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Chapter 2: Communication is Key (Part 2)
"&@^$(*#%&(#&(*#$&!" howled Black Aurora who went to scout ahead from around a corner.
His voice sounded odd—strained, almost panicked. Longbow Sunshot furrowed his brow and muttered, "I’ll go see what’s going on," before vanishing after him.
Minutes stretched into an eternity without so much as a whisper from either of them. When we finally hacked our way through hordes of enemies to reach the scene, we found the lifeless bodies of the mage and priest sprawled across the ground like discarded marionettes.
Thankfully, Tauren shamans are well-versed in communing with spirits, and thanks to their Soul Imprint spell, bringing back the dead wasn’t entirely out of the question. After we revived them and asked Black Aurora what all the shouting had been about earlier, Longbow Sunshot hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly explained:
"He said it was dangerous… that we shouldn’t follow."
---
This was just one of countless examples. You can imagine the headaches we faced constantly because of language barriers—not mere inconveniences, but full-blown disasters waiting to happen.
For any adventuring party, miscommunication might be the most despair-inducing challenge imaginable. But if you thought that was bad enough, let me assure you, there were other complications lurking just around the corner.
Take, for instance, the time Orc Rogue Long Triangle decided to add a new twist to his usual repertoire. The plan was simple: sneak up on a vampire, deliver a surprise attack, and move on. Simple, right? Wrong.
As Long Triangle melted into the shadows—his form flickering like heat haze—he approached the unsuspecting vampire with practiced stealth. Just as he prepared to strike, something bizarre happened. Perhaps some rogue synapse fired in his brain, or maybe fate itself intervened, but instead of lunging forward with daggers drawn, he reached out toward the vampire’s coin pouch. With two deft fingers, quicker than a hummingbird’s wings, he plucked out two measly copper coins. It was a feat so smooth, even the sharpest-eyed hawk would have missed it. And the poor victim? Not a clue.
But Long Triangle wasn’t done yet. No sooner had he pocketed the coins than he delivered a brutal punch to the vampire’s head, followed by two swift stabs to vital points. His technique was flawless—a masterclass in opportunistic thievery followed by ruthless murder.
"Hey, look at this!" Holding up the stolen coppers like trophies, he grinned ear to ear, radiating pride. "Money! I stole money!" He strutted around like a farmer who'd just discovered gold in his field, utterly oblivious to how pitiful he looked. But his celebration was short-lived. Suddenly, his face fell, and he began pounding his chest in anguish.
"Damn it! What a waste! If only I’d robbed everyone else before killing them… think of how much richer I’d be!"
It wasn’t hard to understand where he was coming from. After having every last penny confiscated by city guards, Long Triangle had been reduced to abject poverty—his purse emptier than his stomach. His obsession with money, while understandable, bordered dangerously on fanaticism. Unfortunately, this fixation soon spiraled out of control.
The realization that humanoid creatures could yield extra coin through theft ignited a dark fire within him. Driven by twin demons of “poverty” and “greed,” Long Triangle’s pilfering evolved from occasional indulgence to compulsive habit. Eventually, it became ritualistic—an unspoken rule that no vampire was truly defeated unless its pockets had been picked first.
---
"Whoa…" A Vampire Baron found himself cornered, his back against the wall. In desperation, he unleashed a final, desperate gambit. A thick cloud of crimson mist erupted from his body, swirling violently. As the fog dissipated, the vampire moved with preternatural speed, becoming a red whirlwind of death hurtling straight toward me. By the time I realized the danger, he was barely two steps away, baring fangs sharp enough to pierce steel—and emitting a rancid stench that made my eyes water.
When a vampire abandons weapons and resorts to biting, it means they’ve reached the end of their rope, ready to fight to the bitter end. And trust me, these cornered predators are the deadliest foes imaginable.
Instinct took over. Years of warrior training kicked in as I raised my shield to block the incoming lunge. Using the force of his charge, I staggered backward three or four steps, absorbing the impact at the cost of 38 health points. Seizing the opening, I shoved the shield forward, destabilizing him, then thrust my sword high into the air, aiming squarely for the Vampire Baron’s chest…
“Wait! Don’t kill him yet!” came Long Triangle’s frantic cry from nearby. But it was too late to pull back now.
A geyser of blood erupted from the baron’s torso, staining the earth below. Whatever innocent lives his veins had drained, he repaid them all—with interest—as his own life ebbed away.
Before I could even process what had happened, a blur shot past me. Long Triangle dropped to his knees beside the fallen vampire, cradling the corpse like a grieving lover.
“Oh no, oh no! You died too soon! You didn’t even get to be robbed once! Such a waste… such a sin…” Tears streamed down his face as he lamented the loss of potential loot. Finally, he stood up, glaring at me half-seriously. “Couldn’t you have waited? Let me steal from him first! Two bites wouldn’t have killed you. This was a BARON—we could’ve gotten THREE copper coins!”
Just looking at those razor-sharp fangs made my neck itch. Risking my life for a couple of coppers? Hard pass.
“…No, don’t kill him…” Another anguished plea echoed from behind me. Long Triangle sounded genuinely distraught, as though he wished he could throw himself between the vampire and my blade.
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