Copyright, Helmholtz, 2009. Warcraft and all related fiction, characters, settings and any other fabricated device are property of Blizzard, and are used without permission. Any characters that have not appeared before in anything sanctioned by Blizzard are of my own creation and may not be used without permission.
The Sleeping Mines
Or
An Informal Yet Accurate Depiction of the Life of Marsz, the Faded Inferno, as interpreted by Helmholtz of Gilneas
Marsz approached the staff, covered in upturned dirt and dust and sprayed with the blood of its former master. He was not, by any means, an expert on the subject of magical weapons but was rather certain, on picking up the staff, that it was completely, unexcitingly ordinary. Not only that but the likeness Marsz had fancied between the head of the staff and that of the wizard seemed no longer to be there, which encouraged him to doubt whether it had ever existed in the first place, though admittedly he no longer had the latter with which to compare it.
The paladin dropped the weapon, disappointed. He had wanted something to do while he waited for Natalie to awaken. He could not possibly leave her, and did not want to wake her, curled up so against the curved cavern wall. They had lain within each other's arms for a time, as silly as it sounds. Despite being almost overwhelmingly tired, Marsz had fought the temptatious embrace of sleep until he could struggle no longer, at which point he crept away from her and rose to his feet.
Marsz was now suffering from a contradiction that had once seen fit to cloud his mind and every now and again plagued him with torturous thoughts. To explain this psychological development, allow me to shed some further light on this intriguing character. Marsz was, and may still be, an avid reader (and might have been, I daresay, an avid writer, had his paladin training not taken most of his time from him). This was especially obvious to those in his acquaintance during his time at the Scarlet Monastery. Indeed, he was considered something of an annoyance by his fellows as he would, should he see a tome that interested him, drop whatever he was doing in favour of reading. This was particularly irritating to any zealots, priests of paladins who were midway through conversation with the man only to find themselves promptly ignored whenever Marsz stuck his nose into a book. Since the monastery held within its walls a great abundance in books, such occurrences were often.
He had read through enough tales to know quite well the meaning of the word 'cliché'. So well, in fact, that he would grow quickly agitated whenever a cliché presented itself, and so tried to avoid them, if they could be avoided. This characteristic, coupled with the need for a symmetry between his own adventures and those on paper, created the aforementioned contradiction. This itself would evolve into a feeling of indecisiveness, which greatly obstructed his ability to make decisions.
As mentioned earlier, I have devised that Marsz's feeling toward his companion were purely of a compulsory sort. He thought he loved Natalie because love was an integral part of any adventure, yet it also disgusted him for treading a path well trodden; the unlikely romance.
It was all very dramatic.
Oh, and it might be worth adding that this indecisiveness shared a very close relation to panic, and one rarely came without the other. This moment was no exception.
He was, at times, of an especially rational mind. He felt compelled, every few moments, to send Natalie away so that he might quickly thwart whatever misconductions were underway within the mines in an effort to finally be done with the whole thing. It was the rational thing to do. It is a little known fact that escapades are only fun on post-reflection, once said and done, yet Marsz had an inkling he would never look back upon his second foray into the Deadmines with a nostalgic smile lifting his cheeks.
He could not have known, at the time this thought crossed his mind, how very close to the truth he was.
"Marsz?" Natalie whispered.
Marsz looked over to her and grinned, "You're awake."
Her eyes squinted against what little light there was. "Not quite," she admitted.
"Falling asleep here wasn't the most intelligent thing to do," Marsz could not help but say. "We're lucky there hasn't been another patrol. Perhaps this," he motioned toward the lifeless bodies, "was the only one. Still, someone's bound to notice they've gone missing."
She frowned. "How long have I been sleeping?"
Marsz shrugged. "Ten minutes or so. I was about to wake you."
She dismissed his worried with a wave of her hand. "That's not that long."
The paladin was treated to a jolt of frustration at her easy dismissal, but made nothing of it.
"Shall we continue?" he asked kindly, as if he were talking to a child. He stopped abruptly at the end of his sentence but pretended he had not. He was vividly reminded of a girl he once knew, and loved, and the usual interplay that had often gone between them. Only, his relationship with Natalie felt like a hollow, blurry reflection.
Anyway, she nodded her assurance.
Marsz turned as she got to her feet to examine his options. Once again, as before, there were two tunnels. The rock colour curiously altered down each from the discouraged grey that painted most of the mines. The left went a light, cold blue that brought to Marsz the image of ice. To the right was faded red, a ghostly flame. Marsz felt an odd pull toward both, each one different within his mind. One was a slow, enticing urging that felt more certain than the other, and the second felt sharper but weaker.
"Which do you think?" He was shocked to find himself breathless.
Natalie shrugged. "Patrols are set along this route," she acknowledged. "It would likely lead to the heart of the mines."
"That's exactly why I think we should use this one," the paladin lied. Truthfully, the right path felt so very right, it unsettled him. So he chose the left path. "I have to make sure there are no dangers behind us when we walk into the final battle."
He lifted a hovering, hesitant step toward his chosen path. Natalie swiftly followed.
"Do you... miss your home?" Marsz asked after several silent moments, thought he could not say why.
"Umm, yes."
He nodded.
He decided it was too dangerous to talk any further and remained silent. This decision was helped by the fact that he could think of nothing to say to her. The silence seemed to burn the air around him, however. He was only granted reprieve when somebody else started speaking, further along the tunnel. It was not until these voices started again that Marsz remembered he had heard them in the first place, before he had been forced to confront the patrol. If began with a clang or a crack, the sound of something being dropped. Then there was a pause that, even to Marsz, seemed to pulse with anger. There was a screech and the definitive sound of glass breaking. This was instantly followed by a roar similar to that spoken by fire and a flash of green that sprayed the cavern walls at the very edge of Marsz's vision.
"What was that?" whispered Marsz, stopping in his tracks.
"Salak," Natalie explained. "He was welcomed here to do experiments for the leader to do with some ancient thing found during a dig."
"Ancient? Like what?" The paladin's eyes were large and intrigued. He felt the true plans of this new operation within his grasp.
"No idea," she replied truthfully. "Whatever it is, it isn't quite magic. If it was, Salak would have discovered its secrets by now. He's a powerful mage."
"If it's not magic, what's it worth investigating for?" wondered Marsz in his naivety.
"One of the popular rumours going about is that it's some sort of different magic."
"Different how? Dark magic?"
"No. Even dark magic is hardly mysterious anymore. It's not natural, it's not holy, and it's not part of any school of magic a mage is familiar with. It's something else entirely."
Marsz was interested, to say the least. Perhaps it was the ancient magic that had messed with his wits. Perhaps it was so powerful as to inspire within him this enormous sense of vulnerability that had cursed since his first step into the mines.
Marsz did not have to walk long before he could make out what was being said.
"Quick, raise it up! Raise it up!"
Then came the sound of heavy chains clinking together.
"RAISE IT UP!"
Now, my report states that Marsz was certain there was sufficient distance still between he and his enemies, before he rounded the next bend. This I can either attribute to the paladin's poor hearing (which, set against all his other faults makes it a true wonder he had survived the adventuring life for so many years) or the formation of the cave itself, which may not have allowed for proper sound projection.
Whatever the case, when Marsz turned the corner he found he had emerged into a very well occupied chamber. The adrenaline, the anxiety... none of it worked to keep Marsz from feeling an irritating sense of monotony from all the rooms and chambers and tunnels and passageways. So poignant and overpowering was this sense that he felt himself shiver before he did anything else; before he scrambled away to find cover, before he drew his weapon, before he even took one breath.
It was not until his cynicism gave way to panic, and he realised how populated the room was, that he did any of these things. At that moment of realization he did all three, in exactly the order detailed above. He threw his back against a jagged tooth of rock that stretched skyward from the floor and drew his weapon. He expected Natalie to be close behind him but when he saw she was not, his eyes went out to find her.
He discovered her standing small in the tall mouth of the tunnel like a tiny wounded animal, ready to be swallowed. At least, that was how he saw her before he noticed the look in her eyes. A look that shook him to the core.
Triumph.
Marsz suddenly knew what it meant to wrongly forgive a person, and to place his trust where it was not welcome. Such is the life of a paladin. Even as she waved to the score of guards and workers in the room, Marsz could not believe she had betrayed him again.
He re-sheathed his weapon. He could have fought them all and won, twenty or more as they were. He would have been distracted though, and easy prey for the powerful mage. There was no helping it.
He prepared himself to be captured.
