L.F-Hist.Novelist Chapter 271: The Harbinger of Calamity Part 2
Chapter 271: The Harbinger of Calamity Part 2
Sundenelle takes a drink of water at a drink station being provided for evacuees and organizers alike via several of the surviving water tankards that Mornistae brought to try to combat the fire. She has been running her voice ragged trying to give instructions for which direction to go and how far to get away for the citizens of Urflasdat, which is far more of an undertaking than she ever realized. It’s not one of her cities, though a lot of Imperial trade passes through this city to fan out throughout the eastern nations. She knows the population probably approaches half a million people or more, making it a daunting task to ensure everyone is informed. Mages are using wind spells, as well as specialized enchantments to amplify their voices. Sundenelle typically has the lower ranking Imperial Court mage apprentices cast this spell during her formal audiences, since it’s a good way for a mage to exercise their endurance control over magic. But, everyone is out in force trying to evacuate one of the largest cities in the east, and she has been conserving her own mana as much as possible as a last line of defense if any more monsters show up.
It seems Zuzia and the dragons were able to make short work of Sayrdarralouche this time, but his body still remains upright and intact, and if his ability to withstand the mana fire was a special skill or ability of his, it is still somehow being maintained with his head and upper torso virtually erased.
Ecklevon stays near the young albino Empress as her primary guard, though there are quite a few Imperial knights protecting her at present. The gatonine, who has been receiving reports from agents through proxies says quietly, “Your Eminence, I just received word a short while ago that his Majesty the Grand Prince has not mobilized the Strylaph forces to aid with the mana fire.
Sundenelle can only sigh. Yaulander is a fair bit older than her at thirty years old this coming summer, and in all of her experience as both a ‘menagerie princess’ turned legitimate overnight and as the Empress, Yaulander has been… unreliable on his support of the Imperial regime. It’s not that he’s disloyal, but he definitely does not commit to actions when he should, nor does he prove to be a trustworthy source of aid when major issues arise. She suspects that he took quite a few losses between his clandestine operations in Mornistae, as well as everything that happened in Centerhold to bring the world to the brink of ruin they’re facing down now, so he may legitimately not have the resources needed to mount an effective aid campaign, and because of the rogue nature of his operations, he won’t outright admit to them unless questioned. Because the Strylaph Grand Principality is such an old Imperial family, rivaling only the Lindenmorg family for bloodlines within the Grand Zenkon Empire, it is extremely difficult to make any sort of accusations or sanctions against him, regardless of his behavior. Those amongst the aristocracy waiting for weaknesses in the Imperial family would absolutely trip over each other to back Yaulander, if only to weaken the power of the sovereign seat of power.
“Has there been any movements reported?”
“Nothing significant. Prince Themihk’s been doing his best to monitor the usual channels, but the rumor mill has been flooded with discussions about the mana fire itself and the Fievegal, leaving little to be heard about anything his Majesty may be doing.”
Sundenelle nods. “I hate that this is where we’re at. He’ll likely use this disaster and my betrothal to Daniel as a pretext to sanction the Throne. Assuming he’s not trying to hire assassins…”
Ecklevon scoffs, joking quietly, “Let us pray he is sloppy about it if he does, such that it can be the stake in the heart we need.”
Sundenelle can’t help but snort at the viciousness, and she covers her mouth as she resists the urge to laugh. It’s a major faux pas for Ecklevon to make such a joke about the Grand Prince, who is royalty-adjacent because of his family rank, which once shared direct blood with the Emperor.
While she’s regaining her composure, Ecklevon skillfully switches back to a more serious topic; the mana fire. He gazes at the glow on the horizon, and even the giant dragon looks small from the distance they’re at. This is exemplified by the massive column of glowing mana embers rising into the sky. “I’m… a bit glad the Fievegal’s mentality is infections…”
“You mean the unwavering resolve in stopping something so…” Sundenelle looks at the towering peak of the mana embers, finishing softly, “...unimaginable?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“It is the right mentality to have. So long as our lungs draw breath, we deserve to have hope. It’s just… admittedly difficult to accept…”
As the two study it for a moment longer, a figure materializes directly in front of them, taking the distinctive form of one of the higher-ranking golems, rather than the stealth soldier that is normally guarding them. A male voice comes out, saying urgently, “Look away!” The golem forcibly pivots Sundenelle around as Ecklevon reacts quickly, getting his sword halfway drawn as the surprise is settling in. Sundenelle’s natural reaction isn’t to obey, it’s to reprimand, even though she knows the golem that had been following her is serving more as protection than a simple spy at this point. It’s a blurry line, of course, but it’s quickly irrelevant.
In the peripherals of her field of view when she’s trying to object and look over her shoulder, a flash of light redefines what it means to be ‘bright’.
Sundenelle thought the mana fire and its embers were bright. After all, a city-sized false inferno has made it feel like late afternoon or evening every hour of the day since the morning of the day prior for miles around the perimeter of the disaster itself.
The flash that just occurred and the way that it illuminates the sky and every cloud in view makes the mana fire feel like night time for the briefest of moments, funneled upwards towards the sky, but even the reflections from under the clouds cause a glare that leaves spots in Sundenelle’s eyes when she flinches away in a fright.
In the entire time they’ve been fighting the mana fire, there hasn’t been any sharp, lightning-like flashes.
Ucahote, the male golem, says sternly and loudly using amplification magic, “Everyone get behind something solid and cover your ears! Hurry!”
Something far worse for the immediate future is about to hit them all.
And, that is only the beginning.
***
A short while before the moment of truth, Zuzia breathes raggedly as she fights the pain of the shredding her hands suffered in the process of punching and gripping parts of Sayrdarrlouche inside of his mouth. Whatever diamond or glass-like material he was made of, it caused massive damage to her, in spite of her ability to punch solid stone without even bruising her skin. And, like punching a pile of broken glass powder, it’s not just a few deep cuts, but near crippling obliteration.
It’s taking her entire focus to stay conscious and useful, and she downed two healing potations from Neith in a hurry for the alcohol more than the healing itself, which is slow. Like Daniel promised, it slammed her in the face like a brick and went down like molten glass with an aftertaste that reminds her more of gasoline than a potentially life- and limb-saving magical drink. And, if one were to talk about bottom-shelf liquor, healing potations would be in a twenty meter hole dug into the floor, filled in by durian fruits, and sealed with a forbidden spell in hopes they never see the light of day again for the honor of the liquor store or bar that had the misfortune of obtaining one. Still, the dulled senses are settling in quickly, and Hekate squirms on Zuzia’s right palm, which is relatively intact because she punched with her left hand. She has her left hand up for balance, but she can’t touch anything with it as blood flows down her wrists.
Jezu… I know I’m no wrażliwiec fainting at the sight of my own blood, but I hope I don’t bleed to death before those jelenie szczyny kick in.
“I-I-I’m ready!” says the timid little fox creature perched on Zuzia’s arm. Her black fur has shifted to a faint bluish-white color after the electrocution she tanked her way through, and her fox-like form is about half the size of her normal kemonomimi humanoid body.
“Yeah, but I’m not…” grumbles Zuzia. She takes a proper throwing stance, as if Hekate is an American football, and Zuzia is a quarterback preparing to make a Hail Mary throw.
“H-Hurry!” urges the tiny Empress with a tone that inspires as much confidence in Zuzia as a twenty year old rope.
“Brace yourself and good luck, Mała.”
Hekate tenses her arms and feet in close, and she keeps her adorable wings folded against her body as her big ears lay back for maximum aerodynamics.
If Zuzia hadn’t seen Hekate survive worse, she would never think of throwing a young girl several kilometers into the heart of annihilation.
This is so stupid… But, I guess if anyone can make it…
Zuzia steps forward and slings her right hand forward with a measured force that she thinks should be just right to get Hekate to the end of the tunnel the magic sword just formed through a glowing white hell.
Please be alright, Mała.
However, that only solves one problem. Zuzia clenches her own muscles in pain as she stumbles away from the continuously creeping false inferno.
Not a shred of heat, hardly any noise, and only an imposing level of light and blended colors give the destructive crawling annihilation any meaningful presence as a threat. It almost feels unreal because of how silent something that otherwise looks like a wildfire has been this entire time, even a mere handful of meters away.
That being the case, the clock has already been ticking, and if Hekate is telling the truth, she is about to ensure it happens soon, rather than a mission failure.
Incredible, Daniel, that none of these people bat an eye at supporting you. I hope you appreciate these people.
She glances in the direction of the city, but because of the distance, it’s difficult to see anything of note, especially because Sayrdarralouche is in the way for most of her line of sight to the north.
To the south, on the other hand, a clashing flicker draws her attention; one of the shuttles is hovering over the mana fire, and ‘black’ magic ‘shots’ are being launched at the mana fire below, causing a clash of colors and flickers.
Damn! That’s the… What were they called…? Doesn’t matter!
“Neith! Those guys! We have to get them away from the crater! We all do!”
Neith looks, flinching when he realizes it. “R-Right! Everyone, brace yourselves!”
The grey dragon in his humanoid form now casts magic on everyone present, launching them in the air with a fountain of whirling wind that easily ‘jumps’ them into the air, startling Zuzia a little. But, with impeccable timing, Magnir swoops under them and catches the group, flying towards the shuttle.
Neith shouts, “Don’t bother slowing down, Magnir! Just take the whole shuttle and push!”
“Yes, General!” replies the dragon in a roar, and Neith uses his magic to create a barrier of wind around the group, with Jeavana supporting him.
Yaulwembor snarls and clicks her teeth at Neith, getting aggressively close to him, but he brushes it off in stride. “Not now, Yaulwembor! I understand, but we can’t wait to write it!”
She paces in a circle fearlessly on Magnir’s titanic back as if he’s nothing more than a solid stone floor, stalking around Neith threateningly, but he stays focused on accelerating the blue dragon as fast as they can go.
Zuzia favors herself a pretty smart girl, and she has paid attention to as much as possible, though everything has been a blur. That said, she clicks her teeth like she’s summoning a horse or scolding a child, but with a more sincere intent behind it. It instantly draws the attention of all four draconic beings and the two elves with them, but specifically Yaulwembor, who knows it as a signal of communication from Daniel.
Zuzia doesn’t know all of Daniel’s gestures, and Hekate seems to have some sort of sign language with Yaulwembor, but using magic as well.
Regardless, she tries her best to simply show sincerity, patting her own chest and smiling at Yaulwembor, in spite of the terrifying truth that is about to be known, and she doesn’t want to be in line of sight for the fireball, which is only the first of terrible things about to happen to this world.
Magnir lets out a roar as they rapidly close in on the shuttle, and Zuzia notices the scene below them. She doesn’t remember the name of the race of people, but she was told about one of Daniel’s mistresses retrieving her people, who are powerful mages. The spell they appear to have cast seems to be the closest thing to ‘fighting fire with fire’. Truly pitch black flames, unlike the ones rimmed with rainbow outlines and emitting pure white embers that give the illusion of mostly-white, are devouring the false inferno in several spots, likely where the black ‘energy bolts’ each landed. Like maggots surrounded by a feast, the comparatively small black flames seem to be eating good, and in the ring formed and growing is the eerily smooth-looking ground beneath, revealed like snow being melted away.
It’s a slow spread, though. Even though it looks promising, it could take days or weeks at this rate to overtake and consume the mana fire.
And, by that time, it could be far, far too late.
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From the angle Zuzia threw Hekate, following the patch carved by the sword she threw, the crater isn’t quite as deep as it is wide, but that doesn’t mean they have the luxury of that much time. Not with the rumbles and booms deep within the crater that are even more clearly those of a volcano erupting, only for the lava to be disintegrated in mid air, rocketing mana embers even higher.
There is a slant to the ‘mountain’ of embers that rises at least five kilometers into the sky, suggesting the wind is pushing the terrifying embers towards the south. There must be some self-repulsion effect on the embers that drives them upwards, but they do lazily drift back down to the ground like snow of the apocalypse.
Where’s Auðumbla when we need her? I know it’s not rime, but I imagine the primordial god-cow who freed Odin’s grandpa could help somehow. Maybe the rivers of milk…
Suddenly, Jeavana yelps, holding Nemaisol’s sheath away from herself as if to throw it, but narrowly resisting the urge. Thankfully, she isn’t electrocuted, but it doesn’t take long for Neith and Zuzia to figure out what’s wrong.
The sword itself has magically reappeared in the sheath.
What does that mean? Are they dead!?
Magnir has swooped in behind the shuttle, and he impacts with his foreclaws, softening the jolt on the humanoids inside, but forcibly accelerating the shuttle in a hurry.
“D-D-Does this mean the Harbinger…?” asks Jeavana.
“It means he didn’t continue holding it,” replies Neith bluntly. “If he doesn’t have it, we have to assume time is almost up!”
“Dive! Magnir! Dive down! We cannot be caught in line of sight of the blast! If you can dive us straight into the ground as deep as possible, that would be preferable, but we need to warn everyone else that we can!”
As she’s shouting, Magnir nods. He seems to trust Zuzia easily, but none of Daniel’s allies object. She could probably tell them that higher in the sky would be safer, and they’d likely believe her.
The problem is, a nuke has many stages of destruction, not just the blast. It was a light topic in history class for her, but she’s far from uneducated on the topic.
The instant fireball from fission is a near-literal point-blank sun; enough light energy alone is going to come off of it to ignite forests and solid timbers instantly, and vaporize living things.
Senn calls out, “Father, I think we should take mana potations! If there are any remnants after…”
“Focus on surviving,” replies the elder sage. “Neith, Magnir, if you can get us close to the camp, and I can try to create a rock wall to buy us some protection, but we need to hurry.”
Magnir’s rear claws slam into the ground as he stops the downward momentum, jolting everyone on his back. He quickly springs back into flight with the aid of Neith’s and Jeavana’s wind magic, racing as quickly as he can towards the main camp. He skims close to the ground, causing a massive whirlwind of dirt and debris behind him as the dragon fearlessly navigates closer than even the bravest fighter pilots with nothing but his armor shielding his own body from any errant impacts.
Suddenly, a flash of blue light fills the sky even further than the mana fire, reflecting off of every possible cloud and even rapidly distorting the shape or dissipating the smallest ones. Zuzia’s heart clenches out of fear.
No one from Zuzia’s generation has any true grasp of what an atom bomb of any kiloton or megaton rating would cause, because the true scale isn’t something that can be fully grasped in an a vacuum, not like the visceral horror experienced by those who survived it. But, anyone with any common sense has a reasonable expectation of what can and will happen, and there’s a very, very big reason nuclear reactors remained limited in service around the world even in the 21st century.
People fear a bomb most of them never directly experienced in any capacity. And, they associate that fear with the few and far between nuclear accidents that have happened. Like air travel, disasters are rare, but they are catastrophic, and immediately elicit the destruction of an entire city caused by the smallest nuclear bombs ever used, and the only ones ever used in combat.
We’re too late…! thinks Zuzia to herself before she instinctively glances behind her. It’s a terrible idea, but the fireball is already gone, thankfully, and it obviously didn’t reach over the top of the crater, or even she and the group with her would likely have suffered immense burns.
That said, air slams into the group, and Senn is knocked free of her position, tumbling across Magnir’s back before Zuzia lunges to snatch the elven sorceress’s leg to save her from falling. Likewise, Neith, Jeavana, and Yaulwembor have been startled and battered by the sudden blast of wind, while Magnir, doing what he can the moment he is slammed by the wind, tumbles sideways to avoid crushing the shuttle as it slams into the ground.
Everyone on Magnir’s back is sent sprawling through the air, and the Polish brunette knows that Senn is a powerful mage, but a powerful mage, at least in fantasy fiction, is typically a glass cannon.
The honey-brunette doesn’t have the rapport with Senn that she has with Serrentuk, since they spent the better part of a week with nothing better to do than get to know each other and play games. But, she does know that Senn is Serrentuk’s only living relative –his long-lost daughter, no less–, and she’s not a monstrous, nigh-invincible tank like the dragons or Zuzia.
Thinking fast, Zuzia pulls Senn in close and does her best to hug the elf close and guide their weight so the Polish backpacker’s back takes the impact directly.
Senn screams out words in a language Zuzia doesn’t know, trying to squirm her hand around behind them, but Zuzia doesn’t feel a gust of wind gathering to cushion them, nor a magic rubber arm to catch them safely out of their fall.
Another person manages to wrap arms around Zuzia from behind, and she can pretty safely guess from the lack of scales or armor that it’s Jeavana, who was wearing a dress that the Polish woman only recognizes as similar to some kind of mediterranean fashion, as opposed to Geirahoel’s kimono-like outfit, Reignleif’s conservative a-line dress and mantle, or Ryuogriar’s elegant and sleek, somewhat modern European-like dress. And, confirming this is the obvious sensation of a well-endowed woman’s chest pressed to Zuzia’s back as the golden dragon hugs Zuzia and Senn close with one arm, groaning as she does her best to flex her wounded wings.
With a sharp, tight flap, Jeavana let’s out a scream, but she somehow manages to kill most of their momentum. The three tumble apart when the impact the ground, and Magnir twists his own body incredibly, launching himself up and over the much smaller beings while Zuzia manages to look. It’s far less majestic than an Orca sailing just out of arm’s reach, but it’s impressive that he had so much control over trying to protect everyone else.
And, for his part, Neith has managed to rescue Serrentuk, and lands with the senior elf safely nearby. The grey knight asks quickly, “Is anyone wounded!? Jeavana!?”
The golden dragon continues crying out and moaning, trying to find a position to ease her own pain, but she’s noticeably losing strength to even crawl on her hands and knees. The voluptuous blonde collapses into the dirt, and the burning bites at Zuzia’s hands. Her tattered skin has mostly healed from the terrible damage Sayrdarralouche’s new ‘skin’ caused, but even the light scratches are agonizing, and the Polish woman feels it deep within the ground.
They likely missed the initial seismic wave from the impact during their crash landing, but the brightness of the world shifting rapidly like the sun is rising in seconds causes Zuzia to look, but quickly shield her eyes. She can feel the heat relatively easily, even with her Amalaskae-powered body.
And, it’s not just a rising fireball.
It’s a long cannon shot, as if the world itself is firing at another celestial body deep in space.
The air shockwave visibly tears through the clouds above, and the moving hemisphere itself is partially visible in the distance from where it displaces clouds.
They are likely over thirty kilometers from the center of this event, which means it takes almost a minute before the shockwave actually reaches them while the horrors of the rising fireball continue to climb amidst the glowing, flashing remnants of the ‘cannon’ cloud that is already spreading out into the typical, familiar shape even before the rapidly climbing fireball adds to it.
The heat is getting unbearable, and Senn yelps as she shields her face. They haven’t burst into flames, but the light is intense, even from the aftermath.
And then, the shockwave itself arrives.
It is the single most painfully-loud sound Zuzia has ever heard, and it knocks all of them back down to the ground while rattling every possible organ and bone in Zuzia’s body, reminding her of how close she came to breaking bones seriously during her fight with Neith, Serrentuk, and Amalaskae. All other pains and aches become irrelevant for all of them as they are witness to one of mankind’s most terrible weapons in the history of either world.
And this one is visible for the majority of the local region of Zenkon.
***
Aramellianna leans forward with her hands on a crate to catch her breath and rest a little. Naturally, it’s expected at aristocratic balls and royal birthday celebrations that even she, the Grand Duchess (now Senior) would participate in certain dances, parts of ceremonies and hunting expeditions, and other physically taxing things while wearing a corset, pannier, and heavy dress. She has a fair amount of stamina, but she has been helping roll patients over, clean up wounds and clothing, provide food and water, and anything else she can during a dire, undermanned stretch of the operation, because the chaos has strained all of the joint endeavor’s resources.
She can feel the fatigue building, and her own age and recent wounds are proving to be unforgiving at this moment.
She wipes her hands off using a bucket and rag to try to remove some of the excess blood, and she’s thankful that she has the surface level experience to handle something like this. She has naturally seen plenty of aristocratic ladies and princesses, and even some men, see blood from a broken glass or a freshly hunted animal and faint like a baby kaepina calf.
While she’s pondering this, though, the Grand Duchess Senior notices the flash in the sky, and she glances towards the mana fire. She doesn’t have to wait long for it to become clear. Almost immediately, the white ‘embers’ rising high into the sky evaporate before her very eyes almost immediately, and what feels like less than a second later, she feels a sensation she already knows. Her instincts and the feeling cause her to flop against the crate as she clutches briefly at her chest, feeling supremely weak. And, at the same moment, a new, more violent and more noticeable flash of fiery red light explodes into the sky like a massive wall of fire reaching all the way to the heavens themselves.
Aramellianna is over forty years old, and she heard a great many stories from her husband and from the casual talk among the Guardsmen.
The column of fire exploded like Daniel’s firearms, but on the scale of the gods, and it continues to push fire-laden smoke and hellish lightning flashes upwards from the crater. The destruction, even though it’s silent for now, dwarfs the city of Urflasdat in the way the Stalvaltan castle does to a dinner plate.
From what the three otherworlders described during their hasty and impromptu meeting, it looks like the apocalypse they feared, and Aramellianna has a moment of dread.
But, she realizes quickly who one of those otherworlders is.
The weakness that she’s feeling, like she has suddenly been hit by a week’s worth of fatigue, isn’t the world ending itself.
It’s the amputation that will save its life.
And, realizing just as quickly that there is still hope, one more thought hits her quickly.
The brunette aristocrat screams, “Everyone, brace yourselves!”
She drops to her hands and knees, since she doesn’t know what else she can do other than try to prevent her head from hitting the ground. There’s nothing close enough that she can brace herself against, and there’s only a couple more seconds before it hits.
The world itself jumps.
As if trying to leap away from Daniel’s terrible weapon, which has since spit a massive, terrifying ball of glowing fire that crawls up its own burning hellscape into the sky that is already making Aramellianna feel hot, the ground itself jumps violently, and her attempts to reduce the damage from a fall is almost moot. Aramellianna is cast up into the air by the rolling wave that passes through the ground itself. She screams, and many yells and cries erupt out of the camp for the people who haven’t fully evacuated yet. They moved further away from the mana fire, but everyone still moving to regroup with the Urflasdat evacuees is caught by the land-jump.
The Grand Duchess Senior hits the ground and cries out in pain, and several nearby Guardsmen, who are quick to brush off their own injuries and being toppled, rush to scramble towards her.
Aramellianna coughs on grass and dirt, spitting and trying to catch her breath. “Sound… Brace for the sound…”
“Cover your ears!” shouts one of the Guardsmen. “Cover your ears!”
The Stalvaltan Guardsmen are elite troops, and they trust each other implicitly, because they need to in order to be prepared to battle dragons and other colossal monsters. Hearing it once, the others immediately start shouting the same order in repeat, passing it throughout the camp as quickly as possible, especially because magic has been momentarily suppressed.
“There will be two more anti-magic waves,” murmurs Aramellianna. Her eyes are glued on the terrifying mushroom rising high into the sky, and she fully comprehends the Dawnsight that started it all, bringing Daniel, specifically, to this world.
She also understands why even Daniel was afraid to use his weapon.
His declaration that the bomb could kill the entire city of Urflasdat in addition to the unfathomable range of its actual offensive capacity was nothing close to an exaggeration. If anything, it feels like an understatement now.
“Daniel… Sweet boy…” whispers Aramellianna in disbelief as she witnesses what feels like a power only a god should possess. She heard Daniel’s words, but she didn’t believe them.
It leaves her feeling like an utter, short-sighted fool.
“What manner… of terrible thing convinced you to prepare something like this?”
And, that’s when she realizes, “Wait…” She scans around as the seconds before one more of the myriad disasters from a single weapon reaches them. “Where is his Grace the Emperor?”
Daniel was in the main camp, but now that Aramellianna is giving it thought, he never caught up with her or the other major players in the Fievegal evacuating from the main camp. If anything, it’s like he vanished into thin air.
She looks again at the superweapon, one of the few things Daniel was fiercely secretive about how it came to be, leaving even Wenlianna completely in the dark about their construction. In the hands of anyone else, Aramellianna would dedicate a significant portion of the Stalvaltan resources to assassinating them, whatever the cost. But, Daniel has had this technology in his grasp for at least a year or so, and he never once brandished them even threateningly against his many adversaries in the world.
It’s unlikely the nations of the world will leave the Fievegal be now that it has been demonstrated… unless they can convince the world that it was an act of God himself, but more important than that is the fact that Daniel is missing in the first place.
Even if he’s protective of the secret of the weapon, the golems are unwaveringly loyal to him.
And yet, Xyreko’s golem is nearby, collapsed into a heap because her magic connection was severed. She had no idea it was coming, and didn’t warn anyone.
“Daniel… please tell me you’re safe.”
These words are the last ones anyone hears in the immediate area for a long time afterwards.
The shockwave reaches them, hitting them like a thunderclap given near-physical form.
***
A/N 1: “Wrażliwiec” is a slightly dismissive word for “delicate soul” or “sensitive person”, and “jelenie szczyny” is rather vulgar and means “deer urine”.
A/N 2: Auðumbla (pronounced along the lines of “Owd-hoom-bla”) is a primordial cow mentioned in the Prose Edda, a scholarly account of various Norse mythology from different sources. In the primary account of her existence, she emerged from the ancient ice in the void between the realms of fire and ice alongside Ymir, the frost giant. Ymir survived on Auðumbla’s ‘four rivers of milk’ while Auðumbla further licked away the salty rime (ice) over three days, freeing Buri, Odin’s grandfather.
A/N 3: (Just in case ;) ) “Glass cannon” is a term often related to video games, but also battle-related games of any kind, where the “glass cannon” character is among the strongest in sheer damage potential on the battlefield, but has extremely low defense, meaning they can hit the hardest, but even the weakest hits are a major threat to them.
***