(2022-11-16) Accurate Date Is The First Step

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Author:	Athena
Summary:	Sandy goes to visit Pippinlopper in his office hours to talk to a Real Warlock Teacher, and he learns some difficult lessons about the fel and demons. 5k-ish words.
Rating:	T for Teen

Pippinlopper's office is a generous cubby of "the university," able to comfortably sit up to six very friendly gnomes on excellent terms with each other, or perhaps one gnome and two humans willing to have their knees touching as they sit in the provided Correctly Sized (read: gnome sized) chairs. The office is meticulously organized, everything in its place and everything with a place. The office hours are posted in clear, easy to read font, along with a clock next to it, leaving no room for ambiguity of when this gnome is available.

The walls of the cubby office are covered in dozens of black and white photos of Pippinlopper, often accompanied by a demon, in many different locations with various subjects. Pippinlopper looks very serious in every photo, and it looks as though he's wearing all very dark black. There are several shelves with books on them; two of the books have Pippinlopper listed as the author, one appears to be a book on mushrooms, and the other on the history of triangular architecture.

The actual gnome himself is perched on a regular sized stool, currently writing with both hands two different things on two different pieces of paper. His left it seems is writing a grocery list, while his right is jotting down notes about the most recent lecture of his on the various ways tone can be interpreted with demons of limited verbalization. His hair is wild, and his beard is as perfectly groomed as ever, his pink eyes alight with intelligence as he works.

Sandy, wearing a simple (and by simple I mean pirate) orange shirt, with light blue shorts and sandals, knocks on the office's door. As he does, he begins reading the office hours posted outside, thinking he maybe should have done that first. He looks at the clock, which indicates that he wasn't wrong to knock, it was the right time to do it, regardless of the lack of information he had before, which is great!

He gives one more, light knock on the door, now that he's sure the office is open.

The door to the office is open, and the gnome halts his writing to lean back in the stool. It rolls somewhat, on soundless wheels and the gnome comes into view from the hallway. "Oh! Yes, yes, come in, come in," Pippinlopper says, his voice easily audible. "May I help you?"

Sandy takes a few steps inside and looks at Pippinlopper. Is he the warlock professor? He knows a few warlocks now, and most of them don't have nice offices like this, and they rarely have pink hair! He looks at the photographs. Yup. Those sure are demons on there. That gnome is the professor!

"Hi! I'm San — Gausanders Spellbond! I work with Cobalt Company and, uh…" he pauses, thinking. "They say I need someone to teach me how to be a better warlock, because I'm actually already quite good." Sandy doesn't wait to be invited to sit into one of the tiny chairs, he just does. "I just made an oop — a tiny little mistake, and kind of lost their trust there…"

"Oh, Cobalt Company," Pippinlopper says, nodding in recognition. He rotates the stool, and leans down to pump at a handle that lifts him up about a foot so that he's closer to eye-to-eye with the human warlock. "I see. A 'tiny, little mistake'?" Pippinlopper crosses his right leg over his left, leaning forward. "Well, Gausanders, I am Pippinlopper, though I expect you know that, since you made it here. What sort of mistake did you make? And please, do remember that if we are untruthful, our data becomes useless!" The gnome punctuates this with a point up to the ceiling. What's up there?

There is, in fact, a sign on the ceiling that says "ACCURATE DATA IS THE FIRST STEP OF ACCURATE ANALYSIS." It is translated into what seems to be five different languages.

Sandy looks up at the ceiling and takes his time reading the five different languages. His eyes still on the sign, he begins: "Well, uh, Mr. Professor Pippinlopper…" He lowers his gaze back to the gnome and shakes his head. "I used a spell I found in a Scryers book, in Outland. It was done very safely, and I was careful, I trained a lot before and after!" Giving the warnings before saying the actual thing that happened is always a good sign. Sandy clears his throat. "I… kind of… turned into a demon… temporarily and on purpose." His voice gets lower as the sentence goes on.

Pippinlopper nods along, the fluff of his hair bouncing in the motion. "Yes, Metamorphosis, advanced technique using the soul bond through the demonic pact with your demons. Mmhm." He pauses as though he expects Sandy to continue and get to the actual mistake.

Sandy stares unblinkingly at the gnome, frozen like a statue. He stays silent as well, expecting Pippinlopper to continue too.

Pippinlopper clears his throat and nods encouragingly.

"Well…. Tha — that's it?" Sandy says, both as a question to know if Pippinlopper is done, and as a conclusion to his story.

"Well. Did you fail in the Metamorphosis? Lose consciousness or time during the Metamorphosis? Discover you had greatly increased your fel corruption afterwards? Unintentionally freed the demon you used from the pact you had? What was the mistake, Gausanders?" Pippinlopper asks, and although he is attentive, he speaks as slowly and clearly as when he's lecturing. "I cannot assess the problem without data, young man."

"Uh," Sandy pauses, thinking. "No?" He scratches the back of his head, considering all of the way this could have gone wrong mentioned by Pippinlopper, and how they didn't happen. "I… the only side effect I had is that I felt like I had wings on my back after a few metamorphosis, even when I was in human form. My friends at the clinic called this 'haunted limbs' or something!" The human shakes his head pouting. "The members of my squad just didn't like me suddenly turning into a demon!"

Pippinlopper studies Sandy a moment more before leaning back, stroking his hand over his hair. It immediately fluffs up even further. "I thought you said you made a mistake? Did you make an error in your demonology or did you make an error in judgment of employing the Metamorphosis in incorrect circumstances?"

Sandy stares at the fluffy hair as he answers. "I mean… I don't think I made an error! We were fighting a powerful demon when I did!" He pauses, considering if he's saying is the full story, or just his point of view. He decides that is point of view is the full story! "They were just angry… at the spell itself. What it does."

"Hmm," Pippinlopper muses, and shakes his head. "I see. You don't think you made a mistake. Well, that's something else entirely."

The gnome shakes his head again, the hair floating around his head like a fluffy pink halo, and turns a little more to his desk. "There is no student worse than one who does not want to learn, and is only there by obligation to sign off on some paperwork. They ask no questions, they do nothing beyond that which they think is mandatory, and they resist completely any information that challenges any of their preconceived notions. That is nothing but a waste of your time, and mine."

Pippinlopper gestures to papers on his desk. "I am here to teach warlocks who want to do better, and know better. If you are looking for someone to simply sign off without question, I suggest you ask one of the hacks at the Slaughtered Lamb. Or file a Discrimination Suit against Cobalt Company, although I should warn you that there are currently no human laws in place for at will employment outside the Alliance army protecting warlocks."

Sandy pauses, thinking about this. "I don't want to attack Cobalt Company with the law, I like Cobalt Company!" he pauses once more. "And I'm not sure the people at the Slaughtered Lamb would sign anything concerning me, although they let me try their new spells first, which means they trust me!"

The young man sighs, fidgeting with his sleeve. "Do you see a mistake in what I did? I'm really trying to get better at this, not just get you to sign a piece of paper… although that would be nice!" He looks at Pippinlopper with puppy eyes and a small, sad pout. "I'd like them to take me back into one of the squads, and if they do I don't want to disappoint them again."

Pippinlopper spins his chair a little each way. "Hm." He peers closely at Sandy, the bright pink eyes searching for something in the young human man's face. "Do you want back onto their, ah, 'squads' because of the power, or the prestige?"

Sandy shakes his head. He tries to sit up straight in the tiny chair. "Because I love helping people! And because saving the world from world ending threats with your friends is fun!" He grins brightly at the professor.

Pippinlopper nods, brushing a hand up to his beard, tapping his forefinger against his lips. "I see." He turns fully in his chair away from Sandy.

But it's only a moment, as he turns back, this time armed with a clipboard and a pen, looking at Sandy with a steady, bright gaze. "Let's see, then. Where are you in your studies? What demons can you summon, which do you summon, and what would you estimate your fel corruption to be, based on how powerful you would rank yourself along?"

Sandy blinks at the sudden appearance of the pen and clipboard. Where did those come from?! he thinks.

He goes through the question as fast as he can, fidgeting in his chair. "I, uh… I can summon an imp, sayaads, a very cute voidwalker, a felhunter, and a felguard! I started studying in Stormwind, then a bit in Ironforge but with Cobalt Company we realized some people there weren't very good, so I studied a bit on my own and a bit in Ratchet so…. I'd say I'm far in my studies! I might be a little corrupted because my eyes weren't green like that before, and because I'm pretty strong." He pauses. "But according to my birth mom I might have been a little corrupted from birth."

Pippinlopper writes without looking as he nods along with Sandy, frowning at the description of the Voidwalker.

"Ah, at birth?"

Sandy doesn't notice the frowning. Grimnos is very cute and everybody knows it. He nods at the question.

"Yeah ! She says she was already using shadow magic and the fel before my birth, and she didn't stop while she was… Waiting for me!" He shrugs one shoulder. "So she says that's why it's so easy for me. I've always had it in me…" He pauses again. "And by 'it' I mean the Fel. Not… Smartness or courage or anything!"

"Oh!" Pippinlopper says, as his hand continues to write. "You mean she was a warlock. Hm. There haven't been many studies into the transference of fel energies in the prenatal development, but I might refer you to a colleague of mine who has been looking for case studies. But, what we do know so far is that fel energy can corrupt with enough exposure even externally, but it certainly takes quite a bit of time. Have you noticed any other physical changes beyond a significant decrease in melanin of your irises since you started using the fel?"

"No, just the eyes for now! And the ghost wings I mentioned earlier!" Sandy's eyes suddenly widen as he takes in everything Pippinlopper said. "Wait! A case study? What will your colleague do? What will happen if I do join their study… Thing?" His voice indicates a mix of fear and curiosity.

"At the moment, she'd be taking measurements, asking for estimates of usage, and so on. There's a lot more fel users than there used to be, thanks to the changes of access to it, and we still don't know the long term ramifications for the neonatal, but that's not my field of expertise. How long have you been a warlock, dating since your first official fel usage and your first successful demonic pact?"

Sandy shows disappointment on his face. "Studying warlocks isn't as cool as I thought."
Sandy scratches his chin an looks up and accidentally stares at the sign again. "Uh… Maybe two years ago, now?" A few months before I joined the Company," he nods. "So that's two years, yes! I started studying and almost immediately made my first pact with Kupjub, my imp! He's a little destructive but mostly harmless. He obeys and listens pretty attentively as long as I give him little things to burn when I summon him!"

Pippinlopper nods. "That's not unexpected progress for a human." He looks back up at Sandy. "Who have been your primary sources for training so far?"

"Hmmmm," Sandy thinks about it for a long time, holding the 'hmmmm' sound. "It's changed a lot! I'd say the trainers in Stormwind were, I spent a lot of time with them, but for all that's a bit more technical and advanced, they sent me to Ratchet!" He sits up straight again in the tiny chair, or at least he tries, a proud smile on his face. "But apart from all the training I've received, I'm self-taught!"

Pippinlopper doesn't seem surprised. "And now you're looking for instruction because you want to be friends with people who are uncomfortable with aspects of demonology in a self-taught warlock? Do I understand you correctly?"

"… Yes?" asks Sandy, a bit confused. "I mean I'm already friends with them, I just would like them to trust me because I know what I'm doing! And, uh, I need to learn and get better if I want their trust!"

"And would you say you've lost that trust, engaging in advanced demonology techniques learned largely from what you would categorize as self-study?" Pippinlopper asks, turning a little on his stool in what seems to be an idle motion.

Sandy looks around, a little confused. "Is, uh, is that a trick question? Is Elohad or Auralind hidden here, waiting for me to say I'm irresponsible, or something like that?" By the genuinely worried tone of his voice, it doesn't sound like he's being sarcastic.

"No trick," Pippinlopper says, pausing in writing. "Just collecting data! After all, we cannot analyze what your motivations are without data. If your purpose for studying is to earn back trust, it might lead you to make certain decisions that fuel that purpose, including lying to tell them what they want to hear. I do not intentionally instruct others on how to fool people into thinking a warlock is in control. However!" Pippinlopper holds up a finger, inadvertently pointing up again to the sign on the ceiling.

"If your purpose is to achieve safety and surety with your fel studies on behalf of others, then you will be more inclined to do things with a genuine desire to learn and improve your control!"

Sandy makes a pouty face which clearly hides a little smile. "You shouldn't have explained the whole thing in such details! Now if I say 'My purpose is to genuinely achieve safety and surety with my fel studies on behalf of others', you're going to think I'm telling you want you want to hear right now."

Pippinlopper nods encouragingly, his voice sounding enthusiastic and pleased. "Yes! Exactly! Which is why it is only a singular data point. But! When we look at the rest of the data, we can see the entire picture. And, of course, we have the ability to cross-verify this data. After all, I do not know her personally, but I know your Captain Jocoza by reputation, of course, and I can ask her to verify what you've told me. This type of analysis is crucial to studying the fel! If you rely only, for example, on what one warlock, or Light forbid, a demon says of the fel, you can be easily led astray!"

Sandy blinks rapidly at the explanation because that sure sounds like a lot of work for one information. At the end of Pippinlopper's last sentence, the young man lets out a small, nervous laughter. "Y— yeah, who would only listen to what one demon has to say about the fel!" He clears his throat. "To answer the, uh, previous question, I really think it's just the fact that I turned into a demon that was the problem! Not that I learned that spell from a book and not a teacher…" he pauses. "Although when I said I learned it from a Scryers book, it didn't really seem to make things better."

"Hm, well." Pippinlopper taps his pen a few times on the clipboard. "'Scyrers' teachings can be a little difficult to evaluate objectively, due to the fact that the Sin'dorei have repeatedly shown themselves willing to engage in tactics that leave them quite vulnerable to serious side-effects and long term damage in exchange for power."

Sandy shakes his head, unconvinced. "But these sin'dorei are naaru approved, though, un —, hun. " He doesn't finish his 'unlike me'. Pippinlopper doesn't need this data.

"I'm afraid I'm not an expert in naaru. Although! I have a colleague studying them at length for their relationship with the Draenei, but that's more of a sociological study. However, despite the naaru's expertise, perhaps, with the Light and by nature the Void, there is no reason to assume they are equally qualified to make social judgment calls on mortals engaged with the arcane and the fel, both of which lie outside the cosmic balance of the Light and Void, as well as present very different social contexts for mortals capable of corruption. It is entirely plausible for a being of Light to tolerate many things that others will not," Pippinlopper says. "But! That is another debate for office hours.”

Sandy really, genuinely tries to follow the debate but gets lost halfway through. He tries to open his mouth with made up rebuttals every time he can get a grip on what Pippinlopper is saying, but he closes it just as soon. He nods at the mention that this is another debate.

“What I am most interested in is what precisely you wish to learn, young man. Remember, when we lie, we create inaccuracies in our data!"

"I'd like to be a safer warlock to be around, as I said! To be strong to help my friends and other people, but not scare them." Sandy clears his throat, his voice's volume decreases, and he begins speaking very fast. "Also I'd like to find a way to free demons from corruption to know what choices they'll make then because I'm sure they can be good."

Pippinlopper seems, for the first time, genuinely taken aback. "Pardon me, you want to do what with demons?" He asks, as though maybe he misunderstood, even as he looks down at his own clipboard where he has written the words out. "You want to 'free demons from corruption'?"

"Um…" Sandy takes a deep breath, preparing for what's going to happen next. "You know how… some demons weren't always demons?" He scratches the back of his head. "We got a tour of the Exodar, and they explained that they're controlled by one guy, Sargeras. Well, I'm trying to find a way to… cut them off from that influence, so they can decide what they want to do for themselves." He presses his lips together, and looks around, avoiding Pippinlopper's gaze. "Maybe they'd go 'Hey, now that I'm free of that bad influence like those my mom always told me to avoid when I was a human' or a night elf, or a blood elf, or a gnome… you get the idea! 'Well, now I don't want to do evil stuff anymore!'"

Pippinlopper blinks for several seconds, and then says, "Ah-HA!" As though he's just made a great discovery. He smiles encouragingly at Sandy. "I see! So you have constructed an impossible hypothesis based around an inaccurate point of data! Yes, yes, happens to the best of us. Not to fret! I should be able to correct that," he says with the confidence of a scientist and researcher. There's an energy to the gnome as he readjusts in his seat, crossing his legs so he can balance his clipboard on it and lean forward. "Now, young man, what exactly do you think a demon is?"

"An impos — inaccurate, but – " Sandy shakes his head. "They're sentient beings! Who can make choices! I know they're really into chaos, but chaos can be good, too."

"Oh! Absolutely!" Pippinlopper exclaims, bobbing his head enthusiastically in a way that certainly might seem as though he's agreeing with Sandy. "Chaos can be a fundamentally significant force for what we would label 'good.' In fact, for growth, chaos is one of the most important aspects, allowing for crucial alterations in mutations necessary for evolution and genetic diversity!" Pippinlopper continues smiling as he continues, "But, of course, the fel isn't 'chaos.' That is a crucial misunderstanding of a derivative missing the full accurate description. The fel is 'Destructive Chaos' and by very definition, destructive chaos cannot be 'productive chaos.'" He beams a little.

Sandy doesn't beam. At all, especially since he thought they were agreeing for a second. "But that doesn't mean they can only be destructive chaos! I've got fel in me - I've got those green eyes - that doesn't mean I'll…" he searches for the right word, and probably gets it wrong. "Participate in destructive chaos exclusively!"

"Oh, of course not!" Pippinlopper says, and again, for a moment there, it's like maybe he's going to agree with Sandy, but he adds in a slow, clear voice, "But you're not a demon, or fully corrupted yet. If you were, you would be incapable of anything else. Demons have been fully corrupted. Much like you cannot return to being a baby once you have grown into an adult, they cannot reverse that corruption. You cannot undo the corruption in yourself, either. Once we have engaged in the fel, it is permanent within us. That is why we must be very deliberate and very cautious in our relationship with the source of our power. It is a crucial mistake to think that because you are not destructive chaos now that you will never become so."

"Corruption and growing up…they're not the same, are they? You can go back from corruption, right? Has any of that ever been tried?" Sandy asks, a defeated look on his face. He fidgets with his shirt, his gaze fixated on the desk. "If we can't go back from corruption, why do druids even try to heal the land where it's been attacked by the Legion or the Scourge? If they have hope for land and all the lives there, why not… People?"

Pippinlopper shakes his head. "Not all corruption is equal! When we talk about 'corruption' the identifier is important. 'Fel corruption' is not the same as 'arcane corruption' or 'radioactive corruption.'" Pippinlopper holds up a four fingered hand, ticking them off. "When it comes to the fel, particularly for living creatures, there simply is no returning. What we do to ourselves as warlocks is permanent, and the structure of a demon has fundamentally altered them. The land may be possible to adjust over time, or lessen the corruption if it receives no new corruption. But we are not land, and we do not stop using the fel. We are thinking creatures, susceptible to very different forces — and it is a simple forward path, with no way back." Despite the gravity of the statement, the gnome seems peaceful, almost cheerful about this declaration, as though it's simply another fact of life like aging.

"So…" Sandy places his hands on his knees, curling up forward in his tiny chair. His voice slows down drastically, a complete contrast from Pippinlopper's cheerfulness. "I've been studying demonology with that objective in mind for nothing? I wasted two years?"

Pippinlopper reaches over as if to attempt to pat the human's hand, but the gnome's arms are too short to reach across even the relatively small distance, so he scoots the stool a little closer, the wheels rolling smoothly on the floor.

Still too short.

Pippinlopper pats the arm of the chair that he can reach, there, there, human. "Wasted? Not at all! Even when we approach with a flawed data point, all is not lost. When a scientist continually discovers that a hypothesis refuses to have the result he wants, he does not keep trying to make it work, but neither does he abandon it all. He returns to his original data to discover what went wrong!"

Pippinlopper taps his clipboard. "You were operating under an untrue point of information, which led you to construct a hypothesis that you cannot prove into theory. Now that you have correct data, you can form a new hypothesis, and see how your previous collected data fits into this new paradigm!" Pippinlopper's voice certainly makes it seem like he at least thinks this is very exciting.

Sandy watches the gnome approaching, then shakes his head at the things he said. "What new hypothesis could I make? I thought I could find a way to get some demons to be truly on our side without needing to enslave them. And now you're telling me this was doomed from the start. And you're not the only one telling me that. All the efforts I put into demonology to get there, they were useless," He sighs deeply. "What else should I do, now? Make how can I definitively kill the demons I've been trying to create a bond with for 2 years my new thing? I don't want to make that my new thing!"

"Well," Pippinlopper says, rotating his stool back and forth a little. "The reason I became a warlock was to study the methodology of how demons manipulate their warlocks into greater fel corruption. It's an unstudied field, to delve fully into the exact methods. Demonology takes many forms! If you are interested in sharing your research into how you have attempted to bond with your demons, you could perhaps join in with some of my students who are working on this very comprehensive study. It will, of course, inevitably lead you to slowly accumulate fel corruption, and your eventual demise, but so will just about anything else!" Pippinlopper smiles with that same gnomish cheer, his eyes crinkling in dozens of wrinkles.

"Why," Sandy asks, raising his eyebrows. "If you're right…" he pauses, it pains him to add the 'and you probably are' part, so he doesn't. "That was not research worthy at all. That'd be like sharing how I tried to turn butter into a wooden desk!" he glances at the gnome. "I haven't done that, by the way, that was just an example!"

Pippinlopper gives a hearty chuckle, and fiddles his pen a little. "You know, I had a colleague once, oh, some hundred or so years ago now, who was particularly interested in determining the precise caloric impact of conjured food and who eventually went into attempting to create conjured food from other objects! Not precisely a table-to-butter transformation, but she would have thought it an interesting hypothesis." He sighs and there is, for a moment, a touch of grief in the gnome's aged face. "Would have. Well! I would disagree on the worthiness of the research, but I believe that all data has a place, even if only to be designated as an unhelpful outlier doomed to be cast aside for the true establishment of a standard deviation!"

Sandy looks at the gnome, wanting to say something at the change of emotion from him, but he instead scratches the back of his own neck, not really knowing what to say to this stranger. He listens attentively to the following comment about data. Whoa. The human has never related so much to data on a personal level than he does right now. He slightly shakes his head. "I don't know. Maybe I made a mistake I—" he sighs. "I guess I can join your students, yeah, at least for a little while. It can't hurt, right?"

"My lecture times are posted clearly on the lecture hall, and here is my card," Pippinlopper says, as he leans back to fish out a stack of small cards printed with very easy to read font, with minimalist wording for optimal clarity on his exact hours for lectures, office hours, his name, and the subject he teaches on. He holds one out to Sandy. "You are welcome to join, of course. Remember, our goals as warlocks studying together is substantiation of our findings, and for that, we must always be honest, even if we are not proud of our actions or thoughts. Accurate data is how we achieve true progress!" Pippinlopper points up once more to the sign on the ceiling. ACCURATE DATA IS THE FIRST STEP OF ACCURATE ANALYSIS.

Sandy takes the card, lacking a lot of enthusiasm as he difficulty raises his hand towards it. He looks up at the sign on the ceiling once again, then nods at Pippinlopper. "I'll be as truthful as I can." He doesn't get up. He just sits there.

Pippinlopper nods encouragingly and stares at Sandy like he's expecting something more to happen or for more to be said.

The human stares at Pippinlopper. He just stares. He doesn't move, he seems like he's about to talk but he doesn't. He tentatively, eventually, lets out a "Uh… Thank you?" which very clearly sounds like a question.

"You're welcome!" Pippinlopper says, with a gnomish type of enthusiasm of an exclamation. He's still looking at Sandy with that pause that seems he's expecting something. After another uncomfortably long silence he adds, "And are there any other questions you have for me, Gausanders?"

Sandy shakes his head. He finally, silently, and with difficulty, gets out of the tiny chair.