Chapter 131: Baron of the Night

After the violent shaking, the ship settled into a steadier rhythm. It still rose and fell, but at least a person could walk along the corridors normally.

Jess and Gred kept a hand on the walls as they made their way down to the bottom of the ship. The cargo hold was packed with crates secured by ropes, hooks, wooden boards, and all sorts of other fastenings. Some had clearly worked loose.

Wood splinters and broken glass littered the floor. Perhaps a crate had already smashed open.

Several passengers had come down as well, apparently drawn by the sudden commotion.

"Where's Gazik?" Gred asked.

"Who's Gazik?" someone replied.

"The first mate," another passenger explained. "Why? Was he here just now?"

"We saw him run this way," Jess said. "Wasn't that him shouting a moment ago?"

"If it was him," one passenger said, "who died?"

Gred looked around the hold. "The question is, where's the body?"

The five or six people present glanced at one another. None knew what to do. Before long, they all turned toward the darker recesses of the hold, then exchanged uneasy looks again.

A tall man holding a lantern took a deep breath and stepped forward. The others followed him, swaying with the rolling floorboards. A few more passengers came down and watched them from behind.

After a short walk, Gred stopped abruptly. Those behind were so busy examining the cargo that someone bumped into Jess, nearly sending him into the dwarf.

Gred raised a hand for them to stop. His nose twitched.

"I smell blood."

A couple near the back instinctively stepped away. Even the bolder people around the dwarf grew tense.

The man leading them turned and lowered his lantern to shine on the wet planks. A dark stain was barely visible in the water.

When the light moved closer, a streak of bright red stood out against the black.

"What is that... wine?"

Gred looked at him, crouched, touched a finger to the stain, and tasted it.

"I'm afraid you're wrong, human."

Everyone stepped back. A man with a clear Lordaeron accent swore under his breath, and the rest refused to go any farther.

Gred took the lantern and continued. Jess followed.

It wasn't that these passengers were afraid of blood or corpses. They were afraid because nobody knew who—or what—had killed someone down here.

Azeroth's seas had never been safe. Countless strange creatures lurked beneath them, and among the worst were the naga. If a band of naga killers had already climbed aboard, this ship was in serious trouble.

Jess sniffed carefully. He couldn't detect the fishy odor of naga scales. Instead, an unfamiliar, musky stench filled the hold, unlike anything he expected to smell at sea.

Hearing him sniff, Gred whispered, "You smell it too, don't you? That stink."

"Yes. What do you think it is?"

"I've got a guess, but I'm afraid I'll sound like an idiot if I say it."

"Go ahead. I've got an answer in mind too."

"Together, then."

"All right."

"Tiger."

They said it at the same time. The dwarf turned to Jess in surprise.

"Where have you ever smelled a tiger?"

Jess certainly couldn't say "at the zoo." He only replied, "Never mind that. Why would there be a tiger here?"

For anyone wondering, this text came from NovelPhoenix without the author's approval; their chapter on that site supports the person who wrote it.

Gred frowned and raised the lantern again.

As they continued, there was more and more blood on the floor. They were getting closer to the body—and, perhaps, to the killer.

Near the far end of the hold, the lantern finally lit up the source of the blood. A goblin lay sprawled there, his body torn so badly that it barely looked like a body anymore.

"Is that Gazik?" Jess asked.

"I don't think so," Gred said. "Different clothes. That's the fellow who was watching the cargo."

"What killed him?"

Gred swung the lantern around and found a strange iron cage nearby. It had clearly tipped over. The iron door hung open, and the lock looked as though something had broken it by force. The musky smell came from the cage.

"There." Gred pointed toward it with his lips.

"Why would they have something like that aboard?" Jess stared at the cage and suddenly remembered the large object wrapped in cloth that several workers had carried onto the ship.

"Is that the thing those men hauled aboard at the start?"

"Looks like it."

A few goblin sailors arrived. One glance at the broken cage left them looking thoroughly sick.

"Where's Gazik? Where's your first mate?" Jess demanded.

"What are you yelling for? We're looking for him too!" a sailor shouted back.

Just then, a goblin in a black outer robe and shoulder cape arrived. He glanced at the body and the blood on the floor, then sighed.

"Quick. Everyone onto the deck!"

"Yes, Captain Nilazu!"

So this was the famous captain?

The sailors hurried away. The captain turned to those remaining.

"That means you too. Everyone. Leave the cabins and gather on deck, immediately!"

A passenger asked hesitantly, "But what about the storm?"

"The storm is nothing compared with the trouble down here! Damn it, get upstairs now if you want to stay alive!"

As he shouted, the captain kept glancing left and right along the hold. His hand never left the hilt of the guard sword at his waist. He looked ready to fight something at any moment.

"What exactly happened?" Jess asked.

"Upstairs first." The captain pointed to the corridor entrance.

On deck, several goblin sailors were frantically counting heads. Jess estimated that a little over a hundred people had gathered there. Everyone tried to crowd around a mast or railing and hold on tight. Soaked by the rain and packed together, they looked like great strings of cured sausages hanging in wet bundles.

The rain was heavy and the wind fierce, but the captain had been right. For a ship of this size, the storm itself wasn't too dangerous. The occasional rocking wasn't enough to toss everyone into the water.

The real problem was below, where the goblin had been killed.

The captain stood above them, listening as sailors reported the headcount. Jess noticed several goblins had picked up guns.

Could it really be a tiger?

Was there a circus aboard? The Darkmoon Faire, perhaps?

He studied the passengers. None looked like the odd collection of races that made up the Darkmoon Faire. Almost everyone was human, with only a handful of dwarves and gnomes.

"Listen carefully, everyone!" the captain called. "You've all paid for passage, and the Steamwheedle Cartel will guarantee your safety no matter what. We've had a small problem in the cargo hold. Don't worry! We'll deal with it properly before letting you return to your cabins. For now, bear with a little rain and enjoy the beautiful sight of a storm at sea. Not every ship lets its passengers admire a scene like this in such comfort. You're getting quite a treat!"

"We just want to know what the problem is!" an angry man shouted.

"Please calm down, sir!" a goblin sailor called. "Whatever happened, it's under control!"

Jess thought goblins had a pretty broad idea of what counted as under control. If one of their airships crashed and only a single passenger survived, the goblins would probably still call that an accident within acceptable limits.

"Is it so hard to give us an answer?"

"We lost one of our own too, damn it!" another sailor yelled. "Keep calm!"

"Shut up!" the captain roared at his sailor. Then he faced the crowd. "I'm sorry, but to prevent further trouble, at present we can only..."

"Tell us what was in that cage!" Gred shouted.

Before the captain could answer, a man suddenly began screaming in a panic.

"The cage? The Baron of the Night escaped! It's the Baron of the Night! It has to be! Damn it, I saw him! He was inside that cage!"

"The Baron of the Night? What's that?"

"Please don't jump to conclusions! Don't believe rumors! Everything is under control!" the captain shrieked.

But the crowd was already buzzing beyond his control.

Jess quietly asked Gred, "So what's this Baron of the Night?"

"No idea," Gred said.

"A black panther," a nobleman beside them answered.

He wore a small brimmed hat that barely kept the rain off. His clothes were drenched, but the expensive material was obvious even so.

"That's all?" Gred gave a cold laugh. "Just a panther. I'll go down there and skin the bastard myself in a minute."

The nobleman looked him over. "Wildhammer clan?"

"That's right. Good eye." Gred's voice lifted with pride.

Rain pattered against the nobleman's hat brim. He blinked and said, "Do you know what the Baron of the Night has accomplished at the Cape of Stranglethorn? He's killed three of your people—Wildhammer gladiators."

Gladiators at the Cape of Stranglethorn. The nobleman could only mean one place: the Gurubashi Arena.

The Gurubashi Arena was the one place within troll-held Stranglethorn that welcomed outsiders. It had once been a great arena of the Gurubashi Empire, built for the entertainment of its nobles. After the empire declined, the trolls sold part of its operating rights to the goblins. From that point on, neither the events nor the audience were limited to trolls.

Slowly, more and more businesses grew around the arena, with related trades appearing in other regions, including smaller arenas of their own.

Most importantly, gladiators started appearing everywhere. Their ultimate dream was to stand on the winner's platform at the great Gurubashi Arena on the Cape of Stranglethorn and gain wealth and fame.

"If that really is the Baron of the Night," the nobleman went on, "think what it could do inside an enclosed ship full of cargo, boxes, walls, and rooms. That black panther was a killing machine even in an open arena. Imagine what it can do here. And remember, it was famous in Stranglethorn for stalking and ambushing its prey."