Grimoires and Gunsmoke

Yzael stirred from her dreams as the morning sun filtered softly through the curtains of her quaint room and cast a harsh bar of light across her face. casting gentle patterns on the walls as it slowly drifted to her face.

"Lthol'yarath…" Yzael once again grumbled a High Elven expletive designed specifically for cursing the morning sun when it dared to disturb a perfectly good sleep. With a huff of frustration, she flipped over in bed, yanking the sheets over her head in a desperate bid for a few more moments of darkness and tranquility.

Although completely alien and bare, this room was her sanctuary. She did what she could to turn it into a reflection of her elven heritage blended with her personal quirks, but there was only so much one could do. It wasn’t something Yzael would consider bad, per se… but, there was a small annoyance with the curtain.

It had become a daily ritual, an unwelcome intrusion into her peaceful mornings. Each and every day Yzael would be awoken by this accursed bar of light and she knew she should have fixed that heavens-damned thing months ago, but procrastination had always gotten the better of her. Every morning, when she woke up, Yzael promised herself that today would be the day she finally addressed it, yet after months, the curtain remained untouched.

Now that Yzael had finally slipped away from the fiery tendrils of the sun, her thoughts drifted between a mix of self-admonishment. She knew she should just stand up and get it over with right now, but the comfort of her bed and the warmth of the sheets were persuasive arguments for dealing with it later. So in her heart, Yzae promised once more, to tackle the issue later.

But, just as she was finally succumbing to the lure of sleep once more, an intrusive, incessant, and mind-numbing noise shattered the morning stillness.

The horridly loud noise emanating from the black brick-like device on her bedside table caused Yzael to groan and thrash under the sheets. “Niyir’yarath!” The Elf growled an expletive for those intruding on one's sleep for selfish reasons as she shot straight up and glared at the otherworldly piece of technology as if it insulted her ancestors.

For a moment, the thought of blasting the device with a ball of fire or dousing it with acid to cease its horrible screeching crossed Yzael's mind. Such actions would be satisfyingly appropriate for the disruption it caused. Yet, with a sigh of reluctant acceptance, she reached over, grabbed the insufferable device, and answered the thing.

"What..? What do you want...?" The voice emerging from her throat sounded more like a plea than a demand for an answer.

The voice on the other end chirped with an unnatural cheerfulness, "Good morning! This is your scheduled wake-up call! You have a meeting today in a few hours!"

"Wake-up call!?" Yzael's voice rose in disbelief and annoyance. "Why do those even exist!?" She couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to such a torturous ritual. With a huff of exasperation, she hung up and tossed the device across the room in a fit of displeasure.

As she lay back down, Yzael couldn't help but start rambling to herself about the peculiarity of otherworldly human customs. "Gods damned humans and their obsession with time," she muttered under her breath. "Wake-up call… Who even does that? Why is time so strictly documented and cataloged? Ridiculous..."

Her mind wandered to thoughts of her own people, where time flowed more like a meandering river than otherworldly human society's rigid clockwork. In her world, time was observed by the seasons and in the centuries, not by some incessant, mechanical ticking or the unrelenting buzz of modern devices.

Settling back into her unreasonably comfortable bed, Yzael couldn't help but acknowledge that, despite their near-neurotic faults, humans were quite adept at crafting a great many comforts. She let her body sink into the softness of the modern bed as it hugged her form, providing support and warmth in ways that were both foreign and delightful. This ‘temperpudic’ mattress was a stark contrast to the simple pallets or hammocks she was accustomed to in her own realm.

As she nestled into the pillow, fluffing it to just the right thickness, Yzael mused on the human ingenuity that went into creating such a bed. The sheets were smooth and cool against her skin, a soothing sensation that almost made the earlier annoyance with the wake-up call seem trivial. She pulled the comforter up to her chin, enjoying the light yet cozy weight of it.

The bed, with its layers of softness and warmth, was like a gentle embrace, lulling Yzael closer to the edges of sleep. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her breathing slowed as she began to drift off, the earlier irritation fading into a distant memory.

But just as she was teetering on the brink of deep slumber, that awful noise emanated from her device once more. This time, however, it was in a place she couldn't easily reach, having tossed it across the room in her previous bout of frustration.

A derisive chuckle that sounded more like a weep of defeat than anything else, escaped Yzael's lips as she lay there. Torn between her unwillingness to leave the sanctuary of her bed and silencing that accursed device. Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh before throwing off her sheets.

“Yes! Yes! I’m coming!” Yzael yelled as she shivered from the cool air suddenly hitting her skin.

Ever since she had discovered the joys of silk sheets and feather-soft comforters, she had taken to sleeping in the nude, a luxury afforded by the convenient and hassle-free access to fresh beddings in this realm. The humans, for all their peculiarities, had mastered the art of laundry to an extent that allowed for virtually endless access to clean linens.

Wrapping herself in her own arms, she begrudgingly acknowledged the only downside to this indulgence - the frigid air of this realm's winter made emerging from her cocoon of warmth all the more challenging. But then again, she couldn’t help but wonder if staying in your soft sanctuary until the air was sufficiently warmed by the afternoon air could be considered a ‘downside’.

Yzael sat there for a moment longer, contemplating the cruel fate that made the bed so inviting yet the act of leaving it so daunting. With a groan of resignation, she finally mustered the will to throw her feet over and make towards the insufferable black brick and her troublesome duty.

A little after Yzael reluctantly picked up the screaming device and spoke to that petulant human on the other side, she made her way to the bathroom The chill of the air and the frigidness of the tiles caused her to start shaking as she held herself tighter, but she knew that relief awaited her in the form of one of this realm's most marvelous inventions: the shower.

Stepping into the wondrous room, Yzael marveled at the ingenuity of this world. The ability to summon hot water to flow endlessly from a spigot mounted high on the wall without magic was nothing short of magical to her. At first, she couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw it. The amount of water seemed endless, but she knew for a fact the humans of this realm were capable of truly insane feats when they put their minds to it.

When she asked how such a thing was possible without any kind of mage, Yzael nearly doubled over when she heard the answer. Her initial introduction to the concept of plumbing had been an experience bordering on disbelief. And when they continued to explain to her how all of their cities were built with an intricate network of pipes solely to supply people with water – both hot and cold – at their convenience, she thought it was absolute insanity. To her, the idea that anyone would entertain such an extensive logistical undertaking for something as basic as water was unfathomable.

As the hot water cascaded over her and started to warm her, Yzael pondered the stark contrasts between the humans of this world and those from her own. In her realm, independent human societies were far and few in between. Most humans were either subjugated as slaves or lower class, or integrated into larger, dominant cultures. The concept of such an advanced and widespread human civilization, capable of engineering feats like plumbing, was something she hadn’t even considered.

Yet here she was.

Standing there in the shower, Yzael couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. The humans of this world had not only handily defeated one of the few dominant civilizations in her world, but they achieved what many would deem impossible or even ludicrous. They had bent the very fabric of their environment to their will, just to make things a little more convenient to the point that it was both awe-inspiring and, to a certain extent, overwhelming.

“Wonderful…” Yzael sighed as felt the cold flee from her body like a specter before a crusader.

The way the hot water traced her form, flowing over the contours of her body, was a sensation she had come to relish while the water's gentle caress seemed to highlight her thin and slender curves. High Elves weren’t as ample as the humans or their Sun Elven cousins, but her people had their own elegant allure.

With the stream of warm water blasted down on her, Yzael's mind inevitably turned a little more somber. This daily ritual of waking up in a nice and comfortable bed before warming up in the steam, hot shower, was a comfort she had come to appreciate deeply in this new world. Still, it was tinged with a melancholy realization. Many of her friends and associates from her world, the ones she had journeyed with and fought with, would never get to experience these simple pleasures.

Her thoughts lingered on Gideon, Elara, Thalen, Sorin, Mirella, and Rael. Each of these names was lost to that awful battle. That awful blast…

Yzael scowled for a second as she allowed the water to pelt her. She felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest, a mixture of sorrow and something else – something akin to guilt. It was a strange, almost foreign emotion for Yzael, given her High Elven heritage and the longevity of her kind.

She was among the younger generation of her people and had lived for over a thousand years. The concept of deeply bonding with their shorter-lived kin, the Sun Elves was difficult enough, but the Humans? Bonding with anyone who lived for a fraction of a fraction of your lifetime was almost unheard of in her society. The fleeting lives of Humans were often viewed as transient, with barely a few blinks in the eyes of her people. Yet, she felt a profound sense of loss and sadness for a few Humans and Sun Elves she had adventured with.

Another sigh left Yzael’s mouth as she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. But it wasn’t until she turned her head and saw her reflection in the mirror that she pondered this internal conflict. Why did she feel this way? Was it simply the lingering trauma from that battle? Was it the sense of loss after knowing she would never have those adventures again? Or had she connected with those who by all rights, would be considered her lessers by her people?

The memories of her companions – their laughter, their fears, their courage – all of it seemed to linger in her mind like a stubborn tick. But, what most stuck out to her was how they had treated her not as an aloof, ageless elf, but as a friend and equal, sharing in both their triumphs and tragedies.

But that was snuffed away under the incessant barks of otherworldly gunfire and deafening explosions.

Turning away from the mirror, Yzael grabbed her towel and quickly dried herself while entering her room. Her mind remained an entangled mess of thoughts as she pulled clothes out of drawers. Usually, she’d spread an unfathomable amount of outfits on the bed and sit there for a solid hour or two in an attempt to pick what to wear, but today she found herself pressed for time. Once again that infernal noise that emanated from her device pierced the air, with that damnable jolly human on the other side reminding her that her ride had arrived and was waiting outside.

With a contemptuous groan and a roll of her eyes, Yzael grabbed the most professional-looking outfit she could and quickly made her way to her Chaufer. And It wasn’t long until Yzael found herself riding in a sleek black, and beastless carriage, that she had come to understand as a ‘car.’ The vehicle was unlike any mode of transport in her world, swift and relatively silent.

But like all novelties, the machine’s allure wore off and Yzael found herself retreating back into her mind, staring out the window. Her gaze didn’t focus on anything in particular and would jump from one wonder to the next. She couldn't help but marvel at the sight of the sprawling cityscape around her. It was a stark contrast to the controlled chaos of the ‘military base’ as the humans called it, she had initially been brought to.

To her, the base seemed like an endless city in itself, teeming with activity and life, a perpetual buzz that never seemed to cease. But now, in the heart of an actual city, the scale and grandeur of human civilization were truly laid bare before her eyes.

Buildings of glass and steel towered into the sky. The streets were a labyrinth of activity, filled with a sea of people, each moving with a sense of urgency that Yzael found both fascinating and bewildering. Cars zipped past, their horns blaring in a cacophony that melded into the background noise of the city.

To be honest, the display left Yzael Overwhelmed.

In terms of grandness, she couldn’t help but compare the buildings of this metropolis to the High Elven capital of her world, a city that was a marvel in its own right, but one that resonated with a different kind of energy. Here, however, the energy was raw, unbridled – a relentless drive that propelled people forward at a breakneck pace.

The Humans boasted of even larger cities than this, and if Yzael was honest with herself, she didn’t doubt them. What they’ve accomplished so far with their almost insignificant lifespan had left her in awe. And if she thought about it, it wouldn’t be long until they’d touched the stars if they hadn’t already.

As she watched the endless stream of people, each in a hurry to get to their destination, Yzael pondered the reasons behind their haste. In her world, time was a river that flowed gently, its passage marked by centuries or at least, decades. But here, time seemed to be counted by a second. Each moment was seized and utilized to its fullest potential like some kind of irreplaceable commodity.

However, Yzael's contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the sudden halt of her vehicle. Jarred back into reality, the Elf scrunched her face in displeasure as an insufferable ringing noise blared out and was accompanied by the flashing red lights.

Yzael narrowed her eyes and glared ahead as a barrier slowly descended, halting all traffic. Her long ears perked and seemed to flutter half in annoyance and half in interest as she leaned forward to decipher the cause of this unexpected stop. And that's when she saw it – a massive metal beast slowly making its way across their path.

Moreover, the monster was pulling an endless stream of crates, each loaded onto its back like some gargantuan caravan. Yzael marveled at the thing's sheer size. In her world, such a task would require scores of horses and carts, and even then, it wouldn't compare to the scale of what she was witnessing.

As she looked around to see if anyone else had the same reaction as her own, Yzael noticed a stark difference in their perception. Instead of wonder or admiration, the faces of the Humans around her were marked with impatience and frustration.

It was as if this was a routine event.

Something so extraordinary to her was nothing more than an inconvenience to them. And that's when it struck her – an epiphany hit her with the force of a paladin's righteous hammer.

The reason why these humans were so successful, so driven, was because time to them was indeed an irreplaceable commodity. Everything about their civilization, from the small comforts of daily life to their vast systems of transportation and their horrible implements of war, was centered around logistics and efficiency.

It all made sense. This relentless pursuit of efficiency was the cornerstone of this otherworldly civilization and it was what drove their innovations, their architecture, and their transportation networks. It explained the bustling streets, the crowded sidewalks, and the constant flow of traffic. It was all a dance choreographed by the unyielding tick of the clock, each second accounted for, each moment optimized.

As the train finally cleared the crossing and the barrier lifted, the pent-up stream of vehicles rolled into action and continued their journey. Yzael sat back in her seat, once again retreating into her mind. She pondered over this newfound understanding of Humans and how it contrasted so sharply with the more leisurely pace of life in her own world.

In her realm, time was a vast and unending canvas upon which the events of the world gently unfolded. But here, time was a precious resource, mined and spent with a fervor that far exceeded any other physical treasure.

She couldn’t help but wonder why the humans of her realm weren’t the same… But the more she thought, the more she started drawing parallels.

In her world, humans were often suppressed, their potential stifled under the weight of more dominant cultures. They either integrated into societies where they had little room to grow or were unable to sustain their communities long enough to make a lasting impact. Yet, there was one area where these humans did excel – magic. Human mages, while not as skilled or powerful as the High Elves or even the middling Sun Elves, did possess an extraordinary creative spark.

They were more keen on deviating from the norm and exploring the unbeaten path. This led to the development of entirely new classifications of magic as they developed novel spells to solve novel problems, showing a level of inventiveness that often surprised even High Elves. However, their short lives meant they rarely had the chance to refine and in most cases capitalize these innovations into something groundbreaking.

In contrast, this world was just full of... humans. Without the overarching influence of longer-lived races, they were left to forge their own path and adapt or die in the process. This need for constant adaptation fostered a dynamic, ever-changing, and frankly, chaotic society in Yzael's eyes.

The history books she had glanced at told a tale of unceasing turmoil and change. Wars, revolutions, and discoveries all occurred at a dizzying pace to someone who had lived for over a millennium. Each page was one horror leading to the next in humanity's relentless drive to overcome, advance, and conquer not just new lands, but new ideas.

But as fascinating as it was, the instability appalled her. The fact that chaos and constant change were the very engines driving this world's progress left Yzael sick to her stomach. Without a steady and consistent society, the humans here had been forced into a cycle of perpetual innovation and adaptation.

And she couldn’t help but think this was exactly what her stagnant world needed.

Yzael's contemplative gaze shifted as the car stopped and her driver's voice rang out. “We’re here ma’am.” The man said, startling the poor Elf.

Several other vehicles pulled up alongside hers, with well-built men in sharp suits emerging and fanning out with practiced efficiency. Her ears twitched as she watched one of the men approach and open the car door for her. Recognizing them as her assigned guards, Yzael gingerly stepped out of the vehicle, taking in her surroundings with keen interest.

She found herself in a sprawling concrete structure, a parking garage full of a variety of vehicles. But a little further away, Yzael could see a group of white-coated men and women who seemed absolutely ecstatic to see her.

“Are they THAT excited to learn introductory spells…?” Yzael questioned as she scratched behind her ears