It was about two weeks before the ship finally stopped moving, judging by the cycles of the rats. Zami had made the voyage from Booty Bay to Ratchet enough times to know something was odd about their course. It took too long. His suspicions were confirmed when the three cages were wheeled out from the darkness of the hold. He recognized the grey, miserable fog as soon as he looked around, and no doubt so did Mythene. It was Darkshore.
They weren't stopped at a real port, just a rocky outcrop not far from the actual shoreline. Apparently Auberdine had been hit hard by the Cataclysm, according to what he'd overheard the elvish crew murmuring. Indeed, the coast did look a bit more… rough than he remembered. Then again, it had been a very long time since he'd been this far north of Ashenvale.
Zami glanced beside him as his cage was set up against Jazax's. The goblin had been oddly quiet throughout the trip, and Zami was pretty sure he'd even heard him talking to himself a few times. It was concerning, but nowhere near how concerned he was for Mythene. While Jazax had been uncharacteristically quiet, Mythene had been uncharacteristically noisy. She spat insult after insult every time her sister stepped foot in the hold. After a few days, Syrene stopped bothering to even show up. That quieted Mythene, but he could still catch bits and pieces of her grumbling to herself now and again.
Above all else, Zami was most concerned for his arm. Or rather, lack thereof. It didn't grow back, but it did stop hurting. And that was worrying. He didn't want it to heal as a little useless nub. He wanted his arm back. He'd spent many of the long hours silently sitting in his cage praying that the Loa would regenerate his arm. After all, what use was he to anyone without it? Yet two weeks passed, and nothing had regrown. It was alarming, to say the least.
Maybe his arm would grow back all green, like his eye had. He could only hope. Sure, a green arm wasn't ideal, but it was certainly better than no arm. And so he kept hoping, against all odds. Yet now that the voyage had reached its end, he felt like so too had his hope. Maybe it wouldn't grow back at all.
"Are the prisoners ready for transport?" Syrene asked a nearby druid in Darnassian as she strode onto the deck.
"Yes, High Priestess," The druid bowed.
Mythene snarled at the title, but refrained from speaking. It seemed she could feel the heaviness in the air, too.
"And what of the raptor?" She asked.
Zami did his best not to look up in surprise.
"Sedated and ready for transport as well, High Priestess," The druid bowed again.
Zami couldn't help clenching his jaw upon hearing the druid speak. How dare they treat his raptor like such.
"Excellent," Syrene nodded, "It will make a wonderful sacrifice."
At this, Zami felt like he'd been punched in the gut, but kept his stony expression.
"Whoa whoa whoa," Jazax spoke up, in Darnassian as rough as his Orcish, "What's this about a sacrifice, huh?"
"Ah, the goblin," Syrene clicked her tongue, "I had nearly forgotten."
Syrene turned sharply, looking him over with disinterest, and then turned back to the druid.
"Push it overboard, would you?"
Jazax's eyes widened as some of the druids started to push his cage towards the edge of the ship.
"Whoa, hey, uh," He cleared his throat, glancing down at the dark water, "Let's, uh, not be hasty now, huh?"
"Sister…" Mythene hissed in a tone of warning, "Don't you dare."
Syrene ignored the words of both of them, simply waving her hand at the druids to push on. The edge of the cage just passed over the edge of the deck when Zami heard the distinctive sound of a rogue's stealth dropping. In an instant, everyone froze. His eye moved away from the druids to their leader, and he couldn't help but grin.
Syrise was standing closely behind Syrene, one arm pinning the night elf to her, and the other holding a dagger against her purple throat. He had no idea where she'd come from, maybe she'd been hiding on board this whole time. Either way, he'd never been happier to see her.
"Let them go," Syrise said firmly, in choppy Darnassian, "Or I will kill you."
The druids looked at their leader uncertainly, holding onto the cage around Jazax. They were so still that they may as well have been statues.
"A rogue?" Syrene perked an eyebrow, "And yet I couldn't see you? How interesting…"
"Shut up," Syrise hissed, pressing the blade tighter.
A droplet of blood trickled down the night elf's throat.
"Release them," Syrise ordered, "Now!"
"Or what?" Syrene smiled, "You kill me?"
"You think I won't?"
"I wonder," Syrene chuckled, "Are you so stupid as to destroy your only leverage?"
Syrise hesitated for a moment. Unfortunately, that was all Syrene needed. The night elf immediately shapeshifted into a massive owlkin. Syrise was lifted from the ground as the body below her grew in size, before her grip faltered and she fell back to the deck. She caught herself in a roll, however, and stopped in a crouched position a few paces back. The moonkin turned to face her, taking a step back and shifting back with ease. Syrise narrowed her eyes and went to move forward, but froze when Syrene set a hand against the bars of Jazax's cage.
"If you harm him, I will kill every last one of you myself," Syrise growled, but Syrene was completely unfazed by the threat.
"Now, isn't this interesting," Syrene grinned, "You don't want the goblin to die."
Syrise tightened her grip on the daggers in her hands. Zami frowned, feeling completely helpless. He didn't think there was much he could do with only one arm.
Syrene began to lean against the cage, pushing it slightly. Syrise flinched, and Zami's stomach told him this situation was going to turn very bad, very soon.
"Drop your weapons, and perhaps I will let the goblin live," Syrene commanded.
Syrise hesitated, before cursing under her breath in Thalassian, and lowering her daggers to the deck.
Zami turned his gaze to Jazax inside the cage, noticing how he had remained uncharacteristically quiet, especially considering his situation. He found an unfamiliar expression of deep contemplation upon the goblin's face. His purple eyes were locked on Syrise as the two elves went through their entire exchange, and when she set down her daggers, he finally gave a quiet sigh. And then Zami got a very bad feeling in his stomach.
"Hey, uh, Syrise," Jazax spoke up in Orcish, pausing to clear his throat, "Wanna hear a joke?"
Everyone paused and all eyes turned to face the goblin, who was now wearing his signature cheesy grin.
"It's a great one," He chuckled, "A buddy of mine told it to me back in the Second War."
While everyone else's gazes were fixated on the hand Jazax was broadly gesturing with, Zami was the only one watching the goblin sink his other hand into his pocket.
"Lemme see if I remember how it goes," Jazax grinned as he leaned forward against the cell bars.
"What is the meaning of this?" Syrene hissed, transitioning to Orcish as well, "I have no time for your little jokes, fool."
"Oh, right, right," Jazax nodded, all but ignoring the night elf, "I remember it now. I usually like to put my own little spin on it though, see."
Suddenly he reached forward and grabbed Syrene by the arm, pulling her back against the cage. He continued to grin as he brought his own back roughly against the far side of the cage, causing it to begin tipping over the deck.
"I'm a goblin, I don't make jokes," Jazax laughed, pulling the volatile bubbling flask from his pocket, "I make explosives."
Everyone could only stare in shock as the cage went over the side of the ship, with Syrene flailing against the side of it, and splashed into the water below. And then there was a massive boom, and the ship began to overturn.
