Voodoo Child
Chapter 27 – Oh Pretty Woman
By Genoscythe
"And this – this…" Argam stumbled, bringing Meridia forcibly toward one of Orgrimmar's many giant torches. "This is fire." Meridia shook her head, mouthing out the words 'I can't understand you' without realizing that she was mouthing them in her own language. When communications break down, the brain tries everything it can to be understood, no matter how obviously futile. It has something to do with sentient creatures and their dire need to be sociable, successfully or not (and this does not always imply a language barrier).
"I'm gonna go find a guitar shop. Tell me if you see one." Argam, however, didn't know the first thing about futility.
Dragged along by the wrist, Meridia cast about for an interpreter. Damn it, I should have spent some of those centuries learning Orcish…she realized a bit belatedly. She had had all her life to learn anything – nay, everything. And now that life was finally picking up momentum, she knew what she had forgotten. Orcish. One of the only damn languages she hadn't bothered with.
"Hey!" She cried in trollish, grabbing the hem of a tall robe and pulling its owner down with her. Argam barely slowed with two people now in tow. The troll, too shocked to look back at what was dragging him away, latched onto a rock. Argam pulled that, too.
"What da hell, mon?" The mage squawked. Argam was busy humming the Horde national anthem backwards.
"Hey, translate for me," Meridia asked, and only now did the troll crane his neck backward.
"Joo no…"
"It doesn't matter what I look like, tell this furry tank to let go of me!"
"Joo first, babe!"
"I'll let go when he does," Meridia bargained. The troll sighed, now looking up at Argam. Recognition split warmly across his face, suggesting to Meridia that he didn't know Argam very well.
"'ey Fishmon! Slow down?" Amazingly, the lumbering tauren slowed down.
"Xan, what are you doing – " He stopped short as he took a look at the mage. "You're not Xan," he deduced.
"It's Zoso, mon! I though'choo was a goner when da zep went boom."
"Excuse me," Meridia interrupted, still dangling limply by her wrist. "Translation? Tell him to let go."
"Oh yeah, we fell into that red building and this huge half-naked human chased us around with an axe."
"…joo fought Herod an' lived?"
"Well, we ran away from him and lived..."
"Excuse me!" Meridia barked. "If you don't do something soon, I'm afraid I'm gonna lose this hand!"
"Okay, okay! Letta go, mon." Zoso's plea fell on deaf ears, or at least indifferent ones. Argam had accidentally wandered in front of a guitar shop. The instrument hanging above the entrance was more sharp bludgeon than guitar, but considering it was Horde-made and considering what Argam intended to use it for, it was perfect.
"Ask him if we have the kind of money to be spending on guitars," Meridia suggested to Zoso, worming free of Argam's slackening grip.
Zoso asked him. In reply, Argam ripped out the guitar hanging above the entrance. "…does it work?" The troll queried.
Argam plucked a string, purring at the sound it created. Meridia and Zoso exchanged glances. Tauren vocal cords, Argam's in particular, didn't sound like they were made for purring.
"It needs to be reinforced," Argam announced to nobody but perhaps the angry shop owner who was struggling around the front counter inside. "As much as I hate the idea, we'll need to find an engineer."
"Cool mon, have fu – " A meaty fist shot out, scooping up both Meridia and Zoso, hoisting them over his shoulder. "What da…"
"I'll need you to go inside and tell them what I want," Argam instructed Zoso, walking away and ignoring the shopkeeper latched onto his leg.
"Why?"
Argam turned a baleful glare on the troll slung over his shoulder. "I hate goblins."
Arriving now at the engineering shop, Argam dropped his cargo and raised his foot so the guitar maker could retrieve his hand. Deciding it wasn't worth another crushed hand, the shopkeeper let go and made a run for the Valley of Strength.
"Okay, Fishmon. Joo be takin' dis a bit too far. What da hell joo wanna reinforce a guitar for, anyway?"
Argam shrugged. "It was a nice weapon, I just want one that won't break." Zoso looked to Meridia.
"The short story is that he used a guitar to beat up a bunch of night elves, and now he seems fascinated by them."
"Dis guy crazy or sometin'?"
"AHEM!" Argam still hadn't gotten the hang of clearing his throat properly, and the grating noise reverberated off the walls of the Valley of Honor. "This guitar isn't going to fortify itself."
"I'm going!" Zoso muttered, grabbing the instrument. "But joo owe me fo' dis. I freeze ya fish, I fix up ya guitar, someday joo betta plan on payin' me back." Argam had lost interest again, and was instead attempting to fish in the nearby pond with his tail.
Meridia felt horribly exposed. Zoso was inside the shop, Argam was several feet away and bathing in ignorant bliss. If anyone were to even suspect that she was part night elf, there would be nobody to back her up. Hurriedly, she ran into the engineering shop.
Tried to run into the engineering shop. Almost through the doorway, a meaty hand clamped on her shoulder and lifted her off her feet. A harsh Orcish command barked into her ear, and Meridia was dragged back to the valley outside. She cried for Zoso, but one of the engineers was attempting to sell him a stolen mind control cap by showing him its effects firsthand.
Meridia was thrown to the ground and surrounded by orcs in guard armor. "Argam!" She called, and the tauren looked up from the albacore attached to his tail. He watched as she was knocked out and hoisted onto one of the guards' shoulders, gently tossing the albacore back in the water while they carried her away to parts unknown.
Where was that place they took bad people? He didn't think Meridia was a particularly bad person (although she had been distracting Xan from spending time with him), but from behind she looked an awful lot like a night elf. Night elves, Argam knew, were particularly bad people.
A jail! Guards take bad people to jail. The guards took him to a jail once, and it was Zuridan that had gotten him out. The orc had also broken Melchiah out of jail for being cursed. If Argam ever hoped to get Meridia back, he would at least have to start with Zuridan.
"It has been quite a while, Zuridan…" the warlock trainer observed pointedly, sizing his former pupil up and down. "You don't look well."
"Three weeks of starving kinda did that to me," Zuridan grunted. "Plus, I'm not far from terrified right now."
"Why is that?" The trainer queried, leading Zuridan out of the alcove and into the Cleft of Shadows proper. Melchiah and Xan were left inside the warlock enclave to look at all the grotesque pictures drawn in blood on human skin hung from the ceiling.
"I'm ready for my succubus," Zuridan announced.
"What? After all your disastrous attempts to – "
"Yeah, I know," the thin orc groaned. "But if I do it right, this could be my way out."
"And how did logic bring you to this conclusion?" The trainer probed.
"I…" Zuridan faltered. The Master wasn't the kind of orc you just blew off. "I understand my mistakes from before, and with a minion properly under control, I could, y'know, even the playing field. Demon versus demon."
The Master fixed him with a level stare. "You are positive you can complete the binding rites this time?"
"Totally. I mean, yes."
"Then I see no problem. I will obtain the proper texts. Begin drawing the summoning circle."
"With pig's blood, chalk, dye, incense or candles?"
The Master paused in contemplation. "Why not all five?"
Zuridan shrugged. "You're the Master."
"I am, thank you." The warlock trainer gave Xan and Melchiah stern looks, and Xan immediately shut the book they were marveling at. Incidentally, it was the book on summoning succubi that the Master needed. It was no wonder the two ignorant soldiers had gravitated to it, either. The book was almost less occult runes than it was pornographic images.
Half an hour later, the needlessly complicated ritual was almost complete. The pig's blood had turned a deep brown from the dye, crusting around the chalk sprinkled over it. It would pain the Master to remove all the incense and candles from the drying substances later, but such was the life of an unholy teacher.
"…and now, I invoke thee, o Temptress of the Nether, o Fornicator of Souls, o Demon of Many Positions, o Dominatrix of Consciousness, to bind unto me in the name of – "
"Zuridan, I need your help!" Argam bellowed, tripping and rolling down the entrance to the Cleft of Shadows.
" – Argam!" Zuridan snapped, shutting the book in a cloud of very mystical dust. He turned away from the summoning circle and glared at the tauren. "I'm in the middle of something very important!"
"Actually, you just finished it," the Master informed him, glancing hastily at the ethereal purple mist bubbling up from the summoning circle. Zuridan was too pissed off to acknowledge him.
"What do you need me for, anyway?"
"Meridia, she got…" Argam rammed his head against a bone cropping out of the ground in a desperate attempt to jog his memory. "…jailed. She got jailed."
"Let me guess. You want me to find the Penitentiary, which only I seem to know about, and convince my ork friends there to let her go?"
"Yeah."
"Can't somebody else do it? Both you and Melchiah should know where it is."
"I'll ask Melchiah," Argam decided, running off to find the Forsaken. With a sigh, Zuridan turned around and opened the book once more. He found himself staring into a pair of beautiful, shapely…eyes.
"Oh, hello." Zuridan blinked, instinct telling him to take a step back but emotion telling him not to.
"Her name is Sek'Shi," the Master announced from behind the radiating demon. "Despite your gross error, she appears to be properly bound."
"That's…wonderful…" Zuridan murmured. Sek'Shi bobbed and giggled. He felt himself doing the same.
"Don't worry about it, I'll clean up all the blood and dye and melted candles."
"Thanks." At the moment, Zuridan wouldn't have picked up sarcasm if it went along the lines of 'those humans are such proud, honorable creatures'. Sek'Shi took a hooved step closer. Zuridan dimly looked about, noting that they were both completely alone. It felt like they were the only two beings alive anywhere.
With a smile, Sek'Shi cracked her whip playfully. Zuridan found himself standing at attention, but his attention was no longer standing on her beautiful shapely eyes.
He was vaguely aware of a trio of shapes blurring past his vision. They stopped for a moment, apparently looking at him. This only lasted for a split second, as the blue shape in front took off again and the others followed him. This did not matter. All that mattered was Sek'Shi, who very shortly jumped up and began straddling him. The surprise, combined with the dull haze coming over him, was enough to knock him to the ground – but in a good way.
A little, tiny, insignificant part of his brain was asking Are succubi really supposed to seduce their own masters? Zuridan told his brain to take a good look at those gazungas and say it again. His brain replied with Come back later.
Vaguely, Zuridan was aware of something coiling around his neck. It felt a little like a whip. Maybe she's just into that kind of thing, he thought. Then, suddenly, she jerked on the whip and it tightened around his neck like a boa constrictor on PCP. The world plopped back into focus, and he noted with clarity that Sek'Shi was snarling and there were several panicked citizens around them.
Finally, a shadow bolt cracked against the succubus's back, and she tumbled over Zuridan. A steady concentration of similar energy blasts from the warlock enclave reduced the demon to a rouge-tinted vapor.
"It was the end, wasn't it?" Zuridan choked out as the Master wearily hobbled up to him. "When I accidentally said Argam instead of Fel Mistress Pamallah."
"Yes. The rest was quite good, though."
"Thanks…" Zuridan groaned, collapsing completely on the black dust of the Cleft. What was that about a jail?
"Joo tink dey'll let us in witout Z?" Xan asked as Melchiah led the group up the winding path.
The Forsaken flourished his sword. "Yeah, I think so." Arriving at the nondescript cave and traversing the darkened stairs, they found themselves at something of a reception slab. It in no way resembled a desk.
"Oi! Why youz lookin' familiar, eh?" What Zuridan called an 'ork' asked Argam.
"I don't know why. I've only been here twice before."
"Dat's more'n most!" The receptionist cackled. "What be your bizness today, boyz?"
"We be here for a girl," Xan growled.
"Da elfie bint?"
"Not an elf," Melchiah corrected. He accentuated this point by placing his sword underneath the ork's chin.
"'ey, 'ey, 'ey! She's down da hall, Gimpy's workin' 'er over." Down the empty, desolate hallway came the sound of hydraulic pistons working and vents puffing steam. Xan took off, pushing the ork aside with melodramatic ferocity. They came to a hunched form blocking the passageway, and Argam authoritatively marched forth. He had seen Gimpy enough times to know what a wimp he was.
"Excuse me Gimpy, we're here to rescue that night elf you have imprisoned," the tauren announced. Gimpy retracted his arm from the cell and found that it was not an arm, but a conglomeration of knives and sharp bits welded like claws to a robotic hand. His other arm, also robotic, was stumpy and rather looked like a cannon.
"Oh no youz don't!" Gimpy bellowed, raising his cannon arm and sweeping it from one Horde soldier to another. "I'z outta appendages, guv. Try anyfin, an' I'z gonna make sure youz will be too."
"Out of appendages, huh?" Melchiah asked conversationally, stepping ahead of the terrified Argam and Xan. "What about your other leg, then?"
Gimpy's narrowed eyes widened. "Youz ain't gettin' close enough for dat!"
"Oh yeah?" Melchiah took a step forward, and Gimpy's optics widened even more. During his brief incarceration, Melchiah had reversed the role of torturer and mentally flayed Gimpy alive. The scars, as well as the nightmares, still lingered.
"I-I'z got a big shoota an' a power klaw! I ain't afraid ta use 'em!"
"I find that very, very unlike – " One moment, Melchiah's head was talking. The next, it was lying in bits on the damp floor. As his spirit yanked itself free, he whispered Don't panic, this won't be nearly as bad as last time. I'll meet you at the graveyard later, okay? Damn, I really didn't think he'd do it…
It was too late. Xan and Argam were panicking. The wired ork now pointed the cannon at them.
"Youz best be movin' on, see? Or betta yet, get inna cell." Xan and Argam looked at each other, not sure if he was joking or not. "Now!" Gimpy roared, waving the cannon in the air and firing into the ceiling. It was unlike any gun Xan had ever seen before. It shot huge bullets, and it shot fast. "WAAAAAAAAGH!" he bellowed, and the war cry reverberated down the prison hallway, masking the slow, nearby footsteps.
"Hello, Gimpy," said Zuridan. Gimpy's roar got lodged in his throat and he stumbled backward, revealing his one fleshy leg.
"No…no…" Gimpy articulated, underbite hanging slack and tortured. "I don't wanna go, mummy. Don't let 'im take me leg!" The ork scrabbled along the ground, finding that scrabbling was hard to do without any digits worth mentioning.
"Let the girl go."
"But she'z elfie!"
"And you're about to lose your last real limb. What's it gonna be, the elf or the leg?"
"Whatz got into youz, Gimpy?" The ork asked himself, pulling himself up to standing height. "Youz an ORK! Orkz was made for fightin' – and winnin'!"
Zuridan cut out all this nonsense by grabbing an axe from a pile of discarded prisoners' weapons and swinging it through Gimpy's leg. He howled, fell over, and as an afterthought tossed Zuridan the keys.
The orc was about to insert them in the door, but Xan grabbed them out of his hand and did it himself. When prompted for an explanation, Xan merely said "What? Joo don' even like 'er."
Meridia was pale enough to be mistaken for Luna. She had a few superficial cuts – most likely from Gimpy's 'power klaw' – and a large bruise on her head, but most of the damage seemed internal. Xan had to lead her out of the cell by hand while Zuridan picked what he believed to be her weapons from the discard pile.
On the way out, they were challenged by Dakka.
"You boyz are bigga den I thought," he chuckled. "Takin' on Gimpy wit all his new upgrades. The Dok hopped 'im up on fightin' juice, too."
"Fightin' juice?" Zuridan asked.
"'e don't feel a thing. Youz coulda chopped his last leg off, an' he'd a still be able to chase after youz." The Horde soldiers exchanged glances. A steady whomp was getting closer from behind them. Gimpy, hopping on his old mechanical leg, swung his big shoota madly, firing off a burst of slugs into the air above their heads.
"Sometime I'd like to know where the hell you two came from," Zuridan told Dakka, ducking from a close shot. "But not now. Besides, I have a feeling I'll be back again."
Dakka eyed the strange gang warily as they ran up the stairs and out into daylight. Gimpy came up beside him, huffing and leaning against the wall.
"Oi. I guess youz wantin' me to get da Dok?"
"Aye," Gimpy sniffed. "I miss da meks. Dey could fix up a propa shoota arm, dey could."
"We'z gotz da beacon runnin' all da time, if anyone's listnin' we can get da hell outta here an' back to a good mek shop."
"I don't tink dere's any more boyz around dis planet…" Gimpy whined, being practically carried by Dakka down a stairway on the right. "Supposin' we lost? Supposin' we'z da last orks around. What den?"
Dakka cooked up a smile that was more maniacal than reassuring. "We'z still got lotz o' fightin' juice."
That night, the group made camp outside the Horde capital to save money on lodgings and to make sure Melchiah didn't accidentally disintegrate any buildings. They were all unusually quiet and unusually avoiding looking at Meridia. Xan could tell already that this was one of those days that nobody would ever think to bring up in a casual conversation starting with the words 'remember that time when…'
In a situation such as this, your typical group of adventurers would be feeling some strife about Meridia's involvement in the day's events. Things like "She's a liability" or "It's too dangerous with her around" or "We'll just end up rescuing her all the time" would be said, and Xan would probably end it by sulking off and monologuing. It would eventually lead to a big, dramatic apology, and their friendship would be all the stronger for it.
However, Xan and company were not a typical group of adventurers. They all realized that, if it hadn't been Meridia, then someone else would have been taken away to the Orgrimmar Penitentiary (odds were on Xan, since he had never been). Also, she wasn't technically involved in the addition to Zuridan's Things that Want to Kill Me list, and that was by far the worst news of the day.
Plus, you really can't pick fights when you're at rock bottom.
End
AN: It is, quite unanimously, Stranglethorn Vale. I really could have gone either way, I would have only spent about a paragraph on Desolace and then moved on to a zone that's more their 'level' (I'd say about twenty-five by now, singlehandedly annihilating Astranaar has to count for quite a bit) for the WoW purists. As it stands, going to Stranglethorn is going to skip quite a bit - although it's been awhile since I was in that tender level range, so I don't remember too well. However, Stranglethorn is more logical and I don't think anyone really cares about staying true to the online game anymore anyway. Anyhow, I'll try to update soon. Enjoy!