Massacre in the Deadmines

Everything happened at breakneck speed. Stropovitch's facial muscles tensed fiercely. Half a second later, five pirates were lying on the ground, variously gutted and dismembered. Stropovitch had made a hole in the circle and jumped off the deck. The pirates drew bows, crossbows and rifles and leaned over the edge. No trace of the draenei.

"He hid, Van Cleef said. Med and Kiros, watch the west pier, Levis and Nico, the east one. Watch the water too. The others, I divide you into three groups and you search the galleon."

One group for every second: Gilnid the Foundry Overseer, Greenskin the former ship's captain, a tall, sadistic halberd-loving goblin, and Mister Smite, a tauren as powerful and heavy as a siege engine.

I caught myself at a hatch very close to water level after having jumped, there shouldn't be a lower level; to find the girl I have to search methodically starting from the bottom. They are stirring up there, I hear them.

I slip inside. Corridor. Bottom, left door. Pumps in case of water intake. Right door. Cage, empty. I come back, stairs, upper level. Footsteps above me. The bottom. Left door, pantry, provisions. Right door, ammunition. I take a rifle, load it, seize a cartridge pouch, stuff it with powder. They go down the stairs; they opens doors; they come to mine; I pick up my momentum and smash the door with my shoulder. It sends the guy and a colleague behind to the bottom of the provisions. I shoot in the hallway. Screams, blood. I come back into the room, put the strap of the rifle on my shoulder to let it loose, break the hatch, draw my swords, get out, climb the side of the ship, planting my blades in it, break the hatch above and enter. It's getting hot down there, they are screaming. There is a large room full of hammocks. I reload the rifle. Sneed enters. Since I didn't hear him, he must be alone, no reason to spoil the powder, I grab him and wring his neck. He just squeals. Presentiment. I jump back as a huge mass crashes down on me and smashes the floor.

Keeping calm.

In the movement I slice the handle of the weapon before he raises it then fire. The tauren bellows. He's in the doorway, there are people behind him, but he takes up the entire width of the hallway. I throw down the rifle, drive my swords into the tauren's chest, hold him upright. He's heavy. I hear myself screaming under the effort. I let him sag a little on my shoulder so I can lift him, and move forward, and run, and push the others to the other side who exclaim bewildered. Won't give them time to push their side back. One of them loses his balance and falls. I hear his bones crack under my hooves as I walk. Finally sounds of falling. I stop and throw the tauren down the stairs with the others. The tauren's body crushes a goblin below. The others that I pushed and who fell are in bad shape or petrified with terror. The corridor, the doors, these must be the seconds' bedrooms. One. Two. Three. Four. Empty. They move again downstairs. And upstairs. Another mass destroys the ceiling with superhuman force and an ogre descends in the hallway with a terrible crash.

Keeping calm.

"Rhakh'Zor angr..." His guts litter the ground as he stupidly opens his eyes and mouth and a trickle of drool joins the pool of blood at his feet. I hear men coming up the steps and loading guns. I jump and grab the edges of the hole the ogre made, and pull myself up. The deck. Men are stationed there left and right, staring at me in fear, cocking their bows with trembling hands. Fast. Two bodies fall into the water, their blood also in bright red arcs. I turn. An arrow scratches my ear. And four halves of men overboard. Many men running below. I take a cannon out of its place – damn it's heavy – it rolls – every second counts – I put it with its mouth down in the axis of the stairs. The powder keg is there. I charge and light the fuse. They finished searching downstairs and must have heard the cannon rolling. They're going up. The first to see the metal mouth open his eyes in disbelief. Fire – my eardrums scream, I cough, choke – too much powder – my eyes water. The cannonball went through the boat. No time to waste. Deafened, my ears ringing, I go back to the ogre's hole. A goblin greets me downstairs with a gun pointed at me.

Keeping calm.

The index finger of his right hand loosens the trigger, now that it is no longer connected to his arm. His eyes and mouth are closing, now that they are separated from the rest of his head. I see others behind who were still watching the results of the ball and who are just beginning to turn around. One two three four. They still scream but they are out of action, no time to finish them. A door, near the stairs. Luxurious bedroom, desk, map, compass, gold purses. The captain's. Who is not there. Closet. The girl. I'll be back. I close the closet. I return to the room with the hammocks, take the gun again, reload it, enlarge the tauren's hole with my hoof and jump. Waist-deep in water – the ball has broken the keel, a gaping hole is sinking the boat. Goblins panic while trying to install the pump. No resistance. Their shredded bodies float. I bend down just as a halberd was about to sever my neck. A tall goblin with a big sadistic smile, on the stairs. He swings his halberd around him, I see nothing, the air hisses. He wants to destabilize me.

Keeping calm.

Weapon longer than mine: I shoot. He reacted sharply, the tip of the halberd was in the way but it jumped off. He wants to fight with what's left – a stick. His teeth clench. He has no more teeth. The punch rang him. I drop the rifle, draw a sword and finish him. I go back upstairs, go get the girl bound and gagged, who doesn't say nor do anything, poor thing, she's terrified. I go back down, untie the girl – I let the gag – throw her in the water through the hatch through which I had entered, follow her, fish her out, hoist myself onto the pier. Where Van Cleef awaits me.

His mask was on.

His arms, crossed, his gaze sharp.

"Are all people of your race like you? I doubt."

Stropovitch, panting, put the girl down and came forward. Dripping with water and blood.

Behind him, the eerie groans and creaks of a sinking ship.

Van Cleef drew his two swords. Stropovitch noticed the stickiness of their edge. Poison. If he scratches me, I'm dead.

"That's fine mail with reinforced leather armor underneath you have there. Will you allow me to aim directly at the head?"

Stropovitch frowned half a millimeter. Why talk and let me catch my breath? This is not pirate behavior, this concern for honor and propriety.

"Whatever price you're being paid, it was madness to do all this for that girl. You were looking for something other than money."

Stropovitch frowned. His heartbeat was gradually returning to normal.

"Given your strength, I understand you were drawn to such a challenge – you must have been bored. You are therefore not a real mercenary, who favors caution and safe plans."

So what ?

"You wanted a good fight to the death? I accept. If it's me who dies, you will finally erase forever a page of Stormwind history that the ruling caste has wanted to turn for a long time."

I don't care about your political stories, Van Cleef. But I made an oath. And if I want to keep my commitments, I have to train. Against the best. Against the worst. As much as it takes.

"Never mind, huh! You will excuse me for letting you catch your breath, it's because I have old habits of good society that I care about. Certainly there are no witnesses, but it is a duel. An honorable fight. Man to man."

Behind the draenei the water swirled in huge eddies as the ship – the cavern echoing with this seething – completed its sinking. Then a thud: the wooden carcass had hit the bottom. Many bleeding bodies emerged one after another, surrounded by halos of blood that grew in slow arabesques.

In the foreground of this macabre scene, Van Cleef saw Stropovitch straighten up proudly, then bow respectfully.

"I take it you're ready?"

Stropovitch nodded.

Van Cleef's gaze became that of a bird of prey, eyes wide open, pupils narrowed. He positioned himself loosely, a sword held in front of him, a sword concealed behind his back. The intensity of his gaze! He was trying to hypnotize him, or scare him, presumably both at the same time.

Keeping calm.

Van Cleef attacked, closing the distance between the two of them with several quick, flexible cat-like steps. He attacked with the visible weapon, which was an obvious feint: Stropovitch parried with his left sword and plucked the blade the captain had pulled from his back with his right. Wrists twirled, blades slid, in counter and counter-counter movements, searching for openings. The draenei sensed in one second that he would lose at that game; he dropped his weapons, grabbed Van Cleef's wrists in the process and twisted them fiercely, then slammed his forehead into his opponent's.

The latter dodged it by throwing himself on the ground on his back, putting his feet on the bent draenei's chest and tossing him on top of him.

Keep grabbing.

Stropovitch did not let go of Van Cleef's wrists; each turned on their stomachs and rose, their hands still tied; the draenei attempted a headbutt again but the other yanked him to the side, his leg in the way of his; Stropovitch stumbled but did not lose his balance; he proceeded to crush the pirate's wrists again, but the pirate retaliated with a soft kick in the direction of the draenei's chin; which he dodged by bending the knees and leaning back and a bit to the side just enough to let the foot pass, then straightened up abruptly to pick the leg. The movement had been a marvel of speed and precision. Van Cleef was stuck with his ankle on his opponent's shoulder. He had a microsecond of hesitation, which Stropovitch exploited: he jerked the captain's wrists upwards and finally headbutted him hard.

The little girl, still gagged, watched them, motionless.

Van Cleef dropped his swords and collapsed to the ground.

Stropovitch took them well in hand and leaned down to neatly slit the human's throat.

The weapon swung across the pier. The pirate had a concealed third blade and had used it to parry the finishing blow and disarm the draenei's right hand.

Van Cleef got up in a flash. It was Stropovitch's turn to have a split second of hesitation; a powerful kick to his left hand caused him to drop the second weapon, which rose whirling through the air; then a second kick to the face knocked him backwards; Van Cleef picked up the second sword on the fly when it fell.

Stropovitch did not wait for the coup de grace; as soon as he hit the ground he rolled back and straightened up, picking up the weapons he had dropped at the start of the confrontation. In vain: by the time he looked up, Van Cleef's two swords had severed the mail and dug deep into either side of his broad chest.

Opening.

During the split second that Van Cleef ensured the penetration of his weapons he was vulnerable; the draenei straightening, hammered a step forward and ripped open the pirate with its crossed blades.

The girl two meters away was sprinkled with blood but did not move, like hallucinating.

The captain fell to his knees, his face grimacing, clutching his stomach as a pool of blood spilled out from under him. Opposite the mercenary did the same, pulling the two swords from his chest with expressions of great pain.

"The poisons from my blades will kill you. Usually the effect is instant, that's why I let myself be surprised, I was… stupid."

Van Cleef was livid. The bleeding was impressive.

The draenei felt his heart ache. Beating was suddenly terribly difficult. Each pulse made the mercenary grimace in sharp pain. He leaned over, writhing and letting out gasps, under the fixed gaze of the captain.

Behind the latter dozens of Defias quarrymen were arriving with a bewildered look from inside the mine. They advanced to the edge of the pier, but none approached. They watched the death of the two fighters, incredulous, silent.

I made it, the fatal mistake, the hesitation I shouldn't have. I will die.

Heartbeat, pain.

My heart is burning so hard... It's a blood thinner. I didn't think it would produce such heat...

Heartbeat, tears.

Velen, Holy Light, inspire me with a solution, quickly…

Heartbeat, panic.

This fire is spreading all over my body, my heart is clenching so hard, so hard! It's... everything is burning, damn it, it's the demon who wants to... survive too!

Heartbeat, agony.

If I release him, he will regenerate me... But I must... remain... the MASTER!

Heartbeat, rage.

Van Cleef and the miners' eyes widened, and they gleamed in the glare of the flames.

Stropovitch sat up, his eyes blazing, and a resounding growl rose from the depths of his being and echoed through the cavern. With a grimace he stood up.

The girl was still watching, fascinated beyond terror.

The draenei's body turned red. His chest vibrated visibly. His heart peeked out, black, through the skin, and the black veins came out in turn, quivering.

His face was contorted with a fierce inner struggle. He was overwhelmed by untold suffering but faced it like a rock in a hurricane.

The miners screamed, a few fled, but most had their legs broken in fear.

An overpowering roar detonated in the cave. The air around the draenei rippled with the infernal heat he radiated.

So he spoke! Stropovitch opened his mouth and with a voice from beyond the grave and that was not his own said:

I… WILL OVERCOME.

Van Cleef's body ignited at these words. He screamed, living torch.

You won't win, demon. You are infinitely stronger, but I WILL RESIST!

Panicked miners crawled squealing toward the exit.

Stropovitch, his teeth digging into his gums from the clenching, saw the little girl. This sight shook him so powerfully that it helped him to stay on the threshold of the abyss. If he stayed near her, she would burn to death. He had to get away from her. But if he left her there, alone, he had to first...

Annihilate anyone who might harm her.

"Regarding discretion, you failed, man."

Jack dutifully picked his teeth. He held the girl by the hand. She was hiding behind him, petrified.

"You are asked to release a girl and what you do? So if I understood the story correctly, you kill the whole crew, you burn Van Cleef, you sink the ship, you eradicate all the miners, you destroy the Brotherhood's hidden forge, you go out, you burn half of Moonbrook to ashes, and to do the job at your best, all Defias encampments in the area."

Stropovitch looked thoughtfully away. The crazy old innkeeper was, for some reason, hilarious.

"Not to mention the girl who told me earlier that you had turned into a monster and that you came back to look for her only the next day. I'm not saying that I believe in the details of the monster, but as for what is that you are mad, that's okay, there's no doubt, you need to get treatment, man. Leaving the girl behind to go and massacre the whole neighborhood, it's not professional work, you agree, don't you?"

She had remained alone for hours in the middle of a dark desolation, breathing an air saturated with ashes where the smell of burnt wood mingled with that of charred flesh. She would be haunted by that memory all her life. The draenei was silent. Jack was jubilant to have reversed the roles since their first meeting.

"My employer isn't going to claim it, but considering how you were playing it when we saw each other the other day, I'm not going to bother to quietly ruin your reputation. Sorry, huh!"

Stropovitch did not react. His decision was already made.

"Well here's your wages, Jack said, throwing a huge purse on the table. And enjoy it! You won't get many more."

He stood for a moment, expecting the mercenary to check the contents, but since the mercenary didn't move, Jack shrugged and disappeared with the girl, without saying goodbye.

Stropovitch sat for a long time, looking thoughtful. First of all, he had to go find Velen at the Exodar and dare to ask his advice...

…though he knows that I have caused the death of so many of our people…