Voodoo Child

Chapter 29 – Wasted Away in Stranglethorn Vale

By Genoscythe

AN: Still no luck with the lines. I'll have to have a chat with the editor. And by 'have a chat' I mean 'wait until it fixes itself'.

If Xan had known anything about paratroopers and the kind of intense fear and adrenaline coursing through their veins before a drop behind enemy lines, he would have been able to make comparisons to his current mental state to pass the time. As paratroopers didn't exist yet, Xan counted the amount of graffiti scrawled on the goblin statue guarding Booty Bay as a substitute.

From their vantage point, the goblin port looked even more disparaging than usual. Holes in the docks were shoddily patched with bits ranging from mattresses to long rifles, and what appeared to be the wreckage of a zeppelin was buried in the cliffs behind it. Xan imagined there were similar wrecks dotting the landscape all across Azeroth, but this one looked fresh.

No Alliance death squads could be seen patrolling the walkways, but that hardly made any of them feel better. They were probably all inside, sharpening their weapons and buying better armor with looted gold. It was nearly time, the dock looming ahead like a noose. Xan unconsciously took a step backward and bumped into something fuzzy.

"Dere you are…" Xan grumbled, looking back at the monstrous tauren behind him. "Where da hell'd joo go?"

Argam shrugged. "Down in the hold. I was trying to make this great joke about burning alpacas, but the others wouldn't let me finish."

"So…?"

"I went to get a visual aid."

Xan slapped a palm over his face as a screaming goblin hurtled past.

"But there weren't any alpacas down there, so I just set a few sheep on fire. I took so long because I was trying to catch them."

"What happened?" Another goblin ran by, grabbing the first one and jumping together off the side of the boat.

"They ran into some room with a big black skull over the door, and all these sooty crewmembers started running out." As Argam spoke, several more goblins dashed past them and over the railing.

"We should probly do dat, huh mon?"

"I don't see why not."

"Everybody jump!" Xan yelled, waving to Melchiah, Zuridan and Meridia. "Argam set da gunpowder hold on fire!" Zuridan, Meridia, and most of the other passengers understood and began leaping off the boat. Melchiah, however, simply crossed his arms.

"Aren'choo comin'?" Xan asked, perched on the edge of the ship. Melchiah shook his head.

"I've always wanted to know what it's like to be in an explosion," he offered. "There's a graveyard nearby, if my body doesn't survive I'll find you soon enough."

Xan shrugged. "Mmmkay." He and Argam dove, and the rear of the ship blew off like the top of a soda bottle after a day in a rock tumbler. Fire quickly spread to the rest of the ship, but it hardly mattered as the shattered wooden vessel sank quickly in the oily water. Much had been said about the warm, clear seas of Stranglethorn Vale, but even more was said about a goblin's ability to turn anything he touches into something vile and profitable.

When looking for crude oil in Stranglethorn, one merely had to find a quiet spot and start pumping water out from under Booty Bay.

Bewildered and spitting out tarry liquid, the survivors quickly swam to the myriad planks jutting out from under the docks. Xan and his three living companions were forced to swim all the way to the far end of the U-shaped docks for a place to dry off.

Theirs, however, came with a ladder. Once Xan had scraped the grime off of Meridia and himself, they all ventured up the ladder and into an armory. Xan nearly fell back down to the platform below when he saw who was buying something.

"I'd like to look at that one, good servant," Granik commanded, waving a finger at no weapon in particular.

"Which one, sir, the Razor Axe of Gratuitous Bloodletting, or the Lump of Metal on a Stick?"

"Which is cheaper?"

The shopkeeper handed Granik the misshapen 'axe'. "That'll be ten gold."

"What? The guy before me got an Illegitimate Bastard Sword of Redundancy for only twelve!"

"Supply and demand, sir. There isn't much demand, so I don't have a large supply. This weapon is practically one of a kind!"

"Alright, alright…" Granik looked around sheepishly, not noticing the heads poking out of the floor trying to wrestle their way around half a troll. "Do you have anything cheaper?"

…da hell?

"Sir, you are holding in your hands a stick with some metal wedged into one end. I can take off the metal, but you will still be paying five gold for something you could find in the wilderness."

"If I could find half of an axe in the wilderness – "

"It's a stick, sir. Not half of an axe."

"Then why is it five gold?"

"Trader's Guild regulations. Insane prices are mandatory, actual sales are optional."

"Then I will take my business elsewhere!" Granik boomed, leaping for the doorway and splintering the frame on his way out. Xan now deemed it safe to climb into the shop.

"May I help you?" The shopkeeper asked, who looked startlingly pink and small for someone speaking orcish.

"Naw, we jus' got off an' explodin' boat," Xan said casually.

"Is that what that was? We usually don't have a problem with boats."

"Neither do we," Zuridan groaned, flicking oil on the rug. "Not boats, anyway."

"Joo ain' a good salesman," Xan remarked on his way out.

"That isn't a regulation either."

Once in the Booty Bay proper, Xan found it wasn't as bad as he had heard. There were no Alliance in sight – but, then again, Granik was there. He looked even more massive than Xan remembered, more threatening than most of the orcs he'd seen in Orgrimmar. However, it was obvious as he flexed for passing females (of any nationality) that something was wrong.

That was it. His armor looked like scraps from a Gnomish engineering convention welded together with tree sap. His tunic beneath was ragged, and his boots were little more than shin covers now. Against his better judgment, Xan approached Granik.

"What happened ta joo, mon?" He asked, and Granik spun around.

"Hmm? Do I know you?"

"Xan'Jin. I ain' seen joo since…a long time ago."

"Oh! Yeah, I do remember you!" Granik started, and Xan paled. He never expected someone so important or self-centered to remember him. "You were one of the last people I talked to before I did It."

"…It what?"

"It's all the rage with people these days. Or, it was back in the days that used to be these days…"

"Joo ain' makin' sense."

"It's – damn, I can't remember what it's called. But I saw this guy. He said he could take control of my body and strengthen it while my soul hibernated. He said for a nominal fee he would get me through all the boring training stages of soldier life, while improving my body pretty much while I slept. I still don't know how long he was powering me up…maybe it was called – no, lost it. All I know is I woke up here with no money, broken rookie equipment, and no skills whatsoever." Xan actually felt a dash of pity scurry across his consciousness. "But just look at these pecs!"

Granik's chest puffed out like an inflatable rooster, and the pity in Xan's mind bowed its head and promised to behave reasonably next time.

"Joo ain' changed much."

"On the contrary. I used to have money!"

Xan sighed. "Joo know which way Grom'Gol be?"

Granik shrugged. "I don't even know where I am. My overpowering intellect tells me we're near the ocean, though."

"No way, mon."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm always right," Granik plowed on, sarcasm deflecting off of him harmlessly. "A bunch of people keep running off through that cave, that's probably where your Grom'Gol is. Well, not the ladies. They've been swarming the place ever since I showed up."

Ladies…ladies…Xan felt his brain was trying to tell him something, so he turned his attention to it. Finally, he whipped around and counted heads. All two of them.

"Where be Meridia?"

It was customary for a depressed individual to stare glumly at their drink in-between sips (or chugs, depending on your particular weight and species), but this wasn't an option for ex-Captain Meridia Darkwater. She had no money, and therefore she had no drink. The bar atmosphere was still a choice location for even the poorest of depressed individuals, because their own misery was often lost among the throngs of everybody else's.

Meridia still felt that she had to stare at the spot where a drink would normally occupy. Just for the sake of it.

"You're missing something," a suddenly unfamiliar language spoke, and a beer stein slid into place like a puzzle piece.

"I didn't ask for charity," she began in elvish, not looking away from the mug. "I don't look like a beggar, and I thought most night elves were above bribing a woman into bed with drinks. Since that's the only thing you could possibly be doing…" Meridia paused so that she could shift and get a look at his face.

"You know what you look like?" He cut in before she could continue. "You look like an adventurer who needs a drink."

"Adventurer!" Meridia coughed, nonetheless taking hold of the mug. She was already a bit drunk from the tangible fumes in the air. "Alright, I've been on an adventure. That's when you're scared out of your mind for an extended period of time, right?"

"I guess some adventures are like that."

Meridia pulled her hood farther forward so that she could remove her mask to drink without being seen.

"I'm just trying to be helpful. You apparently have no money, you're all alone, I just wanted to get to you before the wrong people did."

"The wrong people?" Meridia really looked at the night elf for the first time. He was slender – but that was a given. He had the statuesque beauty of all night elves, as if someone had given life to a museum full of sculptures (and some limbs and maybe some color). However, like all night elf men, he had the Eyebrows.

Men's eyebrows drove her insane. Elf ones, at any rate. No matter what an elf's intentions were, his eyebrows invariably made them seem pompous and conceited. Simply letting them rest on their head still gives the feeling that they're saying "Oh, how sad for you, your sword only has one adjective on the end!"

Meridia went back to staring at her drink. "Have you ever had a dream – like a vision of paradise – but when you got there, it was nothing like you imagined?"

"Sure. All the time. I mean, everyone's always going on about Ironforge. You know how it is. Darnassus and Stormwind are practically empty except for the shopkeepers. Well, I've been there. Two words: too crowded."

Meridia snorted and giggled, in the end producing something that sounded like a laugh. Realizing that it was a slightly embarrassing sound, even in such an environment, she took another drink to silence herself. "That's not what I mean, stupid man. Is this elvish li-liquor?"

"Yes," the night elf answered. "You looked like you needed something strong."

"Maybe I do, but I don't need to sterilize the inside of my mouth."

The front door swung open, and all conversations dimmed noticeably. Meridia, who wasn't entirely familiar with bar etiquette, continued talking and didn't bother to see who entered.

"It's just that, well – I don't fit in. See, my idea of a paradise was a place where I could be who I am without being alienated and laughed at behind my back. Instead of that, I got thrown in jail and tortured by some kind of robot demon."

"Why would people laugh at you? And what do you mean, a robot demon?"

"I'd – hic – rather not say."

"Well, to me you seem like a fine young woman who's just had a run of bad luck. No need to be so hard on yourself. Why don't you come with me and my group? I guarantee you'll fit in," the elf spoke quickly, nervously eyeing the newcomers.

"Y-y'know…I'm just drunk enough to say yes." The night elf raised his glass, but before it could go anywhere else a streak of silver flew past his ear and clanked into it. The projectile bounced off the glass and spun into an open oil lamp above. It stuck perfectly through the bars, buried in the hinges on the wall.

The hinges snapped, and the lamp would have fallen on the night elf if the dagger weren't buried so deeply in the wall. Both elves turned now to see a furious troll with a tricorn hat obscuring his eyes flanked by a monstrous tauren and a slender orc. They stood in the midst of the bar, and the troll looked as though he had just thrown something.

Casually, the dagger creaked and the lamp hung a little bit lower. All conversation was mute now as the tension rose to bar-fighting intensity. The troll pointed accusingly at the night elf, growling something in trollish. Despite herself, Meridia felt a grin coming on. He certainly was dashing when he was heroic.

The elf got off his stool slowly and deliberately. From either side of the bar, a human and a gnome stepped forth to even the odds. When the gnome noticed that he was lined up with the tauren, he and the human switched places.

"Joo best get outta here, babe…" Xan snarled, drawing the sword that he still didn't know how to use. "We talk about dis later." Neither Argam or Zuridan were following his example; they were simply staring in disbelief at what Xan was doing. This was the kind of situation that Xan would run away from, not start.

Then, something very unexpected happened. The night elf ceased being a night elf and started becoming a bear. Even in his present state, Xan slackened a little. He and Argam switched places so that the tauren was in the middle and he was facing the human.

There was a tense near-silence as the groups stared each other down and the rest of the patrons pulled out their weapons. Somebody from the Horde section of the bar threw a beer mug at the druid, setting off a chain of events that only someone like Xan'Jin could possibly start.

The mug shattered against the druid's nose, and he bellowed angrily. Rearing up on his hind legs, he scanned the suddenly obedient crowd for the culprit. In doing so, he wandered backward into the bar, knocking over several mugs and soaking his back in alcohol. Unable to find the wrongdoer, he lowered back to all fours. However, the lamp that Xan had so expertly skewered on his old dagger finally gave way and tumbled onto the counter.

A gout of fire leapt out of the bar like a dragon after having its tail pulled. The flames engulfed the druid, who was himself covered in alcohol. Xan and company dove out of the way as a bear-shaped fireball thundered out the door and leapt off the docks. Instinct is never specific when it's trying to put out a fire, but it should at least learn the difference between water and crude oil.

Against a similar instinct, the entire bar erupted into battle as it was slowly being consumed by flames. The patrons were dead set on a bar fight, and if the bar happened to be burning down at the same time…so much the better. None of them had ever been in an epic bar fight before. Trolls were trading stabs with night elves, tauren were attempting to step on gnomes, Forsaken were creeping through the shadows and attacking anything within reach (for mages, this meant pretty much the entire bar), and orcs were simply arguing with humans over who started the war first.

Dwarves, being the only race that knew a good time had nothing to do with when to attack the enemy, congregated to the tables farthest away from the fire and continued drinking/singing/gambling/being dwarves. This was not their kind of bar fight. Dwarfish bar fights seldom had weapons, and always had survivors.

The object of Xan's motivation was currently fending off a Forsaken rogue with a broken table leg. She was cornered, and the hazy quality of her glowing eyes suggested that she hadn't completely sobered up after her drinking buddy had burst into flames.

Xan ducked under a flying gnome and climbed across a table of oblivious dwarves, fervently wishing he had another dagger to throw. The rogue was in the process of disarming Meridia when he landed on the Forsaken's shoulders. He raised his sword, but paused when he remembered who it was he was about to decapitate.

This gave the zombie a chance to shake him off, and it also gave Meridia a chance to retrieve her table leg and whack the rogue across the back of his skull. He stumbled forward, and Xan kicked him into the wall. Before he could recover and actually start fighting, Xan grabbed Meridia and pulled her back across the increasingly-heated room. If he had known that the pylons underneath the bar were burning as well, he would have pulled faster.

They swung out the door just as Granik barreled in. "Which one of you rat bastards decided to start a fight without me?" He bellowed, drawing his old axe and leaping into the fray to help whoever needed it least. By complete chance, he ended up next to Argam Stonehoof, who was being swarmed by gnome mages.

"Leave me alone, I'm flammable!" Argam roared, swinging his guitar with mindless abandon. Moradon Stonehoof, being an ancient and therefore skilled warrior, immediately cracked two gnome skulls with the steel-plated instrument. Granik joined in, swinging his axe with no skill at all and merely denting the floor.

The gnomes all turned to him, firing volleys of magical energy relentlessly. Almost all of them deflected off Granik like light off a fat man's forehead. Argam spun about, sending the gnomes flying. He looked down at his guitar, then up at the fire that was rapidly creeping toward him.

With a scream, Argam knocked down the door and nearly jumped into the ocean until he noticed that there was even more fire down there. He liked fire well enough, just not on him. Instead of leaping into the ocean, he turned to the right and ran toward the jungle.

Xan and Meridia slumped against an alley wall far, far away from the bar. In spite of the anger he had felt earlier (which had since been replaced by an acute fear that used to occupy his every waking moment and that he had named zontanophobia) he noticed he was drawing her closer.

"You know…" Meridia began, her grip only now slackening on his neck. "I think I did what I did because I wanted to bring out the hero in you again."

"How many times I gotta tell ya, dere ain' no hero in me."

"If there weren't any hero in you, then we wouldn't be…like we are right now." Meridia slipped off her hood and mask.

"Joo sayin' normal people can' be…like we are now?"

"Xan, if we were normal people, I wouldn't have tusks and you wouldn't still be wearing that ridiculous hat."

"Hey!" Xan shoved her away and pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes. "It's sexy."

Meridia was in the process of giggling when Xan grabbed her by the waist and violently pulled her back across the alley.

"Wow, that was fa – " The words died in Meridia's throat as a line of at least twenty goblins scurried down the alley holding a fire hose over their heads. The one and a half trolls waited impatiently as the fire brigade crossed the alley and began aiming the hose at the quickly-spreading fire on the water.

Xan looked down, and Meridia looked up. They were as close as they could possibly be without skewering one another on their tusks. Dis would be da moment, champ…Inside Xan insinuated to Outside Xan. Outside Xan needed little insinuating.

He leaned in, and their eyes closed. In their defense, at the time they would never have thought that they would need them open.

"Babe…"

"Is that tusk?"

"Oh my god!"

"Ja. It's goin' into my neck."

"Sorry. Maybe if we…"

"This is the wrong kind of fire hose!"

"No, den joo get'cha eye poked out."

"You're right. Damn, I didn't think it would be this hard."

"It's just adding to the flames!"

"It's dese huge friggin' tusks o' mine."

"Can I cut 'em off?"

"Who the hell makes these things?"

"Pun department, sir!"

"Joo kiddin'? Dat's like askin' to cut off…sometin' else."

Meridia gasped slightly. "Well, if your tusks are any indication…"

Xan merely smiled.

"Tell someone to get a water hose! And go fire the pun department! Not with that!"

In the distance, the sound of a bar collapsing in on itself could be heard. It was a very distinctive sound, like a sigh of relief.

"Let's figure this out another time," Meridia suggested.

"Sure ting, babe."

End

AN: For everybody who doesn't know Greek (meaning everybody) zontanophobia means fear of living...I think. I used an online dictionary, so it could mean something else entirely but none of you would ever know the difference.