A Nerubian's Journey

Krivax listened quietly as High King Anub’arak gave a speech thanking every nerubian who participated in the Dragon Soul mission for their service to Azjol-Nerub. Krivax was truly glad that his second visit to the High King’s ziggurat was significantly less tense than his first.

There was not a large audience for the speech and ceremony. The only ones present were the High King, his council, and the actual participants of the mission, but Krivax could tell from the expressions of those involved that the small audience did nothing to diminish the weight of this moment. There were few things that could make a nerubian emotional, but serving their people and being commemorated for doing so by the High King was one of them.

Krivax turned his attention to Masruk and the Dread Stalkers. Most of them were being rewarded by receiving higher positions within Azjol-Nerub’s military, and would be assigned to more important tasks to serve the kingdom’s interests. Azjol-Nerub would be restructuring its military and society in the coming years, and a large part of that would be making sure that it could secure its interests on the surface world. Krivax had a feeling that these particular Dread Stalkers would be spending a lot more time on the surface.

Krivax had expected Masruk to be offered the opportunity to become a Spiderlord thanks to his role in destroying the Dragon Soul, but the procedures for ascension to Spiderlord were apparently more complicated. Unlike Viziers, who could take on a wide variety of roles within the Circle of Viziers, the vast majority of Spiderlords were given important leadership and military positions within nerubian society. Masruk would need to undergo rigorous physical training and education before he could become a Spiderlord.

The High King had decided to allow Masruk to become a Dread Stalker and receive personal training from some of the kingdom’s most experienced warriors. Masruk was ecstatic for the opportunity to become a more powerful warrior, and Krivax was happy for him even if a part of him was disappointed. He hadn’t really thought much about it, but Krivax was aware about how much longer his lifespan was compared to that of a nerubian below the highest castes.

Krivax highly doubted that old age would be the thing that killed either him or Masruk given how dangerous the future was, but it was still something that he kept in mind.

As for everyone else in the group, Anub’rekhan would be given his own division of warriors to teach how to wield the Light, while both Hadix and Krivax would also be receiving their own promotions. At least, that’s what the High King had told him when Krivax last spoke to him about the ongoing affairs in the Eastern Kingdoms.

In a society like Azjol-Nerub, the reward for serving your people well was the privilege of being able to serve them better.

The High King’s speech was a relatively straightforward affair. He touched upon matters of duty, sacrifice, and the greater good of the kingdom. He presented them all with ceremonial sashes woven from Azjol-Nerub’s most valuable silks to commemorate their excellent service. After that was done, High King Anub’arak went on to announce everyone’s promotions. Krivax mostly checked out until the High King was about to announce the creation of their new group of Light-wielding warriors.

“Azjol-Nerub has asked much of Anub’rekhan over these past few centuries, and he has never faltered,” said Anub’arak, turning to address his fellow Spiderlord. “No matter what we have asked of him, he has done everything in his power to see it done. When I sent him to the surface world with our delegation, it was with the expectation that he would protect them and seek to acquire new advantages for Azjol-Nerub. He has succeeded greatly beyond our projections. It has been made abundantly clear to us how useful the Light can be to our kingdom, and we fully intend to make use of it.”

The High King paused as the Light around Anub’rekhan momentarily flared up, but smoothly continued after seeing that it was nothing to be concerned about.

“On this day, I announce the creation of a new military subdivision dedicated to training and deploying warriors trained in wielding the Light,” said High King Anub’arak. “This subdivision will be known as the Guardians of Nerub, and Anub’rekhan shall be its leader. I have no doubt that he will serve this kingdom well in his new role, and turn the Light into a powerful force to serve the interests of Azjol-Nerub.”

Krivax glanced over to Anub’rekhan as the High King revealed the name of Azjol-Nerub’s new Order of paladins.

Anub’rekhan bowed to the High King before speaking. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I have grown to deeply believe in the Light as a path forward for our people, and look forward to proving it to be true.”

High King Anub’arak nodded toward his subordinate before turning next to Vizier Hadix.

“Despite our… previous disagreements, there are few in Azjol-Nerub who know more about the Void or who have done more to protect our people against its threat than Vizier Hadix,” said High King Anub’arak, with only the slightest amount of reluctance in his voice. “He has done so for most of his life, and he risked his life to do so again when he successfully retrieved the Dragon Soul from the two-headed ogre who held it. Such service merits recognition, and as a fitting reward, he will be granted the authority to spearhead the Anomalous Magic Research Divsion’s efforts on the surface world.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Vizier Hadix before bowing to the High King. “I will do everything in my power to ensure I do not fall short of your expectations.”

“See that you do not,” said the High King, his many eyes firm as he looked down at Vizier Hadix. “This role has been given to you as an acknowledgment of your competence and resolute efforts to combat the Void, but I have not forgotten your role as a member of an organization that directly undermined my authority. If I see any sign that you are acting against the interests of Azjol-Nerub, then you will not enjoy the consequences. Am I understood?”

“You are understood, Your Majesty,” said Vizier Hadix, his voice calm and steady.

“Good,” said the High King before turning to Krivax. “In that case, we will move on to the final individual to be rewarded for their service today. Vizier Krivax, in the few short years that you have been alive, you have already done much in the service of Azjol-Nerub. From forming a beneficial relationship with the tuskarr to discovering multiple new continents that were previously unknown to us, and performing admirably in your role as a diplomat where other nerubians many times your age would have likely done much worse. For this, and in recognition of your role in destroying the Dragon Soul, I intend to place you in a leading role for Azjol-Nerub’s new organization of diplomats, the Foreign Outreach Division.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Krivax, genuinely pleased and nervous with this development. It would make his life much easier now that he had genuine and significant political power. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I trust that you won't,” said High King Anub’arak. “Despite your young age, you have done much for this kingdom and that has not gone unnoticed.”

The rest of the ceremony passed by quickly as the High King gave a closing speech about new responsibilities and faithfully serving Azjol-Nerub. Once it was done, everyone began to make their way out of the ziggurat and Krivax made to do so as well until he was suddenly stopped by the High King.

“Stay behind, Vizier Krivax. There are a few matters about the ongoing affairs of the surface world that I would like to speak with you about.

Krivax stopped short, turning to look towards Hadix and Masruk. Hadix looked at him and nodded before filing out of the room alongside the others. Masruk gave him a look of support before following along.

“Yes, Your Majesty? How can I help you?” asked Krivax as he approached the High King. The only ones left in the room aside from the two of them were a few Dread Stalkers standing stoically to the side, so he couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“I wanted to take this opportunity to speak with you about Azjol-Nerub’s future priorities on the surface world,” High King Anub’arak explained. “As our kingdom’s leading diplomat, we will be relying on you to keep us abreast of any developments. I would also like to hear about your conversation with the Dragon Queen, and how she answered the questions we agreed to pose to her.”

One of the best things about the dragons becoming involved in mortal affairs was that Krivax now had an easy way to make Azjol-Nerub aware of important information. A single conversation with Alexstrasza was enough for Krivax to have an explanation for how he knew about several important matters.

“I had assumed that we would be discussing these matters with the rest of the council, Your Majesty,” said Krivax, confused as to why the High King had chosen to speak to him alone. “Isn’t this something that they all need to be made aware of as well?”

“It is,” the High King quickly confirmed. “However, I have learned over the years that I am best served by receiving important information in a manner that is as unbiased as possible. My advisors are all wise in matters related to their domains, but they also all have their own interests and agendas and are much more skilled at lying than you, Vizier Krivax.”

Well excuse me for not having centuries of political experience, Krivax thought to himself indignantly.

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Krivax said politely. “What would you like to know first, specifically?”

“You were instructed to ask the Dragon Queen about any other Old God prisons that they might be aware of,” High King Anub’arak said immediately, a hint of anticipation in his voice. “After receiving reports of the C’thrax’s attack on Capital City, I am convinced more than ever that the Void is our kingdom’s primary threat. What did she say?”

“According to Alexstrasza, another one of the Old God’s prisons can be found in southern Kalimdor,” Krivax said before hesitating. He wasn’t certain what would come of sharing the next detail, but there was no way around it. “The entity’s prison rests beneath the city of Ahn’Qiraj, which was created by the Qiraji. It seems like they also survived the Sundering.”

Krivax watched as High King Anub’arak suddenly stopped all movement as he absorbed the information. After a few moments, the High King let out a hum of consideration and replied. “I see… that is a vexing complication. I have no doubt given the location of their city that the Qiraji still worship the Old Gods, and that they would view our people as traitors. Why have the dragons not exterminated them?”

“Alexstrasza claimed that the dragonflights helped the night elves fight them back a few centuries ago when they attempted to leave their city,” said Krivax, neatly ignoring the casual call for the genocide of a similar Aqir descendant species. “Ahn’Qiraj has been sealed away from the rest of the world, but I don’t know exactly why the Aspects haven’t killed them. I assume that the costs and risks of doing so just outweigh the benefits.”

Krivax then went on to explain what Alexstrasza had been willing to share about the night elves and their powerful empire. Although his metaknowledge wasn’t exactly clear on the matter, Krivax would rate the night elves as being significantly stronger than Quel’Thalas, and more of a threat. The fact that the night elves were under the protection of a literal demigod in the form of Cenarius only made the situation more delicate.

There was a significant risk that contact between the night elves and Azjol-Nerub could turn into a disaster if things were not handled properly, especially given their ‘recent’ war with the Qiraji.

Once Krivax was finished, the High King took a moment to ponder his words before finally asking about Azjol-Nerub’s other sister kingdom. “Did she mention anything about Manti’vess?”

“She didn’t,” Krivax quickly replied. “The Dragonflights haven’t seen anything to suggest that the Mantid survived the Sundering.”

It was interesting to learn that not even the Aspects knew anything about Pandaria and what was happening within. Chances were that Nozdormu was aware of the magically hidden continent, but Krivax hadn’t seen any sign that he had shared that information with his siblings.

This implied that the magic hiding Pandaria from the rest of the world was extremely powerful and wouldn’t be breached any time soon. In the original timeline, the hidden continent was only revealed after Deathwing attempted to destroy the world in the Cataclysm, which Krivax had no intention of allowing to happen.

As far as he was concerned, that was nothing but good news. Krivax still had the headaches of Kalimdor to look forward to, and he really didn’t want to deal with any more new continents until things were more settled.

“Good. That is one less threat to Azjol-Nerub that we need to be concerned with,” said the High King, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Did the Dragon Queen agree to give us a map of Kalimdor, as we requested?”

“She did, Your Majesty. Although she made a request of us in return,” Krivax said hesitantly, unsure of how the High King would respond to the request. “Alexstrasza would like us to take on a lenient position in regard to the Horde during the upcoming political summit.”

The High King spent a moment to consider the matter before asking a question. “Would such a position harm our diplomatic position with the other surface races?”

“Well… Kul’Tiras, Gilneas, and Stormgarde would react the worst,” Krivax said quickly, surprised that the High King was so open to the idea. “But there is little that any of them can actually do about it. Besides, I think it would be more advantageous for Azjol-Nerub to foster a good relationship with the Dragonflights. They’re stronger and much closer than any of the human kingdoms.”

“I agree. I care nothing about what happens to the Horde, so the Dragon Queen’s price is relatively insignificant,” said High King Anub’arak.

In retrospect, Krivax shouldn’t have been particularly surprised. Nerubians tended to approach the world in a more logical way than most people, and the Horde never actually did any significant damage to Azjol-Nerub. That being the case, there was really no reason for them to really care about the orcs or their fate.

“As you say, Your Majesty. I will convey our agreement to Alexstrasza the next time that I see her.”

“Do so. It will be useful for Azjol-Nerub to have a good relationship with the Dragonflights. If these ‘night elves’ are as powerful as she claims, then perhaps one of the dragons could act as an intermediary,” the High King said thoughtfully.

“I think that would be wise, Your Majesty. The green dragons in particular took on the form of night elves and are thus likely to have a close connection to them,” said Krivax, using some of his metaknowledge to point the High King in the right direction.

“I will keep that in mind, Vizier Krivax. If there is nothing else, then you are dismissed. You have much work to do in preparing Azjol-Nerub to establish diplomatic contact with Ironforge and Gnomeregan,” said High King Anub’arak, dismissing him.

It had been made clear to Krivax during their last meeting that Azjol-Nerub placed a high value on Ironforge and Gnomeregan. Both nations would be closer to their primary settlement in the Eastern Kingdoms than any of the human nations aside from Stormwind. Aside from that, the Circle of Viziers was extremely interested in dwarven and gnomish technology

“Actually, Your Majesty, there is one matter I would like to bring to your attention,” said Krivax, causing the High King to look at him with curiosity. After retrieving the map to Uldaman from his spatial bag, Krivax handed it over to one of the nearby Dread Stalkers, who quickly examined it for malicious magic before presenting it to the High King. “A project that I started with my authorized discretionary budget has managed to achieve something worthy of your attention. I hired goblins, those not aligned to the Horde, to search for any facilities resembling Ulduar in the Eastern Kingdoms, using information given to me by the Explorers’ League about locations worthy of investigation.”

That got the High King’s undivided attention, and he quickly controlled a skitterer to unroll the map and place it on a nearby desk.

“This potential facility is in Khaz Modan?” the High King asked idly as he continued to focus on the map. “If that is the case, then your upcoming trip to Ironforge has become more important than ever, Vizier Krivax. I expect you to make exploring this facility your first priority.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I intend to make contact with the Explorers’ League headquarters as soon as I arrive in the city,” said Krivax, pleased that everything was beginning to come together.

Once the Keeper inside Uldaman was discovered by the Explorers’ League, then it would be trivial to make sure the Dragonflights also learned of him. Since they should know that Archaedas had the ability to open a path to Deepholm, the Aspects would be able to use him to finally finish off Deathwing.

As Krivax continued to discuss the matter with the High King, he found his mind drifting to how much better off Azeroth would be if his plan worked. A Keeper who hadn’t been either incapacitated or corrupted by the Void would solve… so many problems that Krivax had no way of dealing with by himself.

After what happened to Capital City, Krivax wasn’t sure how he would handle it if his actions managed to cause another unexpected tragedy to occur, so he hoped desperately that his plans would work out…

—----------------------------------

Zul’jin stumbled up the steps of the temple belonging to Jan'alai, the Dragonhawk Loa, doing his best to ignore the pain in his severed stump of an arm.

It had been a little more than a week since he had escaped the tender treatment of the cursed elves, and there was still no sign of his limb beginning to regenerate. Zul’jin was filled with nothing but hatred as he thought of the damned elves, but he had to admit that they knew how to make a troll hurt. They’d chained him up to a stone pillar, taken out his eye, and carved into him with enchanted blades that caused more pain than they should’ve. The only way he’d been able to escape the chains was by cutting off his own arm with a discarded spear.

Zul’jin assumed the cursed elf magic was why it wasn’t coming back. He knew he’d be able to learn how to fight well enough with the one arm, but he wouldn’t mind having back the other one so he could kill the elves more easily.

The witch doctor had to use a whole lot of Mojo to keep him from dropping dead once the raiding party managed to drag him back to Zul’Aman. It didn’t help that every witch doctor was working themselves to the bone trying to heal all of their wounded.

It wasn’t much longer after he’d healed enough to get around on his own that the priests told him Jan’alai wanted to commune with him. Zul’jin respected the Loa as much as any other troll who knew what was good for them, but he wasn’t happy about being called by one of them.

The best way to deal with Loa, in Zul’jin’s humble opinion, was to give them their sacrifices when they asked for them and do your best to not draw their attention. Halazzi had eaten half a dozen of his priests over the past few years for angering him, and Zul’jin didn’t want to end up the same way.

He’d never had any business with Jan’alai, but he’d heard she was one of the more reasonable Loa. The Dragonhawk usually only ate the elves they sacrificed to her, and she didn’t mind paying them back when she was in a good mood.

“The Loa be waitin’ for you, Zul’jin,” said the priestess as he got to the top of the temple.

I hope so. Didn’t walk up here for my health.

Zul’jin just nodded to the priest as he walked by. It wasn’t wise to run your mouth at a Loa’s priest when you were standing in their temple. That’s a good way for a troll to end up screaming in their belly.

The inside of the temple was filled with shiny gold trinkets, statues carved in the shape of dragonhawks, and all the other things that Loa liked to see. Although he couldn’t see them, Zul’jin could feel eyes watching him from every direction as soon as he passed through the entrance. He knew that those eyes most likely belonged to the spirits of the trolls who swore to serve Jan’alai in both life and death.

Zul’jin didn’t pay much attention to all of that though when the massive spectral form of the Loa was right in front of him. Dragonhawks were weird-looking things, with the head of a hawk, the body of a serpent, and two large feathered wings coming out the side of their bodies. Jan’alai herself was covered in green and red feathers and was at least three times bigger than any natural dragonhawk Zul’jin had ever seen.

“Zul’jin, you’ve arrived,” said Jan’alai, her beaked mouth staying still as her voice echoed through the temple.

“As you commanded,” said Zul’jin after bowing respectfully to the Loa. “Your priests didn’t say what you be needing me for, Mighty Jan’alai.”

“They didn’t say, because I didn’t tell them,” said Jan’alai as she carefully studied him. Zul’jin was careful not to react as she circled around him, her serpentine body blocking any path he might have used to escape. “I’ve heard much about you from my worshippers, little troll. The people speak of the hero who managed to escape from the elves and even cut off his own arm to do so. I decided that I wanted to get a good look at you for myself.”

“And what is it that you see, Great Jan’alai,” Zul’jin said politely, even as he felt his muscles grow stiff with tension.

“Nothing that I haven’t seen before. A troll filled with hatred and resentment,” said Jan’alai, her gaze knowing as she looked down on him. “You’re far more cunning than most, and I can see a deep determination within you to right the things in the world you think are wrong. You could have perhaps made for a good priest at one time, but you are good for nothing more than being a Warlord as you are now.”

“Sorry that I not be up to your standards then, Mighty Jan’alai,” said Zul’jin, forcing himself to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Oh, you misunderstand me, little troll. A Warlord is exactly what I am looking for,” said Jan’alai, her tone one of satisfaction before turning into something more conversational. “Tell me, Zul’jin. What do you know about the Forbidden Temple of Ula’Tek?”

“It be a temple near the coast that the Loa forbid anyone but their priests from approaching,” said Zul’jin, confused by the Loa’s question. “Every troll in Zul’Aman knows not to go there.”

“Yes, but you do not know why,” said Jan’alai, her voice growing solemn. “Within the temple is the corpse of a creature we killed long ago before the world was shattered apart by the foolish elves. It was a C’thrax, one that led the armies of Azj’Aqir in a war against the ancient troll empires of old for nearly a century. After the creature was slain, Azj’Aqir broke apart into three separate kingdoms and the trolls became the uncontested mortal rulers of this world. Until the elves overthrew you, at least.”

These weren’t stories that Zul’jin had ever heard from any of the priests, so he assumed they weren’t ones the Loa had a habit of sharing. They were interesting in their own way, but hearing about his people’s glorious past only made their present failures more clear.

“Why are you telling me this, Mighty Jan’alai?”

“Because, Zul’jin. A C’thrax was brought back to life several weeks ago and went on to attack a human city to the west,” said Jan’alai, her eyes growing distant as she gazed at something Zul’jin couldn’t see. “Not only that, but the descendants of the Aqir are expanding their kingdom to this continent. My peers might be content to stand by and ignore the happenings of the world, but I find these developments… extremely concerning. Had our C’thrax been the one to be brought back, I doubt I or any of Zul’Aman’s Loa would have been able to stop it in our current state.”

Zul’Jin was more than a little surprised at the Loa’s words. He didn’t know of anything powerful enough to take down one of the Loa, much less all of them working together.

“What do you want me to be doing about it? I doubt I can help you fight off anything you can’t handle on your own, Great Jan’alai,” Zul’jin said cautiously.

Jan’alai drew closer to him, and Zul’jin was certain that he had her full and undivided attention. “I have a plan to address this matter. However, it is not without risk and I require a mortal servant to enact my will on this world. Tell me. If I were to offer you my power, Zul’jin. What would you be willing to offer in return?”

“Everything,” Zul’jin immediately replied. If the Loa could give him enough power to protect his people and enact his vengeance against the elves, then there was nothing he wasn’t willing to give.

“Excellent, little troll. I’m glad to see such conviction,” said Jan’alai, pleased with his response. “If you are truly willing to become my servant, Zul’jin, then prove yourself. Perform the Loa’balu and link yourself to me. If you do this, then I will reward you with enough power to accomplish what needs to be done.”

Hesitating for only a moment, Zul’jin grabbed the ax hanging from his waist and pointed the edge of it at his abdomen and lower back. Trolls were hardy folk and could regenerate a lot, but it was widely known that this part of the body was the safest to perform a Loa’balu. Zul’jin only winced a little as the edge of the ax cut into him and carved off a piece of meat to sacrifice to the Loa.

Jan’alai said nothing and merely watched in anticipation until the Loa’balu was complete. Zul’jin made certain to catch the sacrifice before it could fall to the ground and then presented it to the Loa. As soon as the piece of meat disappeared into the Loa’s enormous beak, Zul’jin could feel a strange connection form between him and Jan’alai.

As Zul’jin attempted to adapt to the unexpected shift, he was suddenly engulfed by a powerful surge of energy coursing through the link and into his body. It felt rather similar to the time an elvish mage tried to burn him alive.

Once it was finally over, Zul’jin came back to awareness to find himself on his hands and knees as he struggled to catch his breath. It took far longer than he would have liked for Zul’jin to notice that he once again see with both eyes and had both of his arms, although the one he had just regained was… changed.

Zul’jin carefully studied his new arm and ran his fingers along the scales that covered it. His left arm reminded him of something he would see on a hawk and ended with wickedly sharp talons that Zul’jin was eager to put to use.

“The priest left a mirror around if you would like to study the rest of your changes,” said Jan’alai, her voice audibly more tired than it was before. “When I funneled my power into you, I decided to fix some of your deficiencies.”

Zul’jin looked to where the Loa was pointing and saw the mirror she had mentioned. After bowing the Jan’alai with more respect than he had ever bowed to anyone before, Zul’jin quickly made his way over to see what had changed.

The first thing that he noticed was that the eye he had lost to the elves had also changed. Much like the Loa’s own eyes, the pupil was a faintly glowing yellow, but it was there and worked better than ever. Zul’jin was certain he would now be able to see the elves coming far before they saw him, which would make it much easier to kill them.

He was glad to see that most of his body remained unchanged, aside from seeming noticeably younger than the last time he looked. Zul’jin was not an old troll, but he’d begun to feel the effects of time beginning to dull his reactions and slow him down. After the Loa’s empowerment, Zul’jin felt stronger than he ever had before.

Feeling a source of power dwelling deep within him, Zul’jin marveled as he suddenly let loose a stream of fire from his mouth that rivaled that of any dragonhawk. Slowly, Zul’jin got his new abilities back under control and turned to the Loa who had given to him.

“I would have done more, but you mortals haven’t been offering enough worship or sacrifices in recent times,” said Jan’alai, her tone one of irritation. “If you can change that, Zul’jin, then we will both benefit greatly.”

“Oh, you don’t need to be worrying about that anymore, Mighty Jan’alai,” said Zul’jin, overjoyed as he basked in the power he had been given. “I’ll be bringing you all the power you need. I’m going to enjoy capturing those elves and sacrificing them on your altar. Once my reign is secure, Zul’Aman will venerate you above all Loa!”

“That will have to wait until my peers are unable to stop us, little troll,” Jan’alai said with amusement. Zul’jin wasn’t surprised by the Loa’s response. Although he wasn’t a priest, he knew that the Loa often worked to undermine one another. “However, attacking Quel’thalas is not quite what I had in mind.”

“What?! Why not?” Zul’jin shouted in outrage, furious that the Loa would deny him the chance to use these powers to tear apart the elves.

Almost instantly, Zul’jin once again found himself on his hands and knees as a massive sense of… pressure seemed to force him to the ground and engulf his entire being.

“I would suggest you remember who you’re talking to, Zul’jin,” said Jan’alai as she loomed over him. “Many times, trolls have tasted the slightest bit of power from a Loa and thought themselves stronger than they were. Don’t think that you’re important enough that you can shout at me.”

“Of course, Mighty Jan’alai,” Zul’jin grit out between clenched teeth. He hated being forced into such a humiliating position, but there was little he could do against the Loa. “I apologize. I simply forgot myself in my excitement.”

Jan’alai allowed the pressure to remain for a few more moments before suddenly retracting it. “Good. Don’t worry, little troll. I’ve lived long enough to have learned that mortals like you occasionally need to be reminded where they stand. It is something that I’ve grown used to.”

Zul’jin wasn’t sure how the Loa wanted him to respond to that, so he simply clenched his fist and moved on from the subject.

“Great One, why shouldn’t we wage war on those cursed elves? Wouldn’t this power allow me to capture more of them to sacrifice in your name?” Zul’jin asked once he had calmed down.

“Why do you think this war would be any more successful than your others, mortal?” Jan’alai asked pointedly, a note of contempt creeping into her voice. “Not only are the elves currently well prepared for war, but they would also receive the aid of the human kingdoms as well. After you chose to ally with the Horde, Zul’Aman would be lucky if it didn’t find itself fighting every other nation on this continent. Besides, if all it took for you trolls to defeat the elves was a small empowerment, your people wouldn’t have lost most of their land.”

The Loa’s words hurt like a knife to the belly, and Zul’jin felt bitterness boil up within him at the damned elves, the humans, and his people's inability to defeat them.

“I can feel your resentment, little troll. Zul’Aman has been trapped in a bitter cycle for many centuries,” Jan’alai said knowingly. “You trolls lose a war, which means you don’t have any elves to sacrifice, which then leads to us Loa not having enough power to aid you. Your worship lessens and Zul’Aman grows weaker. Then you lose the next war and the cycle repeats. This cannot go on, Zul’jin, or it won’t be long before any of us have a place left in this world.”

Zul’jin knew the Loa’s words to be true because he had seen it his entire life. Constantly, they fought the elves and humans, yet their territory continued to shrink no matter how hard they fought. If it wasn’t for the Loa then he knew without a doubt that his people would have already been exterminated by the elves.

“Then what do you want me to do, Mighty Jan’alai?” asked Zul’jin, hoping the Loa would truly have a plan to pull them off of this path.

“You will go south, mortal,” Jan’alai said firmly. “The Gurubashi have remained splintered ever since Zandalar prevented them from summoning Hakkar, and their Loa have grown weak as their worshippers grow lesser in number. There is much power there waiting to be claimed, and many trolls who are willing to fall under the service of a powerful Warlord. While the Alliance enjoys its peace and continues to further its cooperation with the descendants of the Aqir, we must use this time to grow strong, Zul’jin. Peace will not last forever.”

“This won’t be easy,” Zul’jin said after a moment. “The Gurubashi ain’t used to taking orders from outsiders, and their Loa aren’t going to like me in their territory.”

“If those Loa aren’t willing to cooperate, then we will just have to find a way to kill them and add their power to my own,” Jan’alai said carelessly, even as a shimmer of greed flashed through her eyes. “You might even prefer it that way, mortal. After all, you more than anyone else will benefit from my strength increasing.”

Zul’jin thought about it and imagined what he could do if he became even more powerful as the Loa said. Slowly, a smile grew on his face as Zul’jin pictured elves being torn apart by his new talons or being burned to ashes by his fiery breath.

“You be right, Mighty Jan’alai. I think I might prefer it that way…”