A Nerubian's Journey

Malygos let out a snort of amusement as he watched the two newly born whelps fight in front of him, their tiny claws harmlessly swiping at each other.

“You’ll never get anywhere like that, young ones,” Malygos wisely counseled. “Your teeth and claws are powerful tools, but they are far too undeveloped at your age. I recommend that you begin learning how to make use of your tails. It is an avenue of attack many never see coming.”

It was his experience that enemies always underestimated that amount of damage a dragon could do with a proper swipe of the tail.

As his voice echoed through the creche, all activity ceased in an instant. Younglings haphazardly playing and ambling across the vast hall froze in place, their eyes wide and curious as they looked up at him.

The azure illumination provided by the room’s protective enchantments made it easy to make out the chaotic scene. Two whelps in the midst of a tug-of-war with a fray cloth froze as they looked up at him. Another group farther off paused their roaring contest, their shrill squeals momentarily replaced by silence. A few more, attempting to fly, crashed into their water bowls and made a mess that the resident Drakonid egg-tender began to clean up.

The one whelp that was harmlessly chewing on the end of his tail paused only for a moment before immediately continuing.

Malygos ignored all of that and stared down at the whelps he had been watching with an expectant expression. He knew full well that the children of his Flight began understanding draconic earlier than any other Flight.

After a moment, one of the whelps turned to his sibling and clumsily attempted to smack their snout with his tail, only to trip over his own feet and land flat on his belly with a squeak of surprise. The other whelp didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity and fiercely pounced on his fallen sibling, biting down on their snout.

This seemed to serve as a signal for the rest of the creche as they immediately started moving about again.

“Those two certainly have fire in their spirits, don’t they Lord Malygos?”

Malygos turned his attention to the source of the amused voice and saw Kalecgos in his mortal form, standing at the entrance to the creche.

“I suppose they do,” Malygos responded as he conjured the image of a whelp demonstrating a proper tail swipe. “But their form could certainly use some improvement. Even if our Flight fights primarily with magic, it is still very important for them to understand the physical aspects of battle, especially in times like these.”

The illusion and the surge of arcane magic that accompanied the spell captured the attention of every youngling in the room. It wasn’t long then before the entire creche was filled with whelps attempting to imitate the illusion’s movements, their tiny tails whipping around with varying degrees of success.

“If you’ll forgive me for saying so, but I think the whelps can afford to be a bit clumsy at this stage,” Kalecgos interjected, a warm smile on his face. “With you here to protect them and guide our Flight more than ever, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Malygos dearly wished that was true. He and his siblings were among the most powerful entities on Azeroth, but Kalecgos was not as well informed as he was about what lay ahead. If he was, the young dragon would have felt far less confident.

Malygos couldn’t help but study Kalecgos closer as he recalled what the little prophet had told him about the Blue Dragonflight’s future. In another timeline, it would have been this brat who would take his place as the Aspect of Magic. Seeing how he stared at the whelps with love and affection, Malygos could see how such a thing might happen.

While Kalecgos was not the most experienced or powerful member of his Flight, he possessed a degree of loyalty to them and their duties that was impressive. Not only that, but the boy possessed an innate kindness that Malygos knew he had always lacked.

Still… Malygos hoped that Kalecgos would never be forced to shoulder the burdens of an Aspect.

After a few more peaceful moments of watching the whelps, Malygos sighed and decided that it was time to return to those burdens. “Why are you here, Kalecgos? I recall giving instructions that I am not to be bothered while I am in the creche unless it is important.”

Kalecgos straightened and pulled his gaze away from the whelps to look back at Malygos. “Forgive me Lord Malygos, but Keeper Archaedas sent a message that he needs to speak with you in Uldaman about one of his ongoing projects.”

Malygos hummed thoughtfully. That didn’t narrow things down very much given that Archaedas was working on many projects, but there were only a few that involved Malygos directly.

Considering that the matter was likely to be important, Malygos took a moment to shake off the whelps that were scampering across his back and gently removed the one gnawing on his tail.

“Come with me, Kalecgos,” said Malygos as he made his way out of the creche. He didn’t particularly need the younger dragon by his side, but it was important that he take the time to mentor Kalecgos when the opportunity presented itself.

After all, not even Nozdormu could perfectly predict what the future might bring.

Kalecgos jolted with surprise before hurrying to obey. “Yes, Lord Malygos!”

The two of them passed through the wide halls of the Nexus until they reached its well guarded portal room. Malygos ignored the bows and greetings of the Drakonid portal guardians as he shifted to his mortal form and prepared to teleport himself and Kalecgos to Uldaman. One of the first things that Malygos had done after burying Sindragosa’s remains was enhance the defenses of the Nexus. Now not even he could easily bypass the wards that protected his Flight’s home.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were hurled through space to the newly created portal hub of Uldaman. A quick glance revealed that Archaedas had begun fortifying his stronghold as well. Several stone golems with powerful fire enchantments etched into their arms were positioned all around the room, ready to unleash an inferno that would threaten most beings.

Malygos paid them no mind as he left the portal room and began striding through the corridors of Uldaman toward Archaedas’ former stasis chamber, which had been repurposed into a workshop.

After a year of repairs, the differences between now and when the Titan facility was first rediscovered were quite obvious. The rubble had all been cleared by the many earthen who wandered the halls, and new structures, meticulously crafted and imbued with powerful magics, had replaced them.

Even the air felt different, buzzing with arcane magic that carried the distinct flavor of overwhelming order and inflexibility that came with all Titan magic. All arcane magic was orderly of course, but the Titans exemplified this more than any other.

As he entered the final hallway that led to Archaedas’ workshop, Malygos couldn’t help but note the surprising number of mortals who were walking the halls of Uldaman. Nearly all of them were either dwarves or gnomes, scholars who had been allowed into this place so that they might learn what the Keeper was willing to teach them.

It was surprising to him that Archaedas was willing to share ‘the secrets of the Makers’ even in this small capacity. The construct had shown a surprising amount of sentimentality when it came to his servants and their fleshy descendants.

“This place is amazing, Lord Malygos, the wards are like nothing that I have ever seen!” said Kalecgos, his eyes distant as he sensed the powerful defenses Archaedas had constructed. “It’s almost like the entire structure has been enchanted! The modular nature of the spells is simply brilliant, and the energy pathways… they’re so efficient. Even if the facility was cut off from the nearby leyline, these wards could last for centuries before falling!”

Malygos nodded in agreement. “The Titans and their servants have always been particularly good at enchantments and creating stationary defenses. I have only been to Ulduar a few times in my life, but the defenses there make these ones look pathetic in comparison.”

While Archaedas had been the main craftsman among the Keepers alongside Keeper Mimiron, he lacked many of the irreplaceable foundries that he would need to construct more impressive works.

Kalecgos looked as if he wished to say more, but he was interrupted as they finally arrived at the entrance to Archaedas’ workshop. The earthen guards were wise enough to immediately allow him passage instead of demanding that he verify his identity. The last few who wasted Malygos’ time with such nonsense were teleported to the other side of the continent for their trouble.

As they walked into the enormous workshop, they found Archaedas and Ironaya working on a familiar device. It looked somewhat like a large basin carved out in the center of the room, with several carefully directed streams of magic flowing into it along pathways engraved in the wall. These streams were connected to a larger device that meticulously filtered and processed this raw energy into something more useful.

“Malygos, I will be with you in one moment,” said Archaedas as he carefully studied the mixture of magic pooling within the basin in front of him. “I have made a few adjustments to the Well of Purification and would like to test this new mixture.”

Malygos truly wished that the Keeper had chosen a different name for his creation. He tried to avoid referring to any pool of magic as a ‘well’ after what happened last time.

“Very well, Keeper. I shall wait,” Malygos generously allowed. He wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed being kept waiting, but he was curious to see if the Well of Purification would work as designed. Previous tests had been less than promising after all.

“Lord Malygos, what is the Keeper’s device supposed to do?” Kalecgos asked curiously.

“It was created for the purpose of cleansing anything placed inside the ‘well’ of even the most thorough Void corruption,” Malygos explained, keeping his eyes fixed on the pool of magic. “It has been blessed by both Ysera and Alexstrasza, and uses arcane magic to intensify the purifying qualities of their magic to remove Void corruption from entities that are beyond saving by any other method. I have been occasionally assisting Archaedas in its development for the past year.”

Kalecgos looked back at the object with newfound awe. Anything that had been created through the power of three Aspects and a Keeper was worthy of being looked at in such a way and studied.

Satisfied with his inspection, Malygos watched as Archaedas waved his hand and telekinetically called to him a familiar weapon from the other side of the workshop. The enchanted blade that had spent millennia embedded in the body of the C’thrax that attacked Capital City was still steeped deeply in the Void. The corruption wasn’t as bad as it once was before Alexstrasza bathed it in her fire, but there was still a persistent corruption on the blade that refused to abate.

Archaedas slowly lowered the weapon into the well and stepped back as the magic began to react. Green and red streams of magic reminiscent of Ysera and Alexstrasza met the shadowy essence of the Void clinging to the blade and began to fight against it. The pool of magic turned into a twisting, bubbling mass of energy as the Life and Arcane magic tore into the Void corruption.

Gradually, the Well of Purification began to calm and Archaedas reached into it and retrieved the blade laying into the basin. Malygos immediately cast a diagnostic spell to search for any Void corruption and was pleasantly surprised with the results.

“Success,” said Archaedas, his normally emotionless voice filled with satisfaction. “This configuration is far more effective than any of the previous prototypes. I will now move on to a living test subject. Would you please retrieve it, Ironaya?”

The titan-forged dipped her head before leaving the workshop. Nearly a minute later, she returned with a Void corrupted animal, a lizard of some kind, floating in a bubble of arcane magic behind her. Without any delay, Archaedas began his next experiment and dismissed the arcane barrier once it was floating above the Well of Purification.

Malygos ignored the pained cries of the abomination and eagerly awaited the results. The display was much the same as it had been for the blade, and Archaedas retrieved the lizard the moment that the magical reaction began to calm. Malygos was initially excited as he began to examine the creature with a host of diagnostic spells, but soon cursed in disappointment.

“It’s only a partial success,” Malygos announced with a scowl. “The creature’s body has been cleansed of the Void, but its soul and mind have been damaged as well.”

It was a bit of a disappointing outcome, but it was still obvious progress compared to their previous attempts. They were getting much closer.

Archaedas frowned slightly before dismissing the matter and turned to face Malygos. The construct was no stranger to failed experiments, so he likely wouldn’t dwell on it for long.

“This endeavor has not been a complete success, but I have made some progress with the Discs of Norgannon,” Archaedas said as he walked over to the wall and activated a mechanism that caused a portion of the wall to disappear and reveal a hidden room. “It should now be possible for you to channel your scrying spells through the Discs to access the sensor network responsible for updating its database.”

Malygos eyes widened in surprise, and he grinned in excitement as he heard the Keeper’s words. He hadn’t expected that he would be able to make use of the Discs so soon, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

The Discs of Norgannon were a set of enchanted artifacts created by the Keepers to record the ongoings of Azeroth. They were said to transcribe the full history of everything that ever happened in this world, but that was obviously nonsense. After all, why would the Keepers ever feel the need to know what a random murloc ate a thousand years ago?

In reality, the Discs of Norgannon was a repository of information directly attached to the Keepers’ immense sensor and surveillance network. These sensors were enchanted with limited intelligence so that they could record any events that might be of interest to the Keepers and store that information in the Discs.

Even if the Discs weren’t actually omniscient, these sensors were powerful and pervasive enough to come close to truly seeing everything of significance on Azeroth. At least, they were that powerful in the past. Many of the sensors were damaged during the Sundering, and the Old Gods’ servants were able to destroy many of the rest without opposition after the Keepers lost control of Ulduar. Loken, the fallen Keeper, had even managed to rescind security permission to access the largest sensors flying above Azeroth’s skies and the sensors around the Old Gods prisons.

Despite this, the remaining sensors would still form the most widespread surveillance network on Azeroth if Malygos was able to access them. Now that Archaedas had reluctantly configured them to his magic, Malygos could look out for threats identified by the little prophet.

“If the Discs are prepared, then I intend to use them immediately,” said Malygos as walked by the Keeper. “Show me how to access them.”

Utterly unconcerned with Malygos’ demanding attitude, Archaedas taught him the proper spells to bypass the Discs’ security system. Soon, the entire room was filled with a vast array of floating images of different locations across Azeroth. The images themselves were capable of being moved to display everything within range of each sensor. Malygos couldn’t help but feel impressed by the ingenuity of the Keepers as connecting so many different scrying tools was by no means an easy feat.

“Amazing…” Kalecgos trailed off as he gazed at the displays with open awe. “Did you make these, Keeper Archaedas?”

“I did not,” Archaedas immediately denied. “The Discs were the work of Loken and Mimiron.”

“Yes, yes, the Discs of Norgannon are indeed a fascinating artifact,” Malygos said impatiently as he began to look through the many displays. “If we’ve all established that, then I would like your assistance in searching for anything strange. Anything that seems out of the ordinary should be brought to my attention.”

The intelligences built into the sensor network would capture anything big that had happened so long as it occurred within the sensor range. However, the arrival of the Lich King was important enough to warrant a thorough inspection of the sensor displays.

Kalecgos gaped at him with alarm even as Archaedas and Ironaya began sifting through the displays. “Lord Malygos, something like that will take a long time. Has something important happened?”

Malygos suddenly remembered that Kalecgos had no idea what they were looking for and decided to give the younger dragon a quick explanation. “I and the other Aspects have reason to believe that the Burning Legion intends to use an artifact to create an absurdly powerful necromancer and send them to Azeroth to weaken this world and usher in another invasion. We are searching for any sign of this necromancer, who we refer to as the Lich King. They would most likely be sent to an isolated corner of Azeroth to avoid detection and gain power.”

Kalecgos looked even more alarmed now. “What?! That sounds horrible, Lord Malygos. How do you know about this?”

“None of your business,” Malygos said dismissively. Unlike his siblings, he had not told a single person about Krivax or his vision. Not because he cared about the nerubian’s privacy, but because he simply wasn’t the type to share secrets without great need. “Just get to work and start looking for anything strange.”

Malygos was pleased to see that Kalecgos didn’t feel insulted and merely nodded as he started examining the images. Malygos decided that he would focus first on the Eastern Kingdoms.

Let’s see here… orcs languishing in camps, mortals rebuildings their kingdoms, a troll warlord consolidating power… nothing really important. Oh, there are several locations in Blackrock Spire that I can’t see? I should look into that when I have the chance. Ragnaros is a problem… but one that can wait until later.

“Lord Malygos, why are you focusing on the Eastern Kingdoms?” Kalecgos asked after nearly

a half hour of searching. “I thought you said that they would be sent somewhere isolated from contact.”

Malygos hummed thoughtfully. It was a good question, so he didn’t mind providing an answer.

“That is only the most likely outcome based on what we know. To believe that the Burning Legion could not do otherwise is to lack imagination,” Malygos explained even as he continued to search for anomalies. “Kil’jaeden could turn one of his nathrezim into the Lich King and send them to secretly kill and raise the mortal leadership as undead. Or the Legion could have used a ritual to hide a portion of the world from observation prior to the Lich King’s arrival by using demons they snuck in through the Dark Portal during the Second War. Or the Lich King could have simply been sent into the ocean, which is vast, isolated, and teeming with life.”

That last possibility worried Malygos the most. Azshara was very effective in protecting her domain against any attempts to observe it thoroughly, so there was a fear that the Lich King could rise from the depths with an army of undead. The only thing stopping that from happening was Azshara and her servants, who were more than powerful enough to crush the Lich King before they became a threat.

Still, Azshara was arrogant and vain enough to believe she could control such a being, and powerful enough to potentially succeed.

There was also a small chance that the two could cooperate. The Burning Legion and the Old Gods seemed to be opposing forces, but there were some historical examples of them simply ignoring each other to pursue mutual goals.

Such a scenario would be the worst possible outcome for Azeroth.

“A-All of those possibilities sound horrible, Lord Malygos,” Kalecgos said worriedly. Malygos could tell that the younger dragon was trying to hold back his fear as he imagined the results of such outcomes.

“They do,” Malygos agreed as he turned his attention to Kalimdor. “Unfortunately, we don’t know the full capabilities of the artifact used to create the Lich King, nor do we know how Kil’jaeden intends to send them to Azeroth. With these factors unknown to us, it is difficult to truly predict what might happen.”

When Krivax told them that Kil’jaeden simply threw the Lich King to Azeroth in a block of ice, Malygos had merely stared at the nerubian in bewilderment. If the Burning Legion could just turn people into blocks of ice and throw them at Azeroth, why would they need portals in the first place? How accurate was his aim? Were they even actually able to choose where the Lich King would land, or was it a coincidence that they arrived on Northrend in the other timeline? Also, what were the Helm of Domination and Frostmourne? Where did they come from and what abilities did they give?

All of these uncertainties made it difficult to be certain of anything, so Malygos was forced to rely on what was most likely. They had to proceed with the assumption that Kil’jaeden could direct the Lich King wherever he wanted and assume that the Lich King’s abilities in this timeline would be somewhat similar to that seen by Krivax.

“Lord Malygos, I think I’ve noticed something,” Kalecgos said eagerly. “There are a lot of images that aren’t showing anything. They all seemed to be grouped in the South Sea.”

Malygos sighed as his initial interest in Kalecgos’ findings immediately disappeared. “Ignore those. There is a large landmass there that is hidden by powerful concealment magic. We are already aware of the situation.”

Accessing Pandaria was still a problem that Malygos had yet to solve. He had been busy focusing on other matters, so he had not devoted as much effort to the task as he could have.

Malygos pushed those thoughts away and hummed in curiosity as he spotted Krivax during his examination of Kalimdor. The nerubian was currently in diplomatic talks with the leader of the tauren. He had apparently used the power gifted to him by Alexstrasza to defeat the centaur and assist the tauren, something which Malygos approved of.

It was pleasant to see his sister’s power used proactively instead of being restrained by her self-imposed restrictions.

The two of them were discussing trade to equip the tauren with proper weapons, the logistics of permanent diplomatic contact, and a plan to push the centaur away from Mulgore.

His curiosity satisfied, Malygos continued his search until he was suddenly interrupted by the voice of Ironaya. “Lord Malygos, I believe that I have found something of note.”

Turning to the normally quiet construct, Malygos saw that she was observing the section of displays dedicated to Zandalar. More specifically, she was observing a group of mortals along Zandalar’s northern coasts that should definitely not be there.

“Are those Pandaren?” Malygos asked with obvious befuddlement. “What are they doing there? They shouldn’t be anywhere but Pandaria.”

The mortals had obviously only arrived on the island recently, having created a small camp surrounded by large turtles. Malygos was confused as to how this could have happened until he suddenly felt that he was forgetting an important detail. After casting the appropriate memory spell, Malygos couldn’t help but let out a string of curses as the spell brought to mind the day Krivax shared the details of his vision.

He mentioned something about some Pandaren living on the back of a giant turtle. The Wandering Isle, he called it…

Malygos had once actually gone to find the Wandering Isle as a way to verify the veracity of Krivax’s prediction. However, he had quickly lost interest and put the place out of mind after doing so. After all, why would Malygos care about a group of useless mortals doing something as ridiculous as floating aimlessly on the back of a turtle?

Malygos quickly pictured the creature in his mind and cast his most powerful scrying spell. When the spell failed in a somewhat familiar fashion, he realized that he might have made a mistake. With the clarity of hindsight, it may have been better if Malygos asked for more details about the Wandering Isle.

I suppose there’s nothing stopping me from doing so now…

“Lord Malygos, is something wrong?”

Malygos ignored Kalecgos’ worried voice and made his way back over to the display that showed Krivax and the tauren chieftain. The nerubian was unfortunately too far for Malygos to teleport him to Uldaman without a ritual, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t communicate.

Focusing on the image Krivax and casting a long distance telepathy spell of his own creation, Malygos opened a channel of communication between him and the nerubian. “Little prophet, I have questions that you will answer.”

Malygos watched as Krivax jolted in the middle of his discussion with the tauren chieftain and began frantically looking around. “What the fuck?!”

“It is Malygos. I’m speaking to you telepathically,” Malygos was kind enough to explain. He knew that mortals could be a bit dense at times. “I have important questions about your knowledge that must be answered.”

“I’m literally in the middle of diplomatic negotiations!” Krivax telepathically projected to him, even as the nerubian floundered to explain his outburst to the confused tauren.

“I am already aware of that given that I am watching you,” Malygos was quick to reassure. “I am willing to tolerate your attention being split.”

Krivax didn’t seem to grow any more relaxed, but he did offer an apology to the tauren and request a short break in their discussions. Once he was free to do so, Krivax turned his attention back to Malygos. “Very well, what do you need to ask?”

“Tell me about the Wandering Isle,” Malygos responded. “Everything that you know about it. Leave out nothing.”

Malygos could see the confusion in the nerubian’s face before he answered. “The Wandering Isle? I don’t know any more than what I told you during my first explanation. It’s a giant turtle with a bunch of pandaren living on its back. They left Pandaria because they wanted to see the rest of Azeroth.”

Malygos already knew all of that, and none of it was particularly helpful. “Tell me about the turtle’s history, in detail.”

“Well… I’m sure there’s a lot about it that I don’t know, but I can tell you what I remember,” Krivax hesitantly responded. Malygos watched as the nerubian cast a memory spell. “It’s a bit vague, but I recall something about a pandaren named Liu Lang with wanderlust who found a turtle on a beach a millennia ago and rode it out to sea to explore. The turtle started growing and his descendants started riding on the backs of the turtle too, until it grew large enough to hold a settlement.”

Stories like this were one of the reasons that Malygos examined everything the nerubian said through a heavy lens of skepticism. Turtles… don’t just grow to the size of an island in less than a mere millennia. If that was the case, Azeroth’s seas would be filled with such creatures. It’s possible that it was the descendant of the turtle Wild God, but they were all currently on Zandalar. How could their child then find themselves on Pandaria? How ridiculous.

However, there was one detail in particular that Malygos needed to examine.

“What about the Wandering Isle’s ability to navigate Pandaria’s mist? I recall that you claimed not to know when I first asked,” Malygos questioned. It was one of the first questions that he had asked when the overgrown turtle was mentioned.

“To be more specific, I said that the details were conflicting and ambiguous,” Krivax immediately corrected. “I know that Liu Lang could pass through the mists when he was alive, but I also remember that the Wandering Isle was separated from Pandaria for a long time.”

Was that really what the nerubian had said? After delving into his memories, Malygos realized that it was. After realizing how unusually powerful the magic concealing Pandaria was, he had determined that it was unlikely that a random beast could do what he himself had so much trouble accomplishing. So, he had disregarded it as an unlikely location for the Lich King.

That… may have been a mistake.

“You should have been more exact in your wording,” Malygos responded angrily. “I am expecting the Lich King to arrive on Azeroth at any time, and now I find pandaren washed up on the shores of Zandalar. Do you understand how troublesome it will be if we have to deal with a mobile Lich King?”

Malygos watched through the display as Krivax reeled back in shock and affront. There was a surprising amount of anger on the nerubian’s face that he likely wouldn’t have shown if they were speaking in person.

“Excuse me?! If I had attempted to tell you about the Wandering Isle’s history, you would have impatiently dismissed me immediately. It’s not fair to blame me when I’m not being included at all in any of your plans.”

Malygos growled in anger at the nerubian’s disrespect, but he couldn’t say that he was truly wrong. Terminating his mental connection with Krivax, Malygos immediately began making his way to the portal room with Kalecgos following behind him. He needed to teleport to Zandalar and read through the minds of those pandaren.

And if things were as he feared, then accessing Pandaria had just become his first priority.

Zul’jin glared at the approaching island chain as his makeshift ship brought him ever closer.

The Gurubashi barely knew anything about making proper ships, so he had been forced to hire one from the greedy goblins down south. He didn’t care about the gold, as he had gotten plenty during the Second War, but Zul’jin would not be happy if this turned out to be a waste of time.

“You’re certain these ‘Darkspear’ got the best Witch Doctors ‘round these parts?” Zul’jin grumbled to his every present Loa. “Can’t see why we’d be needin’ aid from cowards hidin’ out on some far-off islands.”

“That artifact you took from the Hakkari isn’t going to purify itself,” Jan’alai said lazily, her voice passing through their connection. “You don’t want to know what would happen to us if I tried to subsume that power as it is.”

Zul’jin grunted in annoyance and looked down into his bag at the artifact in question. He was no Witch Doctor, but even he could feel the evil radiating from the strange crystal, as dark and red as dried blood. The thing seemed alive in a twisted sense, pulsating with power in rhythm with his heart. According to Jan’alai, it was nothing more than a receptacle for Mojo. A place where the Hakkari could store the magic they accumulated with each sacrifice in preparation to summon their god, Hakkar the Soulflayer.

Zul’jin thought it was a wicked thing that he wanted nothing to do with, but Jan’alai said a good Witch Doctor could turn its Mojo into something useful.

“Tch. These cowards better be worth my time,” Zul’jin said, turning his gaze back to the islands. “I spent too long dealin’ with those Hakkari.”

He had only managed to conquer a few more tribes, all of them around the same size as the Razzashi. He was nearly strong enough to move to the larger tribes, like the Bloodscalp and the Skullsplitters, but he still needed just a little more power.

The goblins sent Zul’jin off on one of their rowboats once they were close enough to the island. He was traveling alone, as his competent and trustworthy subordinates needed to stay behind to keep things in order.

Besides, the tribes he had conquered were still learning who was in charge. This was a good opportunity to see what they would do while he was gone.

Zul’jin waded ashore, pulling the goblin rowboat up onto the beach. The tropical heat bore down on him, an annoying contrast to the cooler air of Zul’Aman. Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to travel very far. The islands were small, and it wouldn’t be long before he ran into one of the Darkspear.

Sure enough, Zul’jin didn’t have to wait for long after he delved into the island’s small jungle before he noticed a pair of scouts following him. They thought that they were being sneaky, but Zul’jin had been hunting elves through the forests for longer than they had been alive.

“If ya be thinkin’ of sneakin’ up on me, ya gotta be doin’ a whole lot better,” Zul’jin spoke, his voice cutting through the dense foliage as he turned to the scouts.

The two Darkspear scouts, young and barely holding their spears properly, froze as he called them out before standing tall and puffing their chests. “Who’re you? These islands belong to the Darkspears.”

Zul’jin scoffed disdainfully at the boy before responding. “I’m not here for you, just your Chieftain. Keep your spears down, I ain’t got any interest in causin’ harm.”

Not yet at least.

Such a thing wouldn’t have worked with most trolls, but Zul’jin knew what he looked like. The changes Jan’alai made to him made it obvious to any troll with sense that Zul’jin wasn’t someone to take lightly. He could see the boy’s eyes trail over his taloned arm and his dragonhawk eyes. Zul’jin breathed out a wisp of fire for emphasis, causing the scouts to flinch back.

“Name’s Zul’jin,” he declared, knowing even so far from Zul’Aman that his name would be recognized. “Now, take me to ya Chieftain, before I go see him myself.”

The scouts both jerked in surprise before wisely agreeing. Zul’jin followed as they led him through the jungle until the trees opened to reveal a bustling village of straw huts and trolls. The village was not nearly as advanced as Zul’Aman, but he hadn’t expected it to be.

Still, Zul’jin found himself reluctantly impressed as he was led through the village. Even if they were primitive, it was obvious to him that the trolls living here were happy and well-taken cared of. The children played happily with one another and looked up at him with curiosity instead of the open suspicion he was expecting.

It was a far cry from the children of Zul’Aman, who lived in a constant state of fear that elven Farstriders would pass through their lands and slaughter entire villages. Zul’jin could still remember each and every time that he had found a village living near the edge of Zul’Aman destroyed by the elves.

One of the elves he had captured called it ‘culling’ and said that their population needed to be kept low so they didn’t breed out of control and started getting ideas. It was in that exact moment that Zul’jin knew his people could only live peacefully if the elves of Quel’Thalas were driven far away from troll lands, forever.

Zul’jin stewed in these dark thoughts until he was finally brought to Chieftain’s hut. It was larger than the others, adorning with the skulls of animals he didn’t recognize and various tributes to whichever Loa they worshiped. The two scouts nudged open the door and gestured for him to enter.

Inside, a troll with a bone necklace and leather robes was sitting cross-legged in front of a cauldron filled with a sickly green liquid. The Witch Doctor looked up as he entered, and Zul’jin could see that one of his eyes was blind. More worryingly, he was also wearing a rush’kah, which was a ceremonial mask that could be used to channel the power of a Loa.

The Darkspear Chieftain had obviously been warned of his arrival ahead of time, most likely by a sentry ward, and didn’t trust him. Now he was ready for a fight. How vexing.

“Zul’jin, leader of the Amani. Can’t say I ever expected to meet you myself. The name’s Sen’jin, Chieftain of the Darkspear,” said the Witch Doctor as he continued to stir the cauldron. “Ya don’t seem the type to appreciate people speakin’ in circles, so I’ll be blunt. If ya want my tribe to get involved with what you’re doin’ in Stranglethorn Vale, you’ve wasted a trip. We ain’t interested.”

Zul’jin found himself caught off guard. He hadn’t expected the troll to deny him before he’d even said a word. Once his shock faded, it was immediately replaced by anger. “So, ya just gonna sit pretty on these islands while our kin are gettin’ slaughtered by them elves and humans? While they’re starvin’ and strugglin’ cause they been chased from lands that’s rightfully theirs? You just gonna hide away here like a damn coward?”

“Better than joinin’ you,” said Sen’jin, his voice calm as if he hadn’t just been insulted in his own home. “I’ve seen plenty of warlords like you over the years. You have big dreams of makin’ a troll empire in these lands, but someone like you will fail like all the rest. I can already see that a whole lot of trolls are gonna be dead before somebody puts a knife in you. My tribe won’t be among them.”

The words were said with a finality that Zul’jin didn’t expect. He was told that these Darkspear were the type to avoid a fight, yet this Witch Doctor had reacted with hostility as soon as he entered his hut.

“What does a safe and snug troll like you know ‘bout me and my life?” Zul’jin snarled, his patience wearing thin with the sanctimonious old fool. “You ever had to look at young’un and tell ‘em their ma and pa were killed fetchin’ water? You ever been tortured before losing an arm and eye to the enemy?”

Sen’jin didn’t react to his outburst, though he did turn his one eyed gaze back to Zul’jin and looked him directly in the eyes. “I don’t need to fight the elves and humans to know they ain’t our friends. The Darkspear have fought enough battles in our time and survived. But just surviving ain’t enough for you, is it? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Survival is the least of what we deserve,” Zul’jin glared at the Witch Doctor, his anger only growing. “We were once kings of this land, revered by all. The elves, the humans, the dwarves, they’ve taken everythin’ from us. I aim to take it back. If a few trolls got to die to do it, then that’s just what it takes.”

Sen’jin leaned back and sighed, the disdain in his eye slowly being replaced with a pity that only infuriated Zul’jin even further. “A noble idea, but your path will only lead to more pain, Zul’jin. Power ain’t gonna bring back what’s lost. It won’t bring peace. Those lands are already lost, and they ain’t coming back.”

Zul’jin studied the Witch Doctor in front of him and saw that he wouldn’t change his mind. He would have already killed the fool normally, but there was still something that he needed from Sen’jin. Reaching into his bag, Zul’jin retrieved the artifact that he had taken from the Hakkari.

“If ya not interested in joinin’ the fight, how ‘bout this then?” Zul’jin growled through gritted teeth as he brandished the blood-red artifact. “Took this from the Hakkari. It’s Mojo is… dark, potent, and brimmin’ with power. I’ve been told that a good Witch Doctor can turn this thing to somethin’ useful. In return, I’ll leave you and yours alone to stay on your little islands.”

Sen’jin stared at the artifact, his eye narrowing with wariness as he sensed the energy emanating from it. “That’s no small thing. It’ll take a whole lot of work to turn that into somethin’ that won’t drive you mad. Might need to call in some favors. Not sure I want to do that just to give you more power.”

“If you don’t, then the consequences will be on your hands if I use it anyway,” Zul’jin said, hoping the Witch Doctor would agree so he could finally leave his presence. “Plus I’ll be sure to take a ship full of my warriors here the first chance I get. We’ll see how you handle things when peace isn’t an option.”

Sen’jin was silent as he mulled over Zul’jin’s threat. Eventually, Sen’jin sighed and nodded. “I ain’t promisin’ nothin’, Zul’jin. But I’ll look at this thing and see what I can do. Better than you turnin’ into some Hakkar shaped monster and rampagin’ across Stranglethorn Vale. You can stay here for a bit while I look into it. Maybe you’ll learn somethin’ new.”

It wasn’t the result Zul’jin had wanted when he first came to these islands, but it was good enough for now.

“Fair enough,” Zul’jin replied, his gaze steely as he tossed the artifact to Sen’jin. “Just remember, Sen’jin. The elves, the humans, they don’t care if you want a fight or not. The Darkspear won’t be able to hide forever, and there’ll be a day your tribe wished it had friends.”

With that, Zul’jin turned around and strode out of the hut. He needed some time to calm down, or he was going to bury his ax in the Witch Doctor’s skull.