Voodoo Child
Chapter 34 – Bad Moon Rising
By Genoscythe
AN: So, I've made deadlines for myself, and I nearly got through the first one on time! Every other week, I'll have a chapter done for Voodoo Child - or so I hope. This may not last if either school or work gets harder, but the winds are favorable right now. Well, not in real life. In real life, we've got wind going at hurricane speeds outside thanks to like 5 different wildfires and just plain bad weather.
On another note, I've never actually been to Westfall, and I think it shows in this chapter. I've decided to make my own version of it, one that's more of a Halloween-esque nightmare landscape of perpetual Fall. Maybe that's what Westfall is really like, but I can't possibly play a human character long enough to get there, and I haven't been subscribed to WoW for at least a year now anyway. So, as usual, allow me my creative indulgences, and we'll all get along happily. Enjoy the chapter!
Cygnus's friend was not waiting for them at the outskirts of Sentinel Hill, but only Hindrex and Dillon thought he would be. Cygnus knew better than to believe that the world revolved around him, mostly because he wasn't a musician.
"Where's this friend of yours?" Dillon asked as they trudged past the Sentinel Hill guards, who looked so thin and frail that their rattling limbs seemed ready to fly apart. Their condition appeared to be caused by a state of perpetual fear, as their wide-eyed stares could attest.
"Y-you ain't a harvest golem, is ye?" one of the guards mumbled.
"No, we are not," Cygnus replied.
"You ain't from the Brotherhood, is ye?"
"No."
"You ain't the things what been crawling through the wheat fields at night, is ye?"
Cygnus and the marines were no longer in earshot.
"You ain't the pumpkin creature that ate me mam, is ye?"
They made their own way to the church in the center of the outpost, which stood out as the newest and cleanest of the pitiful stone hovels. Before Cygnus had pushed open the wooden double doors, they heard angelic voices wafting serenely through the air.
Once inside the church, they could make out the words to their singing.
"He…is…the…Painkiller. This…is…the…Painkiller," the chorus sang. Hindrex and Dillon exchanged looks. Like everything else in the world, the lyrics broke like waves against Cygnus's resolve as he marched down the pews. Several weary marines were sitting in the aisles, heads bowed in reverence.
"Wings…of…steel…Painkiller."As the nave of the church became clearer, they could see the chorus – fourteen young men in choir robes standing before a wildly-gesturing man in black. His hand motions seemed to be like those of a conductor on hard drugs, but there was nothing to conduct but the singing.
"Flying high on rapture…stronger, free and brave…"
"Judas," Cygnus said by way of an introduction. The long-haired blonde man turned around while the choir continued piously.
"Nevermore encaptured, they've been brought back from the grave."
"Oh my Lord!" Judas cried, rushing forward to wrap Cygnus in a hug that he obviously did not enjoy. "It's been so long, my friend! I thought you were dead!"
"No, although why the universe has let a kind, sensible person such as myself survive for this long is anybody's guess."
The choir had stopped singing. Slowly, they began to inch away toward the back door.
"We aren't finished yet!" Judas called without looking back. "Start again, from Hell Patrol."
"You…uh, write your own hymns?" Hindrex asked.
"Oh yes," Judas replied excitedly. "I always wanted to be a bard, but you know – holiness runs in the family. Besides, I'm not sure the world is ready for my kind of music."
"Trust me, man. The world is always ready for new music," Hindrex told him.
"Is there anything more important we should be discussing right now?" Cygnus implied calmly.
Dillon looked around, as if searching for what Cygnus was talking about. "No, don't think so."
"Food and lodging. Do you think you could do that for us, Judas?"
The priest laughed. "If we had either of those things, I wouldn't have the choir boys double and triple-bunking. Well, maybe I would make them do it anyway. But that doesn't change the fact that we have no spare rooms."
"I thought this place was like a non-stop Halloween festival made real. Why don't we just wait for some monsters to kill off a few other marines and take their beds?" Dillon suggested.
"I suppose…but the harvest golems and other ghouls don't usually come up Sentinel Hill. They must feel uncomfortable outside of the wheat fields."
Hindrex raised an eyebrow. "So all we gotta do is get three guys to go into the fields?"
"If we were petty and self-absorbed, then yes," Cygnus answered gravely.
"Right," Dillon said with finality, and Hindrex nodded. Judas shrugged indifferently, massaging his temples. "But…how?"
The answer to their question came bolting through the foliage of Duskwood not far away. Stopping once to look back and forth between the dusty, sun-beaten farmlands he stood on and the lush, dark forest he had just emerged from, the bulky human made a beeline for the raised outpost on the horizon.
Marek Belheim didn't know much about geography, but he didn't think environments could change so abruptly. But he wouldn't mind if anybody proved him wrong, because being right about that sort of thing would make him look like a nerd anyway. Before he realized that he was rambling, there was a sharp biting sensation around his ankle. It didn't really hurt, him being a paladin and thus wearing enough armor to serve as a human cannonball and live.
However, it was slowing him down, and he wanted to get as far away from that terrifying Forsaken as he could. While he ran, he stomped on what he believed to be the thing on his leg. An unearthly screech echoed across the wheat fields, and something slithered off in the opposite direction.
Marek ran all the faster, now angling slightly upward. Sentinel Hill was approaching. Just as the wheat was starting to thin out, it began to stir up violently right on the paladin's heels. He glanced back, and was unable to tell whether it was a large creature or a pack of small creatures. A glimpse of unspeakable horror through the now-sparse wheat killed his curiosity, and he put his head down in an attempt to cut down on wind resistance.
Before he knew it, he had reached the summit of the hill, where three guards stood rattling in their armor. Without bothering to check if the abomination was still behind him, he grabbed the nearest marine.
"Don't take me, take him!" Marek cried, shoving the guard down the hill. He stumbled in disbelief, fell down the hill until a shadowy appendage snapped him up. His two friends had rushed to help, but now they were scrambling back up the hillside. Too late, as something else grabbed them almost faster than the eye could follow.
All three were pulled into the wheat fields, and their bodies – whether alive or dead – could be seen for miles rippling across the brown sea.
Marek, in his haste to get away from the Forsaken and from the wheat fields, crashed into an inert body standing amidst the town square. When he stepped back, he immediately recognized the gaping face.
"I should say something right now about providence…" Vismund Cygnus began in disbelief. "But I'm having trouble moving past the fact that you just killed three people you've never even seen before."
"Would it be better if I killed three people I knew?" Marek shot back, catching his breath. Despite Cygnus's shock, his two compatriots looked rather pleased with the outcome.
"What are you doing here?" the priest asked him, shaken for the first time in recent memory. "Or maybe…how are you still alive?"
Marek jerked his thumb in the direction of the late sentries. "Survival instinct. Plus, I've got the Light on my side."
"I don't see how – "
"He told me so. I'm special. Like Arthas."
"Arthas was a genocidal traitor! He was turned from the Light!"
"Wait, which Light are we talking about?"
"Theonly Light!"
"Uh, I don't think you know what you're talking about then. I saw the Light myself. He showed me where he lives and everything, 'cause I touched a tree that kinda looked like a guy's rod – "
"Hold on, back up!" Cygnus commanded. Then, thinking better of it, he shook his head. "No, nevermind. I don't want to hear that sentence ever again. Let's just…what are you doing here?"
"I told you, I touched the penis tree – "
"Skip ahead," Cygnus muttered.
"Hey, he was just getting to the good part!" Judas interjected. Cygnus silenced him with a glare.
"So he took me to this other dimension where he lives. He called it his 'crib' for some reason. Then he explained what he was and that he wanted me to be another one of his champions, just like Arthas."
"I'll argue that point when you're finished, but keep going."
"And then he gave me extra powers, ones he doesn't give to normal paladins. After that, he dropped me off in Duskwood and I got scared off by some Horde soldiers."
"Okay, so – "
"Did I say 'scared off'? I meant 'killed them all, and left of my own free will'."
"I'm sure. But Arthas was not a champion of the Light. He was possessed by the runeblade Frostmourne, and he has since spent his life taking orders from the voices in his head."
"Maybe…one of those voices was the Light?"
"I doubt it. But it sounds like you have been tricked by a demonic entity. How one could manage to pose as a philosophical connection between emotions and the universe is beyond me."
"Wait, we're still talking about the Light, right?"
Something you will never understand, Cygnus's voice rang out in Marek's head, causing him to jump back in shock. Abruptly, Cygnus turned to Judas. "Where were those guards staying before they came to their untimely but convenient end?"
"I think they were sleeping in the butcher's shop," the priest answered. Hindrex and Dillon groaned. "Well, since there's now four of you, I guess Mr. Marek will have to stay in my chambers tonight." Marek paled, looking between the three marines for an innocent explanation to this cruel turn of events. Despite himself, Cygnus found a smile dawning on his face.
"Wait, you've got room at your place?" Dillon interjected. "And you were gonna turn us back?"
"Well, I'm a clergyman. If I don't have perks, then what doI have?"
"Hopefully two separate beds," Marek intoned nervously. Judas laughed heartily, pushing the paladin toward the chapel.
"Tell me more about this tree…" he could be heard asking as they faded into the distance. The Stormwind marines were left watching the fields undulate in the wind, pondering their present situation and why Marek didn't just opt to sleep outside. Just beyond their field of perception, mounds of hay and metal shifted slowly across the plains, trailing a black cloud of crows.
At that very moment, Xan'Jin was in a good place. To be more exact, he was nestled in the arms of Meridia Darkwater, and they were both wrapped up in a bearskin rug that the Grom'Gol tower innkeeper had been gracious enough to lend them. He was able to pass off Meridia's glowing eyes as a strange – if somewhat amusing – disease that made trolls glow in the dark. It wasn't known to be contagious, and yes, she's going to be fine, thank you, but you'd better keep your distance just in case.
With this routine, Xan had managed to drum up an extra note of sympathy as well as a means of preventing people from looking too closely at Meridia. He also scored the rug by looking extra pathetic while trudging up to the zeppelin tower/makeshift inn. Overall, Meridia was impressed with his ability to get everyone's support while simultaneously keeping a low profile. She just wished he didn't have to press mud into their hair before presenting their naked and bedraggled selves to Innkeeper Thulbek.
Xan was satisfied that he had not turned out to be completely useless after Meridia practically had to carry him out of the Vile Fins' stronghold. However, all wonderful things aside, he was unable to fall asleep like Meridia had. The head of the bear rug had fallen over hers, and it stared blankly at him as he tried to drift off. It was worse when he shut his eyes, because then it felt like the rug was about to come to life and eat his face.
He couldn't move it, for fear of waking Meridia. It also masked her night elf features fairly well, but that hardly made up for the fact that it was going to give Xan nightmares if he ever managed to fall asleep. Releasing one arm from Meridia's waist, he grabbed one of the rug's paws and draped it over his head so the bear's head was no longer hanging in view.
Xan's eyelids were just about to blink shut for the final time when the familiar sound of confused shouting reached his ears. He opened his eyes and removed the bear paw just as a gigantic hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him out of the rug entirely.
"There you are, Xan!" Argam Stonehoof cried triumphantly, holding him up in the air so that they were staring face to face. Xan noted with surprise that Argam was wearing his pirate hat, and – more importantly – had a dead snake draped around his shoulders.
"Where da hell joo been, mon?" Xan exclaimed, but Argam merely shook him to keep him quiet.
"Okay, this has been bugging me for a while now. In a sentence, when are you supposed to say 'you or he' and when are you supposed to say 'you or him'?"
"I neva been able to answer any o' ya questions, mon. Not even da easy ones, like 'when we gonna eat?'. Why joo tinkin' I know dis one?"
"I thought I would try…" Argam replied sullenly.
"Wha'choo doin' wit my hat, anyway?" Xan snapped, reaching out and grabbing it by the brim.
"It was lying on the beach, and some murlocs were gonna take it into the ocean with them. I didn't want it to get wet, so I stole it and kept it safe on my head." Argam's voice now had an air of dejection, and his huge downcast eyes plucked at Xan's heartstrings.
"Sorry, mon. I was jus' in a good place, an' you come an' pick me up like dat…"
"What the hell is going on?" Meridia groaned from below, now completely submerged in the rug.
"I found Argam," Xan called to her.
"Why are you wearing a bear?" Argam asked sincerely.
"Vile Fins took our clothes," she explained, getting up and wrapping the fur around her. The bear's head bobbed comically at her shoulder as she reached for a piece of stone tablet on the ground. "We were going to sell this priceless chunk of troll heritage and buy some new ones, but we were too tired last night."
Xan translated quickly, but Argam was losing interest.
"Oh yeah, and there's these unexplored ruins in the jungle full of snakes, treasure, and a dead dwarf. I wanted to find you guys so we could go back with torches and sacks."
"Sacks?" Xan repeated.
"For all the shiny objects," Argam clarified. "Where are Zuridan and Melchiah?"
"Dunno, mon. We should probly wait for – " Xan was cut off as Argam slung him over his shoulder and began trudging out of the inn.
"Adventures don't wait," he said matter-of-factly.
Xan coughed, trying to move air back into his crushed lungs. Meridia found it difficult to try and stop Argam, since she could barely speak orcish and she didn't think there was any physical way to go about it. The best she could do was trot beside him as he lumbered across the open encampment.
"Clothes…mon. We need…clothes…" Xan sputtered.
"You don't need clothes to go on an adventure!" Argam retaliated. Meridia got an idea, moving ahead of the tauren and up to the guards at the gate. They instinctively jolted backward, not wanting to catch her luminescent disease.
"Could you please keep that tauren from leaving?" she asked. The troll guards glanced incredulously at the mountainous Argam.
"We give it a shot, womon. No promises, 'kay?" In unison, they lowered their axes in front of the gate. Argam paid them no mind, pushing through them and causing the curved blades to hook around his calves. The guards, both shocked and terrified, were pulled off their feet and across the ground before finding the sense to let go of their axes.
Meridia hung her head and continued to follow Argam through the jungle, knowing he would eventually hit a river and be unable to proceed.
"So…what are the odds that he's actually found undiscovered ruins full of treasure?" she asked Xan, who dangled over Argam's shoulder.
"Not good," he conceded. "But joo can' tell wit Argam. I be wonderin' what he was sayin' bout a dead dwarf."
"Maybe a new friend for him to talk to?" Meridia said with a grin.
"Joo be getting' used ta us nut jobs," Xan pointed out.
"It's easy. I just have to pretend you're normal, and everyone else is crazy."
Just as she predicted, Argam was soon stopped by a winding river. It was neither wide nor deep, but the limited intelligence that Argam had at his disposal did not notice either of these things. All he could tell was that there was water, and he was a bad swimmer. He simply stood at the shore and snorted fitfully, gazing at the other side a few feet away from him.
Meridia stood at his side, still wrapped in a bearskin rug and looking thoughtfully into the distance.
"We should really go back. Maybe buy some clothes and weapons. Some exploration tools if you think he's serious about these ruins."
Xan translated to Argam, and asked if he was serious about those ruins.
"Of course I'm serious. I'm always serious," Argam answered, visibly ruffled. Xan grimaced.
"Dat kinda makes it worse when joo do tings like talk to dead animals, mon."
Argam grunted. "Only when they talk back," he said sourly.
"Turn around, mon. We go to ya ruins, jus' as soon as we buy some stuff. An' we betta wait for Mel an' Z."
"Oh yeah," Argam mused as he slowly pivoted on his hooves. "What ever happened to those guys?"
"What the hell are we gonna do?" Zuridan croaked. "Did you see what happened to Melchiah? We're never gonna kill this Lich if he'sthat strong."
"Quiet," Granik muttered, sniffing the air loudly. "Smells like brimstone. And a little bit like Mama Ga'nesh's Kodo pies."
Zuridan smelled it too. The forest had been silent ever since Araj the Summoner had spoken with his unholy consort, but now a soft pitter-patter sounded in the distance. Neither orc moved since their Forsaken ally had been blasted into a fine powder, but now they felt inclined to get away from the tainted clearing.
"I know that smell," Zuridan growled as he began to inch away from the open ground.
"You grew up at an orphanage, too?" Granik asked.
"No. This is worse than Kodo pies."
"If that's the case, I don't want to find out what's worse than something that makes you instinctively vomit every time you even think of eating."
Zuridan raised a dark eyebrow.
"Well, it made starvation a whole lot more fun."
"We should get out of here. My pets have found me."
"Oh yeah, I noticed you weren't using any – " Granik was cut off as a green bolt of fire sailed over his head, and an insane chattering filled the darkness.
"Meet Zorqua, my imp," Zuridan murmured dryly. "Be glad I haven't made any soul shards lately, or you would get to see the whole gang." He poked his head above the leaves, searching for a bright emerald flame. Instead, he found an inky blackness closing over his face. Helmon lifted Zuridan out of the bushes and hurled him into the clearing, where he rolled over a poorly-drawn picture of a phallus scratched in the dirt.
"How…" Zuridan spoke mostly to himself, staring at his voidwalker across the clearing. Granik was sneaking up behind it, raising his axe. Suddenly, a whip snapped out of the darkness and coiled around the big orc's throat.
Sek'Shi wrangled Granik to his knees, pressing a demonic high heel into his spine and knocking him over.
"You've gotta be kidding…" Zuridan groaned, throwing out a blast of shadow that dissipated on contact with the advancing voidwalker. Granik was turning an interesting shade of green, clawing at the whip and attempting to get to his feet only to be pushed back down. Zorqua still hid in the forest, sending a random fireball every now and then. He seemed to be screeching orders to the other two, and though Zuridan's imminent doom was staring him directly in the face, he couldn't help but wonder if a demon could use other people's soul shards to summon its own minions.
Abruptly, Sek'Shi screamed and fell apart in two halves.
"Fuck you," a familiar voice growled. Melchiah stormed out of the forest, passing Helmon and cleaving him in half as well. "Fuck you…" He turned, looking directly at the imp quivering on the ground across the clearing. It began to run away, but Melchiah tossed his sword in the air underhanded. The blade spun in a pinwheel, and the Forsaken pointed downward at the retreating demon.
The sword snapped taut, like an arrow, and sailed straight through the back of the imp's head. With his hand outstretched, the soulbound weapon appeared back in Melchiah's claw.
"Fuckyou, too," he spat. For the first time, the Forsaken glanced at Zuridan and Granik. "Thanks for helping me take on the Lich. Couldn't have done it without you."
"Hey, that's easy for you to say. If we die, there's no coming back," Zuridan pointed out.
"You think I want to come back?!" Melchiah shot back. "I was hoping that, somehow, this time would be different."
"We wouldn't have done any good, not yet. He's too tough for us."
"Speak for yourself, skinny," Granik puffed, absently rubbing his neck. "I was too busy doing push-ups to fight the Lich with you. Just give me more warning next time."
Zuridan's boot caught on a scratch dug into the ground, and he looked down. It was the phallic symbol he had noticed while being thrown through the air.
"Does this mean anything to you?" Zuridan asked the others. They all stared at it for a total of three seconds.
"Some local teenager thinks he has a sense of humor. Big deal," Melchiah scoffed.
"But look at it. The dirt around it never fills in. Leaves won't cover it. Maybe it's a magical rune."
"If that's true, then my desk at school was covered in magical runes," Melchiah said.
"Well, the Lich was talking toward the ground, wasn't he?" Zuridan asked.
"I was focusing more on putting all my blind hatred to good use," Melchiah replied.
"No, he's right," Granik interjected. "I remember that. Maybe weshould try talking into the ground?"
Hey, shut up! A deep, rumbling voice boomed from the 'magical rune'. If you are not one of my paladins or one of my Liches, then go the hell away! Can an inter-dimensional fiend not get a little bit of peace and quiet around here?
All three Horde soldiers looked at each other in turn. Then, deciding that Zuridan was – against all logic – their representative to the demonic entity.
"Uh, excuse me…Inter-dimensional Fiend. What are you?"
I said go away! I seriously do not want to bother with anybody else today. All my pawns are failures, and now some assholes found one of my markers.
"We don't want to go away," Melchiah interrupted. "Are you responsible for giving Araj that book with the curse in it?"
I could call him right back if a beat-down is what you are looking for.
"Maybe we should leave it alone," Zuridan suggested. "I don't really want to watch you get killed by that Lich again."
Then you had better hurry, because he is on his way.
Melchiah roared, kicking dirt across the symbol and making no visible impact on it.Zuridan and Granik were already running away, and Melchiah unwillingly followed them.
"We should head back to Grom'Gol," Zuridan said as they rushed through the dark forest. "Regroup with Xan. I'm sure they're having more luck than we are." At one point, the orc had to leap over a robed corpse on the ground riddled with green scorch-marks. Nearby, a bag designed to hold soul shards lay empty and deflated. Zuridan swore under his breath, realizing that now all of his minions could attack him whenever they wanted, as long as there was a soul shard nearby.
He tried to push thoughts of Araj the Summoner out of his head, but they persisted like a bad rash. The trouble was, he couldn't make sense of these ideas. All he knew was that the Lich had attacked him in Silverpine Forest, and the battle had cost him a portion of his memories.
Amid the other dramas unfolding all around him, he felt it was best not to mention anything about it. Besides, he was certain that the event would come back to haunt him later.
End