Voodoo Child
Chapter 6 – Argam Stonehoof
By Genoscythe
It took a grand total of two days for Xan'Jin to complete his work at Razor Hill and go on his way to Orgrimmar. Admiral Proudmoore's orders, which he had pilfered right under that massive paladin's nose, were tucked safely under his arm. According to Gar'Thok, he was supposed to give them to Warchief Thrall's aide, which Xan still refused to believe. He never imagined he would meet the great Warchief in his service to the army, much less so soon.
Looking now on the city of Orgrimmar, Xan'Jin felt something akin to terror. He had imagined a big city, but this was unbelievable. Twin towers seeming to touch the sun, a gate that you could fit thirty kodos through if you were so inclined, and to top it all off there was a large group of people sparring on the red earth before him. All of them made Xan'Jin feel like a helpless toddler.
Making a wide berth around the dueling soldiers, Xan passed under the massive gates. He wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't entering the mouth of some huge wooden monster.
All that was just a teaser for what was to come. If he was in the mouth before, now he was in the belly. A large, bowl-shaped valley lay before him, peppered in buildings, signs, bonfires, and most importantly, an obscene amount of people. They scurried about on the crimson earth, yelling, trading, fighting, dancing. Xan had never imagined there were so many people living on Kalimdor.
Wood, red leather, and spikes were the predominating decorations of the Horde capital. Xan noticed that all the buildings looked nearly identical as he passed quietly through the main streets (if you could call them that). Feeling instantly lost, he slipped through bodies until he was out of the main stream of people. Before him, as if proof of God's existence, stood a map. It was the most beautiful map Xan'Jin had ever seen.
He trudged closer, and was able to read the map more closely. It read:
The Beautiful and Marvelous City of Orgrimmar!
Beautiful and marvelous, Xan knew instantly, were goblin words. Therefore, it must be a goblin map. Therefore...
It must be useless. The entire map was a largely unreadable blob of sketches with no labels or directions. As a cruel joke, the words 'You are here' were written in large letters across the entire map. Xan plunged his knife into the sad little piece of parchment angrily, slicing it in half and flinging the two halves in opposite directions. It would take two years before anyone would notice, and then it was only because a wandering tailor found half of the map floating in the wind. The tailor would fashion it into a paper hat, which would save his life one day. But that's a different story...
Finally, Xan simply decided to walk in a given direction until he found the most impressive-looking building in the city. Right now, the large, shaded canyon marked 'The Drag' seemed like a good direction. Xan put a big emphasis on shaded.
He walked through the entrance, and immediately felt cool air grace his unworthy skin. Xan spread out his arms, welcoming the immediate change. Fortunately, the Drag was next to empty. This made the axe flying past his head even more mysterious. Xan froze in place, thinking the Alliance had somehow broken into Orgrimmar. However, he soon got an explanation. A massive, gray, and shaggy tauren emerged from the alley to Xan's right; the alley that the axe had flown out of. This particular tauren's most surprising feature was the single large horn jutting out of his head. The other, it seemed, had been broken off.
"I'm sorry!" The tauren immediately exclaimed, seeing Xan'Jin's look of terror. "I got a little carried away."
"Doin' what?" Xan remembered the last time someone had said they got 'a little carried away'.
"Well, you see..." The tauren was having trouble with his words. "I was trying to make a silk dress, and it wasn't working, and I was getting frustrated, and I started hitting it with my axe, and – "
"Got it," Xan cut him off, hoping the tauren wouldn't fall over from lack of oxygen. "...why you be makin' a dress?"
"It's a hobby," the tauren explained nervously.
"You be a warrior. What you need cloth for?"
The tauren shook his braided head. "Actually, I'm a shaman. And I already told you, it's a hobby."
Xan's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. This shaman was wearing thick, red mail armor; he must be a veteran. "Oh. Sorry 'bout dat, sir."
The tauren laughed. "My name's Argam Stonehoof, and there's no need for titles. I'm only a rank ten soldier." Now Xan'Jin's eyes widened even more. The rank system was a way to gauge a soldier's average strength and combat prowess, as a way for lower ranked soldiers to find allies easier. This was an occasion where the rank system quite literally saved lives.
"How you be usin' mail den?" Xan asked, bewildered. Argam lowered his gaze, sucking in his breath and snorting it out through fist-sized nostrils.
"I was born to be a warrior. I have the physique, I have the...talent." Argam's voice became strained as he said this; Xan made a mental note to prod him about it later. "And yet, my family has been producing powerful shamans and hunters for ages. My family wouldn't listen to the class guidance counselor, and trained me to be a shaman." Xan now raised an eyebrow. There were class guidance counselors? In the little village of Sen'jin, sons were just expected to follow in the shoes of their fathers.
"I can't use magic to save my life, I don't know how to fight like a warrior, and my family disowned me."
"'cause of your 'talents'?" Xan asked.
"You're perceptive, little blue man." Argam nodded gravely. "Combat does something to me...it changes me. I lose control of myself. I become a berserker." Xan looked to the axe imbedded in the ground. I believe it, he thought. "There was an incident in particular that brought me here. In our culture, our method of training is called the Rites of the Earthmother. It would be a little hard to explain to a foreigner like you – "
"I'll bet," Xan interrupted begrudgingly. Argam continued his sob story undaunted.
"Well, on the final trial, we tauren are supposed to hunt a kodo named Arra'chea. Not only are we supposed to kill it, but we are supposed to bring back its horn."
"Don' sound too hard."
"That wasn't the problem. I killed Arra'chea easily. At least, I think I did. I blacked out. Either way, there weren't enough recognizable parts left of him when I was done."
"So?"
Argam laughed bitterly. "There are a few good reasons why I needed to bring back the horn. First, it proved that I defeated it. Second, it proved that I could show restraint, which I clearly can't. Third, and most important, it is the means for resurrecting Arra'chea."
Now it was Xan'Jin's turn to laugh, more out of shock than anything else. "You broke da horn? No more rites o' da earthperson?"
Argam's eyes narrowed resentfully. "Yes. Cairne Bloodhoof banished me from Thunder Bluff for destroying an age-old ritual and failing the Rites of the Earthmother." The tauren pronounced Earthmother very slowly and carefully. Xan'Jin scowled.
"Well, I see you've found someone that's an even bigger loser to group with," an annoyingly familiar voice said from behind. Xan whirled around to face Granik, the massive orc beaming wickedly.
"You be stalkin' me, mon?" Xan growled.
"Only when I need a good laugh, little man."
Before anybody could get any further, Argam stepped forward and pushed Xan'Jin behind him. "What's the problem?" He asked coolly, folding tree trunk-sized arms across his chest. Whether he knew how to fight or not, his presence was still intimidating. He even stood half a foot higher than Granik.
"My problem is..." Granik's eyes suddenly widened. "Night Elf!" He yelled in alarm, pointing behind them. Neither turned around. Granik ran anyway.
"You know this orc?" Argam asked, eyeing Xan warily.
"In a way..." Xan growled in response. "He be right do'. We should stick together, mon."
Argam shook his head. "Very funny."
"I be serious, mon. Long as you don' trow more axes at me."
"...are you sure? When I get into a fight, I don't know what happens to me. I can't guarantee your safety."
"S'okay, mon. Ain' been safein weeks."
Argam chuckled as he heaved his axe out of the ground. "So, what's the plan?" Xan'Jin held out Admiral Proudmoore's orders. Argam scanned them quickly, then bit his lip. He appeared to be in deep thought.
"That doesn't sound good," he finally realized.
"I be takin' dis to da Warchief," Xan explained. He then followed Argam through the Drag, emerging into the harsh sun once more. Xan stumbled, his mouth agape. A huge demon towered over them, gnarled and wicked. Argam continued walking as if nothing was there. When Xan decided that the beast wouldn't be moving for quite some time, he felt this needed to be explained.
"What da hell is dat!" He cried, his voice rising higher than he had hoped.
"That's a tree, carved in the shape of Mannoroth the Pit Lord. I'm sure you've heard of him?"
"Ya, mon. I didn' know he looked like dat do." Xan'Jin eyed the tree warily. It was wearing real armor.
They soon entered the Warchief's chambers, and Xan felt his excitement rising. Down the hall, he could make out the faint silhouette of an armored figure. As they drew closer, Xan felt humbled. Thrall stood in front of his throne; not sitting, standing. With a massive suit of armor and an equally massive hammer in his hands.
The Warchief didn't pay them any heed as they walked into the room, and Xan wondered if this happened on a regular basis. Intimidated by Thrall's thoughtful stare, Xan headed immediately to the orc sitting on his left. What Xan soon found out was that this wasn't an orc at all; it was some sort of wolf-orc hybrid.
"You be Nazgrel?" Xan asked, eyeing the orc's wolf head warily. The orc chuckled.
"Yes, and I know what you're thinking. This is a mask, not my real face." Xan nodded, giving a little 'ohhhh' of understanding. Now that he thought about it, Xan could see the orc's beady black eyes beneath the wolf's fangs. Handing the rolled up scroll to Nazgrel, Xan took a step back. Wolf-man or not, he was still scary as hell.
Nazgrel looked through it in seconds, then tore the scroll in half and tossed it into a nearby brazier. Xan was startled, so Nazgrel said, "I have memorized it. I will notify the Warchief immediately." Surprisingly, this is exactly what he did. Thrall nodded as his advisor whispered in his ear, and finally he turned his gaze on Xan'Jin and Argam.
"Ah, young rogue. I may have a mission for you." Xan stepped closer. "It will take you into the heart of corruption in our city, and I fear Ragefire Chasm as well. Are you prepared to do your duty to the Horde?" Xan looked to Argam, who was violently shaking his head. Argam probably knew more about this Ragefire Chasm than Xan did, but how could one resist an offer from Warchief Thrall?
It was really quite easy.
End of Chapter 6
AN: Yes, this will eventually have a plot. Actually, more like mini-plots (usually one for each area, and one for each character). It's also much more than a story about Durotar. If everything goes according to plan, Argam and Xan will be at the Barrens by the next chapter.