WoW - Crusades - Prologue

The Dwarven miner wiped the sweat from his brow before going back to swinging his pick axe. He wasn't sure what he was digging for. He wasn't sure who he was digging for. But for the gold that he was paid to do it he would dig until his hands were broken.

It had been days since he saw the outside of the mine. The whole thing stunk of rotting corpses and thousands of years of isolation. He was stationed on the outskirts of the Trisfal Glades, in an area of the forsaken lands that he had never even heard of.  

Even being so deep into mountain he could still hear the howls and screams of the undead that stalked above. It was a nightmare. Yet he felt no remorse for the pain they lived every day. There was no sympathy for their plight. There was only the fear that what roamed the lands above him might find its way to the area he had been working at nonstop for what seemed like forever.

He wondered if he was truly alone in that hole.

For the last minute or so it had sounded like something was far closer to him than he would like. He thought every so often he had heard footsteps. They were becoming increasingly louder. He knew that if a group of the Scourge found their way into his little nest he would stand little chance. Not even the trusty boom stick strapped to his back could save him from a whole army of them.

But he couldn't give up on the quest given to him. Besides, the mines had a way of screwing with your head. For all he knew it was his imagination, fueled by the horror stories he had heard from the brave souls that had been through this hell.

He longed for the days of his beloved Ironforge more than ever at that moment. He had always been a hard working dwarf that desired to be more than just another mountaineer like the rest of his family.

His cousin was stationed at Loch Modan, a brigade that he was offered a position with but had turned down. Stubbornness always was one of the most dangerous things about a dwarf. And now look where that attitude had gotten him. Over his head in zombies and dirt.

The former of which he was afraid of being right behind him every time he turned around.

On instinct he shone his light around the rocky room, hoping and fearing at the same time that his paranoia was just mind games being played on himself because of the lonely isolation. It wasn't unusual for someone to travel to Trisfal Glades a sane man and return a raving lunatic. There were things in those haunted forest that would turn a night elf's skin white.

He didn't want to go mad down there, but if his paranoia helped him avoid becoming lunch for some bloodthirsty ghoul, so be it.

Yet he saw nothing. Wherever he placed the lights glow turned up nothing but more rock. Satisfied that it as all in his mind he put his lantern down at his feet and began hammering once more. Before too long he had struck something hard with his pickaxe.

It was a solid metal box that looked incredibly old, like it had been buried down there ages ago. Why was it buried down here? Who had gone to such lengths to get rid of it?

Questions ran rapidly through his mind, especially who he was working for.

A letter had been delivered to him weeks ago instructing him to go to this location and dig. That was it. There was nothing in the letter about what he was even looking for. Just the order to dig and a pouch full of gold with the promise of more to come.

He had begged the delivery boy to give him some kind of clue about the sender, but the humans lips were sealed tight.

He should have expected it though. The man that had delivered the instructions wore the tabard of the Scarlet Crusade, an organization known for its silence as well as its brutality. He had always heard nothing but bad things about that sect. How could he pass up this opportunity though? There was so much gold to be made just for a little dangerous digging. And everyone knows a dwarf doesn't back down from a little danger.

He didn't have time to reminisce. His suspicions were right. There were definitely footsteps echoing throughout the hole now.

The dwarf grabbed his rifle with his left hand and picked up the lantern with his right. He slowly aimed forward with the gun as he slowly turned to shine the light in all directions. His chest tightened. He had never seen the undead up close and personal for good reason. Though he would never admit it he was terrified. The darkness knew it. The shadows were mocking his fear. They danced about before scurrying back into oblivion when the light touched them.

He thought about Ironforge and the family he would leave behind. He thought about the price he would pay for his greed. More than anything he thought about what it must feel like to be torn apart limb by limb by a blood crazed zombie. The realization hit him-he would die here today, torn apart and devoured by ghouls.

He never saw that one coming.

As he completed a 180 degree turn he and his fear were greeted by a face staring back at him through the darkness.

He was not alone.

"Goddamn ye! Ye coulda giv'n me a heart attack ye ugly human bastard!" The dwarf was yelling at the top of his lungs. Not exactly a good idea considering where he was at.

The man staring back at him, a cold looking young man with long black hair tied into a ponytail and dressed in Scarlet Crusade issued clothing, stood in the darkness like a shadowy monster waiting to strike.

"I never knew dwarves were so easily frightened," he said in such a calm emotionless way that one might mistake him for a being without a soul as well.

The miner put his gun in the holster on his back and wiped the sweat from his thick brow. Realizing the danger had passed he reverted back to his overly macho dwarven charms.

"Who said I was frightened?"

He spoke with a heavy accent, even for a dwarf.

"I just don't like bein' snuck up on. Ye coulda been greeted with a face full of buckshot, ye know?"

The man nodded.

"I'll try to be more careful next time, Mr…."

The dwarf gave the man a puzzled look.

"Ye don't even know m'name?! It's Watson. Watson Stoutmantle! Ain't ye the one who hired me for this!? I figure a man ought to at least know the name of the man he's paying! And since we're on the subject of names, how about ye tell me yers. I ain't exactly the type to be doing dirty work for someone I don't know."

"But you have done your job?"

The handsome yet sinister looking young man spoke softly, his eyes burning a hole through the dwarf as he waited anxiously for a reply.

The dwarf was taken back by the man's eyes. When he had first seen him he hadn't even given them a second glance. But he couldn't force himself to look away now. Maybe it was his anger overtaking him before, but now his fury over the situation was turning into an unsettling feeling of dread. The man's eyes were cold and vacant. They made him far more fearful than any scourge monster.

You could always trust a monster to try to kill you. But a human was far more dangerous. They were petty, unpredictable, and murderous. The fact that this man was an agent for the Scarlet Crusade made him even more dangerous. Perhaps he should be a bit more respectful when he spoke. After all, he was in a strange land surrounded by monsters that wanted to devour him.

He didn't need any more enemies.

"Aye. I've been workin' day and night for the past week. Not that you gave me much to work with. It was a damn achievement that I found anything at all with the directions ye gave me!"

The man gave an unsettling smile.

"You found it?"

The dwarf spit on the rocky ground and nodded.

"Ye gonna tell me what I was lookin' for? Cause if this ain't what ye was lookin' for, then I didn't find it," he said as he handed over the metal box with the strange glow.

The man's face quickly went from cold and calculated to appearing overcome with happiness. He snatched the box from the dwarf's hands and hugged it close to his chest before dancing around the cave with it clutched tightly in his arms.

Watson thought that was just plain creepy.

"Well. I'm glad yer pleased with my work. Now can I have the rest of my gold so I can get the hell out of here whoever the devil you are."

"Captain Dervius Versailles of the Scarlet Crusade. And yes, my dear Watson, I am very pleased with your work."

The dwarf was beginning to lose his temper. For a dwarf that meant one of two things. Either he was about to kick someone's ass, or he was going to get himself into a hell of a lot of trouble for trying.

"Well if yer so pleased with my work can I just have my damn money so I can go? I hate this place. I'd like to see my family again and leave this world of death behind me forever. I did what you asked, against my own advice. I need that money."

Versailles never took his eyes off of the box. He studied every inch of it. It had an intricate design running along the sides, just like the texts had told him to look for when verifying its authenticity. Unfortunately, they weren't the same designs.

This was not the artifact he was looking for. It was just another relic, possibly worth a fortune to a normal man, but worthless to him.

His creepy smile faded and a look if complete disdain came across his face.

"How much was promised to you?"

"Three hundred gold," the dwarf said in complete seriousness. They had better not try to cheat him out of his hard earned money. His people were known as hell raisers for a reason.

"I promise you then that all three hundred pieces will be delivered to your family as soon as possible."

The dwarf looked completely confused.

"Why can't I just have it now?"

Dervius slowly turned to the dwarf, his face a shade of deep sinister.

"It isn't for you, dwarf. It's for your family."

"My family!? What do they have to do with my work!"

With a sigh of frustration, Dervius pulled out the long sword near his hip and shoved it deep into Watson's stomach. He watched with glee as the dwarf's eyes widened. He could taste the very agony and pain that the miner was feeling right now. Dervius grabbed the dwarf and pushed him back against the cave wall, imapling him against it.

Still gripping the sword's handle, Versailles brought his face within inches of the man he was so effortlessly killing. He stared into Watson's fading eyes, his long black hair coming undone from it's ponytail, leaving thick strands of hair bunched together and covering one side of his pale face.

"Why…," the dwarf sputtered out with blood running down both sides of his mouth.

"The Alliance thanks you for your time, dwarf. But we need not the efforts of a failure."

Standing in the shadows near the ladder leading to the dig spot was Christian Leinhardt, the handsome right hand of Dervius. He watched the cruelty with an indifferent expression, yet his heart was fraught with conflict.

"What have we done?"

Dervius pulled his sword from the dying dwarf and let him fall hard to the ground. As he stepped over it, the Scarlet captain wiped the blood from his regal tabard with a fancy handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it to the cold floor next to the body.

"We're doing what has to be done. Have you forgotten your vows?"

"No," he said calmly, hiding his emotions as best he could.

"Good. Gather the others. We're leaving."

Christian looked down at Stoutmantle with pity. The tough little dwarf was crawling slowly towards his gun, fighting as hard as he could against the coming light.

"What about him?"

Dervius glanced back and shrugged his shoulders.

"Leave him. There won't be anything left to find once the ghouls smell the blood."

Christian turned and followed his captain, as he always had before. But he couldn't take this kind of life serving the Crusade much longer.

That pain would not be his for much longer.