Voodoo Child
Chapter 33 – Excavation
By Genoscythe
"I don't believe you know where you're going, old boy," Captain Percy Dustbeard sniffed, ducking under a carnivorous vine as the energetic young Horde soldier led him through yet another identical patch of underbrush. Last night, the tauren had stumbled into Hemet Nesingwary's campsite, screaming about a secret cave that he had discovered, and that he had contracted malaria. Barnil Stonepot checked him out, and concluded that he was just stark raving mad.
Nesignwary, in his unusually broad sense of generosity, allowed the Horde soldier to rest through the night and show them what he had found in the morning. But because Barnil had already decided that the tauren was insane, and the dwarves knew all of Stranglethorn's ruins had been thoroughly explored, only Dustbeard was sent along, in order to humor the poor lad.
They had not anticipated the young tauren to drag Dustbeard across Stranglethorn all day long.
"Of course I know where we're going," Argam Stonehoof assured his (by this time) unwilling companion. As if to prove this assertion, he snorted a large gust of air and pawed the ground with his hooves. Xan'Jin's hat tipped precariously on his uneven head, and Argam had to stop its descent. He found it under a tree near the beach, and had to fight a murloc to get it back. Since Xan was still hiding from him, Argam wore it in order to keep it from getting crushed in his backpack.
"It's just that…we've been at it since morning, old chap. Perhaps we ought to rest a spell." Captain Dustbeard adjusted the tan, conical hat on his bushy head – an invention he called a spliff helmet, specifically designed to protect from all manner of jungle hazards. However, several natives had attempted to light it on fire during one of Dustbeard's diplomatic missions, and he still couldn't figure out why.
"We're almost there. You can rest then."
"Yes, but how do you know we're almost – " Dustbeard went silent as they emerged into a small clearing. Before them, a small stone arch rose out of the ground, gaping and beckoning. Dustbeard's mounting excitement quickly crashed down as he moved for a closer inspection. "Look, old bean, there's no cobwebs. Someone's been through this place already…" He then saw a small picket sign jammed into the dirt at the entrance to the ruins. It displayed a series of Dwarven runes arranged in a code used by Nesingwary's expedition. The code read 'We went to the end of these ruins and all we got was some crappy idol!'
"And that someone is us! You've led me to one of our own dig sites, old sport!"
"Huh?" Argam turned around, nearly knocking off Dustbeard's spliff helmet in the process. "I wasn't talking about that thing. It's right here."
At first, the dwarf explorer couldn't see what Argam was talking about. Then, he realized it was because that was all he could see. A big, black space stretched out past his peripheral vision. The entrance to the cave was so massive that trees had grown inside of it, making it appear to be more jungle. However, when he backed up and circled around the clearing, he could see where the entrance ended and the side of a mountain began.
Nesingwary's expedition had no doubt missed the cave because they were too excited about the smaller, more obvious ruins to inspect any further. There was probably a good analogy for that, but Captain Dustbeard was too dumbfounded to think of it.
"Pretty cool, huh?" Argam asked.
"Yes…yes, quite."
"High five?" Argam raised a meaty hand, and Dustbeard immediately recoiled. The dwarf stared, terrified, at Argam's palm as if it were a deadly weapon. It was, but Argam's ignorance and carefree attitude made some people forget about that until it was too late. "Okay, maybe not. What is this thing, short man?"
Without speaking, Dustbeard brushed past the tauren and moved into the cave. Once he got past the foliage growing at the mouth of the tunnel, he found that it was almost entirely sealed by cobwebs.
"This thing, I believe, is an ancient troll ruin," the dwarf exclaimed, pulling out a torch from his backpack in anticipation. "It has gone undiscovered for a very long time, unless I am mistak – what are you doing?" Argam, growing tired of Dustbeard's analysis, had pushed him out of the way and lumbered straight into a thick membrane of cobweb. It didn't break, but neither did Argam slow down. "You'll damage the artifacts! We need to excavate these ruins carefully."
Argam finally stopped and turned around, effectively wrapping himself in cobwebs. "But that's boring. Anyway, since I found it first, this cave or ruin or whatever is mine…right?"
"I suppose…"
"So I'll do what I want with it, which is to wander around aimlessly and look at all the shiny things."
"We've got museums for that sort of thing."
"None that I'm allowed to go to."
Before Dustbeard could continue, Argam let out a thunderous sneeze. The entire cave reverberated with the sound, and a cloud of cobwebs drifted to the floor.
"Too late to be careful now," Argam pointed out, trudging down the tunnel once more to protests from Dustbeard. They soon turned a corner, and Argam let out a bloodcurdling scream. Dustbeard dove for cover, plugging his ears as Argam only seemed to get louder. Risking a glance back around the corner, he saw the tauren yelling into the face of a giant stone effigy. Almost as if a switch was hit somewhere in Argam's brain, the tauren stopped screaming and said "Hey look, a statue."
Dustbeard stumbled forward, still dazed from the racket. He quickened his stumbling when he caught sight of the statue Argam had been screaming at.
"Do you recognize this effigy, old man? This is a statue of the troll's serpent god, Hakkar!"
"I'm not old, and I'm not a man. For that matter, I'm not a bean, or a sport, or a chap, or a boy," Argam corrected him succinctly.
Dustbeard sputtered helplessly as he attempted to form his next sentence without using any of his favorite generic nouns. Finally he managed to say "Well, do you know what this means, young…tauren?"
"Obviously not," Argam huffed, blowing dust from the statue in awe-inspiring gouts. "Because it's made of rocks."
"So?"
"So it doesn't shine. Nothing shines in Mulgore, but we've got rocks up our tail-pipes. I'm sick of them."
"This isn't just any – "
"I don't want rocks," Argam stomped past the pair of serpent statues, passing carelessly under the archway before them. Dustbeard tried to take in as much detail of the shrine as he could before Argam disappeared into the tunnel, but that wasn't long. Argam moved forward with unusual determination, considering his goal was so ill-defined. It drove Dustbeard mad, but he could live with it as long as the tauren went first and saved him the trouble of excavating the nearest trap.
The next corridor was small, and a strong draft blew through every few seconds. Argam seemed to have developed a strange habit of bounding forward on one foot and grunting periodically.
"What are you doing, average-aged thing?" Dustbeard inquired as a gust struck him in the face and Argam groaned.
"I saw these patterns on some of the stones down there," he replied, pointing to several protruding rocks with diamonds etched on the face. "I'm playing a game where I can only step on the marked floor panels. Ouch."
When Argam turned to speak, Dustbeard was able to see his side and chest. They were riddled with small darts.
"See?" Argam jumped forward, landing on the next etched stone. A puff of dust emerged from the wall, and a small arrow sunk into the tauren's gigantic bicep.
"Great Bronzebeard's hammer! I can't believe you're still alive!"
"Why?" Argam asked as he hopped onto another panel. The dwarf explorer followed, weaving around the traps.
"Well, I can only assume those darts are poisonous!"
"What darts? Ow."
"Those darts! They shoot out of the walls every time you step on one of those panels!"
Argam stopped for a moment and considered this. In order to keep himself from falling over, he ended up hopping up and down on the same stone, causing a torrent of darts to stick into his thighs. Finally, he came to his conclusion. "You're just trying to make me lose, aren't you?"
"No! Stop that! I need you alive to shield me from – ah, to help me discover shiny objects!"
Argam shook his head. "Nope. I think you're just jealous of my winning streak."
Dustbeard realized it was hopeless, but if the tauren hadn't succumbed to the darts by now, then he probably never would. They were almost out of the corridor anyway.
"You know, you're right. I let my jealousy get the better of me. Now please keep moving, you're blocking the way."
Argam shrugged and hopped to the next stone, Dustbeard hiding in his shadow. They continued through the hallway until it abruptly terminated into an upward dirt slope. Vines and roots grabbed at Argam's fur as they moved forward, but he paid them no heed. Out of anxiety, Dustbeard began plucking the darts from the tauren's hide.
Abruptly, Argam pitched forward onto the ground. It was only after Dustbeard fell on top of him that he realized the floor had opened up beneath them, and Argam happened to be tall enough to bridge the gap it created. His hooves dug into the ledge on one side, and his snout was buried in the dirt on the other.
"Good show, old…young…oh, bollocks."
"ank oo," Argam grunted, his nostrils clogged with mud.
"I learned this accent from a ruddy human, fat lot of good it's done me…" the dwarf mumbled, getting to his feet and walking across the muscle-bound bridge. Once he was safe, Argam grabbed the edge and swung his hooves into the pit, pulling himself up on the opposite side.
Dustbeard, forgetting the position he was in, had continued in front of Argam. As the tauren caught up to him, he noticed a very low-hanging vine stretching downward toward the dwarf's funny-shaped helmet. The vine hissed, and snapped at the hat. Dustbeard cried out in surprise, careening back into Argam's chest.
"Snakes!" Argam exclaimed happily. "I love snakes!" He reached out a tree trunk arm to stroke the reptile's head, which promptly lashed at his finger. The fangs caught in his skin, hanging on but failing to actually puncture it. The snake might as well have been trying to chew on dragon jerky.
Argam grabbed the snake's body as gently as he could manage and slung it over his shoulders. The creature shook his finger about violently, but to no effect.
"I'm gonna name you Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, and I'm gonna teach you how to protect me from mongooses," he informed his new pet. The snake released his finger, only to bite down on his wrist. Argam ignored Rikki-Tikki's silly games and turned around to show Dustbeard. The dwarf explorer was pale, and sweat glinted off his face in the torchlight.
"This is even better than shiny objects. Check out my awesome snake, short man!"
Dustbeard cracked, stumbling back down the corridor and leaping wildly over the hole in the floor. Argam peered at the darkness ahead of him as Rikki-Tikki-Tavi gnawed on his massive bicep.
"Well, nothing shines in the dark…" he mused. "Hey, short man! Come back! I need that torch!" He barreled down the cave after him, stopping only to trip on the hole and pull himself across it. The glow of the torch could be seen shining out of the windy stone passageway, and Argam bounded for it happily.
He ground to a halt when he saw that Dustbeard wasn't moving. He simply stood motionless, with his back to Argam, in the center of the corridor.
"Short man?" Argam called out to him. Dustbeard fell over, his chest and arms riddled with small darts. This did not register with Argam. "Okay, you're tired. Look, you can sleep if you want. I just need your torch to see things with."
He stepped forward daintily, reaching for the torch rolling across the floor.
In doing so, he stepped on a marked stone panel.
A puff of air snuffed out the torch's light, and caused his snake to hiss quietly.
"Great," he muttered as Rikki-Tikki-Tavi slumped over his shoulders with a dart sticking out of its head. "I guess I'll have to find Xan and get him to bring some torches. Are you ready to meet my friends, Rikki-Tikki?"
"You're a moron," the voice of Itherian Stonehoof growled from the bowels of the dead snake. "But this accidental discovery may fund our continued existence, if there really are any 'shiny objects' in this forsaken place."
"So I did good?" Argam asked the snake.
"In a roundabout way, I suppose you did," Itherian replied bitterly. "Although it is quite difficult to detoxify your body every time you step on one of those damn panels. You're lucky that it's simple magic, or I wouldn't be able to do it in my spirit form."
"Where do you think Xan is?"
"If he's still alive, he will either be in the hands of the Vile Fin murlocs or safely back at Grom'Gol. Considering he is in the company of the elf, and she seems a great deal more competent than you or him, he may have already escaped them."
"It's 'you or he'," Argam pointed out.
The dead snake's jaw almost seemed to hang open wider, but this was probably an optical illusion. "No, dumbass, it's 'you or him'. The day you can correct me on grammar…"
"I'm pretty sure it's you or he."
"Well, we've already established how intelligent you are when you started playing hopscotch on the goddamned traps."
"Hey, I'm right sometimes. Let's ask somebody."
"Let's not. I know I'm right. I'm several hundred years old, and I was a genius even before that."
"I'm gonna ask somebody."
Marek Belheim blinked, which was unnecessary because he didn't actually have eyelids at the moment. On any official plane of existence, Marek Belheim was dead. Not quite dead, but…erased. However, on the only plane of existence that now mattered, his soul was still alive and kicking.
"Where am I, and am I still pretty?" he grunted, swaying to his feet. It occurred to him that he was standing on nothing – merely a solid point in an unending black void.
You are in my crib now… the phallic tree's voice boomed. And you were never pretty.
Marek started wailing immediately.
Oh hell. Even Arthas did not cry as easily as you do. Okay, you are still pretty.
"Hey, thanks," he said, smoothing back his hair and simultaneously wiping the tears from his face. "Who are you, again?"
I am the source of the Paladins' magic. The Light, if you will.
"Then why is it dark?" Marek asked.
The black void flickered, and became a white void.
That better?
"Yeah…I think so."
I am a banished Eredar, sent to languish in this unholy realm for being too hip. Also, I saved a burning baby carriage full of kittens from falling down some stairs.
"Well, I'm convinced," Marek shrugged. "That sounds like something the Light would do."
I have chosen special warriors among the Paladins to be my champions. As you already know, Arthas was the first. I am hoping you will be next.
"I guess so," Marek replied. "Don't really have anything else going on. Oh, except getting revenge on that stupid troll for cutting my face and making me almost get executed."
Perfect. I can help you with that.
"Really? Where are you?"
Uh…I cannot come out right now. I…have a cold, and…I do not want you to catch it. Immortal beings get some badass colds.
"Okay, okay. How are you gonna help me?"
First, I will give you some of my power. You will be able to cast magic that I do not allow normal Paladins to use. Second, I will guide you on your path to vengeance, and point out any other targets that must be eliminated on the way. Specifically, anything that impedes my return to the physical realm.
"I didn't understand any of that," Marek confessed. "But you will help me, right?"
Sure, whatever.
"Great. Juice me up!" Marek pumped his fist in the air, and the Eredar calling itself the Light sighed. Moments later, hot energy poured through Marek's veins, and before he could celebrate, he was ripped out of the Light's dimension and sent back to Azeroth.
When Marek's newly-materialized body awoke, he found himself in another creepy forest. It was not the one that he departed from, but it looked similar enough. This forest was more blue and shadowy, whereas the last one was full of decay and an unpleasant mist.
I am hooked up to all dark, creepy forests, the Light's voice resounded across the clearing. I can transport you to any of them, if you want.
"No, this one's fine," Marek replied aloud. He soon heard voices in the underbrush, possibly orcish from their guttural quality. The Paladin flexed, hoping to test his new abilities, whatever they might be, on the approaching Horde soldiers.
However, he was not prepared for the Forsaken that lunged from the bushes, swinging his sword and cleaving Marek's warhammer in two at the shaft.
"Beat it, chump. I don't have all day to kill you," Melchiah seethed.
"H-huh?" Marek sputtered, forgetting all about his powers and dropping the weapon handle.
"You Paladins have more lives than a fucking cat, and I'm a little too busy to go through all of them with you right now. So leave me alone, and consider yourself lucky."
Marek did both of those things, scrambling through the underbrush with wild abandon.
You are not off to a very good start, the Light groaned. Marek was too frightened to reply.
"This is pointless. I was wrong. Let's go," Melchiah snapped, sheathing his sword as Zuridan and Granik timidly followed him into the clearing.
"Are you sure?" Zuridan asked cautiously.
"We've been out here for almost two days, and there's no sign of Araj. I only thought to look here because of a hunch, and obviously I didn't know what I was talking about."
"Well, I don't think we should give up just yet!" Granik cried dramatically. "This has been a great experience so far!"
"What, you looting all the Alliance rookies we've killed?" Zuridan murmured.
"Yes! I am now half as powerful as I should be!" he flexed his muscles for effect, rippling the tiny chain mail shoulder pads that he had pilfered from a dead human. "Perhaps this hunch of yours is correct. In my time as an incredible warrior and hero to the Horde, I have discovered that instincts and intuition – and sometimes just random guesses – are more reliable than hard facts."
"Yeah, well your time as an incredible warrior and hero to the Horde was mostly spent being hypnotized and getting all your money swindled away," he responded darkly, pushing through the undergrowth and causing the plants to wither. With no choice left to them, Granik and Zuridan fell in behind him. They had not gone ten feet when Melchiah abruptly stopped.
"He's here," he whispered.
"Are you sure?" Zuridan hissed.
"Quiet, this is how intuition works," Granik told him.
"I can feel it in my bones…" Melchiah muttered, looking down at his forearm and watching a pulse of green light run across his exposed bone. He wheeled around, drawing his sword and creeping silently back toward the clearing.
"Our numbers finally grow, my lord!" a frosty voice cut the air. "The original host outlasted us for a time, but either by accident or design, another has been cursed!"
Cool, another voice, echoing and powerful, joined the first. I, the Lich King, commend you for your efforts. Did you happen to find another copy of the Book?
"Not yet, sire. You told me the Book was the only one in existence."
Yeah, I remember saying that. Too bad. This whole 'molding the world to my desire' thing would go a lot faster if we did not have to rely on that stupid human to spread the curse.
"It is unavoidable. As I said, he has already infected another."
And that is all well and good, but seriously. How long did that take? Years. I do not have all eternity to become the master of this realm.
"The new host does not know as much as the human. It will most likely infect several others before it finds out."
Fine, fine. I appreciate the update, fellow lich. By the way, what are you doing in Duskwood?
"I was searching for a new copy of the Book, on your orders, and this was the nearest 'creepy forest' that you spoke of.
Oh, okay. Be on your way then. Keep looking for that book, just in case. This is G'na – I mean the Lig – I mean the Lich King, signing off.
Melchiah crept up to the clearing, peering over a bush at his quarry. Araj the Summoner towered over him, his ornate robes scraping against the lowest tree brances. He seemed to have a puzzled look on his skull, and he appeared to be talking into the ground.
This was his chance.
Melchiah burst into the clearing, leaping at Araj and thrusting out his sword. The lich reflexively shot a clawed hand toward the ground, and a wall of ice rose up before him. Melchiah's blade plunged into the ice, stopping at the hilt. Through the ice, he could see that the sword was inches away from Araj's glowing eye socket.
Growling in anger, he swung his sword down, shattering the wall of ice and sweeping it out of his way.
"It is you!" Araj cried, throwing shards of ice that Melchiah was forced to dodge. "The original host!"
"It's Melchiah!" he roared, knocking Araj's spells out of the way with his shield. Lunging again, he hit the lich squarely in the ribcage with his shield, and Araj glided into a tree.
"I should have known you would come after me…" he grunted. "But you have come in vain. Though I cannot kill you, I can certainly prevent you from killing me!" With that, the lich pressed his skeletal hands against the tree. Ice crawled up its trunk, eventually reaching the leaves and turning them into little deadly shards of hardened crystal.
Before Melchiah could do anything, a torrent of knife-like leaves slashed down at him, cutting what meager flesh he had from his bones and lodging in his armor. When the barrage was over and the tree was nothing more than a frozen trunk, Melchiah was almost as skeletal as the lich.
"I hunted you down this time," he growled. "I'll hunt you down again." As a last effort, he slashed at Araj. The lich blasted him with a constant stream of freezing energy, then smashed him like a glass window with the back of his hand.
Araj the Summoner gazed across the clearing, searching for more assailants. He was confident that Melchiah's curse had not earned him any friends since they had last met, so he disappeared through a dark portal before looking closely and seeing the two orcs huddled together behind a bush.
"We'd better find a spirit healer," Granik suggested.
Zuridan nodded, or perhaps he was trembling so much that it only looked like a nod. He finally knew what it was that had terrified him so badly in Silverpine Forest. It was undoubtedly Araj the Summoner. What Araj had done to him in that forest, he still couldn't recall, but all he cared about was that it had been terrifying enough to make him forget in the first place.
End