Voodoo Child

Chapter 30 – My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and Where Did All Those Spears Come From?

By Genoscythe

AN: It's gonna be hard to keep updating this thing, even with the erratic schedule it's had. I have to work, go to school, and write my real novel so I can quit work. Very little time is left to devote to fanfiction, but I'll do as much as I can when I can. That's about all I can promise at this moment.

Xan surveyed the wreckage that was Booty Bay in terrified admiration. The collapse of the Fish Heds bar, tavern and pub had the effect of a small-scale black hole in that it had dragged a considerable number of other buildings down with it by the time all the fires were out. Not to mention the city had been in disarray from what one goblin rescue worker described as a 'horrible zeppelin accident', and there were still bits of the Ratchet ship floating to shore.

Personally, Xan blamed goblin engineering. It wasn't like anything else he touched burst into flames.

Argam had returned from the jungle smelling of gorilla, and Zuridan dragged himself and another orc out of the wreckage. At first, Xan and Meridia thought he was rescuing someone – until he tore into its jugular vein.

Granik had emerged first, and everything around him had been miraculously spared. This included Zuridan, but Xan quickly told him not to develop any kind of respect for the orc.

"Don't you think it's odd that everywhere we go, there's explosions?" Zuridan asked, quietly working over the dead orc's right hand.

"Don'choo tink it's odd dat joo eatin' a stranger's finger?"

"Mmhm," Zuridan conceded, his mouth full of digit. He swallowed quickly. "But seriously. There were two today! At least! Booty Bay is in ruin now, thanks to us."

"An' goblin engineering," Xan muttered under his breath. Argam heard, and raised his hand for a high five. Xan was afraid to oblige him.

"We should get out of here before they start making inquiries."

"Like what? Who turned into da flaming purple bear an' jumped into da water?"

"Good point. It's not our fault."

"Not at all," Argam affirmed, trying to be of some use to the conversation. So, it was decided. All the people that died were at fault. Nevertheless, they ran as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.

They found Melchiah sitting on the side of the road. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, making passing fresh-faced adventurers cry. It helped that he knew both orcish and common, and he had enough horror stories and grim facts of life to upset any particular species with any particular disposition.

It was with great reluctance that he followed them down the road to Grom'Gol. Xan couldn't help but notice that, all throughout the trip, every bit of jungle that wasn't the road seemed to be angry at them. Such a multitude of hissing, growling, and less identifiable animal noises assaulted them from all sides that Xan believed if they took one step off the beaten path they would end up in about ten different stomachs.

"Joo'd keep us safe, if anyting attacked. Right Mel?" Xan asked plaintively.

Melchiah continued chuckling maniacally all the way to Grom'Gol.

"So you see, brave warrior. I can cast very powerful enchantments."

"I'm actually not a – "

"I shall make a very special item indeed…"

"I'm not sure that I want a – "

"Bring to me some Shadowmaw Panther claws along with a Tigress fang. Not just any fang will do. It must be in pristine condition."

"What does that mean – "

"Go swiftly, warrior. I fear – "

"Go where?" Argam interrupted doggedly. Far Seer Mok'thardin paused, his carefully-choreographed instructions having gotten the proverbial wrench thrown into them.

"Well…go…into the jungle, of course!"

"But I don't really want to go there."

"You do if you want my help!"

"See, that's another thing – "

"It is a magnificent enchantment, passed down through my family for generations and given to countless wayward soldiers."

"What does it do?"

"It is very powerful."

"But what does it do?"

"It is a most fitting reward for a hero such as yourself."

"You know, I don't think I really want it."

"You don't…want my enchantment?" Mok'thardin looked aghast and, above all, that it was unthinkable to refuse such a wonderful gift.

"I just stopped by to pick up some supplies. I was on my way to meet up with my friends – they're over on the beach figuring out how to kiss each other – and then you started yelling at me and you won't tell me what exactly you're trying to give me and I don't know where to find pristine tigers and you won't listen and I feel like I have to stay because that's what a good soldier does but good soldiers also need to breathe sometimes."

And then he fell over.

Mok'thardin cursed, realized that this would look like another drugging to the guards, and quickly gave him a potent Revival Slap.

"What were you talking about?" Argam sputtered, sitting up and almost headbutting the Far Seer into oblivion.

"Get me some panther claws and a pristine tigress fang."

"Where are those?"

"In the jungle."

"Okay." Argam picked up the scattered bits of food and small arms (for Zuridan) that he had dropped and trudged out the back gate toward the beach. Sitting cross-legged in the sand, Xan'Jin was etching a line in the ground with a stick.

"If I move like dis, tusk A goes to quadrant 3 while tusk B…"

"No, we're not factoring in length," Meridia interrupted across from him, grabbing the stick out of his hands and making her own alterations on their drawing. "If we try that way, tusk A goes dangerously close to my ear."

"Define dangerously."

"Sure to cause gratuitous bleeding."

"Oh. Damn."

"XAN!" Argam roared politely. The troll sighed and turned to his partner.

"Ja mon?"

"I got supplies and some arms for Zuridan."

"And?"

"I talked to some strangers."

"And?"

"We have to go find some panthers and tigers and get their claws and fangs."

Xan looked at Meridia, who looked at Argam, who tried to look at both his allies at once and nearly lost control of his eyeballs. "Why?" Xan finally asked.

"Because we'll get a really powerful, magnificent enchantment when we do," Argam answered matter-of-factly.

"What, like da people wit dose glowy swords?"

"He didn't specify."

"Well, sounds like it be worth a shot," Xan announced, but Meridia cleared her throat.

"You aren't making plans to go on some kind of quest, are you?" She asked in trollish.

"Uh, I – "

"Because you've already got a quest," she purred.

Xan turned many different colors just then – far more than nature intended, but nature also never intended for one specific creature to contain so much unadulterated glee.

"Ah…uh…ja, I mean…"

"Tell Argam to come back later."

"Joo betta off on ya own, mon," Xan eventually gulped out. Argam was mortified.

"What? Xan, I can't do a quest without you watching my back!"

"Den joo gonna hafta wait." Xan's look carried with it the kind of finality usually seen in men that have just answered the question: "Are you sure you want fifteen apple pies as your last meal?"

He grabbed Meridia by the wrist and pulled her in fiercely. In their embrace, they turned defiantly on Argam, who took a step backward.

"O-okay…" He murmured, confused and frightened by their determination. "I'll just be fishing…over there." With that, Argam ran off down the beach.

"Was all that really necessary?" Meridia asked when he had gone.

"Ja," Xan affirmed. "We gonna get dis kiss if it takes all day. Now what about quadrant 4, nuttin' been tried over dere…"

"Screw it," Meridia muttered, kicking over their elaborate sand diagram and pulling Xan to his feet. "There's other places on my body you can kiss."

Zuridan was less anxious to leave because he was excited to see Duskwood and more because he was afraid that Melchiah's mounting rage would be vented on him if they didn't hurry. Argam was supposed to be getting them supplies and orc body parts for the trip, but neither he nor the one and a half trolls were present on the beach where they were supposed to meet.

"I've got an idea," Melchiah began somberly. "Why don't we follow the trails of stupid and see where they went."

"You mean destruction," Zuridan corrected.

"Destruction and stupid both start with shut up."

Zuridan ignored the comment and peered into the distance. "Isn't that Argam over there?"

"It looks like something's stabbing him with something."

"Are those murlocs?"

"Now it looks like he's running this way."

"Is that a crocolisk?"

"And he's going, going…"

"What are crocolisks doing in salt water?"

"Gone!"

Argam flopped wetly at their feet. The three murlocs and one giant crocolisk reconsidered going anywhere near the imposing Forsaken.

"Where's our supplies?" Melchiah asked immediately.

"The murlocs took them," Argam panted. "I think I'm bleeding."

"Great," Melchiah groaned. "Wonderful. Beautiful. Now we have to go buy more supplies."

"Or get our old stuff back from the murlocs," Zuridan suggested.

Melchiah snorted. "As the humans say, bugger that for a game of soldiers."

"OR!" Argam shouted excitedly. "We could ask Granik to do it!"

Both Zuridan and Melchiah froze. They exchanged glances, both saying 'did he just suggest what I think he just suggested?'

"What would an almost complete stranger want risking his life to get back our supplies – which didn't cost very much to begin with?"

"Fame and recognition and a light workout?"

Zuridan pondered this for a moment. "Argam, that's brilliant."

"I know," Argam said proudly. "I'm still bleeding."

"Let's go find Granik," Zuridan suggested, turning and squelching over Argam's prone body. Melchiah followed at a grim pace. Slowly, the crocolisks and murlocs began creeping in for the kill, but they darted away again as Granik bounded out the front gates of Grom'Gol, swinging his axe and yodeling viciously. Several hours later, he bounded back with a bundle of soggy foodstuffs and nary a scratch on him.

"What took you so long?" Zuridan asked, pulling an arm out of a sack and chewing on it thoughtfully.

"Those are tough murlocs," Granik replied, setting a blunt and dented axe on the ground. "I wouldn't recommend taking them on by yourself unless you're as awesome as I am. Can I have some money?"

Zuridan dumped a gold piece in Granik's hand. The orc pumped his fist in the air.

"Hey, why are you three gentlemen sitting out on the beach?"

"We're afraid of what we might do to Grom'Gol," Zuridan answered.

"Now why would…" Granik trailed off as he remembered what happened to Booty Bay. "Of course. The explosions."

Argam yawned, sucking in enough air to feed a poor family and swallowing a myriad of flying bugs.

"Well, we've got all the crap we need," Melchiah announced. "Let's get going, Zuridan."

"Where are you headed?" Granik asked.

"And where's Xan?" Argam asked.

"Duskwood, and I don't know."

"Why Duskwood?' Granik asked.

"Do you think he started the quest without me?" Argam asked.

"Because I'm hunting a lich, and definitely not."

"Can I come with you?" Granik asked.

"Can I come with you?" Argam asked.

"Yes, and no."

Zuridan was feeling marginally better about Duskwood now. Melchiah seemed to forget that dying carried a heavier consequence for his living companion, and any chance to prevent that eventuality made Zuridan feel better. As the three of them turned toward the road, Argam pouted balefully.

"What am I supposed to do until you get back?" He asked.

"I don't know what retards normally fill up their time with," Melchiah snapped, not turning back.

"Go look for Xan or something," Zuridan suggested half-heartedly.

"Buy me a new axe," Granik asked. Argam pondered his list of choices (it was a long list, since he did know what retards normally filled up their time with) and finally decided to buy Granik a new axe. He had already forgotten the second choice.

Fortunately, Xan'Jin did not want to be found. He was currently covered by a blanket of euphoria. He was also covered by a naked night elf, but to most people it's the same thing. Their position was not ideal, but at the moment Xan could care less. This position being sprawled on a tree limb hanging a dangerous distance from the ground. Shifting the wrong way would send Meridia – and maybe himself – tumbling off the branch. But the tree branch was necessary, because making love on a tree branch in the jungle was strangely erotic for one, and because Stranglethorn's understory layer had the least dangerous creatures for another.

They would have picked the beach, but it was a popular route for the Alliance, not to mention the crocolisks, murlocs, raptors, basilisks, pirates, smugglers and wild trolls. At least the tree limb was overhanging the beach.

Xan had just awoken from a post-lovemaking nap, and it appeared Meridia was still out cold. He sighed happily, looking down at a pair of small, vicious birds tearing at each other over a sand crab. It had been a first for both of them. Well, almost. Meridia had done it once a few hundred years ago, but once in eight hundred years was practically being a virgin.

Lazily, Xan stretched and moved Meridia to a safe spot on the branch. Swinging down limb by limb, Xan was soon at the beach. However, in looking around for their scattered clothes, he discovered that he was being held at spearpoint from behind by a frog-like creature no higher than his knees.

"What da hell…?" Xan muttered groggily, pushing the spear out of his way. The murloc glarbled and jabbed him with a no-nonsense thrust. Xan jumped back, startled into sobriety. "Hey! Joo take all our clothes or someting, mon?" He continued backing up until he felt another spearhead against his back.

"Meri…" Xan tried to mutter both urgently and unthreateningly, only to find that such things didn't mix. More murlocs surged out of the ocean, all brandishing spears, bandanas, face paint, bandoliers full of arrows and occasionally baggy camo shorts. In other words, they were the butchest murlocs known to Azeroth. They were the Vile Fins.

One murloc in particular caught Xan's eye. It strutted forward with its webbed hands behind its back. A waterlogged vest and a necklace of crocolisk teeth set it apart more than its deep green skin or its height. It stood about crotch-level with Xan, which he suddenly felt he should cover up.

"I…" The murloc croaked in passable orcish. "…am Commander Kirmytte. You…help us find Green One."

"Green one?" Xan questioned.

"Green One," Kirmytte corrected. "With…capital letters."

"Oh, like a person?"

"Yes."

"I know lotsa green people, mon. Which one joo want?"

"He…is large. A great…warrior. He…has slain many of my men." Having to croak at the beginning of every sentence eliminated any menace Commander Kirmytte had been trying to produce.

"Joo mean Granik? Sounds like sometin he'd do," Xan said, helpfully uttering one of the bigger mistakes he would ever make.

"So…you do know Green One!" Kirmytte growled, motioning for the other Vile Fin murlocs. They prodded Xan toward the ocean, with their commander bringing up the rear. "You…will tell us about Green One. We…will use torture."

"Joo don' have to," Xan suggested lightly.

"Yes, but…we like it."

End

AN: Don't be afraid that the part you want might not make it into the Stranglethorn section, because it's going to be long and hopefully encompass a lot of things. Next chapter will be fighting elite frogs, then that stupid enchantment quest, then probably an arena fight (which I'll have to make up since I never did one of those) and some Indiana Jones parodies. Only time will tell.