best” the shade spoke, stroking his beard. “Add knowledge, source: Hera Ravnok.” The scholar instructed.]

As Hera told him all she knew of Worgen, they reached the stark walls of the keep. Goosebumps rose on his skin as he felt the quaint sensation of wrongness. He stopped the girl, and produced the two valuable vials. One by one, he ingested them, and fell to his knees; the powerful stimulants ravaging his body.

[“To action!” the Ring Leaders screamed through the city. Thousands of shades appeared out of every nook and cranny the mental metropolis was littered with. The shimmer of spears in the faint light of the artificial sun was almost blinding as they ascended the walls. Not an inch of the city’s outer ring was undefended, the tip of one spear mere inches away from the next. The city’s walls were reminiscent more of a balled-up hedgehog than a place to live, from Jakobus’ vantage point, high above the city. An apt comparison, he smirked. The scholar’s eyes drifted over the armed shades, narrowing his eyes as the implications of his actions came to his consciousness: No emotions would be transmitted. ]

Hera’s concern fell upon cold objectivity – he would be fine. The girl’s ice magic blasted its way through one wicked, twisted creature after the other. Worgen indeed, Hera had been right. They behaved strangely, though – they were being led.

[The Overseer laughed, her icy tones booming through the city, taunting him: “He is a mage, Jakobus! He can control these lesser creatures!”]

The pair moved on, the magess laying waste to any beast in their path, when suddenly, she froze. Jakobus peered over her shoulder. His knuckles whitened as blood was pushed out of the thin veins by the taut skin of his fingers gripping his staff.  Undead spirits moved around in the plaza below. Not a mere mage. No; a necromancer.

[Mad laughter filled the air as the Overseer prepared herself for the demise of Jakobus. “A Necromancer, Jakobus! This cannot be a coincidence!” she screamed in mad delight. “You are walking toward your death!”]

The scholar narrowed his eyes, and motioned for Hera to continue. Recklessly, the girl ran in, every ghast in the vicinity instantly twisting around to watch the luscious life form. They drifted closer towards her with the lazy slowness of timeless death as snarling wolf-beasts tore at the girl’s robes. She will not make it, Jakobus thought emotionlessly. But, she is still needed. He raised his staff, and lay his hand on top of the Psi-crystal in the centre. He focussed on the girl, the gossamer thread of his the Psi-link shooting forward, connecting them. He sent forward a blockade – none of the physical energies would penetrate the shield he erected. You have thirty seconds, girl he whispered, as he watched her struggle among the crowd of monstrosities. She raised her arms, summoning spikes of ice that fell like daggers from the sky. In a matter of seconds, nothing remained of her assailants but sticky puddles of plasm and steaming, furry corpses.

[The shade before him was young, quaking in his boots as he looked at his master. “This keep is infused with mana, sir. Physical laws are not obeyed here – there must be a source of magic here” it spoke, nervously. Jakobus narrowed his eyes at the useless thought: obviously there was magic about. Then the boy continued, and Jakobus could not stop his jaw from dropping: “Perhaps the focus is not a thing, sir. Perhaps it is a person”]

Of course! He stopped Hera, explaining his theory in quick sentences: “Thousands must have died in the many battles here. The mage that brought the creatures here must have felt the lingering, vile energies of this place” he started, watching the girl mull over the words. She shook her head lightly, not understanding. “What else but a mage would manage to make a mixed army of cursed wolf-creatures and shades?” he pointed out, patiently. She responded softly, her mind working hard: “That has to take enormous amounts of energy. Mana…” she queried. Her mentor nodded. “That was my problem as well, and then I figured it out. The mage –has- lost control. He –exudes- mana, rather than holding it within himself.” Hera looked around, as it hit her: "Of course. Oh... -Light-, yes."

[The naked woman smiled coyly at him, the dagger around her thigh drawing his eye immediately. She ignored his lingering gaze, licking her lips before speaking: “If he has lost control, if he is maintaining this entire place with his energies, he will have none left to fight with…” she purred. Jakobus grinned, and nodded, as in the distance, the Overseer screamed in rage. ]

As the pair made their way through corridor after corridor, Hera tired herself out. She was a strong, brave girl, but she could not go on like this. More and more frequently, she had to ask him to let her pause, so she could catch her breath and drink some water to lubricate her dry throat. Not much further, the scholar knew. The creature whose mind he had stolen earlier had known where his master was. If only he’d known the difference between Elves, if he could have recognized individuals, Jakobus would know if it was indeed the man he feared that resided in this keep. Little matter: even if it were him, my legacy will remain as Hera teleports away. Is this a good thing?

[Several shades wavered in the rows of spearmen: those phantoms of Care and Love. They knew they were forsaking their duty, he should experience powerful emotions. But none broke rank to tend to their natural work.]

Finally, they reached their objective. Jakobus watched as the robed man on the platform walked around, cackling madly. Moments later, they stood over the corpse of the unknown mage. It had not been he who Jakobus had feared - just an ordinary mage gone mad. Symbols on his robes distinguished him as an Archmage.  Jakobus smirked and kneeled down, cutting them off the robes to hand them to Hera: “Show these to your bully, he will not bother you any longer, I would hazard”. She nodded slowly, before her lips went into a thin line as Jakobus spoke: “Do not let Ranidaris, or any other tell you any lies about this, Hera. –This- is the mage’s madness.”

And what of me? Jakobus thought to himself as they left, the bag containing the mage’s head stuffed carefully in his satchel. Will I go mad too, before these stimulants wear off? Can a man refrain from sleeping for fourty-two hours?

***
Further reading, in order:
Mindscape I
Mindscape II