Voodoo Child

Chapter 18 – Viva la Revolucion!

By Genoscythe

AN: I know, another chapter already. This one's not too meaty, but I think it turned out rather humorous, and in such a short time I think we came out of this pretty well. Enjoy.

Sir Lawrence Proudswamp leaned against the cliff face just around the corner from Sunrock Retreat, content that the nagging little voice inside his head that told him he had just brutally murdered an innocent sentient being was quiet. The Voice (he'd heard talk of a disease called 'conscience' before that had similar symptoms), he found, just couldn't compete with logic.

That logic being the other voice in his head telling him that anything that wasn't human had to die.

Speaking of non-humans, Sir Lawrence spotted what appeared to be another Forsaken hobbling up the road. It looked like he was injured, for he was limping horribly to one side, and he appeared to be unarmed. Lawrence chuckled to himself and hefted his mace, while Voice number one cried foul and Voice number two cheered him on.

Lawrence signaled to the two nearby paladins that he was pursuing a straggler, and began walking leisurely toward the injured Forsaken. His hair was dark and feathery, his jaw all glistening bone. Lawrence almost faltered when he saw the Undead's wicked claws, protruding from skinless, gloveless hands. Then he remembered that he was a paladin, and that God obviously wanted this Forsaken dead.

However, as he drew closer, he bumped into something he didn't see before. That something became a troll, and that troll raised two fingers and poked Lawrence in the eyes. Lawrence didn't like this, so he started swinging his mace around wildly.

"Oh, we got a wise guy, huh?" Lawrence taunted, feeling his mace crunch against something hard. By the time he realized that he had only hit the side of the cliff, there was a dagger sticking out of his throat.

Sir Howard Montesquieu heard the commotion, and thought Larry could use a hand. He beckoned for Sir Charles "Curly" Shempfield, and together they rounded the corner. As soon as they did, a roiling bolt of green and black energy whipped past their heads and collided with the rocks above them. Like a complete stooge, Sir Montesquieu stumbled backward, trying to elbow Curly out of the way. Curly felt insulted, and shoved back. Montesquieu slapped Sir Curly across the face, which Curly retaliated by slamming his mace on Montesquieu's toes.

The two paladins then embroiled themselves in a vicious contest to see who was the bigger dumbass; slapping, punching, kicking each other whilst a small contingent of boulders crashed down on their heads and ended the nincompoopery rather abruptly. The Horde soldiers were actually sad to see them go, for it was the funniest bit of physical comedy they'd ever seen that they weren't directly involved in.

The deaths of the three imbeciles had caused quite a stir from the body of the campers, and now more paladins were marching toward them. However, Xan and Zuridan were brandishing issues of Wet Sprockets and Harem: Goblin Edition. Two magazines were flung at the leading paladins, and they immediately swallowed their tongues in disgust.

Dat's right…Xan thought to himself as he distributed more porn. No shield fo' joo eyes, huh? Can' heal a wounded brain! The ranks of the campers were in complete disarray. The true killers of the group wanted to continue the charge, but they were blocked by the sheer mass of armor in their way. Now it was Argam's turn, if he had stayed awake this long.

Only one paladin saw it coming, and he had just enough time to cast a divine shield as the giant saw-blade rolled off the side of the cliff above them. It landed in the center of the flock, shredding at least five paladins on contact. The saw teetered for half a second as the screaming humans went silent, then crashed down on the bulk of the group. Only those standing uphill had survived, and they now turned and fled right into the militia whipped up by Kaya Flathoof.

Earlier…

"Well, this is…unprecedented."

"What, that we succeeded?"

"Succeeded is hardly the term I would use."

"We killed the Fang Leaders."

"Naralex is dead!"

"And so are all the other purple bastards," Melchiah finished with a grin. Tonga Runetotem gave Argam a look that said 'Where did you find this creep?'

"We did what you asked," Argam responded. "We got rid of the taint."

"But it's just not supposed to happen this way!" Tonga was more flustered by the idea that they technically had saved the Barrens, though it was in the most half-assed way possible. "You were supposed to defeat the Fang Lords, wake up Naralex, and learn a valuable lesson about, say, teamwork. You did learn a valuable lesson, didn't you?"

Xan looked at Zuridan, who looked at Melchiah, who had no choice but to look at Argam, who was staring intently at something dead and fuzzy in his hand. Finally, Xan stepped up and looked back at Tonga.

"Goblin porn be good for sometin'."

Tonga's face seemed to tighten, and a single bead of sweat rolled down his head. "Please, please don't tell me how you learned a thing like that."

"Fine," Zuridan muttered, a bit put-off. "It makes a hell of a story, though."

"Honestly, I don't know what to do."

"Give us the reward, and we can all pretend this never happened," Melchiah suggested.

"Uh…o-okay…" Tonga's world had obviously been shattered. His illusion that all soldiers of the Horde were valiant, honorable, mighty warriors was now thrown out the window. Looking as one does after having witnessed a mass murder, Tonga pulled a curved sword from his satchel and tossed it to Melchiah, whom he assumed would make the best use of it.

Melchiah jerked back as if the blade were infested with a disease (assuming Melchiah cared about a little bacteria), letting it drop to the dusty ground and only adding to Tonga Runetotem's list of Things that Confuse Him.

"I can't take it," Melchiah said simply. He then cast about for someone else to dump the sword on, and found only Xan. "You. It's all yours."

"My name?" Xan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's, it's…Zim."

"You forgot our names already?" Argam asked, showing an undue amount of disbelief.

"Hey, even when I had a fully-functional brain I wasn't any good with names."

"Xan'Jin." the troll patted himself on the chest. "Argam Stonehoof." Xan pointed to Argam. "Zuri –"

"I know Zuridan," Melchiah cut in, showing vague signs of being pissed off like the ethereal smoke creeping through his jaws. "It's all yours, Xan."

"I can' use swords."

"Then I'll teach you how."

"Too much work."

"Will all of you please leave!" Tonga bellowed, throwing his arms out for emphasis. "I have a lot to think about right now, and the mere sight of you makes me want to kill something!"

"Wait," Argam said as they turned to go. His voice indicated a shift in gears to knight-in-shining-armor mode. "Sunrock Retreat is under constant siege by the Alliance. Can we have some reinforcements to take care of the threat?"

"Talk with Sergra Darkthorn about that," Tonga scoffed. "Better yet, I'll save you the time and tell you right now that you can't."

"What? Why not?"

"Sunrock Retreat is only slightly larger than a military checkpoint, and it's out in the boondocks. Besides, Sergra doesn't like to help people that can't help themselves."

"Coulda told ja dat," Xan whispered to Argam.

"Then…will you send a letter for me?" Argam attempted.

"If Sunrock is under siege like you say…"

"Send it by wyvern."

"Send it yourself."

"We're going to be busy. We have work to do."

Xan blinked. This didn't sound like part of their plan to reward themselves on what a great job they did. That plan involved booze, bragging, and buxom young women. None of those things involved work like the kind Argam was implying.

After the rest of the campers had been wiped off the face of Kalimdor, Xan actually did get his reward. However, the party that ensued was half victory celebration, half funeral for all those killed by the Alliance. As such, there was a somber mood to the affair that Xan thought would help him with the emotionally-troubled women staying at Sunrock. In reality, it only made things more difficult as the three troll women there avoided Xan because he didn't share in their emotionally-troubled state. He was the only one in the troll section of the party that wasn't grieving over some kind of war hero, who had supposedly died and taken three human souls with him to the afterlife.

Argam and Kaya were nowhere to be found, and Xan hoped they would remain that way. Zuridan, however, was making himself present at the troll group for a reason that the inebriated Xan couldn't fathom.

"Wha'choo doin' here, mon?" He asked, setting his mug down on the rough-hewn table a little too hard.

"You've gotta help me, Xan," Zuridan muttered, and Xan finally noticed that he was shaking and sweating profusely.

"Huh?"

"I'm getting the Hunger."

"Eat sometin'."

"I think that would be a very bad idea."

"Enjoy yourself," Xan groggily muttered. "It's a celebration!" He shouted far too loudly. Every troll and a few people from the tauren section gave him a withering glare, and some made throat-slitting motions.

"No, you don't understand. I'm hungry for orc."

"Huh?"

"The demon lord Sahasraakash did this to me when I tried to find a way to kill my minions. He made some stupid metaphor about being hungry for knowledge, so he made me hungry for my own kind too."

"Oh." Xan then fell backwards and began a pathetic attempt at break dancing. "Wheeee!"

"I'm talking to the wrong person, aren't I?" Zuridan asked. "Where's Melchiah?"

"I'm out here," a grinding voice called from outside the large tent. Zuridan, seeing the orc group between him and the exit, grabbed the leather by the seams and tore an exit of his own. "…what the hell did you do that for?" Melchiah asked after Zuridan had disentangled himself from the clutching tent fabric.

"I haven't told you about my cannibalistic urges, have I?"

"You're a cannibal?"

"The demon Sahasraakash cursed me to hunger for my own kind."

"Oh lord, I thought those minions of yours were bad enough."

"I have to get out of here before I eat someone."

"Well, we're heading back to the Eastern Continent tomorrow, so just camp out back here away from all the orcs until we leave."

Zuridan raised an eyebrow. "Why are we going back there? The messenger said troops are needed in Ashenvale."

"We're going back because I don't give a feck what Thrall says. I'm here to kill myself, not baby-sit you and the other ones."

"Xan and Argam?"

"Yeah, them."

"Why kill yourself at all? That sounds like a pretty grim outlook, even for you."

"The curse is the only thing holding my bones together. Besides, after all I've seen and all I've been through, living is hardly fun anymore."

Zuridan was now in a very awkward position. That position being that he was now the consolidating friend, who was supposed to say cliché phrases like "But there must be something you want to live for!" However, Zuridan was fighting off an almost overwhelming desire to run back into the tent and start devouring orcs, and he was pretty sure if he tried to get sentimental with Melchiah in any way, the Forsaken warrior would chop his head off.

So he opted with "Better kill yourself fast, then."

"I know. I'm dying from boredom."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"Why, was it funny?"

End