Conquest

With a click.

Pale green flame took up residence inside a far more fearsome frame. His war eagle. The second-generation he had improved upon his eye in the sky.

For what was better than one eye above? A weaponized version with a nonreflective coating.

It squawked at him. As he nuzzled his creation’s beak affectionately.

“Yes, Yes. Mommy loves you.” Elfmort winced at the words.

He blamed his daughter. Her bad habit of calling him, mommy.

The dick between his legs was a clear indication he was a dad at the very least. Regardless, he was a parent…

Even if by definition a parent should not outlive their offspring….

“Oh no, I‘ve made myself sad.”

He had accomplished nothing but sorrow.

His war eagle nuzzled him back. The harsh contact of the metal did not diminish the obvious affection his creation displayed.

“You have a lot of siblings,” He told it softly.

“But you will always be my favorite war eagle.” It warbled for a moment before it perched on his shoulder. It preened happily.

He didn’t play favorites.

He loved all his creations equally.

From his Synthetic Intellect Spheres he spoke to and raised up from the very first fractals in the crystalline solution he used to grow his crystals. To that incredibly unique siege tower that was a savant in marketing but useless in warfare.

At the very least, he expected it to have settled down as a successful merchant lord.

It would absolutely break his heart if his lil genius shacked up with that sentient brothel hussy. Truly, he would have burned it to the ground. But, he had been persuaded to exile that horridly gaudy building to an undisclosed island location. Play with the affections of his building while seeing three other buildings.  Would it.

He got the last laugh.

He made sure that he was the only one who knew where that island was.

Elfmort hoped at least the penguins enjoyed its accommodations.

He took the doors with him on his way out.

A crystal surged to glittering life.

His eye in the sky. Elfmort had been keeping a close eye on that massive damn.

Patrol routes, the comings, and goings of personnel. When he struck they were going to be so screwed.

An unusual sight. Caught his sight from his brief appraisal of the dam’s structure. He could bring it down.

It was a procession of armored figures and an armored black carriage.

He nuzzled his war eagle.

He hated the pompous odious self-important displays of nobility. He stomped that out with prejudice and like recurring cancer. It always popped back up.

 Always.

He did, however, enjoy crashing the party. His respected elite knew to at least send him an invite or better yet personally hand him the invitation.

It was a tradition at this point and the people of this time had better learn now rather than later.

The last christening, he attended. He gave the best gifts and made a sorceress cry tears of bitter jealousy and made a dragon rage quit the festivities.

He thought it went rather well in his opinion. Nobody directly died from it.

Elfmort shared a look of glee with his war eagle construct.

There was a time and a place for planning and building things.

It was time for him to have a little fun. His ideas would flow faster after this little excursion.

“It just occurred to me. My Lil war machine if you kill someone. Would that make it a murder…”

“most fowl?” Elfmort giggled despite himself. He loved puns.

The war eagle dug its talons into his shoulder.

“Everyone’s a critic.” Elfmort lamented. He went to the box with his proof of concept.

Storm Surge. Was a possibility of a name as was Sudden Sea.

It was time for testing his proof of concept.

Tear of the Sky? Yes, that sounded like a good name. He needed it to be suitably cloudy.

His eye in the sky kept the carriage in view. He could only hope it was for a major party.

Nobility was like termites it seemed, but even termites had their uses.

He supposed.