Black hole

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Duel Hunters
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Power of Nature
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Great Voodoo Ritual
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by ~Dantronix
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It was a dark night with a storm fast approaching on the day after the loss of the first troll wars. Zandalar Zandali lays in his bed, restless. Zandalar Zandali was the leader of the forest trolls during the first troll wars, he wasn’t like most trolls, he was strong, tough, and dextrous, but he was also intelligent, wise and charismatic. The lightning and thunder doesn’t bother him, however it was taken as an omen. Speaking in common, which is rather rare for a troll to do so, especially at this time. “Dis isn’t good, dis isn’t good at all mon, da spirits be restless, and dey don’t want me to be restful either.” Several wooden creaks outside the hut occur and continue on, then stops. A hand appears at the door way, and brushes aside the purple, woven cloth hanging over the door way. It was the village’s witchdoctor and Zandalar’s adviser, Zul’Armani, Zul was rather strange for a troll, he wasn’t the typical brutish and muscular troll, rather he was very lanky and not much muscle; however he made up for the sheer amount of intelligence he has, with his intelligence also came with better than average wisdom, and also rather peculiar is that he was fairly charismatic for a troll, which usually just bash things than negotiating or talking things out. He speaks in his usual suave and soothing voice “What is wrong Zandalar? I’ve heard you tossing and turning, then heard you mumbling”. Zandalar sighs, and returns to his native tongue of Zandali, which he was named after. “The spirits are restless, it is like they want us to win, but intended us to lose. And they didn’t like that. They are angry and won’t let me sleep”. “Hm, I’m not quite sure how I am can help.” “There is nothing you can do, but I’ve been thinking” Zandalar sighs, “The elves are weaker now, we should make a last stand against them” “Hm, I don’t like it, but it might just work” “It will work, the elves, they must pay”

Later, into the morning, Zandalar gets up and mumbles to himself, “This should work, it must work. It needs to work” He looks around him and goes through the doorway of his hut. He walks down the wood steps towards the witchdoctor’s hut, “Come in, come in” “Zul’ Armani, do you have anything to aid us?” “I have stasis wards, healing wards, some charms. And a few potions here and there” “Alright, that’ll work. Let’s gather up the rest”. Zandalar and Zul’Armani headed towards the village’s alert gong and hit it twice, signifying that all residents report to the center of town. Zandalar Zandali slowly does a full circle looking at what he has to work with. “All able bodied trolls, get your desired weapons and join me, we will strike against the elves when they are at their weakest” A young voice cries out “We are at our weakest too!” Zandalar turns towards the voice’s origin. “Perhaps, but the empire is at its weakest. Our tribe was untouched, we shall win this last stand”, the younger troll stands himself up “Well, even if you are wrong, the ends justify the means, no?” Zandalar smiles and asks the young troll’s name, it was Allibob Jimbobbi. He continues on with his speech, “We will break through the main fence and go down the directest route, previously dangerous, now should be relatively safe, you all get your weapons, armor, charms, potions, etc”. All the trolls went into their huts, or the black smith’s to grab their supplies.

The army reached the elven strong hold. Zandalar Zandali looked around, and saw only one elf, that elf ran up to the gate and barked at them, “Your petty army will do nothing, leave now or turn into a smolderi-” Allibob Jimbobbi from earlier speared the elf, killing him mid sentence. “ I was actually expecting more, they are weaker than I thought, and I thought they were very weak!” They bust through the gleaming, golden gates. “Alright, spread out, Zul’Armani and Allibob, come with me” In parelleality they say “You’re the boss” They come up the main spire, confront two guards, which were swiftly dispatched. They go up the very top, and creak upon the main door, confronting the master mind of the elven parish near to the tribe, Ganis, “We’ve meet before troll?” “Dat be unlikely” “You’ve come a long way to kill me, for what?” “You destroyed our homeland, you need to pay da price” “But you would kill an unarmed man?” “Is dat a problem?” Zandalar leaps towards Ganis and swings both of his axes, however Ganis waves his hand and opens a portal before Zandalar can strike, he falls through is not to be seen again. Zul’Armani speaks out “Dat be a dirty trick mon!” “There are no rules, no rules to be broken” Both Zul and Allibob leap towards Ganis, they mystically disappear, even Ganis appears to be startled, but he laughs it off, now he has to face the wrath of the local tribe.

Zandalar Zandali lands on a medium sized sloop and sees a rather peculiar person sleeping, he seems to be a living dead figure, rotting, yet still human; Strangely, Zandalar is not unnerved by it. The living corpse rises from its slumber and stares at Zandalar. Zandalar, intrigued speaks up, “ Do.. do ya understand me mon?” The figure answers, “Yeah, I do. You’re one of them forest trolls right?” “ah, where we be?” He turned around to look about, but saw only sea. “I am not too sure, I’ve been exiled by those stupid goblins, they threw me off a zeppelin into the maelstrom, landed on an island, built this boat.” Zandalar burst out in laughter, “ I can’t believe you got exiled by dem worthless goblins, dey are so stupid and weak, it be pathetic!” The living corpse snaps back, “What are you talking about you idiot! They are some of the smartest, most ruthless creatures I’ve seen, and I’ve fought orcs with their warchief!” “Wait, wait, what be an orc? “How do you not know what an orc is!? Your frickin’ tribe is allied with the horde!” “What do ya mean mon? We forest trolls would never join up with da likes of anyone” “Hold on, hold on here. What was the last war you had?” “Oh, we just-” Zandalar stops and starts again “We just lost our first war against da elves” “Just? How long after?” “Two days ago mon” “Two days ago? Well, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but you are several thousand years in the future” Zandalar lightens up “ Haha, sounds good to me mon! I am da oldest troll alive! Now tell me mon, is da elf Ganis still alive?” “uh, he died about 3 months after the first war ended” “I out lived my arch enemy, dis is da best day of my life!”.

“So dere any supplies on dis ship?”, “Yeah, I built this ship to sail away and hope to find home, I found a cache of elvish food, learned I hate the blasted stuff.” Zandalar smiles, “I’ll take what I get, even if it is elvish. Also, I didn’t get yah name.” “Sam manoic, yours?” “Zandalar Zandali” After a few months of mostly smooth sailing, and many discussions about various topics. The sloop Sam created ran aground. They continue on foot, Zandalar finds a ring, to inspect it further, he puts it on his finger, it transforms him into a human, he quickly takes it off. Sam remarks” That’ll be useful.” They reach a medium sized town that accepts all races. Needing work, and not able to find normal jobs, Zandalar and Sam decided to join the New Undercity Battalion, known as NUB.

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On a visit at Voodoo Shaman
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Stream ranked matches
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Unwinnable Fortress
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New mob?¿
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A Troll Matter
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by ~Deneb-Vir
Late on one Orgrimmar evening, a much too long meeting between city leaders had just dismissed from Grommash Hold. The Horde's withdrawal of its primary forces from Northrend, minus their permanent settlements, was nearly complete, and Garrosh had some harsh words for his Warchief. Overlord Saurfang, now retired and simply Varok Saurfang, had sent his official letter of resignation from Nagrand as well. Being Overlord of the Horde, his position was a vital one, and quickly needed to be filled. Candidate appointments were thrown around all evening, but much to Garrosh's fury and Thrall's frustration, no real conclusion was reached. Most importantly, Vol'jin and the Darkspear had recently launched their very successful campaign in reclaiming the Echo Isles, and it was his evening to officially debrief the Warchief and other elders of Orgrimmar on what transpired. Needless to say, the enormity of the meeting and the overwhelming load of information discussed was enough to have made anyone irritable, let alone orcs, let alone Garrosh and Thrall in the same room together. Hellscream and his warriors quickly and angrily stormed out of the hold when the meeting finally ended; furious for who knows what reasons. The elders dismissed themselves politely, but tiredly, and found their way back to their own homes. Before long, all that remained in the capitol of the city were the Warchief Thrall and Vol'jin of the Darkspear. Even the strength and wisdom of the Son of Durotan wasn't enough to escape long nights of missive signing and paperwork. With a heavy sigh, and a throbbing head, Thrall sat down his quill, rubbed the swelling nerve in his forehead and stepped out from his corner desk. He was headed out for some fresh air, and Vol'jin knew it. He was all too familiar with the Warchief's moods, and decided to follow him."Hey Thrall," Vol'jin spoke, now as a friend rather than ally, "Wait up. I'll come wit ya."Thrall smiled and quietly walked outside with Vol'jin behind him. Outside, the stars shone brightly on a particularly clear night. Even the smoggy bonfires of Orgrimmar seemed to pollute the sky less densely than usual to provide an especially wondrous view of the heavens. A few guards still roamed the streets, stepping quietly as crickets chirped and the cool wind blew through the valleys of the city.  There was silence between the two on the steps of the building for a few moments, until Thrall, letting loose another heavy sigh, placed his head in his palm and muttered, "These long meetings can't be good for my health, especially when Garrosh is involved. I swear, whether by his foolishness or the stress he causes, that orc will be the death of me."Vol'jin let out his long, throaty troll laugh and joked, "Well don't be tinkin' your gonna' leave him wit me. If I had my way, I'd toss him in a crate and mail him back to Outland."Thrall chuckled briefly, "If only it were so simple. I could never send him back home."The silent sounds of night filled the air again for a few moments until Vol'jin continued, "Why you be tinkin' you owe him so much, mon? I mean, I know his fatha meant a lot to you and all, and to da Horde, but you gotta' remember, Garrosh ain't 'his fatha. Not by a long shot."Thrall nodded, "I know that, Vol'jin, but you… you never knew Grom. There's more of him in Garrosh than most people can see. He's just an untamed model is all; like all young orcs are of their father's image. If he simply could have been, or can be raised properly, then I've no doubt he'll become a fine leader."Vol'jin quickly responded, "But dat be no excuse to let him get away wit what you have. You heard about his tactics in Northrend.""I know Vol'jin, and perhaps I do let him get away with too much, but… well, you don't understand." Thrall turned from Vol'jin and looked out at the dead tree standing in front of Grommash Hold. It still, to this day, bore the armor of Mannoroth, hanging over Thrall's head. Vol'jin traced Thrall's eyes to it as the Warchief stared in both pride and shame. Glancing back to Vol'jin, he continued, "Grommash was everything to me; a father, a brother, a friend, and a hero. We orcs have a powerful philosophy of family to carry with us. Given that, I am especially responsible for Garrosh's actions and upbringing. I owe it to his father. The least I can do is make sure his son becomes a proud warrior."Vol'jin nodded and said nothing, the tone turning far more serious than he intended it. A loud rush of wind blew through the valley again, as it does before a storm. The whistling rang in Thrall's ears and reminded him of his migraine.Once it died back down, Thrall continued, "Let's change the subject." Vol'jin nodded in agreement. Thrall spoke, "Will you be leaving the city permanently, now that you've reclaimed the Echo Isles?""It be likely." Vol'jin said, saying nothing more. Thrall smiled at his friend, "Well, so long as I am Warchief, I promise you and your people will always be welcome in Orgrimmar."Vol'jin smiled back, "Thank you, Warchief. Since our people first met nearly six years ago, you've been a great ally to us Darkspear." Thrall bowed his head respectfully and silently to Vol'jin, before the troll leader continued, "and an even greater friend, with all we've been trough."Thrall smiled, "As you have us, Vol'jin, and to me. You will be missed when you leave the city."Vol'jin happily shrugged, "Won't be far."Another wind ripped past again, larger this time, and kicked up a massive cloud of dirt. Thrall and Vol'jin covered their eyes for a moment and waited for the dirt to pass. It lasted for much longer than any ordinary sand buffet in Orgrimmar, which Vol'jin began to realize as he tucked in his lips to keep the dirt out of his mouth. Eyes and mouth tightly sealed, a strange, spine-tingling whisper filled the Darkspear's long ears.Atal'Rastakhan, Dark-spear Vol'jin. It be time.The wind and sand finally died down almost instantly. Vol'jin, almost reluctantly, lowered his trembling hands and carefully opened his eyes. Before him were nothing more than Thrall, Orgrimmar and the night. Did he just imagine a voice? Dropping his arms to his sides, Vol'jin looked curiously at his Warchief, now staring at the steps below them."What's that?" Thrall said, pointing down. He and Vol'jin stepped down to an envelope resting at the bottom-most step to the Hold. Thrall reached down and picked it up, examining it. "What is it?" Vol'jin sharply asked."I'm not sure." Thrall said, "There's writing on it, but I can't quite read it. I think it's in Zandali."Vol'jin reached out and fiercely snatched the envelope out of his hand. That same shudder went back down his spine again, as his eyes scanned the black lettering on the envelope. It bore no stamp, no return address, nothing but the words he spoke to Thrall, "Vol'jin of the Darkspear. Dat is what it says.""Well, open it." Thrall said.Vol'jin pulled a dagger out from his arm sheath and quickly cut into the thick paper. As soon as he did, though, a large, heavy coin came falling out and landed with a loud ring. Thrall bent down to examine it as Vol'jin felt around in the envelope. There was nothing else in the letter; nothing but the coin.Thrall was hardly fluent in Zandali, but he did know some basics, and on the face of the coin looking back at him he saw the troll symbol for the number six, with much finer, smaller writing below it. Even had it not been in Zandali, he couldn't have read it in the poor light of Orgrimmar at night. He slowly reached down to lift it, but Vol'jin, after frantically searching the letter for contents, swung his gangly arm, snatched the coin out from under Thrall and held it closely to a nearby torch for light. Vol'jin, too, immediately recognized the large number six engraved in one side, but that was not what intrigued him so greatly. Slowly flipping the text-side of the coin away, the troll leader's pupils shrank and the breath fled from his body as he saw the icon of the Zandalar Tribe, and King Rastakhan, finely chiseled into the large coin."What's wrong?" Thrall asked, "Vol'jin, just what is that?"Vol'jin spoke quietly, whispering, as if they were suddenly being watched. "It be the symbol… a coin of the Zandalar Tribe."Thrall was taken aback briefly, but not so deeply affected, "A tribe coin? Like those collected from Zul'Gurub a few years back?"Vol'jin nodded solemnly, "Not unlike dem."Again, Vol'jin said little. Thrall was confused, curious but also concerned, seeing his normally well-collected friend disturbed so. Silence passed again, as Vol'jin began to mutter."Atal'Rastakhan… been leader of the Darkspear all dis time, but still never really thought about dis day coming.""What is this all about Vol'jin?"Vol'jin looked into Thrall's eyes and spoke sternly, "I seen dis coin twice before, when I was younger, in my fatha's possession, back when he was leader of the Darkspear. It be a callin' Thrall.""Calling? What of?""Dat be none of your business." Vol'jin spoke with an unusual sting towards his Warchief and friend, "Dis be a troll matter, and troll only. I be needin' a ship Thrall, immediately.""Vol'jin, I am happy to assist you however I can, but could you tell me what it's for?"Vol'jin sighed. He placed his right arm on Thrall's left shoulder, conjured something from deep within him and said, "Thrall, tank you for your concern, but mark my words – leave dis be – as your ally, and as your friend, the less you know, the better and easier tings will be… for all of us."Thrall stared suspiciously at Vol'jin for a moment, but, after catching a glimpse at the troll's eyes, he knew that there was nothing more he could learn from him. Thrall nodded respectfully and spoke, "Very well Vol'jin. I can have you a ship by tomorrow morning if I can…""No." Vol'jin interrupted, "It would be best if I left tonight."Thrall stared at Vol'jin in shock. Never had he seen him in such a manor, with such direness in his voice. He then responded, "Very well. Report down to the Echo Isles, and I'll have a ship dispatched there as quickly as possible.""Thank you, Warchief." Vol'jin said, "I am sorry. I wish I could tell ya' more right now, but time be of great importance. I will take a small crew of trust-worty trolls wit me, and I will be back within the month.""Month?" Thrall exclaimed. He almost demanded an explanation, but stopped himself just short of doing so as he saw the determined, serious expression on Vol'jin's face. He sighed loudly one last time, rubbed his head, and simply shook off his confusion in saying, "Very well."Vol'jin bowed respectfully, and hastily sprinted down the road. Just before he vanished into the Drag, he turned and somehow whispered from so far away, "And Thrall, do not let anyone know about what has transpired here, especially not any trolls."Thrall nodded, "I won't.""Promise me!" Vol'jin's voice hissed like a serpent in Thrall's ears.Thrall was shaken by the slightly distorted, deafening whisper of his now distant friend. Quietly, Thrall whispered in response, "You have my word."Vol'jin's head could barely be seen nodding one last time as the shadow hunter melded into the darkness of the Drag and vanished