Kul'thran's Journal

Darnassus - Part 1

2010-06-29T14:08:00.001-06:00

A few weeks later, Kul'thran finished the necessary training in order to enter the forest of Ashenvale. He had bought a new axe, and trained himself to use a short sword in his left hand--the weapon he obtained soon after. Ashenvale was a dangerous place, both for the Alliance and the Horde. While it was a very lush and fertile forest, he had learned that some areas were infested with demons, and others with Satyrs. Not to mention the poisonous spiders, and other creatures that laid in wait for any unsuspecting prey.

Arriving at Spintertree Post in the northeastern area of Ashenvale by Wyvern, Kul'thran examined the outpost from the air. It was small outpost with a large watch tower near the front. Various small, stone buildings were placed here and there around the outpost, giving the guards a place to eat and sleep. Splintertree Post was placed there to watch for Alliance members trying to attack the Warsong Lumber Mill nearby. It made itself a small deterrent to the Alliance, especially the night elves, who wanted nothing more than to destroy the Lumber Mill.

I wish they wouldn't cut down the trees, but I don't see any other way to get lumber for the Horde's supplies, Kul'thran thought as he landed and got off his Wyvern.

Dusting off his gloved hands, he began to make his way past the guards out of the outpost. They didn't seem to pay the troll any mind, save one guard, who gave him a slight nod.

Once he was past the guards, Kul'thran hid behind a tree and opened up his map. Neeru had summoned him again, and told the troll to meet one of his associates north of Astranaar--a night elven city. The area was marked with a red circle. He was excited, not only to fulfill Thrall's objectives to find out what the Shadow Council was doing in Ashenvale, but to see a night elven city! His fingers tapped the map rapidly as he thought about it.

Rolling up the map and putting it away, Kul'thran made a whistling noise. Within seconds, a red-scaled raptor ran up to him and sniffed his feet. "Dat's a good boy, Kulvir," the troll said to the raptor. Kulvir had been in Ashenvale for a week now, awaiting his master's arrival. The Bloodtalon licked Kul'thran's face in a happy greeting.

After petting his companion, Kul'thran started down the road of Ashenvale with Kulvir following him. No too long after, he ran into a crossroads. One lead to the south, back to the Barrens, and the other pointed in a northwestern--mostly western--direction; the sign for that direction read "Astranaar." Without any hesitation, Kul'thran took the western road. As far as he knew, and was told, the night elves did not keep a patrol between the city and the Barrens across the road. He was then free to go across the open road without any trouble. He had heard rumors that Alliance members would occasionally cross this road, but, he didn't encounter any, which he found to be quite odd.

As he distanced himself from Splintertree Post, the air started to feel more fresh. The smell, while there was a hint of demonic taint, was quite relaxing with clean aroma of the forest. The road was made of some rough stones, but Kul'thran's feet, used to the rough terrain of Durotar, did not bother him. The large amount of trees dimmed the light, and through their green and purple leaves, giving a slight pinkish tint to the evening sun.

Then Kul'thran stopped and took a deep breath as it came into view: the city of Astranaar.

To the troll, it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. There were houses and buildings with violet rooftops, made of fine wood, and with moon-like symbols and decorations on the walls. Upon poles were glowing, crystal lights that dimly illuminated the streets. One of the larger buildings was built within a tree and was two stories high. At the front of the city, Kul'thran could see a stone gate with a bright crescent moon set on the top. Surrounded by a lake, the city was set on a beautiful, and lush green landscape.

Unfortunately, he also noticed two night elf Sentinels--both female--guarding the entrance. He felt disappointed, and wished he could sneak into the city just to take a look at what night elf life would be like. Creeping forward, Kul'thran moved in to get a better view of the city before remembering he had a job to do.

Sighing slightly, Kul'thran hid himself from the Sentinels' views behind a tree, and looked at his map again. North of here. He peered around his tree, and looked at the city. He figured north of it would be around to the right of the entrance, and circle around the lake.

As he was pondering this, he heard some strange tongue behind him. "Ashi, toredei," was around what it sounded like to Kul'thran. He was about to turn around when...

Whack!

At first, he didn't feel a thing, but then the pain seared though his head before he went unconscious.

The Undercity - Part 2

2010-06-23T13:12:00.000-06:00

(Sorry, part two is a little short.)

Yet he was wrong in his assumptions. Kul'thran, at first, found the various districts (or "quarters" as they were called) just a little gloomy, and nothing really frightening. Most of them had merchants, other areas were filled with warriors practicing against an Abomination for combat. But, as he passed one quarter, he saw to his horror, half-stitched abominations hanging from two adjacent pillars in a line. Disgusted and horrified by what he saw, the troll walked into a place called the Apothecarium, feeling ill as he entered.

Kul'thran was unfamiliar with the word, and therefore, he was not prepared to see what was inside. There was a table outstretched with many vials and bottles filled with unknown liquids. Next to it was a male Forsaken and a female tauren; she had the appearance of a frightened lamb before a wolf.

Then, he saw the tauren being given a vial of some substance that Kul'thran did not recongize. The tauren took the vial hesitantly, and bit her lip fearfully. Seeing this act of horror, Kul'thran moved to stop her, but with a single glup she downed the liquid.

At first, nothing happened to the troll's surprise, but after a few seconds, the tauren let out a groan, and fell to the ground, possibly dead. Kul'thran was horrified by the scene, and then the Forsaken noticed him in the room.

"Ah, pardon me for that rather uncouth scene," he said casually. He was wearing a red cloth over his mouth, so Kul'thran could not see what his face was like. He could only see those yellow eyes and green hair.

"... Why...? Why did ya do dat?" Kul'thran asked nervously.

"You would never understand, being of the living, troll. It is merely another plague being designed by our Apothecarists. I am one of them." His eyes held no pity, no remorse for what he had done to the tauren.

"Anudder plague will jus' cause more pain 'n sufferin'," Kul'thran said, more calmly this time. "Da last one turned ya inta what ya be, mon."

"And I enjoy it, troll. There's nothing wrong with sharing something you delight in with others. Is there?"

Kul'thran clinched his fists, and grit his teeth. "No mon deserves dis ting on dem."

"You misunderstand me; it's for the Scarlet Crusade. I'm certain you have heard of them."

Kul'thran nodded; the Scarlet Crusade was a group of zealous, religious humans who made constant war on the Forsaken and the Undercity. They were a major thorn in the Horde's side, and there were rumors that they were part of the Alliance.

However, he was not convinced; after seeing what was in Ragefire Chasm and what he had beheld of the Shadow Council, Kul'thran was highly skeptical about this new plague's purpose.

"Then why ya be testin' it on our own members of the Horde?" Kul'thran demanded.

"She volunteered for it, obviously." He let out a cruel and cold laugh. "I doubt any would actually want to try this. But... our enemies will see the truth soon enough. ... are done here? I have work to do, and you're wasting my time."

Kul'thran growled, but said nothing. Instead, he turned around and left the Apothecarium. The Undercity sickened him, and he wanted to leave. Besides, he had work to do in Ashenvale for Thrall.

The Undercity - Part 1

2010-01-05T12:00:00.000-07:00

The Ruins of Lordaeron could not have been any grimmer than Kul'thran had imagined. The outer castle was in complete ruin. Broken chunks of the once-high walls lay crumbled on the ground; proud statues representing the human race were cleaved in two, missing a head, or only their feet remained; finally, there was the strong stench of death everywhere.

Despite its empty atmosphere, the Ruins were a home to the Forsaken--undead who were not under the control of the Lich King--rather led by the undead high elf, Slyannas Windrunner. They lived deep underneath the surface in a black citadel built to hold all their citizens.

The sickening air of death around the ruins made Kul'thran's stomach lurch. Nevertheless, he was curious to see what was in the depths of the ruins and the Undercity--as the Forsaken called it--was like.

He walked over a fallen, and broken bell at the foot of the hollow entryway into the main throne room of the castle. Inside, he found himself in an immense, circular room with the throne--ironically still intact--across from him. On the cracked marble floor, the troll could see repeated, perfect, golden circles from the center going outward to the walls with the symbol of Lordaeron in the middle.

On the far sides adjacent to the throne, he could see two openings on either side leading deeper into the castle. Swallowing, Kul'thran took the portal to the left and kept moving through the corridors until he bumped into a wall that moved up and down.

It didn't take him very long to realize it was an elevator that went deep below the earth. There were still no guards, and no undead in sight, yet the troll thought the stench of the dead was stronger than when he was outside.

Kul'thran walked into the elevator when it arrived. There was a slight clunk noise as it shifted into place, and then suddenly, the elevator shot downwards at frightening speeds. It was so fast that Kul'thran tried to grab one of the smooth walls for safety, but, obviously, it was to no avail.

Wham! The troll hunter stumbled out of the elevator dizzily when it reached the ground. He didn't stay dizzy for long, for his nose was slammed with the putrid mixture of undead and diseased smell. The troll gazed forward and saw the most vile things he had ever seen in his life.

There, guarding the corridor into the Undercity were two large Abominations--creatures stitched from mangled corpses. They were some of the forfront soldiers of the undead, both of the Scourge and of the Forsaken. The infectous disease within them only made them more vile. For each, one hand was a large meat hook, and the other carried a bloody meat cleaver. And they had large gaping holes in their rib cages.

Kul'thran was disgusted at the mere sight of them, but he needed to go pass them in order to see what the Undercity was like.

Plugging his nose, the troll walked forward through the clouds of green gas. As far as Kul'thran could tell, he was not noticed by the Abominations, but that may been due to his dulled senses as he inhaled the poisonous gas. Coughing and hacking until he managed to stumble out of the gases, the hunter felt dazed for several moments, and even sick.

However, the illness seemed to only be a passing one as within a minute, the troll was able to grasp his surroundings.

He found himself within a vast, circular, and stone structure with large openings in each side. Each vent was spilling out green ooze of somesort--something Kul'thran did not want to explore. The city was aligned on two levels: first, the one Kul'thran was on, was a circular base that went all around the Undercity's perimeter. This layer was filled with merchants, a flight master, and other odds and ends. Down the lifted stairs led to the middle of the city with bank, and even further below led to the Undercity's belly--the second level.

The troll had not yet seen the second level. Based on what he had seen, there was nothing--save the green ooze--that seemed unsavory about the Undercity. Thus, he assumed the best of the lower level--the best that an undead city could offer.

Slowly, he descended into the depths of the city.

OOC: The Alternate Azeroth

2009-08-24T13:57:00.001-06:00

((Since the new WoW expansion was announced, I wanted to take the time to tell you how I'm going to work this journal. I'm going to be following pre-Burning Crusade WoW for awhile, and then the expansions up to Wrath of the Lich King will be dealt with appropriately.

Basically, Kul'thran's WoW is going to be different from Blizzard's WoW because I already had a set idea of what the story ought to be. As a writer, I have some creative license over what happens, but I am nowhere by any means, overriding Blizzard's WoW. I cannot do that. I'm a player, not a developer.

The main point of the new WoW expansion, as I see it, was to make Azeroth more exciting to level in. That's all. So, I'm probably not going to implement it into the story (meaning no Night Elf Mages will appear, nor will a severed Barrens, etc. It's going to be all old world). Plus, I want this to have an end instead of it being an ongoing story that never ends.

Also, I will not be following the traditions of the current expansions. For example, you won't have Kul'thran meeting Horde/Alliance Death Knights as my journal follows original WC1-3 and (old) WoW lore. He may meet a Death Knight working for the Argent Dawn, but that's it.

I hope I don't sound arrogant about this, I just don't want to change directions every time Blizzard releases an expansion, and I don't want people to be alarmed when I'm not following current Warcraft lore and instead am making my own.

Therefore, think of this as an Alternate Azeroth universe.))

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 10 - The True Enemy

2009-04-30T20:58:00.000-06:00

And it was true, Zalazane did not bother the Darkspear Tribe any further. Many of the tribe believed (or rather, hoped) he had died from his wounds. A day after Kul'thran returned, scouts were sent to search Echo Isles for the witch doctor. They did not find him. Instead, all they found was death and the horrid stench of rotting bodies. It would be awhile before the tribe would return to Echo Isles and rebuild their villages there.

As for Kul'thran, despite his heroism, he was still chastened by Vol'jin for going off on such a dangerous adventure.

"You would haff gotten kill'd, mon!" he said. "It be a miracle dat yer alive. Dun ever do sometin' like dat again unless somemon tells ya to do it. Got it?"

"Right," Kul'thran responded soberly.

However, the majority of the tribe was grateful to the hunter for his courage to take on Zalazane and defeat him. It seemed that he was regaining the respect of the tribe and they were proud to have Kul'thran as a member of the Darkspear tribe. The only ones who didn't respect him were the ones who bitterly hated elves and anyone who anything to do with elves.

Now, Kul'thran was outfitted with a larger axe, though still one-handed, and covered in leather armor with thick leather shoulder-pads. A purple cape lined with red cloth was tied around his neck and hung out behind him. It was a short cape, one that only extended to his knees, but it suited him well. He wore thick leather bracers, and brown leather gloves. He was well-armed and better equipped for battle.

One day, Kul'thran was invited to Grommash Hold in Orgrimmar. The invitation was not signed, but Vol'jin gave his assurance that it was not a false message. Soon after, the Darkspear Chieftain left for Orgrimmar while Kul'thran was packing for the journey For him, he felt some sort of thrill that he hadn't felt since he faced Zalazane on Echo Isles. Something was going to happen.

Thus, Kul'thran made his way to Orgrimmar by foot while Kulvir followed his new master.

When he arrived at Grommash Hold, Kul'thran saw that Thrall and Vol'jin waiting for him at the warchief's throne. Upon entering, the hunter bowed before the Far Seer humbly.

"Arise, Kul'thran!" Thrall said. "Take a seat over here." He gestured to some cushions around the fire, facing the warchief. The hunter stood up and walked over to where the cushions lay. Without a single thought, he chose a red one and sat down on it. "You have grown," Thrall commented. "And become very strong."

"Tank you, warchief."

Thrall nodded. The orc looked rather grave, and it made Kul'thran very curious. "I've heard of your battle with Zalazane," the warchief continued. "And thought you might be the best person to help me with this problem I'm having."

"Problem?" the hunter asked, petting Kulvir next to him.

"Hrmm... you know the current war between the Horde and the Alliance?" Kul'thran nodded. "Well, there are other wars, wars you would never dreamed of within our own ranks. The Searing Blade, the Burning Blade, the Argus Wake... you've heard of them, haven't you, Kul'thran?"

The troll hunter nodded. He recalled some demonic corruption he had to face in the Valley of Trials over a year ago. There, he had faced a leader of a group called the "Burning Blade." They were summoning demons, only minor ones at the time, but they were summoning demons nevertheless. Kul'thran and a group of other training warriors put a stop to the Burning Blade's plans by slaying the leader there, and his horde of demons.

Now, Thrall had raised the troll's curiosity and alarm. "Is dere someting wrong wit' da Horde?" While he still respected the night elves and the humans for aligning with the Horde to save the World Tree, he blamed the Alliance for starting the war between the two factions. But were there other enemies?

"In a way, yes. Those factions I just mentioned are all part of one being: The Shadow Council. The other factions are just tools to deceive others into thinking that the council does not exist. Yet it exists. I want you to know that the first and foremost thing about this council is that it is our enemy. You may think now that the Alliance is our primary target, but the Spirits tell me that worse things are to come. Orcs and humans can create networks similar to one another when driven by greed and power."

Kul'thran was mystified by all this. What possibly was worse than the current war? He had thought they defeated forces like the Burning Legion and Scourge at Mt. Hjyal. Then, he remembered Zalazane; the words he said, and the things that he did to his own race. Anything was possible now.

"You haff ma attention..." Kul'thran said quietly.

"Good," Thrall responded. "Here, take this." The warchief took out from his pouch a flat, oval stone with rough edges and a strange insignia marked with bright orange on both sides. He handed it to Kul'thran. "This is something one of my rogues was able to get off a Burning Blade member. It's an insignia of a Burning Blade Lieutenant. The Shadow Council seems to be siding with the Burning Legion--our old foe that we thought was extinguished-- and could be intent on bringing the Legion back yet again. However, I can not be sure yet, and rush into the situation without further proof."

He pointed to Kul'thran. "This is where you come in, my friend. I want you to go to the Cleft of Shadow here in the city and approach an orc warlock named Neeru Fireblade. He has sworn complete loyalty to me, but I've seen through his mask. He is the leader of the Burning Blade."

Kul'thran blinked. What? I thought the guy I killed in the cavern back in the Valley of Trials was the leader. He must have been some officer. It looked like the Burning Blade had not been put out yet, and was still strong. The troll hunter listened more intently to Thrall, for he was interested in removing the demons from his new home.

Thrall continued, "I want you, Kul'thran, to gauge him and see if he will believe you are one of his men in the cult. That insignia should be the key to getting into the brotherhood. Understood?"

Kul'thran nodded. "Yes, sir."

"No questions at all then?"

Kul'thran paused and thought about it for a moment. "... What does he look like?"

"Ah, good question. He has yellow-skin, has a thick brown beard, and thin head hair. He wears a red shirt and a carries a staff with a crystal tip on the end." Thrall said. "Do you believe you will be able to find him?"

"Jah," Kul'thran responded. "Jah, mon. I should be able ta find him den. I got da picture in ma mind already."

"Good. Very good, my friend."

As the hunter stood up, Vol'jin spoke to him, "you be careful in dere, Kul'thran. No mon be knowin' what Fireblade haff up 'is sleeve."

After acknowledging his guardian, Kul'thran bowed before thrall again before leaving Grommash Hold. He ran down the Valley of Wisdom and into the connecting highway of Orgrimmar called "The Drag." It connected all of the sections (often called "valleys") of the city together. Taking a left around the Drag, Kul'thran eventually came upon a cavernous section that went down into the earth below. According to the totem signs, this was the entrance to the Cleft of Shadow.

Heading down into the caves, Kul'thran found himself twisting around corners until he got to the bottom. There, numerous orcs and a few trolls seem to be "working" there with strange magics that sent chills throughout the hunter's body. They were just unnatural energies that made the troll uncomfortable.

Walking down a ramp, the hunter peered around for Neeru Fireblade. At the end of the ramp, he turned a corner to see the large opening of some sort of cavern that went even deeper into the earth below. The cavern's opening was like a law maw, waiting for some hapless person to walk into its merciless throat. At least, that was the impression Kul'thran got from just looking at it; it was very eerie.

As he took a step forward, he heard a loud, "what do you want!?" coming from his left. Turning in that direction, Kul'thran was surprised to see Neeru Fireblade (exactly as Thrall had described him) glaring at him.

"What are you doing here? Don't you know that cavern is dangerous? That's Ragefire Chasm," Neeru explained. "You could get eaten alive in there. As one of Thrall's loyal servants, I have to make sure no one goes in there for their safety unless our warchief gives the 'okay' to go in."

"Really now?" Kul'thran asked. A sly smile passed over his face. "Ya know, ya can be speakin' freely about Thrall, Neeru."

"What are you suggesting?" Fireblade said, sounding suspicious.

Conspicuously, Kul'thran pulled out the Insignia of the Burning Blade and showed it to Neeru. He spoke in a whisper, "I be one of yers, mon."

Neeru moved his eyes to left and then to the right. "Ah... I see. Well, follow me... hunter," he added, probably noticing Kulvir. He turned around and went underneath the ramp into a hidden place that the troll had not noticed before. Bracing himself, Kul'thran, with raptor in tow, followed the fiendish orc into the hidden location.

It was a dimly-lit room with several orc warlocks in it. They were performing some sort of dark ritual in the center of the room. There was a purple glyph on the ground, and the orcs had encircled it. When he walked inside, Kul'thran felt a painful retching feeling within his soul. The whole place was filled to the brim with demonic magics that seemed to make his spiritual side sick.

Neeru, who seemed to have noticed the hunter's reaction, laughed. "It takes some getting used to, doesn't it? You must be a new lieutenant, otherwise, you'd be able to withstand our magics. Also, you're a hunter, not one to fiddle with magic of any sort. Even those blasted shaman arts."

"Uh... jah," Kul'thran said with a cough. "I be new. Dat's why I asked about Thrall." He was intent on handling whatever Fireblade had to say, even if the magic was overpowering him.

However, the troll was not, at all, ready for what Neeru was about to say. He began to speak openly and frankly about the warchief. Fireblade obviously hated Thrall with a fiery vengenance, and the warlock almost startled Kul'thran when he mentioned a plan to assassinate the warchief! Trying to keep a straight face, the troll continued to listen to the orc warlock's plans.

He spoke of Ragefire Chasm, and how it was a home to a couple of the Searing Blade's leaders. There was an orc warlock named Jergosh the Invoker--and even more shocking--a saytr named Bazzalan. They were the head of the Searing Blade, a subset of the Burning Blade, and very dangerous beings. Neeru did not recommend a new lieutenant enter into Ragefire Chasm to speak with them. It seemed like Fireblade valued them highly and that if they were lost, the defeat would be catastrophic to the Shadow Council.

This was the real reason to keep people out of Ragefire Chasm. Neeru didn't want to risk their deaths at the hands of some hidden assassins sent by Thrall. He boasted, however, that Thrall knew nothing about the Searing Blade's leaders and soon they would initiate their plan to take over the Horde.

"That's all you should know... for now... as one of the newer members of the Burning Blade, hunter," Fireblade said, finishing his speech.

It was good timing, too, because Kul'thran was about to faint from exhaustion due to the overwhelming power of the dark magics in the atmosphere. "Ugh... yes, sir," he managed to say. "I need ta be leavin' den... I haff important work to do."

"Already? Hmmm..." Kul'thran was suddenly worried. Would Neeru see through his ploy? Fortunately, the warlock answered him, saying, "they assign you tasks rather quickly these days, don't they?" The troll nodded at Fireblade. "Well then, get to it! The faster it's done, the better! Good hunting... hunter," he chuckled.

Not wanting to risk his soul by laughing, Kul'thran merely nodded and left. Kulvir followed him behind. Interestingly enough, the raptor also looked sick. Perhaps he shared more of a kindred spirit with Kul'thran than he originally thought? Nevertheless, once they had left the hidden place under the ramp, the troll felt much healthier, and his pet appeared to be better.

I've got to get back to Thrall at once!

"I see... so, this is what you found," Thrall said grimly when Kul'thran returned.

An orc shaman with green skin, and a white wolf's coat was tending to the troll and his raptor while they talked. When he entered, Kul'thran's spiritual stench from the dark magics was sniffed out by Vol'jin. And for a moment, the Shadow Hunter thought the hunter was an enemy. Kul'thran was still feeling a little ill from his encounter with the dark warlocks, and Kulvir still coughed every second or so.

"I'm sorry you had to experience such awful exposure to demon magics, Kul'thran," Thrall said. "You must have a lot of stamina for a troll like yourself. I'm very grateful that you withstood the magic long enough to get this amount of information to me."

"Yer welcome," Kul'thran responded. He was beginning to feel the effects of the demonic magics lift from him as the shaman purged him with small sparks of lightning. "Ah... I be beginning ta feel better. What do we be doin' about dis Bazzalan and Jergosh?"

"We need to kill them, and soon," Thrall responded. "Kul'thran... I know I'm asking a lot from you, but can you sneak into Ragefire Chasm and assassinate the two leaders there for me?"

"Of course, warchief," Kul'thran said with a smile. He looked at Kulvir, he was looking much better now that he was getting treatment from the shaman. "But I dun be sure I can be goin' alone in dere. Fireblade may not haff lied about da dangers in dere."

"Indeed." The warchief looked at the orc shaman. "Til'jaden?"

The shaman looked up, surprised. "Yes, warchief?" he asked humbly.

"Please, if you would, go with Kul'thran to Ragefire Chasm," Thrall said. "He'll need your healing powers to keep him alive. Him and his pet raptor."

"Yes, I can do that," Til'jaden, the orc shaman replied. "But what of Kul'thran's condition? If the demonic energies are strong in the chasm like they are in that secret place where the warlocks meet, then Kul'thran will not be able to withstand it, even with the powers of the spirits I control."

"You raise a good point," Thrall said. "Vol'jin, come. You and I will combine our spells to create a protective barrier around your ward and his pet so that they won't suffer illness from the the demonic influence."

Vol'jin nodded. "What about da shaman?"

"Til'jaden is well-equipped to protect himself from it. Only Kul'thran and Kulvir need it right now."

Vol'jin nodded again and walked over to where Kul'thran and Kulvir were sitting. Thrall stepped forward and began to channel shamanistic energies while Vol'jin channeled his Shadow Hunter powers. Kul'thran felt a wave of energy pass over him. Compared to the dark magics that he had faced in the Cleft of Shadow, the spell Thrall andVol'jin made was soothing to his spiritual side.

"There, that should do it." Thrall stepped back towards his throne, but did not take a seat. Kul'thran figured that the announcement of his own assassination was not sitting well with him. The hunter was determined, however, to stop the Searing Blade, undermine the Burning Blade and prevent them from killing one of his heroes. Now, it was Kul'thran's turn to protect Thrall.

Vol'jin took a step back. "Ya be feelin' all right?"

"Jah," his ward replied. "I better get ta Ragefire Chasm as soon as possible. Dere, I will end dis."

Thrall smiled. "Indeed, you have grown, Kul'thran."

"Tank you, sir..."

It was not long after that Kul'thran, Kulvir, and Til'jaden were deep in Ragefire Chasm. It was extremely hot inside, and even with the protection, the hunter could feel the demonic influence as if it was trying to touch him, but could not.

When they came to a crossroads, the group's worst fears had been confirmed as they watched a large demon, armed with a huge serrated sword, standing in the middle of a bridge over a lava pool.

"Dat's not our target, but what do ya tink dat is, Til'jaden?" Kul'thran asked in a soft whisper.

"It is a Fel Guard, Kul'thran," Til'jaden explained gravely. "A servant to the Burning Legion."

The Burning Legion. So, it was true, the Shadow Council was trying to restore the legion to full power. Kul'thran grit his teeth angrily, many orcs, trolls, taurens, night elves, humans, and dwarves had sacrificed their lives to stop Archimonde, especially the hunter's best friend, Mah'kajor. He could not allow the legion to overtake the Horde.

Kul'thran wanted to kill the Fel Guard, but something told him it would be better to avoid it if possible. "Let's see if we can be sneakin' around dis big fellow, mon."

"Right."

Kul'thran, quietly, gave the order in his native tongue to Kulvir. From what he could tell, the raptor seemed to understand the troll language, but could not respond intellectually back. Regardless, Kulvir seemed to get the gist of the message and stayed close to his master.

Slipping past an edge across a rocky wall, Kul'thran slid away from the demon towards a ramp that was behind the group. Til'jaden and the raptor followed close behind the hunter as he ascended the ramp. At the top, he saw three orcs, one was a warrior, the other a mage, the other a warlock. Kul'thran got the feeling that the warlock was Jergosh. It was only a haunch, but these were the first orcs they had seen for ages. Instead, they had been fighting snakes and imps in every place of the chasm so far.

Kul'thran motioned to Til'jaden and Kulvir. "All right, 'ere's what I tink we should do, I take da insignia and trick 'im into tinkin' I'm one of da Burning Blade. Ya will come wit' me, and I be sayin' dat I captur'd ya tryin' ta sneak in. When we get close, I'll stab Jergosh in da heart and we'll take care of da mage and warrior. Sound good?" Kul'thran asked.

Til'jaden nodded. "A wise plan."

"Wise... if you didn't speak so loudly."

Kul'thran turned around sharply to see Jergosh staring at them with his minions at the ready.

"How wonderful," the orc warlock said sarcastically. "Thrall has sent assassins to kill me. It's a shame you won't be returning to him at all. Kill them."

Kul'thran and his team readied their weapons as the warrior charged and the mage began to cast. "Kill da mage first!" He looked at Kulvir, and spoke in his native tongue to him, "distract the warrior!"

With a loud roar, Kulvir charged the warrior, and the two collided with each other at high speeds. Knocking each other over, Kulvir and the warrior got up and began to fight. The raptor used his claws and teeth while the warrior used his axe.

Meanwhile, Kul'thran dipped an arrow tip into some serpent venom and then fired the arrow at the mage. The mage was too busy concentrating on his spell to notice an arrow fly into his gut, releasing the poison into his body. Obviously, his constitution could not handle the poison and he fainted.

"We cannot have any living witnesses unfortunately!" Til'jaden exclaimed. Kul'thran was reluctant to agree. If any of their enemies lived, they would report to Neeru of what happened and describe Kul'thran, Kulvir and Til'jaden, breaking the hunter's cover! For Thrall's sake, they had to kill them.

Immediately, Til'jaden ran up the ramp to the mage and stabbed him through the heart with his hand claw. Kul'thran heard the mage grunt before dying. One down, two to go! The hunter went over to Kulvir to see how he was doing, only to see the raptor's jaw locked on the warrior's arm. With a strong lunge of his head, the raptor threw the orc warrior over the ledge and into the lava below.

"Noooo!" The warrior cried before splashing into the lava pool, which quickly began to melt him away.

"Good boy," Kul'thran said, tossing Kulvir a small piece of meat (which the raptor caught in his mouth). He turned his head to the warlock. "Yer cornered now, Jergosh."

"Not quite, my trollic friend," Jergosh responded. He waved his hand to his side and there appeared a satyr with a sword in hand. "Allow me to introduce my friend, Bazzalan. He and I will kill you, your pet, and your shaman friend. Let the combat commence!"

Kulvir immediately rushed the satyr, and grabbed his arm with his jaw. He began to pull Bazzalan towards the edge when the satyr merely kicked the raptor in the stomach knocking him flat on the ground and dangerously close to the edge. The satyr walked up to the fallen raptor and raised his sword to behead the beast.

"No!" Kul'thran cried out. Dropping his bow, he rushed forward with his axe out and jumped in front of his pet. Clang! The axe and the sword met, each being held in place by their masters. Kul'thran tried to push against the satyr's might, but Bazzalan seemed to be overpowering the troll hunter. Bazzalan slowly pushed the sword down upon Kul'thran as the hunter struggled to keep up with the satyr's power.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kul'thran saw Kulvir beginning to slip off the edge. No! If he falls, he'll either hit the ground and die or fall into the lava and be lost forever! He needed to think; he had to save his pet from sudden death. Before he could decide to sacrifice himself to save Kulvir, Kul'thran saw Til'jaden fire a bolt of lightning at Bazzalan, which knocked the satyr back and freed Kul'thran from the interlocked weapons.

Dropping his axe, Kul'thran grabbed the sliding Kulvir's tail. The raptor let out an angry scream, but the hunter ignored it. Instead, he pulled the raptor to safety on the ledge. Kulvir was about to claw his master for pulling on his tail, but stopped as Bazzalan picked up Kul'thran's axe with his other hand. "You shouldn't drop things like this, troll. Heh heh heh."

Backing up, Kul'thran picked up his bow and countered, "at least I be havin' back-ups. Kulvir, strike!" He nocked an arrow and fired it at the satyr. It flew too fast for Bazzalan to dodge and was hit in the left shoulder. Immediately, Bazzalan rushed Kul'thran and attempted to cut him down with his own axe and the sword. Kul'thran ducked under the axe, but was sliced across the shoulder by the sword. He lost feeling in his left arm and realized he was now weaponless--there was no way he could use his bow.

Kul'thran glanced around quickly to see where Til'jaden was at. He found him dueling Jergosh in a battle of magics. Til'jaden fired a bolt of lightning, while Jergosh fired a shadow bolt. The two spells met in the center and exploded.

"Til'jaden! I might be needin' some healin' 'ere soon!" Kul'thran called out, just barely noticing Bazzalan's second attack with Kul'thran's axe. The hunter rolled out of the way of the axe and then shifted to avoid another attack from Bazzalan's sword. "Ya forgot dat I still haff one weapon, mon."

"Oh? And what is that? Your tusks?" the satyr mocked.

"No, dis!" With lightning speed, Kul'thran thrust an arrow into Bazzalan's stomach. The satyr let out a cry of surprise and a grunt of pain. As soon as the arrow pierced his flesh, Bazzalan dropped his sword. Immediately, Kul'thran got up and grabbed the sword with his right hand. "Die, mon!" He swung it with all the ferocity of a wounded beast, and cleaved the satyr's chest open.

"No...! I can't die now!" Bazzalan grabbed his wounded chest, breathing in and out heavily. He swung at Kul'thran again, but the troll was too nimble for him, and the satyr only sliced a part of his cape. Before Kul'thran could deal the killing blow, Kulvir took advantage of the situation and jump struck the satyr with his feet claws. Using his large scythe-like claws, the raptor carved lines down Bazzalan's chest and stomach until the satyr fell to the ground and died.

He dropped the axe, which slid over to the edge and fell over into the depths of the lava pool. Kul'thran would never be able to recover it.

On the other side, Til'jaden was still dancing magic with Jergosh. Finally, it seemed like the warlock had the upper hand as the shaman was blasted over and over again with bolts of dark magic. Then, the warlock released black lightning from his fingers and knocked Til'jaden to the ground. "Ha ha ha! Shamans are nothing to the might of the Burning Legion! Behold what powers my masters have given me."

"... and behold," Til'jaden coughed. "Behold, the strength my master has given me!" With a loud roar, the shaman jumped up and stabbed his hand claw into the warlock's chest. "Die!" And with that, the shaman channeled lightning through himself into the claw, electrifying Jergosh's body, and more importantly, his heart. The power was too much, and it killed the warlock.

Til'jaden removed his bloody hand claw from the warlock's chest and let the body fall to the ground. "Kul'thran... I'm sorry I did not heal you." The orc shaman looked very injured himself. Both of them were covered in blood and only Kulvir was without a scratch (save the ones from the rocky ledge that he was pulled across.) "I was... busy with the warlock."

"I understand, let's take a moment ta heal, but we must be quick before the other members of da Searing Blade come!" Kul'thran cautioned. He walked over to the edge of the ramp and then tossed down Bazzalan's sword into the lava. "I refuse ta be usin' a demonic weapon," he muttered to himself. He turned around and picked up his bow off the ground.

After a few seconds, Kul'thran's arm began to heal due to his trollic regeneration. The shoulder pad would need to be repaired, but at least his shoulder would be healed. The rest of his armor was slightly damaged, but it was nothing that a leatherworker could repair.

As for Til'jaden, his coat was torn, and burnt. He was rapidly casting healing spells on himself to close the wounds on his body. His hand claw was covered in rich, dripping blood while there were blood stains all over his wolf coat. "Kul'thran! Look what I found...!" He picked up some sort of stone with runes inscribed all over it. The troll took a look at the stone. It was rectangular in shape and was about as big as a human's hand. He could not understand the glowing runes on the stone.

"Let's be keepin' it. We'll show it ta Thrall. Quickly!" Kul'thran exclaimed. "Let's get outta 'ere before dey find us!"

"Right away!" Til'jaden responded. And with that, Kul'thran, Kulvir, and the shaman left Ragefire Chasm.

"So, you've returned... and not quite in decent shape I see," Thrall said.

Til'jaden and Kul'thran were a mess. Their hair was tangled and blood-stained, and their skin was wrinkled from the heat. Even Kulvir had suffered from the intense heat, his scales seemed to be glowing dimly with heat.

"We haff killed dem. Da leaders of da Searing Blade. Yer assassination will be failin' now."

"What of the caverns, warchief?" Til'jaden asked.

"I've already received news about the caverns," Thrall said. "They are in chaos since you killed their leaders, and I hear even Neeru is more irritated than usual. Unfortunately, despite your great efforts, I can only call this a small victory."

"Why's dat?" Kul'thran asked.

"Because their operations are much larger than we intended from what you told me," Thrall explained. In order to restore the Burning Legion to power, they'll most likely have other bases. Kul'thran, after you have washed up and repaired your armor, I want you to return to Neeru Fireblade. Try not to be too overt, and find out, whatever you can, about the Shadow Council's plans."

"I understand, sir." Kul'thran bowed and then left.

One shower, leatherworker, and tailor repairs later, Kul'thran returned to the Cleft of Shadow. There, he found Neeru Fireblade staring down Ragefire Chasm. As Kul'thran approached, Fireblade swiftly turned around and yelled, "What is it!?" making the hunter jump.

"Oh, it's you, hunter. Excuse me, my anger is like a rabid kudo sometimes, and it gets the best of me."

Kul'thran decided to act dumb. "What happen'd, mon?"

"It seems that both Bazzalan and Jergosh were killed by some of Thrall's do-gooders. I don't know how they sneaked past me, but without the Searing Blade, I cannot go through with the warchief's... assassination," he said, speaking more softly. "However, even without the Searing Blade, the Shadow Council has its schemes elsewhere. We have agents in the Barrens and Ashenvale. ... say, what happened to your axe?"

"Uh? Ma axe?" Kul'thran thought rapidly for an answer. "I left it at home, I tink. Ya know, I'm getting used ta havin' ma pet fight in melee combat fer me."

"Of course, of course. Just don't lose it, you're one of my lieutenants now! I will call upon you soon. That will be all."

"Very well, Neeru," Kul'thran said darkly. "I will be seein' you again sometime."

Returning to Thrall, the troll hunter relayed all the information he had heard about the Shadow Council from Neeru.

The warchief stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Ashenvale... Ashenvale... no. It does not ring any bells. I think I've heard of any activity by the Burning Blade or the Shadow Council there. Kul'thran, perhaps you could scout out that area for me?"

"Wait!" Vol'jin stepped forward. "He cannot do dat now! Look at da state he was in when he return'd from Ragefire Chasm, warchief!"

"My apologizes... I did not mean now. Kul'thran has earned some time to rest. I will send out spies to Ashenvale, and see what I can discover," Thrall said. "But later, would you scout out the area for me, Kul'thran? After you are feeling rested?"

Kul'thran's heat beat a little faster. Ashenvale. That was his chance to see some night elves up close! "Of course, warchief! Of course!" He wondered if he would catch sight of any beautiful women there, and it made him excited. "I definitely want ta be doin' dat."

"Good, good, rest now, you--"

"Warchief?"

The group turned towards the door to Grommash Hold. It was Til'jaden. He was now clean, and his coat had been cleaned and mended. Kul'thran recognized the object he was holding as the tablet they had found inside Ragefire Chasm.

"What is it, Til'jaden?" Thrall asked.

"It's this... we found it off of Jergosh's body. We managed to translate the runes... and the message is grim."

"Read it to me," Thrall commanded.

"Yes, warchief. It says: while the foolish Horde and Alliance war with one another, the Burning Legion, after licking its wounds, will rise up and crush the two factions from either side once again! This time, there will be no Hyjal or Stormrage to save them. Long live the Legion!"

Til'jaden looked up at Kul'thran and the others. The troll could not tell what the others' reaction was because he became lost in his own world. We're being used... used as a distraction for their plans. Now, Kul'thran had learned the identity of the true enemy to not only the Horde, but the entire world of Azeroth.

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 9 - The Bloodtalon Raptor

2009-04-23T17:03:00.000-06:00

Raptors have always captivated the imaginations of trolls for years. Agile and cunning much like the savage race itself, trolls always sought to come to grips with the raptor race. Both in the great Gurubashi and Amani Empires (Empires that existed over 16,000 years ago) were the raptors adored as mounts and tamed as guardians and pets for the savage race.

They were one of the first creatures to discovered (or rediscovered) on Kalimdor when the Horde arrived. Again, like in old times, the Darkspear tribe became captivated and spent four years trying to tame the beasts. By the end of that year, they had managed to tame some of the raptors as mounts, all save the Bloodtalon raptors.

Now, it had been five years since Kul'thran and his tribe had arrived at Kalimdor. The troll was now twenty-two years old, and had become an experienced hunter. He had learned that there was more to hunting than finding prey and killing it. From his trainers in the Valley of Trials, and Razor Hill (an orcish town north of Sen'jin), Kul'thran learned how to apply poison to his arrows for devastating attacks. So far, he had learned how to apply serpent's and scorpid's venom to his arrow tips. He had also learned how to fight in melee combat (as a last resort), and he was used to the hand axe as his favored weapon.

Kul'thran's next task was to train an animal for a pet. For a long time, the hunter had his eye set on the Bloodtalon raptors of Durotar. Many warned him of the dangers of approaching a Bloodtalon. They were considered to be impossible to tame. Yet, Kul'thran, as always, was determined to see his goal through. Nothing would hold him back from getting the pet he wanted. Not that everyone wanted to hold him back completely, many trolls hated him for his night elf obsession and some hoped that the raptor would rip him to sheds.

Vol'jin had been right about Kul'thran's training as a hunter. There was no time for studies of the mystical arts between the Shaman and the Priest. The tribe was unhappy at the loss of one of the potentially best priests they could have had, but Kul'thran's diligence as a hunter made up for it.

Harsh times had befallen the Darkspear Tribe over the past year, they had lost their holdings on Echo Isles due to a mad witch doctor named Zalazane. He had taken control of the islands by using his voodoo magic on the trolls there using hexes to corrupt their minds and bend them to his will. They had become nothing more than puppets.

Those that had escaped Zalazane and his insane magic where led by a troll by the name of Gadrin (He was referred to as "Master Gadrin.") to Sen'jin Village. There, Master Gadrin warned Vol'jin and the tribe of the witch doctor's madness. Because of this (and because he now had the resources), more warriors and headhunters were trained to protect the village in case Zalazane came to raid the village with his mindless army.

The loss of Echo Isles was devastating to the trolls of the Darkspear Tribe. It had been a vibrant source of food and protection from the hot sun of the Barrens. Now, they had run out of food, placing an extra load on Kul'thran and the other hunters to gather provisions for their people. Fortunately, over the past year, the harpies had finally been driven back, making the road to Orgrimmar safer, and for some people, possible. Now, the trading caravans had a chance to reach their destinations safely (especially with the addition of Wolf Riders guarding the passes).

But the troubles didn't end; trolls of Sen'jin Village began to disappear during the night. And during one evening, Master Gadrin's brother, Minashina, vanished without a trace. Many young warriors were sent to the Valley of Trials to train, in hopes that they would help the village stop the witch doctor and his madness.

Vol'jin was starting to grow old like his father, and he settled in Grommash Hold in Orgrimmar near Thrall's throne. He relied on Master Gadrin to handle the affairs in Sen'jin. Occasionally, Vol'jin would return to Sen'jin to catch up on the distressing matters.

Kul'thran, himself, decided that getting a pet would ready him to tackle Echo Isles and whatever dangers they held for him. So, he headed north of Razor Hill in search of a raptor to tame.

Many Raptors of the Bloodtalon type had caught Kul'thran's eye many times while hunting for food or perhaps when he was being a little daring by swimming close to Echo Isles to see if he could catch a glimpse of the old city. Bloodtalon Raptors were common to Durotar and to the untrained eye, one raptor will look the same as the other.

However, the trained eye (and many hunters, especially Beast Masters were honed in this way) could tell the difference between those two raptors. Kul'thran peered around while sitting on a rock far north of Razor Hill. He was examining each of the raptors one by one to see if he liked them or not. He was looking for a specific one that he had seen before.

It was a Bloodtalon Sycthemaw that had caught the hunter's eye. He (the raptor, Kul'thran was certain it was a male) tended to separate himself from his other raptor companions, much like Kul'thran tended to do the same from the other trolls of his tribe despite his constant interaction with them.

By mere observation of this raptor's odd introverted behavior, Kul'thran felt like he had found a kindred spirit and there would be no other raptor in the world like him. This one was a gem. Now, the only thing Kul'thran had to do was find him.

He got off the rock and went east towards the shore. And by pure luck, the hunter discovered the exact raptor he was looking for near some rock formations. Luck, however, was not on the poor raptor's side as his left hind leg was stuck in an old bear trap some hunter left sometime ago.

Whimpering in pain as the raptor attempted to free himself from the trap with fangs, he did not notice the troll watching him. As he did, Kul'thran felt his own heart soften as he stared at the beast he had set out to tame, who was no bigger than half the troll's size when standing; only about four feet and maybe over a half a foot tall.

The scene made Kul'thran's heart ache, it was like watching a small child trapped and crying as it tried to vainly free itself from the clutches of some thorny vines that came vividly to the hunter's mind. He put away his taming whip and walked over to the Bloodtalon gently. The raptor then suddenly noticed the troll's approach and he panicked. The raptor struggled to get free more fervently, only to make the trap's teeth dig into his hind leg more deeply.

Kul'thran assumed that it was afraid because he had come to skin the raptor for his scales. Often, if a raptor did not cooperate, the trolls would find some other use for the beast, and because Bloodtalons were so untamable, they often used their skinning knives for collecting the beast's hide.

Moved with compassion, the troll hunter took out some linen cloth and began to make first aid bandages with them. The raptor didn't move, probably due to his immense fear of the troll.

After the bandages were finished, Kul'thran said with a smile, "Now... let's be gettin' dis bad trap offa ya." Despite the whimpering of the Bloodtalon, Kul'thran rubbed the beast's head soothingly and tried to quiet his cries. Then, the troll leaned over and began to carefully remove the trap with his hands (which were protected by leather gloves).

Suddenly, the raptor attacked Kul'thran. He started biting and flailing his claws savagely at the troll's hands. If anyone could tell one what pain was, it would be Kul'thran. His hands felt like they were on fire as the Bloodtalon ripped and bit at the skin and flesh thereof. But, Kul'thran was determined to be kind to someone who was being violent towards him and his mind dead set on the belief that there was no other beast in the world for him. Under much pressure and pain, the hunter removed the trap that had been wounding the raptor's hind leg.

Then, the raptor stopped attacking and let out a small whine. Kul'thran did not understand why, but he bandaged up the Bloodtalon's damaged leg. "Dere, dat's better." Fortunately, he had enough bandages left for his hands, yet before he could do so, the raptor suddenly ran away, whimpering still. The raptor's flight was faster than any Kul'thran had ever seen before and he lost him, even in the barren plain-like crimson dirt of Durotar.

The hunter searched for hours and lost the raptor's tracks into the Darkspear Strand waters. He must have felt guilty.... and drowned himself, the hunter thought mournfully, believing he was cursed to walk his journeys alone with only the blanket his mother had made for him--the only bit of his biological family that he knew of or had--to comfort him.

Things just seemed to get worse. When Kul'thran returned to Sen'jin, he discovered that Zalazane had taken more Darkspears, but this time not to hex them, but to sacrifice them instead. Even from the small village, all the tribe could hear the screams of their own kin being killed in some dark voodoo ritual prepared by the almost mindless and hexed slaves of Zalazane and the mad witch doctor himself.

The horrible screams triggered a memory from his nightmare. The burning village, the screaming trolls, the hapless husband defending his family against the high elves. That was enough. Among those that had mocked him earlier for his elven loves, he shouted out-loud, "Zalazane's terror will be stoppin' tonight!"

"Yer touch'd in dee head, Kul'thran," a voice said from behind him. He turned around to see a a crowd of trolls nearby. They were all staring at him with disbelief, probably because of his cry of exasperation. "Ya cannae be tinkin' of goin' alone," said one of the female trolls. She had her arms folded. "Most of our warriors be still in trainin'. And master Vol'jin be jus' gettin' runners from da village ta tell 'im about da increased terror. If ya leave now, dere's no chance Vol'jin can be savin' ya, mon."

"I dun be afraid of what kind of power Zalazane haff," Kul'thran responded intently. "He needs ta be stopp'd before more horrors happen." He made his way to the shore, and heard the same voice behind him.

"Good riddance ta ya, elf lover."

Kul'thran grit his teeth angrily. Now was not the time for hatred, but he had no time to bicker with his kin. He wanted to defeat Zalazane and bring peace back to their village. Nothing was going to scare him away from his goal.

With a long leap, Kul'thran jumped into the water and began to swim east toward Echo Isles. Within minutes, he arrived at the shore of the first, and smallest island of the group. The hunter kept going, and finally reached the shore of the largest island. There, he knelt down and prayed. He prayed to Elune, the Earthmother, the Spirits, or Zansa (an old trollic god taught to him by Sen'jin), not knowing which deity was real. Regardless, he prayed to them for a blessing of protection and strength before facing Zalazane.

As Kul'thran finished his prayer, he stood up and took out his bow. All the screams had fallen silent since he had touched the first shoreline of the smaller island. Quietly, he crept into the shadows towards in the direction of where the screaming had been coming from. His sense of direction led him into the old Darkspear City that they used to have claim over.

The island was very dark and Kul'thran could smell smoke, yet see no light. There had been fires on the ground recently, but now they were put out. "I be too late." He said to himself, "Zalazane's finished da ritual... but... maybe I can kill him in 'is sleep so he won't be able ta hurt ma tribe anymore." So Kul'thran sneaked around in the shadows of the broken down walls of the grand village the Darkspears had made. All in ruins due to the madness of the witch doctor and his craving hunger for power.

Soon, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and Kul'thran realized that his sight was blocked by smoke, not the night sky. Quietly, the hunter swatted large clouds out of the way until he could see. There was fresh smell of split blood and the young troll swore he heard a whisper: Avenge our blood...

Kul'thran discovered he was in the middle of area surrounded by spikes pointing outwards on all sides with a small hill in front of him. On the ground, he could see fresh, wet blood and the bones of trolls, though their skulls were missing; many of them seemed to be gathered in a pile on the hill in front of him. Dark runes, without their power, lay marked on the ground. The air was uncomfortably thick with essence of voodoo and dark magic, but the troll hunter didn't have time (and had little desire) to try to find out exactly what happened. For the hunter suddenly became prey when he heard a sly, yet with a tone of insanity, trollic voice speak to him from his left. "Come ta join yer kindred, Child of da Moon?"

It was Zalazane, he was still awake.

Kul'thran had not noticed him on the hill next to the skulls. "Don't worry ma boy," Zalazane said. "I'll only hex ya. I need someone to tell Master Gadrin at Sen'jin that I am taking care of his brother." He released a cold, malice-filled laugh as the witch doctor turned around to face Kul'thran. His eyes seemed to be glowing from behind the white wooden, blood-stained, skull-like voodoo mask.

The troll hunter was unfazed. He gripped his bow more tightly, and reached for an arrow. "Ya will be tryin'," Kul'thran said in defiance of the witch doctor. "But yer terror ends tonight, Zalazane. I won't let ya hurt ma people no more."

Zalazane snorted at Kul'thran and merely said, "So be it, Thori'dal." Calling Kul'thran by a name he had never heard before. "O cursed child born under the bloody moon." What did he mean by that?

There was an awkward pause, then...

"Yer just simply touch'd in dee head, mon." Kul'thran said to Zalazane, nocking an arrow.

Letting go of his bow string, Kul'thran dashed to his right side, expecting the witch doctor to attack him with a voodoo spell. However, Zalazane was indeed weak in any form of physical combat, as noted when his poor attempt to evade the hunter's attack left the arrow sticking in the witch doctor's side.

But something was wrong, Zalazane was laughing, "Ya be in a bad way, boy. Yer alone." All of a sudden, a pair of lights lit up in the eye sockets of one of the skulls on the piled hilltop and something grabbed Kul'thran's right arm.

He turned to look and saw with horror a pupil-less Darkspear, hexed by Zalazane's demonic magic and under his control, staring back at him. It was a warrior troll who Kul'thran recognized from the island with a shiver of horror. The warrior was much stronger than him.

Then another pair of lights flashed into life on the hilltop. And then another, and then another! Slowly, one by one, Zalazane was calling his hexed servants and Kul'thran would be heavily outnumbered.

He didn't know why, but somehow the skulls were the key to controlling his kindred Darkspears. The warrior troll held an iron grip on the hunter's arm, making it excessively difficult for Kul'thran to move or even attack Zalazane. He did not want to kill one of his own kin when they did not even know what they were doing! They were innocent! But he had no choice, lest he became a slave to Zalazane's magic like the others.

With a quick jump, Kul'thran placed his feet on the side of the hill and pushed himself off the surface, twisting himself into a backflip that broke the warrior troll's grasp on his right arm.

In the process, Kul'thran flung up his right leg, slamming his foot into the lower jaw of the hexed troll's face. As they both landed, the hexed troll now unconscious, the hunter muttered, "Forgive me, mon." But all of a sudden, the hexed warrior troll's eyes shot open and he began to stand. Zalazane's magic was enhancing their stamina.... or just forcing them to continue fighting despite Kul'thran's effort.

All around him, the troll could hear the stirring of bodies as the other hexed souls of the Darkspear Tribe began to stand to assist their master unwillingly. He had little time to think, so with swiftness, Kul'thran used a hunter technique to take on the aspects of a monkey, becoming more agile than he was before. With a nimble jump, the hunter moved out of the way of the cursed troll's reaching hands.

Adrenaline pumping in his veins, Kul'thran ran up the ramp to the pile of glowing skulls and took out his axe, praying that his impression was correct. With a warcry of "for ma dead parents!" he began to smash the skulls into bits with his hatchet fiercely.

His hunch was correct when he heard Zalazane's voice, which was once confident, now filled with panic. "Kill 'im! KILL 'IM!" He screeched. The mindless trolls suddenly began to move faster and dashed towards the hill to end Kul'thran's young life.

Nevertheless, as each skull fell, one by one, a troll under Zalazane's control suddenly fell over onto the ground and were either dead or unconscious. For every skull that was broken, Kul'thran swore he heard a misty voice from each saying, Thank you... for freeing me.

Only a mage had managed to sear Kul'thran's arm by the time all the skulls were smashed and all, saved one hexed Shaman with fiery triangular hair remained under Zalazane's control. His words returned to the hunter's mind, Don't worry boy. I'll only hex you. I need someone to tell Master Gadrin at Sen'jin that I am taking care of his brother. He sneered, motioning to the shaman. It was Minashina, and Zalazane was holding his skull.

But for some odd reason, Zalazane did not command Minashina to attack Kul'thran. Instead, the raging Witch Doctor charged the hunter. Completely mad, he growled, "Foolish boy! Ya will be havin' a skull of yer own on dat hill soon enuff!" Swinging his staff to crack it across Kul'thran's head, Zalazane growled unhappily as the hunter swiftly ducked the blow.

Kul'thran was about to strike back with his axe, but Zalazane suddenly hit him with some powerful voodoo spell, knocking him to the ground. The hunter felt like all his strength was being drained out of him and everything, his quiver, his bow, his axe, his armor just felt so heavy... he could not lift himself from the ground.

Zalazane smiled victoriously, "Ya know, our elders were right when dey tell da children ta not mess with da voodoo." He said, his tone viper-like before he began to laugh and placed his hand on Kul'thran's temples. Images passed through Kul'thran's mind, all that he had wanted to do was about to end as Zalazane was about to hex him into another slave.

Suddenly there was a loud screech and a cry from Zalazane as Kul'thran felt the slimy fingers swiftly leave his head. He opened his eyes to see a small raptor on Zalazane, viciously rending at him with its claws. He noticed that its left hind leg had been bandaged with linen.

The hunter was awed. It's that Bloodtalon raptor! So, he didn't drown himself after all! As the raptor attacked the witch doctor, Kul'thran felt his strength return to him. Pretending to play dead, the troll hunter took an arrow and dipped it into one of his vials of serpent venom. Closing the vial, he nocked the arrow and waited.

The raptor growled and hissed at Zalazane as it tried to pin the witch doctor to the ground. Screaming angrily and fearfully at the same time, Zalazane's muffled cries of "Get offa me, ya lizard!" were probably loud enough to reach the Darkspear Strand. But he had no friends there. Kul'thran saw Zalazane grab his staff and swat the raptor across the face, knocking the Bloodtalon away from him.

However, the distraction had given Kul'thran enough time. He stood up, and let go of his nocked arrow. The flying missile of poison found its mark easily within Zalazane's side. Soon, the poison began to spread rapidly throughout the witch doctor's body.

Not wanting waste time, Kul'thran sprinted at Zalazane and attempted to scalp the doctor with his axe. Zalazane ducked, growled and tripped the hunter with his staff before preparing another spell; another spell that he would never cast as the Bloodtalon Raptor sunk his fangs into one of the witch doctor's arms.

Then, the raptor did something that amazed Kul'thran, he dragged Zalazane's arm into one of the ground spikes. The spike went completely through the witch doctor's arm, and he let out a loud scream of pain as the raptor let go of the arm.

Ripping his arm, now with a large hole in it, from the ground spike, the witch doctor cursed the Bloodtalon with a Shadow Word: Pain spell using his free arm. Seeing the whole body of the Bloodtalon twitch and squirm in agony pierced something in Kul'thran's heart, and he lost his temper.

Letting out a fierce roar, the troll began to berserk (as most trolls can), and fired an arrow that slammed into Zalazane's chest at high speeds. Kul'thran noticed Zalazane about to command the Shaman to do something, but the hunter wasn't going to allow it. Instead, he jumped on Zalazane and began to slash away at his body with the handaxe. With swift strikes, he cut open the witch doctor's flesh and spilled his blood.

Kul'thran was so enraged that he didn't notice Zalazane grab his staff and whack the hunter squarely in the head, knocking him away from the witch doctor. The hunter grasped his head tenderly, it felt very sore. He looked over and he noticed the witch doctor about to command Minashina to heal him. Nocking an arrow, Kul'thran shot the skull in Zalazane's hand, shattering it into pieces.

Minashina suddenly cried out in pain and fell to the ground, motionless. It was a tragic thing to see the brother of Master Gadrin die so suddenly. He had been a good troll, and someone who never deserved this type of fate.

"Darn you, cursed moon child!" Zalazane screamed. He was bleeding heavily, and poisoned. The raptor leaped to strike him, but the witch doctor ducked under the attack and ran for his life. "Dis isn't da last dat you or yer tribe had heard of me!!" he yelled as he vanished into the shadows.

Kul'thran waited for a moment, expecting Zalazane to return with an army of mindless trolls when he heard a wispy, male voice enter into his heart. Take the pieces of skull to my brother in Sen'jin... my spirit is freed now because of you and your pet.

Pet? Kul'thran thought curiously when he suddenly heard a small reptilian whimper next to him.

The Bloodtalon was staring at him with a sad expression on his face and was eying Kul'thran's bandaged hands guiltily. With a gentle smile, the hunter knelt down and began to pat the raptor on the head. "I forgive ya. Dun worry, be happy." And as he said it, for some odd reason, with a small whine, the Bloodtalon Sythemaw pushed down the hunter's hands and began to lick at the bandages, as if trying to heal the wounds he had made earlier that day.

Kul'thran pet the raptor, and said to it, "I guess yer ma pet now. Ya saved ma life." Kul'thran had been right about his original assumption. Together, he and the raptor had defeated Zalazane, and if he hadn't been for the Bloodtalon, Kul'thran would be another one of the witch doctor's slaves. He had repayed his debt to Kul'thran for saving his life earlier.

It seemed that the threat was over and that the raptor wanted to stay around Kul'thran. The hunter had done the impossible and tamed a Bloodtalon raptor. "What shall I name you?" he asked the beast in his native tongue.

The raptor stopped licking Kul'thran's wounded hands and looked up at him with his light-blue eyes. He let out a "ryeep!" noise as if trying to communicate with the hunter. Kul'thran grinned. "I know... you'll be named 'Kulvir.' How do you like that?"

To his surprise, the raptor nodded. How did he understand Kul'thran's tongue? He would have to find out later. In any case, he now had a pet, a companion and new friend.

After smashing the rest of the skulls, Kul'thran and Kulvir returned to Sen'jin Village where he and his new pet were greeted with awe and, the pet, adoration. He went to Master Gadrin and returned the skull pieces to him. The troll hunter explained what happened to Minashina and the other trolls. It was a sad day indeed. They had lost over half their tribe to Zalazane, yet they were now free.

As for Kulvir, he would be a companion to Kul'thran throughout the rest of their lives. And that's how it would always be.

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 8 - The Hunter

2009-04-22T18:30:00.000-06:00

It had been three years since the Horde had arrived on Kalimdor. Kul'thran had matured over the ages, and had become a little more diligent in his studies. However, progress was slow because he was divided between two classes of teaching: the priestly arts and the shamanistic arts. Because he could not decide which to study, the troll tried to go to both of their sessions (of which, unfortunately, had a tendency to overlap each other).

Because of his renewed interest in the spiritual arts, Kul'thran never received a harsh word from Vol'jin concerning his studies. Instead his guardian was pleased with the troll's efforts.

The great city of Orgrimmar--the capital of the Horde--was nearly finished. And Kul'thran received many chances to visit it and mingle with other aspiring members of the Horde; all of them hoping to serve in one way or the other. Because Vol'jin was his appointed guardian, Kul'thran was privileged to see the large throne room built for Thrall. It was always a treat for him to visit the Horde's warchief, who still felt like a companion to him. Nevertheless, Kul'thran always bowed before Thrall when he entered.

Despite the fact that Kul'thran had fought Thrall side-by-side in the dark dungeons of the now-sunken islands where he had been raised, he was not well-known in Orgrimmar. That did not bother him one bit, however. He had no need to be one, nor did he want to. The city life was exciting, blacksmiths, skinners, enchanters, all sorts of merchants, wares, teachers, trainers, and more. Yet, still, Kul'thran preferred the quiet life of Sen'jin Village over Orgrimmar.

There, he had finally built his own hut with a hammock inside. It was a small hut, with nothing special about it, except that it was his hut, his home. It was built like the others; small wooden platforms suspended by wooden poles from the ground. The walls were made of thick, tied together wood, and the rooftops were made of straw and timber. It was a simple design, but it was sufficient for Kul'thran and his tribe.

Usually, the tribe would receive extra provisions from Orgrimmar every month, but one day, they didn't come. Vol'jin sent scouts to find out what happened, but only a couple returned. They were clawed, battered, and wounded.

The scouts discovered that a large nest of harpies had been situated nearby the trail to Orgrimmar for some time, and now, the harpies had gathered into large groups, destroying the caravans along the trail from Sen'jin to the Horde capital.

This was grim news for the tribe; for, although there was still wild game around, they had come to depend on the supplies from the main city. Without the food, many feared they would starve because there were not enough hunters to hunt for food. It was also dangerous because there were vicious centaurs in nearby, and could easily plunder the village in its most dire times.

While Kul'thran was pondering what to do about this situation, an archery bow was suddenly thrust into his face. It startled him. He looked up and he saw Vol'jin looking down on him, holding the bow.

"Try dis, Kul'thran."

"Why me? I jus' be a priest," Kul'thran said.

"Jus' try it," Vol'jin ordered. "I want ta see how you can be handlin' a bow, mon."

"... All right..." Kul'thran responded slowly. He took the bow in hand and stood it. It was a cheap weapon. It was purely made out of scratchy, bent wood with no handle (there were two rings instead to mark where to hold the bow). The string was made of thin, tightly bound straw that was tied from one end of the bow to the other. "You be sure dis will work?"

"It haff been tested. It works fine," the guardian explained. "If you do well wit' it, den I'll get ja a bettah bow. Come wit' me, Kul'thran." He beckoned with a hand, and Kul'thran stood up to follow him. Vol'jin led him across the village to a field where other trolls seemed to be practicing with bows. It seemed like they were practicing in order to learn how to hunt for the needed food.

"Where are da throwin' spears?" Kul'thran asked.

"We're running low wit' da spears, so only da warriors and headhunters haff dem," Vol'jin explained. "Da next best ting is a bow and arrow. 'ere." The Shadow Hunter pulled out a very small quiver with at most fifteen arrows in it. "Take dese and start practicin' wit' da bow I gave you."

Kul'thran nodded, and walked over to an unused practice target. He was slightly disappointed; he had always wanted to use throwing spears like Mah'kajor did. Now, he was stuck with bow, and what did he know about shooting arrows? All he knew about shooting arrows was seeing some elves in his nightmare nock their arrows and fire them at their enemies. Ironically, he needed to follow that pattern.

He took a few moments to watch the other trolls as they used their bows. Then, he decided to nock one of his arrows into the bow string, and placed the arrow above the top ring. Holding the bow vertically, Kul'thran pulled back, and then dropped the arrow. "Dang!" He tried it again, and yet he, again, dropped the arrow before he could fire it.

Frustrated, Kul'thran decided to hold the bow horizontally before nocking the arrow. Bending over a little with his back at an angle away from the bow, Kul'thran nocked, aimed and successfully shot an arrow at the target.

But it missed. However, Kul'thran was not frustrated by this; he was glad that he had managed to actually shoot the arrow. The decision was made, and he was going to hold the bow horizontally from now on.

He practiced throughout the day, retrieving his fallen arrows. Eventually, he starting to strike his target around the sides, missing the middle completely. Yet, on his last arrow, he struck a bullseye without any difficultly.

He barely noticed Vol'jin walk up to him. "You haff some potential, Kul'thran," he said quietly. "Quite some potential wit' da bow dere."

Over time, Kul'thran grew used to the bow and arrow, and practiced daily with it. However, he was behind the other trolls, and they had already mastered the weapon on their own. Many of them were hunting for food for the tribe. It made Kul'thran feel slightly frustrated, and alone. In a way, he wished he could save his village from starvation.

One day, he came across something interesting while he was practicing.

This is the fourth bullseye I've made today! he thought, staring at his practice target. Well, almost bullseyes, he added, noting the four arrows side by side each other around the middle of the target. I wonder if I could... hit the middle without damaging the other arrows. The troll decided to try it. It was risky, but if he could do it, then maybe he was ready to hunt.

Nocking the arrow, Kul'thran aimed carefully, holding the string steadily, and the arrow straight. He eyed straight for the middle of the four arrows. Breathing in, he pulled back the bowstring behind the side of his cheek. Seeing his target, he let go of the bowstring, allowing the arrow to fly.

Something was wrong, it seemed like he had aimed too high and that it was going to hit one of the arrows! Oh no! That's not what he had in mind! Now it was all ruined. But then, he noticed the arrow arc downward a little and with a quiet thunk, it landed exactly where he had aimed it to land.

Dropping his bow, Kul'thran released a cheer of success. "Who da mon? Who da mon!?" he cried out. Suddenly, he felt extremely embarrassed as he heard someone laughing from the side in the distance. It was Vol'jin, and he was slowly approaching Kul'thran with a smile on his face.

"I guess dey haff ta say, 'you da mon,' Kul'thran," he teased. "Well done. I didn't expect a priest to be so good wit' da bow and arrow." He patted Kul'thran on the back. "You be doin' well. Jus' a 'lil more an--"

Suddenly, a voice interrupted him. "Master Vol'jin! Master Vol'jin!" it cried. It was a troll runner. She dashed up to the two of them and stopped. "Bad news. We haff very, very bad news."

Vol'jin nodded. "Show me."

Nodding, the runner turned around and jogged off into the other direction. Vol'jin ran after her, leaving Kul'thran alone. Frowning, he decided not to be left in the dark about the situation, and so, still with bow in hand, Kul'thran followed the trail of the runner and Vol'jin.

He was late.

He discovered a large group of the tribe gathered around some sort of bags being carried on stretchers of all things. It was hard to tell because the sun was setting and the light was low. But then he heard a voice shout, "give dem some air, mons!" The crowd dispersed a little from the 'bags,' and Kul'thran realized they weren't bags at all--they were heavily wounded trolls!

Vol'jin was at the head of the group. "Place dem down!" he ordered. The trolls holding the ends of the stretchers did so, and the Shadow Hunter attended to the wounded.

Now that Kul'thran could see them clearly, he saw the horrifying damage on the trolls. He recognized them as several of the hunters sent out to gather food for the tribe. There were at least ten trolls there. One of them had his face disfigured, with an eye clawed out, another had his cheek scraped off. They were all battered, clawed, bitten, and bleeding heavily.

Vol'jin placed his hand gently on the one with the scraped off cheek and cast Healing Wave. A light appeared from the Shadow Hunter's hands and it bounced from wounded troll to troll. The first one he touched was healed the most, and his cheek was regenerated. That troll hunter regained consciousness, and looked at his chieftain in the eye.

"Who did dis to you, and yer allies?"

The troll coughed out blood. "Harpies. Dey moved in on us from da north and attack'd us while we were huntin'. Dey are gatherin' forces and I tink dey might try ta attack da village!" Many gasped at this terrifying announcement. The trolls weren't ready to defend themselves from a full-forced attack.

"We must cut dem off before dey get any stronger," Vol'jin said. "I'll gather da headhunters and warriors and try to kill dem before it be too late!" He noticed Kul'thran in the crowd and approached him. "Kul'thran... dat bow won't suit you, take dis one instead. I was savin' it fer you."

The Shadow Hunter handed Kul'thran a real bow this time and large quiver filled to the brim with arrows. The bow was made of wood again, but made of strong-looking wood. There was a well-carved handle in the center and the string was of tight cloth, woven much more expertly than the straw bowstring.

"Go, you be our Hunter, now," Vol'jin said. "Go to da southwest near da Valley of Trials and stay away from the areas to da north where the path leads ta Orgrimmar. Try ta hunt down some boars fer us. Be careful!"

"Me?" Kul'thran asked. But Vol'jin shook his head and waved his hand in front of Kul'thran.

"Go."

After a few moments, Kul'thran nodded. The newly-appointed Hunter knew what he was supposed to do. Taking the new bow in hand, and strapping the quiver to his back, Kul'thran, wearing only the lightest of armor ran off into the southwest, towards the setting sun to hunt.

Out of necessity (and from some tricks from other hunters), Kul'thran learned how to hunt properly. He learned how to gather meat and keep it with him in the most efficient ways. One of the tricks he learned was sneaking, and how to sneak up on one's prey. It was an orc hunter who taught him, and from that, Kul'thran got his first kill.

Now, they had separated, and the hunter was left to himself to find more prey. Hiding behind a stone near the Valley of Trials (a place where they trained new recruits for the Horde), Kul'thran spotted his prey: it was a gray-skinned, hairy boar, feeding on a small patch of grass.

Carefully taking aim, Kul'thran shot an arrow into the side of the boar. He heard a surprised and angry squeal come from the boar. Unfortunately, it seemed to have noticed Kul'thran (despite his hiding spot. It wasn't a very good one in the first place) and it charged the hunter with its tusks.

To avoid getting gored by the vicious animal, Kul'thran jumped over it and rolled across the ground behind the boar. The animal looked confused, not knowing where its target had gone. Smiling, Kul'thran nocked another arrow and fired. The arrow lodged itself squarely into the boar's backside, enraging it even further. It turned around and charged the troll again.

This time, Kul'thran had no time had dodge, instead, he was rammed by the boar and knocked over. He tried to get up, but the boar rushed him with the intent of impaling Kul'thran upon its tusks. The hunter was not interested in that, and so, he pulled out an arrow, ducked and stabbed the boar in the stomach with the arrow in his hand. That stopped the boar, and killed it. Another slab of meat for his tribe.

Taking up the corpse, Kul'thran returned to his hiding spot and placed the corpse down next to the other he had killed. Looking around, the hunter searched for his next target.

He hunted throughout the day, and eventually, returned home with many corpses of dead boars riding on his back. The tribe was there to greet him, including a wounded Vol'jin and many wounded warriors.

"We drove da harpies back ta der nests," Vol'jin explained. "But dere be still too many of dem on the roads fer us to handle wit' da resources dat we haff. At least, fer now, dey will leave us alone." When he saw the amount of food Kul'thran brought back, he smiled. "I be pleased wit' ya, Kul'thran. Tank you fer helping us."

"It be no problem... but.. can I be gettin' somemon ta help me carry these?" he asked, under the weight of several boar corpses. One of the headhunters, an unwounded one, came to his aid and helped the hunter carry the food back into the village.

That night, they ate the food Kul'thran brought back. The hunter, on the other hand, did not eat at all. Instead, he stood by the edge of the village, staring out into the seas towards Echo Isles. Vol'jin walked up to his side. "Kul'thran... ya did a good job, mon. But it'll be at least a few days until da other hunters recover. Do ya tink you can still hunt fer us?"

Kul'thran thought about it for a moment, and then remembered something. "What about ma studies?" He had such spiritual potential, which was why he had been chosen when he was young to be a priest for the tribe.

"You'll haff ta put dose aside fer now, maybe even fer a long time and consider becoming a Shadow Hunter later instead," Vol'jin said. "Bein' a hunter be requirin' full time trainin'. But we'll see what happens."

Kul'thran nodded. Not realizing that in the future, he would grow to like being a hunter, and would set aside his mystical studies for a long, long time.

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 7 - My Friend

2009-04-15T14:17:00.000-06:00

Kul'thran was helping build the new village on Echo Isles just east of Sen'jin Village in southern Durotar. It had been several months since they had escaped the island, and a month since they arrived at the new continent.

He had gone through many trials and tribulations since they had crash-landed on Kalimdor. Kul'thran, the Darkspear Tribe, Thrall's group, and the Warsong Clan had all been separated. The young troll had found himself alone without any anyone around him. He finally met up with some members of his tribe. They had been tracking the footsteps of the orcs for miles, and Kul'thran decided to help them.

It was then that the young troll began to learn how to track--a skill that would prove useful in his future.

Eventually, Kul'thran was reunited with Mah'kajor, Vol'jin, Thrall, and the rest of the Horde when they just encountered humans on the land. Thrall was seeking something called "the Oracle," and while the young troll was curious, the warchief was more interested in keeping young people like Kul'thran alive. So, he was kept the safest parts of the settlements as they travelled from place to place. It was during this time that Kul'thran and the rest of the troll tribe began to study the shamanistic arts of the Horde.

Much later, he found out that the Horde was, ironically, all aligned with the same group of humans led by a woman named Jaina Proudmoore. He never caught the details of why they were united, except for the fact that Grom Hellscream, the leader of the Warsong Clan, had fallen to the influence of the Burning Legion.

Staying safe in the strongest parts of the base, Kul'thran watched the horrors of the Legion unleashed upon the Horde. However, in the end, Thrall and Jaina won, and Grom sacrificed his life to save the orcs from the Legion's grasp. He had never seen it, but Kul'thran had heard of Grom's courage against the Pit Lord Mannoroth, which led to the deaths of both combatants. Thrall said that in their new home, he would create a shrine for Grom's noble sacrifice.

Right now, Thrall and the others had ascended a large mountain called "Hyjal," now uniting themselves with a race called the "Night Elves," who had apparently defeated the legion before, in order to protect the World Tree from the grasp of an evil demon named Archimonde. He didn't understand all the details, but all he knew now that he was helping build the new home for the orcs and the trolls while the others fought at Nordrassil (the name of the World Tree).

The young troll was busy working on one of the shacks when he saw another troll run up to him. He wore rugged pants and carried a quiver of spears on his back. On his head, his green hair was shaved into sharp mohawk. In his hands, he held a blood-stained spear that was broken. It looked like it was once a berserker's spear, but all that was left was half of it, some wood and the spearhead.

Kul'thran stopped working. He turned to face the warrior troll, curious as to why this spear was being brought to him. He was shorter compared to the warrior, yet that troll knelt before Kul'thran as a token of sorrowful peace. Something was wrong; a troll only did this to another when something important or dire had occurred.

"Kul'thran," the warrior troll spoke. "I be havin' bad news fer you. Mah'kajor is dead." Kul'thran's eyes popped open wide, startled. "He died fightin' in the battle of Mt. Hyjal, savin' a night elf's life." Kul'thran was speechless. "Here, take dis," the warrior troll said, offering the blood-stained spear to him. "This was all we could find of Mah'kajor after da battle. His corpse haff been mutilated."

Taking the spear slowly from the warrior troll's hands, Kul'thran nodded. "Tank you..." was all he could say.

The warrior troll stood up, nodded at the young troll and then left.

Kul'thran fought back the tears of pain; Mah'kajor had been his best friend throughout his entire life. The berserker had taught Kul'thran many things, like how to throw a spear, how to be a strong warrior (though that never worked out too well due to Kul'thran's lack of strength), how to be brave, and most importantly, how to be happy in the most dismal of times.

This was one of those times; Kul'thran could cry all he wanted, but his tears would not bring back his dead friend. He thought back to the last moments he shared with Mah'kajor. Kul'thran had been allowed to go see the preparations at Mt. Hyjal before the demons and the undead arrived.

There was a great amount of tension as the orcs, humans, and night elves fervently fortified their bases for the inevitable assault. Kul'thran felt out of place as he watched the orc peons quickly, yet precisely construct the needed buildings for defense. He wasn't a warrior despite his brave attack on the Sea Witch so long ago, so he felt worthless on the battlefield. Nevertheless, Kul'thran was excited and prayed that the allied groups would have victory over the Legion.

Suddenly, he was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, Kul'thran was face to face with Mah'kajor, who was grinning mischievously. "'ey, brother," the berserker said. "Wanna see da night elf base? Dey got some whacky voodoo over dere."

This aroused Kul'thran's curiosity. "Whacky voodoo, eh?" He had never seen the night elves up close before. However, Vol'jin had told him to stay at the base. "Hmm... but Vol'jin dun be wantin' me ta leave."

"Bah. What happen'd ta yer sense of adventure, mon? Come on, we be takin' a short look and den return ta da base, ja?" Mah'kajor winked.

Kul'thran grinned back. "All right. Let's go den!"

"Dat's da spirit," Mahka'jor said approvingly, patting Kul'thran on the shoulder. "Follow me."

The two trolls made their way up the mountain to the very base of the World Tree where the night elf base was situated. They took a route off to the side to avoid going through the main entrance of the base. There, Kul'thran could not believe what he saw. He had heard rumors that the night elf war buildings were trees, but he never expected it to be true.

Yet it was. There, he saw tall trees with gnarled arms, and glowing eyes. Each tree seemed to be rooted to the ground, except one. It was a smaller tree, walking slowly towards another group of similar-looking ones. After awhile, the tree sat itself down and rooted itself into ground next to its 'brothers.' Because they were all placed at the entrance of the base, Kul'thran assumed that they were guardian trees of some sort, ready to protect the base from danger like the orcish burrows or watch towers would.

There were two type of buildings that Kul'thran recognized as 'normal.' One looked like a fancy human building with arching roofs. The other type was a big group of large, stone wells, filled to the brim with shimmering water (or at least, he thought it was water). He thought it would be a great place to take a bath.

Then there were the night elves themselves. The majority of the them were female, and for the first time, Kul'thran set his eyes on night elf women. All of them were armored to the teeth, save their heads, which were protected by face-guards instead of helmets. He thought they were the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen in his life. This was very strange because he was troll, and they were elves. In the eastern kingdoms, there was a mutual hatred between the high elves and the trolls. Both sides hated the other, and despite these night elves being a slightly different type of elf, it would seem abnormal for a troll to think kindly of them.

Despite this strange reaction that was occurring inside of Kul'thran's heart, the troll just gave himself deeper and deeper into the beauty of the night elves. He was so entranced that he didn't realize Mah'kajor was trying to get his attention by nudging him in the shoulder. After several nudges, Kul'thran felt shaken and looked sharply at the berserker.

"What'cha starin' at? Ya look like yer in heaven or someting, mon."

Kul'thran knew he was blushing the moment he thought of the elves again. "I was jus'... surpris'd by... umm... da buildings! Jah, da buildings. Dat's all," he lied.

Mah'kajor laughed. "I dun believe ya. Anymon dun drool over trees. I be bettin' ya were lookin' at someting else. Eh?"

Kul'thran groaned. "All right, all right. I was starin' at da women 'ere. Dey're... all so... pretty."

Mah'kajor raised a brow. "Dey're also elves, ya know."

"Not high elves, though!" Kul'thran protested, looking at the berserker intently. "Dey dun be our enemies, mon!"

Mah'kajor chuckled and patted the young troll on the back strongly. "Yeah, yeah. Dat's true. Tell me, Kul'thran, which one of dem do ja like da most?"

He couldn't believe Mah'kajor had asked him that question. Now, the young troll knew he was being teased. Neverthless, he turned his head again and looked upon the warriors (or warrioresses?). Then, he noticed a particular elf that was fairly close to him and Mah'kajor, but hadn't noticed them yet. She was thin, yet strong-looking, her glowing, star-like eyes were a light pink, and on her cheeks, across her eyes were crescent, facing markings. She had royal blue hair, set in a short ponytail. The night elf was in full armor, yet had not fully armed herself like the other warriors.

As she sheathed her sword, she noticed Kul'thran staring at her. A foul expression crossed her face and she looked away from him. The night elf said something in his direction in her native tongue that he didn't understand before walking away. It sounded hostile, though, and caught Kul'thran off-guard.

"Dat one, eh?" Mah'kajor said, making Kul'thran lose his train of thought. "Ya know, girls dun like it when ya stare at dem."

"Well, you asked, mon!" the young troll countered. "Such an embarrassin' question, too. But... yer right... I do like dat one." He suddenly felt bad. Kul'thran had been literally staring from the sidelines at these women for minutes, almost like a pervert. Crap. That's not what I meant to do. He placed his palm on his forehead and groaned at himself for being so disrespectful.

"What be wrong?" Mah'kajor asked.

"I be feelin' like a pervert, mon," Kul'thran admitted. "'ere, I've been starin' at dese elves fer awhile, not tinkin' about what dey tink or feel about dis."

Mah'kajor chuckled. "Well, it only be natural, Kul'thran. Dun feel too bad about it. Dey'll forget about it very soon." He leaned over and whispered into the young troll's ear: "ya picked a real cute one, though."

This caused Kul'thran's cheeks to warm up. "Oh geez, Mah'kajor. Do ya haff ta embarrass me like dat?"

"What are friends for, eh?" The berserker grinned and then laughed again, patting Kul'thran on the shoulder. "Though, dere's someting else ya should see. Look dere," he said, pointing towards the gigantic World Tree. Kul'thran looked and saw a tall male night elf, wearing horns on his head and carrying a large, blue, and curved staff. He looked very wise, sage-like, and from what Kul'thran could feel spiritually, this night elf was very powerful.

"Who is dat?" Kul'thran asked.

"Dat's Malfurion Stormrage. He's da night elf Archdruid, and leader of da night elves."

Kul'thran had already heard of Stormrage, however. He was a powerful person who Thrall had said that the presence of the spirits was very strong around him. Kul'thran felt amazed, stunned even, to see the Archdruid in person. "Wow... so... dat's him." Stormrage didn't seem to notice them at all; he was busy speaking with one of the female warriors. Yet, still Kul'thran was puzzled. "I thought dat dere be another, though; another leader."

"Ah. Ya mean da Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind?" Mah'kajor asked. "I heard dat she be down at da human base, makin' preparations dere."

The made sense; Archimonde was likely to hit the humans's base first since it was located at the base of the mountain.

"So, had yer fill of da elves?" Mah'kajor asked with a grin. "I told ya dey haff some whacky voodoo up 'ere."

"Yeah... da trees and everyting," Kul'thran responded, sounding impressed. Though, he had not seen what the night elves could do, nor what the Archdruid's power was. In time, he would discover what those were. "Yeah, let's go back. Vol'jin is gunna kill me if he finds out dat I left."

"Right."

Thus, the two trolls left the night elf complex. Kul'thran took one look back, to see if he could catch that one night elf warrior he saw earlier, but it was in vain, she was lost from his sight.

When they returned to the base, they found Vol'jin waiting near a burrow for them. "Kul'thran...!" he growled. "Where haff you been, young mon!? What did I tell ya earlier!?"

Kul'thran sighed as he walked over toe Vol'jin shamefully. "Not ta leave da base."

"Dat's right and--"

"Wait, wait!" Mah'kajor interjected, running between Kul'thran and Vol'jin. "Let me be takin' da blow. I be da one who dragg'd him up dere. I wanted to show him da night elves."

The young troll felt stunned, yet not surprised. Mah'kajor often stood up for him when he was in trouble. He felt gratitude towards his true friend for taking Vol'jin's ire for Kul'thran's sake.

Kul'thran had returned to Sen'jin Village on a raptor at that time because the Legion had been drawing close. Kudos were too slow, and he needed to be somewhere safe.

Staring down at the bloodstained spear, he let his tears drop on the edge of blade. The berserker was dead now and had gone the way of the earth. Kul'thran reflected on their friendship. Even if Mah'kajor was dead, they would be friends forever; that bond would never be broken. That consoled him inside. Yes, there was still hope.

Setting down the spear next to his feet. Kul'thran returned to work, with a dark, yet hopeful countenance around him.

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 6 - The Nightmare

2009-01-01T17:20:00.000-07:00

Kalimdor. A continent--a new world--that Kul'thran had never known about before. Apparently, Thrall had been informed by a prophet, warning them that they should leave the Eastern Kingdoms for this western land. Even Thrall did not understand why he was coming except that the 'Spirits' had told him to trust the prophet's warning.

At first, the land looked extremely barren to Kul'thran. How could anyone survive here? Yet, the orcs found a way, and began to search for a place to build a home. They found the soil to be somewhat hospitable, and marked a location to build their new city. But first, they would need lumber to do it, but this did not concern Kul'thran.

Vol'jin and the Darkspear tribe began to become interested in the old Shaman arts of the orcs, and soon were practicing the same things. It was a different type of spiritual power than a priest: Shamans focused on the spirits, and elements for their powers. They, too, could heal wounds, but in ways that the trolls had never before seen. Vol'jin decided to adopt some of these powers into the Shadow Hunter training, making them more versatile.

Curious, the young troll went and did something he rarely did: he studied the ancient Shaman arts and was very impressed by the powers held by them in the past. These teachings were about honor, strength, and battle. But, he noticed something interesting, there were no teachings of bloodlust or carnal, vicious desires. He learned that the orcs were much more peaceful before the demons--a force called the Burning Legion--enslaved them, and now they were returning to their relatively peaceful Shamanistic roots.

This would be the first time Kul'thran would hear about the Burning Legion, but would not be last.

During their travels with Thrall and company, Kul'thran had a dream one night--a nightmare to be precise. There was a small jungle troll village at night. All was quiet until one male troll stirred and opened his eyes. "Someting is wrong," he said to himself. Getting out of his bed, he shook his wife gently. "Wake up, love! Wake up! I tink we be in danger!" He was tall, strong-looking, and had light blue hair, and purple eyes.

The female troll sat up, looking dazed and tired. She had light-green hair, red eyes, and sea blue skin. She spoke tiredly, yet gently. "What be wrong?" She peered around and nothing seemed to be amiss. All was quiet. "I dun be seein' any danger."

"It dun be here yet," he responded. "I'm getting my weapons and armor. Go, and take our son, and maybe we can be gettin' him ta safety before they come."

"Who?"

"... I dun know. I just had a feelin'... hurry, ma love!" Quickly, he ran up to the upper level of the small hut.

Despite the odd commands, the wife obeyed her husband and quickly got dressed. Running into another section of the hut, she wrapped up her child in a blanket, and carried him in her arms. Soon, the father came down, donned in studded leather and two large axes at his waist. In his arms, he carried bundles of food and water as if he were preparing for a long trip.

"Follow me," he said. The wife nodded and went along with her husband to the shore where they kept their fishing boats. Taking the largest one, the husband stuffed the food and water into the middle. "We need ta leave, quickly."

"But I still dun under-"

Suddenly, there was a bright light--of torches-- in the distance. There were loud, riotous noises from the north. It sounded like a mob was coming straight for the village. The wife looked at her husband.

"I tink... I understand now," she said. "Ya had... another vision."

Because of the noise, the whole village began to awake. Trolls let out screams of horror as the mob descended upon the small village.

Elves. Drunken high elves in mass numbers in full armor and armed to the teeth. They looked bloodthristy. Trolls and Elves were mortal enemies, but this small village of jungle trolls had never bothered any elves. Why were they coming down here now with the intent to destroy the village? Or at least, it seemed that way.

Men and women that could fight scrambled for their armor and weapons, but they were too late as a group of archers launched a volley of flaming arrows on one of the homes, slaughtering the trolls inside and setting the building on fire.

"Ya must go wit' our son, now!" the husband said. "I haff ta help defend da village! Our homes will be lost if I dun... and... yer life." They exchanged worried looks. "Please, Ja'nin," the husband persisted, placing his hands on his wife's shoulders. "Get in da boat, and out ta sea fer yer lives!"

"Al... alright. What about you?"

"Dis may be da last time we see each other, love," he said grimly.

There was a sudden explosion that caught Ja'nin and her husband's attention. Several of the buildings were now on fire, and screams of horror, and roars of victory echoed throughout the air. An elf descended upon a troll and stabbed him in the back with a short sword. A vicious laugh escaped the elf's mouth as the bleeding troll beneath him struggled to get up.

"I haff to go. Run away wit' our son!" he exclaimed before drawing his axes and attacking the elf that had stabbed the other troll with several heavy swings. The elf was not prepared for an armed troll and was immediately cut through the chest and the waist. The elf tumbled over and let out a hacking noise, cursing the husband in Elven.

Ja'nin watched in horror as her husband was forced to fend off many elven warriors and even some archers. He was pierced with arrows, slashed with swords and bashed with shields. Yet, he still stood strong, slaying as many elves that he could, but by the time that the other trolls were ready to fight, it looked like the husband could take no more, and finally, fell to the ground, dead.

She began to cry, but there was nothing she could do except try to escape discreetly across the sea. Ja'nin had no clue where she was going, but it had to be somewhere safe. She pushed the boat into the water and jumped in, baby in arms and all. She looked back to see that an elven archer had spotted her. Pulling back his bow, the elf shot an arrow at Ja'nin and her child.

She ducked, covering her son, probably hoping that the arrow would miss. But it did not, instead, it sailed into her right side, causing her to let out a scream of pain. The archer aimed another arrow when a troll came up from behind him and scalped him with a hand axe. All the while, Ja'nin, nursing her wounded side in the best way that she could, drifted off to the west as the wind carried the little boat--even without sails--in that direction.

In the distance, she watched as her whole home, her village, and her people destroyed by fire, and weapons.

That was when Kul'thran woke up, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. He was gripping his mother's blanket tightly. Suddnely, the tent flap opened and Vol'jin walked in, he was looking very concerned.

"What be wrong, mon? Ya haff been screamin' fer da past few minutes!" he exclaimed.

Kul'thran shook himself and said, "I... I had a dream, a nightmare, Vol'jin. A really... scary... one. Very, very scary."

Vol'jin's expression changed, he looked sympathetically at the young troll, and asked, "do you want to tell me about it?" Kul'thran nodded. "Alright, tell me what happened, mon."

The next few days, Kul'thran pondered the dream, wondering what it could mean. The nightmare kept occuring every other night, and he had to see the bloodshed of the husband, the sorrow of his death, and the pain of Ja'nin. Fortunately, Kul'thran eventually got over his fear of it, and only awoke a little distressed.

The meaning of the dream did not come to him at all though. Not at least for a long time... for years to come.

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 5 - Memories

2008-12-29T21:47:00.000-07:00

Kul'thran and the others ran up the passage and out of the cave to see a stormy sky above them, releasing ominous rain upon the island. Suddenly, the island shook violently, and for a moment, the young troll thought it was going to plunge into the sea. However, it fortunately stabilized itself instead.

Kul'thran's old shirt was worn with the mixed musty smell of burnt cloth and wet clothing. His pants were in no better condition, and felt uncomfortable on his legs. However, that did not stop the troll; he had a few light wounds on his body, here and there, but nothing terribly massive, especially when compared to the orcs, many of whom were almost bathing in blood and rain with large spear wounds from the murlocs' attacks. Thrall was just as wounded as his companions, but still held strong in spite of his injuries.

"Come! We'll return to base, gather the trolls, and set sail for Kalimdor!" he commanded.

Kalimdor? What's that? Kul'thran wondered curiously. Whatever or wherever it was, he hoped it was safer than on this island so close to the Maelstorm. The other orcs saluted their warchief and made haste towards the base in the southern shore. How they knew it was there, Kul'thran never found out.

Someone poked Kul'thran on the shoulder, causing him to turn around; it was Vol'jin. "Mon, listen ta me," he said firmly, placing his arms on the young troll's shoulders. "As yer guardian now, I need ya to get ta da base and get yerself behind the strongest orcs and trolls we have. Got it? No hero business!"

Kul'thran nodded, and turned to leave with Vol'jin and the others when he sensed a strong spiritual presence. He turned around and saw that Thrall had not left yet, but had been nursing his wolf's wounds with first aid. He was being quick, so that (Kul'thran guessed) he could return swiftly to the orcish base. However, as he mounted his wolf, he looked behind himself and stared into the distance. Perhaps, he, too, could sense the presence.

Out of air and water appeared a woman of evil design that sent shivers down Kul'thran's back. This must be that Sea Witch!

She let out a wail of anger and glared at Thrall. "You land-dwellers... outsiders! You will not escape my wrath! I will send this island to the bottom of the very ocean, and there will be nothing you could possibly do to stop me!"

"Maybe not," Thrall responded. "But that doesn't mean we can't leave without your permission! Besides... you had your sacrifice!" he added angrily. "Isn't that enough for you?"

"You..." she narrowed her eyes. "How dare you think you can control my need for power! I am the goddess of these waters, and sacrifices must be made to me. In this case, it would have been you and those petty trolls. One is never enough!" She raised her hands towards Thrall. "Now... since you have been the most troublesome outsider--"

Kul'thran wouldn't let it happen. Despite what Vol'jin said, he pulled out his chain with the shrunken heads on them and cast a dark incantation on each of the heads. He noticed Vol'jin out of the corner of his eye lunge for him, but the young troll quickly rolled forward and threw his chain at the witch's arms. With a direct hit, the chain wrapped around the being's arms tightly, and each of the shrunken heads, on contact, released black gases into the air.

Shrieks of pain escaped the Sea Witch's mouth, and she struggled to break the chain apart with no avail. He saw Thrall take the opportunity to flee from the Sea Witch. He headed straight for the base and motioned for the trolls to follow. Vol'jin gave Kul'thran a dark glare, but before he could say anything else, a voice screamed from behind them.

"You will never escape the fate of this island!" It was the Sea Witch. Kul'thran dared not to look behind him, instead, he kept running alongside his people and the orcs to the main base. Finally, within minutes, they reached the southern shore.

Unfortunately, the base was heavily damaged, the great fortifications that Kul'thran had seen the day before were mere piles of wood as peons struggled to repair burning watch towers and broken buildings. A wolf rider approached Thrall, and announced that a volcano had erupted nearby, threatening to destroy the island.

"Then it is necessary that we leave this island," Thrall said.

"What about the trolls, chieftain?"

"They are coming with us to Kalimdor. It was Sen'jin's wish for us to take them there," he explained.

"Wait, warchief," Vol'jin spoke up. He looked concerned. "Dere still be many of our tribe in the central parts of da island. We be needin' all of our people dat we can be gettin', mon."

"All right then," Thrall said. He turned to the rider. "How long until the ships are repaired?"

"About twenty minutes, warchief," the rider responded.

"Sounds like we'll haff ta be survivin' until den," Kul'thran said. He looked over at the ships near the shore; they hardly looked like the type orcs would build from the design of orcish buidlings. "Say... did you--?"

"No time fer dat, 'lil brudda," Mahka'jor interrupted. "We need to get our people back."

"Yeah, mon," Vol'jin said. "But, Kul'thran, you be stayin' here. I told ya no hero business, and I be meanin' it dis time! I dun want ya ta die on us. Alright?"

This time, Kul'thran nodded more firmly. There was no need for him to leave, yet he was nervous; at any moment, the island could sink to the bottom. He wondered if the orcs could really hold out long enough to repair the ships and avoid the Sea Witch's wrath.

The strongest of the trolls agreed to go and gather their people, while Thrall offered some of his men to go with them. As soon as they were done speaking, a group of murlocs raided the base with their spears. From the towers, the orcish archers barraged their enemies with arrows as grunts, and wolf riders rushed to stop the attack.

"I'll stay back in case that witch reappears!" Thrall said. "Go quickly!"

The trolls saluted him and immediately rushed out the northern path out of the base towards the village. Kul'thran wanted to go, but he knew it would be too dangerous, even around his friends. For one thing, he was weaponless now, and he only had a few priest spells to protect himself with.

The warchief turned to Kul'thran. "My friend," he said calmly. "I've noticed you've been able to use a little of the priestly magic. Can you heal? Even if only lightly?"

Kul'thran shook his head, now he was regretting the times he skipped his healing lessons. "Sorry I dun be a fully train'd priest yet. What do ya want me ta do, warchief?"

"I wanted you to help heal any wounds of the warriors and workers at the ships," he explained. "Can you do First Aid, Kul'thran?"

"Only a small bit, mon."

"That's good enough for me. Go to the shore where the ships are and see if you can help with any the wounds of the orcs down there. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Kul'thran saluted Thrall. It felt strange to do that; for after being alongside him throughout the whole underground dungeon, Thrall felt more like a companion rather than a superior being. Yet, the young troll knew his manners (as taught by the trolls) and knew to respect authority.

As he reached the southern shore of the island, Kul'thran slipped on a wet rock, slammed into the ground and blacked out. He stood up to find himself in total darkness. Where... am I? He stepped forward and found the the floor to be very cold, so cold that it caused his whole body to shiver.

"Kul'thran..." a kind voice said from behind him.

He turned around suddenly to see a female troll who had been standing behind him. She was about his height, and carried those same red eyes that he did. There was something familiar about this person, but the young troll couldn't put his finger on it.

"Who be you?" Kul'thran asked. "How do ya be knowin' ma name?"

The troll didn't answer him, instead, she began to cry silently. Kul'thran moved to try to comfort her when he saw that she was smiling at him. The young troll was confused, he didn't know what was going on or why this woman was here. He recalled that he was supposed to be tending to Thrall's men, but somehow, he had ended up in this world of darkness with this crying female troll.

Finally she spoke in their native tongue: "I'm glad you're alive."

"Huh?" Kul'thran was absolutely clueless as to what she was referring to. Was he supposed to be dead? Or dying? He didn't feel that way at all.

Even more bizarre, the female troll stepped forward and placed her hand on his forehead for no reason that the young troll could think of.

"I... I wish you could stay here," she said. "But this is just a dream, Kul'thran. It's time to wake up. Other people need you now in the real world. Go!" She pressed her hand on his forehead and shoved him forward.

"Wait!" he cried out. "Who you be? Tell me!" But as soon as he fell over and hit the ground with a loud thud he awoke from the dream, and found himself lying on hard wood. The smell of the salty sea was in the air, and above him, he could see large sails tied to a mast. They were fully drawn, and catching the wind.

The face of a troll looked down at him with surprise and then looked up. "He be awake! Kul'thran's awake, mons!" the troll shouted with her hands cupped around her mouth.

Slowly, Kul'thran began to get up, rubbing the back of his sore head when he was bombarded upon by many trolls, a few orcs, and Mahka'jor. They all seemed happy to see him well probably because many of others mentioned that they thought he had died, including his best friend. Then, he was barraged by questions.

"Hey, what happen'd, mon?"

"Does yer head hurt?"

"Are ya alright?"

And others. Finally, a deep, booming voice called out among the group. "Give 'im some air, everymon!" The trolls and orcs backed away from Kul'thran, and allowed the speaker to come forward. It was Vol'jin. The seasoned Shadow Hunter was wearing several bandages, one on his leg, another on his shoulder, and another on his left arm.

He smiled. "Good to see ya awake. Some of us thought ya had died, and others thought dat ya were asleep. I knew ya were alive, though." He walked towards Kul'thran slowly. "'ere, I haff someting fer ya." Into the young troll's hands was placed a blanket wrapped in a bundle, it was blue with crossed faded red and green colored stripes in a square formation. He recognized it immediately.

"Ya went fer ma mother's blanket..." Kul'thran was amazed. This was the blanket that he was assumed to be wrapped in when his mother came to the island. "Wouldn't ya haff put yerself in danger by doin' this?" he asked.

Vol'jin smiled. "I had some extra time, so, I went into yer room and grabbed it since I be knowin' how precious dat be ta you."

"... tank you, Vol'jin," Kul'thran said slowly, feeling the damp fabric of the blanket with his hands. Somehow, it was still warm despite the cool weather they had. Kul'thran had no memory of his mother or what she looked like, but he believed that he could still feel her love for him within the very parts of the blanket.

Now, Vol'jin was gathering the tribe together for something important, and already Kul'thran knew what it was about.

The Darkspear Tribe had assembled in a large circle on the ship's deck. Kul'thran had taken a seat next to Mahka'jor (who was also had bandaged wounds from the escape), and waited patiently for Vol'jin to speak.

The Shadow Hunter looked around and apparently was satisfied with the setup. Therefore, he spoke loudly and clearly so all the tribe could hear: "Ma people! I have gathered you all together like dis to decide on who will be the new tribal leader."

Kul'thran already knew who the trolls were going to pick from among them to be the leader; it would be Sen'jin's son. Usually, the tribe always had a succession from father to son, and so forth. If there was no son, then the people would choose a strong, spiritual troll to lead them, but the circle of decision was only used when there was no son. So, Kul'thran wondered why he was using it.

Apparently the trolls were just as confused, they looked back and forth from one another as if trying to find an answer. Finally, Mahka'jor spoke up from among them. "Why, we would be pickin' you, Vol'jin." The other members of the tribe all agreed vocally with the berserker's suggestion.

Vol'jin sighed and then nodded. At first, Kul'thran thought he looked hesitant to take up the spot, but after he opened his eyes, the young troll could see firm determination in them. Apparently, Vol'jin had changed his mind. He stood up and said, "Very well, I will take ma father's place as da chieftain of the Darkspear Tribe."

The whole tribe stood up and gave Vol'jin a supportive cheer, and Kul'thran joined them.

"And you will have a great place in the Horde," a voice said from behind the new chieftain. He turned around to see Thrall walking down from the helm. He was smiling proudly. "Well done, chieftain. May the spirits bless your people who will be among us."

"Tank you, warchief," Vol'jin responded. The two took each other's hand and shook them firmly. It was official, the Darkspear Tribe was now a part of the Horde, and things would never be the same again.

Especially for Kul'thran.

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 4 - The Sacrifice

2008-11-28T18:47:00.000-07:00

Kul'thran...!

Kul'thran!

Wake up! Wake up!

"Ugh..." Kul'thran heard the voices calling out to him. His head hurt and he could see nothing but darkness.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands shook him vigorously. "Kul'thran! Wake up!" called a familiar gruff voice. Groaning, Kul'thran rubbed his face, and slowly opened his eyes. Red light flooded into his vision and almost blinded him. After a few moments, his blurry vision cleared to reveal a crimson, rocky ceiling and the face of Thrall. "Thank the Spirits you're all right."

Kul'thran wearily pulled himself onto his feet. "Ahh... ma head." He rubbed it tenderly. "Where we be?" Finally, he got a view of where he was. He was imprisoned within a stone cell with iron bars along with Thrall in a dark, underground cavern with a fiery glow, that came from a flaming fountain in the center of the room outside the cell. Murlocs were patrolling the area back and forth and two green murloc guards stood in front of the prison cell's gate.

"Underground," Thrall said. He was examining his riding wolf, and readjusting the crimson saddle on it. "Kul'thran." The troll perked up at the sound of his name. "Tell me... what do these fish creatures--these murlocs--want with us?"

"It be a long story," Kul'thran said. "Da murlocs used to be a peaceful people, who didn't go botherin' our tribe. But recently, dey start'd worshippin' some sea witch. I be hearin' dat she demands sacrifice of tribe members, otherwise she be sendin' da island inta da sea. Ever since, dey haff been capturin' us and slayin' us at der cursed altar."

"How long ago did this start?" Thrall asked, looking away at his mount to look at the teenage troll.

"A few weeks, I'd say, mon." He was depressed; how on earth was he going to get out of here? Kul'thran did not want to be sacrificed, but he had no clue how to escape. They were restrained by iron bars and stone walls; it would only be a matter of time before they came to drag him away to the altar.

Thrall chuckled triumphantly. "Someone should have told them that things like that don't scare orcs that easily!" He mounted his wolf and raised his hammer into the air with his right arm. "Let's get out of here and find your friends and your father before this gets out of hand!"

Thrall chanted something indisernable to Kul'thran and suddenly lightning shot out from his hammer, splitting through the bars, breaking down, and slaying both murloc guards with a single blow. Kul'thran was in awe. He could not believe how powerful Thrall was, and how brave he was. Here, the troll had been sitting around moping and awaiting his doom while Thrall had been planning not only their escape, but the escape of the whole tribe from the murloc's hands. Why... did I fear? he thought.

"Kul'thran!" Thrall said, jarring the teenage troll from his senses. "Come!" He rode out of the prison and the troll followed as best he could. The warchief stopped his wolf and looked around. "There seems to be some sort of magical distortion, I can't see the underground area with my powers," he said as Kul'thran went over to an empty cage and picked up a broken chain that was about three and a half feet long. "What are you doing?"

"Gettin' maself a weapon," Kul'thran replied. He examined the chain carefully, and thought, this will work perfectly. Taking the chain in hand, the troll nodded to Thrall. "I be ready. Though, I can't really be fightin' on ma own."

"I thought you just picked up a weapon," Thrall said.

"Dis one is a weapon ta be saved fer later, warchief."

Thrall shrugged and then nodded. "Well, you seem to have your reasons. Let's go before your friends are taken away." He led the way, and Kul'thran ran to keep up with the Horde's warchief.

They made their way swiftly down a dark corridor past a flaming pillar of lava in the center of a stone walkway. Indeed, they were underground, perhaps even in the underworld itself. It was so hot, stuffy, and dark, only lit by the flames of the torches and of the spewing lava pillars.

Kul'thran wiped his forehead; he was certain that if the murlocs couldn't kill him, the heat and atmosphere would. He continued down the path at Thrall's side, soon, they found another barred gate, guarded by two yellow murlocs. They looked tougher than the ones that had guarded their own cell. The two kept their distance from the murlocs, masking themselves in the darkness.

"Free 'em by force?" Kul'thran whispered to Thrall.

"It seems to be the only way," the warchief responded. The warrior rode over and let out a battle-cry, most likely to catch the attention of the murlocs and drive them away from the defenseless Kul'thran.

At least, he was defenseless for a short time; for it wasn't long until the troll found a broken spear on the ground. The spear-head was attached to some broken wood and was still fine, so Kul'thran picked it up and sneaked up behind a murloc. With a swift stroke, Kul'thran stabbed the murloc in the chest, killing it instantly.

Thrall had just finished smashing the skull of the other murloc when he saw the troll make his killing move. "Impressive," the orc said. "You have a talent for ingeniusness, Kul'thran."

"Why, tank ya," he said sheepishly.

"Let's free these warriors now!" Thrall commanded and together, Kul'thran and the warchief bashed on the prison doors until they smashed open, and fell onto the ground. Out of the cell charged an orc grunt and a troll spearthrower. He was one of the trolls that had taunted Kul'thran the other night.

"Wha? What'cha doin' here?" he asked. "It's dangerous, mon!"

"Not ma fault!" Kul'thran protested. "Dey captured me, too!"

"Don't blame him," Thrall said calmly. "He was taken with me to my cell. He told me all about the sea-witch, and these crazed murlocs." The other troll looked surprised. The orc grunt merely nodded. "We need to hurry, gather other warriors, and find Sen'jin before another sacrifice takes place!"

The three acknowledged Thrall and continued their quest to find the others.

It wasn't long before they discovered many others to join their cause. One by one, Thrall, Kul'thran and other warriors began to free many trolls and a few orcs that had been captured. Yet, three remained missing.

"Vol'jin, Sen'jin, and Mahka'jor," Kul'thran listed them off to the group with his fingers. He felt uncomfortable with everyone, especially Thrall, staring at him with locked attention.

"So, three trolls left," Thrall said. "A Sage, a Shadow Hunter, and a..."

"Berserker," Kul'thran finished for him.

"Right," said one of the orcs. "But how will we find them, warchief?"

"We keep on passing through these dungeons until we see more prisons," Thrall said. "It's the only thing I can think of." He mounted his warwolf. "All right, let's move now!"

"Right!" Kul'thran and the group saluted Thrall and followed the orcish warchief with their weapons drawn and ready to kill.

Turning a corner, Thrall raised his hand to stop. Kul'thran saw why: a group of human warriors had engaged a group of murlocs and were fighting viciously for their lives. So, they were captured, too, the troll thought as he watched the battle rage. The murlocs downed many human warriors with their spears, piercing through their damaged armor and shields, while other footmen cut down the murlocs where they stood with their blades.

As the destructive battle raged on, Kul'thran was puzzled by Thrall's actions. He looked up at the warchief and whispered, "aren't we goin' ta do someting about dis?"

Thrall shook his head. "Not yet. Let the humans fight. We will not interfere."

Finally, the battle ended and the humans were victorious, that is, if it could be called a victory. The ground was covered in human and murloc bodies and only a few soldiers remained alive. The living were wounded, bleeding and taking in heavy breaths. While they had tried to kill his friends and family, he felt some sympathy for the humans, and he couldn't help feel but sorry for their pathetic state. They had tried so hard to fight off the murlocs, and now they would face the wrath of a posed strike.

One of the orcs raised his axe and said, "they're wounded, let's finish them off!" The others appeared to agree, raising their own weapons when Thrall suddenly stopped the orc with a hand.

"Wait a moment. Let me handle this," he said.

"... of course, warchief," the orc said.

Thrall rode forward, and Kul'thran couldn't help himself but follow, he was curious as to what the warchief was planning. One of the trolls tried to grab Kul'thran by the collar to pull him back, but detecting this, the young troll's reflexes kicked in and he rolled out of the way, almost into the sight of the wounded humans. Immediately, he recovered from his mistake by shifting position behind Thrall swiftly.

As he approached the wounded humans, he, a large orc on a large black wolf, was obviously spotted by them. Fear entered into the humans' eyes as they beheld Thrall advance towards them, many scrambled for their weapons, others fell upon their knees, as if ready to beg for mercy.

Thrall stopped, and looked at them with a scrutinizing stare. After a few tense moments, he spoke. "I'm a patient orc. But I tire of seeing people kill others for sport, gain or hatred. Only those with valor fight to protect themselves and their loved ones are worthy of being called honorable beings. Were any of you a part of any assaults on the trolls on this island?"

"No, lord," one of the humans answered humbly. "Please... have mercy on us."

Thrall spoke softly, yet firmly. "Brave warriors, if you swear not to attack us, then I will let you leave, weapons and all, with your lives with a blessing that you may find your way out of this cursed place alive."

All four humans knelt down on their knees with their swords in hands before Thrall and said, "we swear by the Light that we will not harm you."

"Well done," Thrall said. "May the Spirits guide you out of this cursed place with your lives."

The humans stood up and gathered their helmets. One bowed towards Thrall and said, "and may the Light shine upon you, master orc." And with that, they gathered up their shields, put on their helmets and took the passage behind Thrall. Kul'thran noted that they were surprised to see the orcs and trolls around the corner, but they did not fight back, instead, they kept to their word and marched down the passage, looking for their own way out.

Kul'thran was in awe; while Thrall had been kind to him in the past, he had no idea that the warchief was so forgiving of some of his enemies. These ones seemed penitent, and as Thrall said, brave, honorable warriors that deserved to live. He had also never seen humans act so pacified towards them. Looking at Thrall, Kul'thran wanted to learn more from such a warrior.

"What be wrong, Kul'thran?" one of the trolls asked, poking him on the shoulder.

Kul'thran turned around sharply, a little surprised. "Uh... nuttin'. Let's jus' keep on goin' so we can be findin' Sen'jin and the others."

After traveling past a lake of fire and engaging some unwelcome undead, the group finally made it into another area of the underground prison. Kul'thran knew there had to be another cell somewhere nearby, or at least he hoped. He worried about Mahka'jor, Vol'jin and Sen'jin--especially his foster father because Kul'thran had been raised by Sen'jin since he was an infant. The young troll cared for him dearly.

As they all stepped onto the hot stone floors, they noticed that the walls were lined with cell gates that had not been broken down yet. None of them, however, were guarded to the group's surprise. Suddenly, there was a loud wham! from the right. The darkness, although lit by dim torches, was still so thick that the group couldn't see to the right very clearly.

"Let's move!" Thrall commanded, raising his hammer into the air. Kul'thran and the others saluted him and they all made their way over to the right side. Finally, they came upon a large, barred, stone door that was being held up by at least eight murlocs, and the door was filled with large cracks. There was another loud wham! and the door shifted outwards. It looked like something fierce was inside, nearly breaking down the door.

"Should we attack?" one of the orcs asked.

"No," Kul'thran said with a smile spreading on his face. "Dose murlocs are goin' ta be flatten'd in a few moments, mons." Within a few seconds, Kul'thran's statement was proven true as only a couple more slams caused the door to collapse into pieces onto the murlocs, crushing them where they stood; all of them were dead.

Out of the door jumped out a large, muscular troll with a spear pouch on his back and wearing a thick loin cloth with short pants. He had a red mohawk, and a black face. He let out a fierce roar at the group, and the orcs readied themselves for a fight, but Kul'thran and the other trolls stopped them.

Slowly, Kul'thran turned to the large troll. "Mah'kajor?"

The large troll seemed to relax at the call of the name. Slowly, the troll began to shrink a little in size and muscle mass, making it quite apparent that he had been berserking. Before Kul'thran could say anything else, another troll in studded leather armor came out.

"Good job, Mahka'jor!" Vol'jin said. "Ya got us outta dere!" Mahka'jor Spearstrider strode out of the doorway, relaxed a little and smiled at the Shadow Hunter.

"Jus' doin' ma job, ya know, mon?" He looked at Kul'thran and grinned. "Hey, little buddy! Glad ta be seein' dat yer still alive. I be worried ya were dead or being sacrific'd or some bad voodoo like dat." He went over and ruffled the young troll's hair. He took a glance at Thrall and then stopped with a stare. "Oh... yer da warchief Thrall, aren't you?" It must have been the berserker's first meeting with Thrall since afterword, he bowed himself low in front of the orc. "Forgive me fer ma roarin' earlier."

"It's all right," Thrall said calmly. "Stand up. You must be Mahka'jor Spearstrider, the best and most powerful berserker in your tribe."

"And one of da few left," Vol'jin added.

"It is a honor to meet you," Thrall continued.

"Ya, too," Mahka'jor said respectfully. There was a brief silence and then Kul'thran poked Vol'jin, catching his attention.

"Where's father?"

Vol'jin's face was grim. "Da murlocs..." he said slowly, bowing his head. "Dey took him away ta be sacrific'd."

Kul'thran's jaw dropped. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. The troll was shocked to hear it, and anxiety for his foster father's life crept through his veins. Now that he thought about it, who else would the fiendish creatures seek to sacrifice than the most powerful of the and the leader of the Darkspear Tribe? He had to do something, he needed to act. They could wait no longer.

"We need ta be goin'!" he exclaimed, turning to Thrall. "Now! Otherwise...!"

"Don't talk that way to our warchief, troll!" one of the orc grunts roared, but Thrall held a hand to him.

Nodding at Kul'thran, Thrall took the lead down the hallway, his demeanor far more serious than it was before. They had little time left--to find an exit and to find Sen'jin. Kul'thran had despaired at first when he was imprisoned with Thrall, and yet now he carried hope with him. Perhaps they had a chance to save their chieftain from the hands of the abyssal creatures.

Finally, after heading north for a ways, Kul'thran Thrall, and the others found a large ceremony room with numerlous amount of murlocs. One on the north end of the room with orange skin stood before a throne, and before the very chieftain of the Darkspear tribe, Sen'jin, who stood upon a red, magical circle on the ground. He seemed to be surrounded and unable to escape anyway he went. Oddly enough, he seemed to be mediating while standing.

"FATHER!" Vol'jin and Kul'thran bellowed, running into the ceremony room and making mad dashes to reach Sen'jin. Suddenly, a large yellow, ethereal wall appeared right in front of the two trolls. With a loud slam! they rammed themselves into the walls and fell on their rumps.

The murloc at the throne cackled as Thrall and the others entered the room. "You're far too late, pathetic fools!" the murloc said. He approached Sen'jin and raised his spear.

"NO! DON'T!" Kul'thran shouted.

But was in vain, for the murloc brought down his spear and stabbed Sen'jin fatally in the chest. Pulling the spear out, the murloc watched as Sen'jin fell to the ground, blood flowing out of his chest.

"FATHER!!" Kul'thran and Vol'jin both yelled. It was no use... it looked like Sen'jin's life had faded away from this world. Broken tears spread down Kul'thran's face as he looked at the body of his dead father.

"No... dis cannae be happenin'!"

"It is, Kul'thran... but look!" Vol'jin pointed to either side. There, were two yellow murlocs doing some sort of ritual dance near the barrier. It was already obvious to Kul'thran as to what they were doing: holding up the barrier.

Rage filled Kul'thran, and he had forgotten that Thrall, the other trolls, and his men were still behind them. Pulling out the chain he found earlier, in a berserking rage, the young troll leaped at one of the yellow murlocs, stood on its back and then tried to choke it using the chain. Within seconds, the murloc buckled under Kul'thran's ferious (and unusual, even for berserking) strength and then the murloc could no longer breathe.

As it collapsed to the ground, Kul'thran heard laughing from behind him. He turned around to look through the barrier to see the orange murloc, clearly a sorcerer, laughing at him. "Your rage amuses me, young troll. Your sacrifice will be a fruitful one to our lady."

Kul'thran began to claim himself down and the berserking went away. "No way, mon. Dat sacrifice will be yer last!"

The sorcerer cackled. "Fool! I will be exalted by our powerful lady for my work. Come forth, my minions!" With that call, ten murlocs appears, eight small green ones, and two large, black ones from either side of the room. With one yellow murloc sorcerer holding up the barrier, there was no way they could reach the orange sorcerer with his small set of minions without having to deal with his fiends first. He snapped his fingers. "Kill them."

The set of five creatures on Kul'thran's side rushed him, raising their crude spears to slice him to bits. Bracing himself for the pain, he heard a loud roar and the splatter of blood on the ground. He opened his eyes to see Mahka'jor standing between him and the murlocs.

"Ya may be able ta take our chieftain, but ya'll never take ma best friend!" He bellowed before starting to go berserk. The remaining three murlocs, even the large black one about Mahka'jor's size began to cower before his might.

Without a word, he clapped the heads of the the two small ones together, and crushed their skulls. He then truned to the black one and grabbed its head. "See ya later, mon," he said before swinging the murloc into the air and then slamming it into the ground, creating a crater and shattering all the bones in that murloc's body. It was dead.

Kul'thran smiled at his friend. "Tanks, Mahka'jor."

"Our duty dun be done yet, Kul'thran! Let's help da orcs!" they turned to run towards Thrall and the others, but to the surprise of both trolls, they found that the orcs were fairing just fine despite their wounds. Kul'thran watched in awe as each orc took a murloc or two; no matter how much the murlocs would spear into the orcs with their spears, the orcs just seemed to become more and more vicious. The young troll nearly jumped when one grunt vertically cleaved a murloc in two with a single blow.

Thrall, in the meantime, was supporting his troops with Feral Spirits he summoned and dancing bolts of Chain Lightning. He looked as fierce as ever to Kul'thran's admiration. The warchief was a real warrior among warriors of any he had ever seen. While their people were strong, the orcs had shown the Darkspear tribe their own brand of strength. Kul'thran realized that without the orcs, the Sea Witch would have all had their souls by now.

"Look, brudda!" Mahka'jor said, jarring Kul'thran to his senses. "Dat yellow one be still alive, keepin' da barrier up." He handed the young troll a throwing spear and grinned. "Ya know what ta do, right?"

Kul'thran nodded and ran at the yellow murloc, who was too absorbed in its ritual to notice Kul'thran come up to it and throw the spear at it. The murloc blinked for a second, just to see the spear slam right into its stomach, knocking it over. Vol'jin rushed over and severed the head of the murloc with his Shadow Hunter blade, finishing it off. "Good throw, Kul'thran!" he compliemented as the barrier went down. "I guess skipping some of your training sessions was good fer ya!"

"Onward, my friends and warriors! Lo'tar!" Thrall cried as they all passed through the barrier to confront the sorcerer. He was looking a lot less confident now, and immediately raised his spear. "You'll never take me alive!"

"Good! Because we plan to leave you for dead!" Thrall countered.

With a strained expression, the sorcerer let out a chant as his smaller minions rushed the group, trying to kill them in vain. Soon, fire starting to rain from the ceiling, burning up a few of the trolls and the orcs. "Move!!" Thrall roared, and rode around the ring of falling fire to the sorcerer. With a single blow of his massive hammer, the warchief cracked the skull of the sorcerer and killed him instantly.

The other small ones tried to scatter, but their were slashed with axes and pierced by throwing spears; there was no chance of survival for them.

With the battle over, Thrall let himself and few trolls (Vol'jin and Kul'thran) gather around the dead body of Sen'jin. Kul'thran immediately fell to his knees and began to shake his foster father's body. "Please... please, father, dun die!" he cried, almost weeping.

Sen'jin stirred and coughed up some blood. "So... ya made it. Thrall... warchief..." Thrall got off his wolf and knelt down near the dying Sen'jin. "I... I saw in a vision dat you would lead ma people off this island."

"But you are coming with us!" Thrall protested.

"It be too late fer me. Take care of ma sons... please."

"Father!" Kul'thran exclaimed.

"Kul'thran..." Sen'jin said slowly. He motioned to his pouch. "Take what's inside dere... you'll know how ta use it."

"Father... don't speak, we can be gettin' out of 'ere alive!" Vol'jin said frantically. He started to conjure up the Shadow Hunter's healing spell, Healing Wave, when Sen'jin stopped his son and shook his head.

"You are... Kul'thran's guardian now, son. Be... good to him... Farewell..."

"Sen'jin...!" Thrall cried out.

"Father!!" Kul'thran and Vol'jin exclaimed loudly.

It was all too late, Sen'jin of the Darkspear tribe had breathed his last breath and his life had ended. No one had the materials or supplies to bring him back to life, and Thrall doubted that he wanted to come back anyway; for he died willingly at the altar.

The orcs had found a way out, and they began to leave. "Kul'thran?" Thrall called out. The young troll was still at the side of his dead father. Everyone else had gathered to leave, and were staring at him strangely. "What are you doing?"

However, Kul'thran ignored them and did as his father told him; he took the pouch, reached in, and pulled out four shrunken heads. Immediately, he knew what to do with them, and took out strings from his own pouch. He began to tie each head to every other link of the chain he picked up earlier, and said to himself, "dis will work fine... tank you, father."

He left one last tear that dropped on Sen'jin's face before he returned to Thrall and the others.

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 3 - Arrival of the Horde and Thrall

2008-10-30T23:23:00.000-06:00

It was a rainy day, and Kul'thran had been taking a walk outside the village. He had kept up to his educational studies and was going to his training sessions more often now, even though, despite Vol'jin's outrage a few days ago, he still skipped one or two every now and then. They were just too boring for him to stand. His foster father's words had sunk deep into him, however, and he wondered if there was an exciting way to further his spiritual progress. From what Sen'jin said, it sounded like the priest was not the only path to take.

Maybe the Shadow Hunter? Kul'thran pondered. The Shadow Hunter is basically a priest and a hunter combined. But you have to be a hunter first to receive that training. And the teenage troll's path seemed to be the one heading towards the priesthood. Wearing a cloth robe and swinging a staff around to chant spells just did not appeal to Kul'thran. It was action and strategy that appealed to him more, but how would he apply that to a spiritual path?

Recently, a human encampment had appeared on the western regions of the islands. Sen'jin had put a restriction that no trolls were to enter that area for the sake of their lives. The humans had been hounding the trolls for days with their patrols. There was nothing serious in terms of casualities, but they were an unwanted thorn in the tribe's side.

Worse things were happening, however; a group of murlocs--tiny half-man, half-fish creatures--had become increasingly hostile to the trolls had been capturing or killing trolls that had wandered too far from the village. Since the murlocs came in mass numbers, only the berserkers of the tribe were able to handle themselves and survive. Fortunately, while Kul'thran was wandering from home, he was staying within a fifty-foot distance of the village, so he would not get lost or captured. A murloc or two might come to attack him, but no large force of murlocs had ever assaulted the village.

While he was pondering this into his mind, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. He looked over, ready to defend himself from one of those cursed murlocs, when he realized it was only Vol'jin that had grabbed him. Uh oh... I'm in real trouble now!

"I would be scoldin' ya now, but somemons have come ashore, Kul'thran," he said hastily. "Father be wantin' us ta greet them. Dey be strange, but seem friendly enough..." he added with slight suspicion in his voice. He looked back at Kul'thran and patted him on the shoulder. "Come, this way, mon." He motioned the teenage troll to follow him.

Vol'jin, with his red hair and wooden plaudrens was dressed in his typical Shadow Hunter armor. He wore some studded leather across his legs and carried a Shadow Hunter throwing-blade. It was a magical double-bladed weapon that returned to its owner when thrown and could be used in melee combat.

It was strange; despite the fact that Kul'thran and Vol'jin had been raised under the same parent, either thought of the other as a brother, even an adopted one. Vol'jin and Kul'thran had never once referred to each other as 'brother' throughout their entire lives. Instead, Vol'jin just felt like a second parent to Kul'thran--always telling him what to do, correcting him when he was wrong, and so forth. This was the case because Vol'jin was many years older than Kul'thran, in his late thirties, while his father was in his last years. Sen'jin wouldn't live much longer whether he was killed, or if he slept.

Vol'jin led Kul'thran over towards a hill where he saw his foster father standing on a distant hill. As the two trolls ascended the hill, the teenage troll heard Sen'jin speak.

"Welcome to our island, strangers," he said. Kul'thran wondered exactly who was talking to. He did know it was someone from the group ashore, but who were these people? They couldn't humans, taking in the recent invasion of the human army.

As Vol'jin and Kul'thran got to the top of the hill, they stood beside their father. Kul'thran looked below to see damaged seaships near the southeastern shores. There, were many men with green skin like forest trolls. Some carried weapons and seemed to be guarding those who did not, and were busy trying to repair the ships.

Kul'thran looked at his father. "Who are dey?" he asked.

Sen'jin turned his head and smiled. "Orcs, Kul'thran. Orcs."

Kul'thran and Vol'jin did a double-take at each other and then looked at Sen'jin with shock. "Orcs!?"

"Ya mean da same ones dat were fightin' da humans fer several years now?" Vol'jin asked. He was well-versed. The trolls had lore on the first and some on the second wars between the forces known as the Human Alliance and the Orcish Hordes. But many of the Darkspear tribe had dismissed the orcs' existence as a myth. How could creatures from another world enter into their homes?

Yet, now, they were looking upon a group of the very horde, yet, they did not seem as blood-thirsty or vicious like in the books. This group seemed, while armed and alert, tranquil and dignified. One of them stood out among all the others to Kul'thran. He was a large orc who rode upon a black wolf. He wore heavy plate mail and carried a shining hammer in his right arm. He had thick black hair, but the troll could not see what color the orc's eyes were at this distance. Nevertheless, there was something about him that awed Kul'thran. It made the troll want to run up and talk to the orc, ask him questions about anything, but it seemed silly to do so.

"Kul'thran?"

He gathered himself together, and shook himself before looking over. Sen'jin had called his name. "You all right, son?"

"Ya, I be fine," Kul'thran responded. "Who is that orc there?" he asked, pointing at the one with the hammer. Suddenly, a commanding voice echoed from the shores below, it was coming from the orc that had captured his attention.

"Is there something wrong?" the orc asked curiously. He must have noticed Kul'thran pointing at him. The orc was extremely skilled with the way he talked. Not at all from what Kul'thran expected from an orc, there was no accent whatsoever.

Kul'thran nearly fell over at the sound of his voice, but Vol'jin steadied him by grabbing his arm. "Tanks," he said to Vol'jin. What was this grand admiration that filled Kul'thran's heart for this orc? This was the first time he had seen him, and yet, he felt the powerful aura from this orc. There was honor, humility, grandeur, and heroic strength that Kul'thran could feel. He almost wanted to worship the orc, yet his spiritual side restrained him.

"No, no, dere's nothin' wrong, Sir Thrall," Sen'jin said loudly as his old voice could muster. "You're very welcome here; though, we be havin' a serious problem."

"What's that, Sen'jin?" Thrall asked.

"It is actually two problems," Sen'jin explained carefully. "First, while you be welcome 'ere, I warn ya againist a terrible plague dat harasses us. A group of murlocs claimin' ta be led by a Sea Witch haff been constantly molestin' us from time to time. They may come after you and your people, too."

"Your warning is well noted and well received," Thrall responded with a nod. "What is your other problem?"

"Humans," Sen'jin merely said. Thrall's face grew grim, and an orc beside him, one with a large axe seemed to grow angry at the mere mention of the race's name. "They have been--"

Sen'jin was cut off by the other orc. "Warchief, we should annihilate these pathetic humans while we can!" He looked more aggressive than Thrall. Although he was demanding the destruction of an enemy so vehemently, Kul'thran could tell it was out of racial hatred and not necessarily blood-thirst.

"Hold off there!" Thrall commanded. "The trolls' leader was still speaking!" The orcish Warchief turned back to Sen'jin. "Excuse me for that. What were you saying again, honorable Sen'jin?"

"I was sayin'... the humans have been harassin' us with their patrols," he explained. "However, they seem to be mindin' their own business for the most part. Perhaps they be shipwreck'd here, too, like you be."

"Hmm... that seems a little convenient," Thrall said, rubbing his chin. "We'll have to destroy the base as soon as possible to get rid of one of your problems. I know that once they find us, they may attempt to attack and even destroy us."

"If ya be needin' any support, let us know! It's our island, after all!" Vol'jin offered. Sen'jin sighed, yet said nothing in response.

Thrall smiled. "Thank you, and if you need any protection from those murlocs, let us know as well. We might as well be comrades in arms while we're here." He saluted Sen'jin and the others and then said, "good luck to you!" before riding back to his base near the shore.

That evening Kul'thran crept out of his home quietly down to the shore to see the orc base. He managed to get out of the village successfully by sneaking over the walls and into the woods. It was dangerous because of all the attacks, but he really wanted to talk to the Warchief in person. It seemed like a stupid thing to do, considering how dangerous it was and that Kul'thran had no idea what to say to Thrall in the first place.

During the day, the orcs had already laid siege to the human encampment. The Darkspear Tribe had sent a small group of their hunters to assist, but that's all Sen'jin could afford to send at the time as he was busy cleaning a defiled fountain. It didn't matter to Kul'thran, as long as the murlocs and humans were gone.

The orcs's base was becoming more and more fortified by the hour, and more troops were being trained. Kul'thran could see high towers erected above the ground with diagonal, defensive spikes encompassing the bottom of each tower and building. Each tower was armed with multiple archers within the top. Very intelligent war strategies from the teenage troll's perspective. At a distance, he could see some sort of catapult-like weapon being built by the hands of worker orcs.

Orcs on wolves with large swords and orcs on foot with large axes patrolled the open areas between the towers, probably waiting to crush any foes that came into their sight. In the middle of the camp, Kul'thran saw three troll hunters in the middle of the camp, they seemed to be conversing with one another. So far, no one had noticed the teenage troll yet.

Kul'thran was hiding in the trees to the north of the base. He didn't want to be noticed, yet he had to get inside the base somehow. Since it was dangerous, Kul'thran carried a small set of pouches, containing tricks and trap-ware in case he was attacked. It was handy to have around and sometimes it made him feel more like a hunter or a rogue than a priest-in-training.

However, he was not quite roguish enough as he stepped forward and suddenly slipped on the wet grass from the heavy rain into the orc encampment. "WHOOA!" he cried before slamming into the ground below. "Ugh..." he grabbed his head tenderly and looked to the sight. His eyes shot open in shock as he saw that he had barely avoided being skewered alive by one of the tower's defensive spikes.

Then, a strong arm grabbed him and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. It was one of the orcish warriors, and he did not look pleased at all to see Kul'thran. "What are you doing here!? Explain yourself now!" He shook the teenage troll with such force that it made him dizzy.

"Ugh... stop, mon!" he exclaimed. "I thought we be allies, sheesh! I just be lookin' fer... Thr-- I mean yer Warchief." The orc placed him on the ground, still growling at him. "What? What be wrong?"

"You should be in your village unless your shaman sent you to assist!" He sized the troll up. "Yet, you hardly look like a warrior. More like a child who's lost his way!"

Shaman? What is a shaman? Kul'thran thought curiously. He felt a little offended at being called a 'child,' and stood right up towards the orc's face. "'Child!?' I be no child! I almost be an adult troll!" he retorted. Unfortunately, the orc only became more angry and again grabbed Kul'thran by the throat and threw him at the hunters. "Dang it...!" the troll cursed, grinding his teeth together.

The trolls instantly recognized him and asked him series of questions without giving him time to respond.

"What are ya doin' here, mon?" the first one asked.

"Well... I--"

"Don'cha know it be dangerous 'round here?" the second one asked.

"Hey, it's--"

"Ya should be at home, Kul'thran! Why did ya leave?" the third one asked.

"Dang it! Dat's enough! Gimme a chance ta speak, ya?" he exclaimed, not realizing that many of the orcs were watching the squabble. It took a moment, but then Kul'thran noticed all the eyes and his face went pale, he had never been in front of so many people before and now he wanted to shrink away and hide somewhere.

"What's all this noise?" said a strong, familiar voice from within the orcish stronghold. Kul'thran turned around to see Thrall walk out of the stronghold, eying the situation curiously and carefully. "Men, get back to your posts!" he commanded. "We don't want the humans to destroy us!" Immediately, the orcs returned to their patrols and left the four trolls and Thrall alone.

"Eh? I thought you were wit' the assault force, warchief?" one of the hunters asked.

"I will be there in the morning to finish the job," he replied. However, he raised his brow curiously. "But what's going on here? What is causing so much distress?"

The trolls pushed Kul'thran forward and all said at the same time, "him!"

"He snuck over 'ere ta cause trouble, as usual, mon," one of the hunters said.

Kul'thran's face went even paler if that was possible. He was nervous, scared, and didn't know what was going to happen to him. Was he going to be severely punished? Now, it seemed like that trying to get an audience with Thrall was total disaster and a horrible mistake on Kul'thran's part.

"Trouble?" Thrall repeated. "What do you mean?"

"No, no... not fer trouble," Kul'thran suddenly said. He crawled up from the ground slowly to look at Thrall. "I... uh..." Now how was he going to ask for permission in this situation? He felt uncomfortably awkward, and wished he could just run away to his home, but there was no way he could do that now. "Dis is goin' ta sound stupid, but I... uh... wanted to talk ta ya, Sir Thrall."

There was an uncomfortable silence for several seconds before the trolls and several orcs burst out laughing (although Thrall did not). Kul'thran's heart sunk and he felt like he should just leave the base. He wasn't wanted there, and he would not get to talk to the warchief.

"Ha ha ha," one of the hunters jeered. "Dat's funny, Kul'thran. Real funny, mon."

"It dun be a joke..." Kul'thran said a little defensively. "I jus'...." he didn't know what to say.

Thrall raised his hand and the orcs went silent. The trolls kept laughing until they realized what the warchief meant by his signal. Kul'thran looked up curiously, wondering why Thrall was signaling for silence. There was a brief pause before he looked at Kul'thran and spoke.

"I'm sorry, young one," he said to the troll's disappointment. "I am too busy with handling the humans to speak with you now. I was just about to leave for battle." he stopped and paused, peering at the teenage troll. "Hmm... you're the one who pointed at me earlier today, weren't you?"

"Errr...?" Kul'thran looked up sharply. "Jah, I was. I was askin' fath--I mean Sen'jin who ya be." The teenage troll shivered; Thrall had actually spoken directly to him now. "I be meain'... uh... I know now... yer Thrall, da warchief of da Horde, but... I jus'... umm..." It was too much for him to handle. "Did I offend ya?"

Thrall chuckled softly. "No, no, not at all. I am Thrall, Far Seer of the Horde. What is your name, son of Sen'jin?"

So, he figured it out, even if the troll had tried to hide it. Sometimes, he didn't feel like he was the 'son of Sen'jin' because of his relationship to the chieftain. Regardless, coming from Thrall, it sounded more dignified. "Kul'thran, priest-in-training, of da Darkspear tribe," he said, imitating Thrall's way of introducing himself. At last, he was beginning to feel at ease with the orcs and their warchief (although he was still a little blown away by Thrall's presence).

"Kul'thran," Thrall repeated quietly. He nodded and then said to the teenage troll, "I think we should speak at another time." The trolls and some of the orcs gave the warchief shocked stares with hanging jaws. Thrall ignored them and was about to speak again when a loud trollic voice came from the gates of the base.

"Help! Da humons haff attacked da tribal village!"

A wounded troll staggered to through the entrance of the base. Immediately, the guards used their strength to support her damaged body. She gasped, and stretched out a hand to Thrall. "Help us! Please, Master Orc! Da humons have raided da village and are destroying it... please save us!"

"Warchief?" The grunt on the left on woman said, looking at Thrall.

"It seems there is a change of plans," he said decisively. "How many of them?"

"I... dun... know..." she stammered.

"Save yer strength fer yer regeneration!" one of the hunters said.

"No, I be doomed anyway," she said. The female troll gave a weak smile. "I tink dere are about ten of dem, our warriors were out hunting... but dey may not be makin' in back in time to stop da burnin'!"

"They're burning the village!?" Thrall exclaimed. "How wicked. These humans are no peace-loving people. They are like the ones who hate those that are different from them!" He pointed to the troll hunters, three grunts, and a rider. "You, come with me to the Darkspear Tribe's village! We have no time to waste!"

"Wait! I'll come with!" Kul'thran said loudly. "It be ma village, too!"

"No," Thrall said. "Stay here, you'll be safer here, Kul'thran."

Even with his dominant voice, the teenage troll refused. "I have ta go. Ma father is dere. I should 'elp, no matter what!"

Thrall paused for a moment and then said, "very well... stay close to me!" he whistled and a large black wolf appeared from the kennel. Thrall mounted it and then motioned to Kul'thran. "Get on, quickly!"

The teenage troll nodded and climbed up the mount, with an orcish yell, Thrall led his troops to the village while commanding someone to get the female troll to a shaman. Kul'thran held onto the sides of the wolf as hard as he could. He hoped he wasn't annoying the creature, but it seemed undeterred as it swiftly ran towards the village.

Within less than a minute, the orcs arrived at the village, all armed and prepped to take down the human invaders. The trolls were being held at bay by the humans, who had encircled the troll villagers.The humans were all men in armor with swords and large shields, they looked ready to fall upon their remaining prey.

There were a few hunters that had just arrived with the orcs from the outskirts, armed with throwing spears, bows, and hand-axes. They charged in with loud roars, catching the humans attention for a short time, but Kul'thran saw the sudden fear in their eyes when they saw the orcs.

"You dishonorable dogs!" Thrall roared. "Your time has come!" He raised his hammer into the air and, to Kul'thran's awe, lightning shot out of it, slamming into one of the humans, electrocuting him with fierce thunder. The lightning danced from foot soldier to foot soldier, frying about five of them. "Onward, my men! For Doomhammer!"

While they had survived the initial strike, the humans found themselves being attacked by large, heavily muscular orcs with large battle axes, and two riders. Immediately, they fell upon the humans with loud battle cries. The humans responded with their own and ran at the orcs. There was a loud clash of metal with so much force that Kul'thran fell off Thrall's mount and landed on his rump with a loud thud!

He would have lost consciousness if he hadn't almost been smashed in the face by a wolf's foot. Rolling aside to avoid getting his face slashed by the claws, Kul'thran stood up quickly to watch the intense battle before him.

Thrall slammed his hammer into one of the human soldier's head, crushing his helmet and his skull with a loud crack! The warriors kept making clean cuts into each other, back and forth while the troll hunters stayed behind the orcs and threw their spears towards humans with exposed skin from broken armor.

There was a sudden, familiar roar from the entrance of the village that Kul'thran recognized. He turned around to see the berserking visage of Mahka'jor Spearstrider rushing in with two large, polished spears in each hand. "Get out of ma village or die!" he bellowed, jumping into the fray and skewering two humans without any difficulty.

Kul'thran was relieved to see Mahka'jor there. Not only did that mean that Vol'jin and the others were about to arrive, but also, the Darkspear Tribe's hero had arrived to save his village with the assistance of the mighty orc warchief.

During the raging chaos, Vol'jin and the other shadow hunters arrived at last to heal the wounded and curse their enemies. Without any hesitation, Vol'jin immediately turned one of the humans into a helpless frog (who was trampled upon by the riders).

The humans were clearing losing the fight and began to flee. The orcs, and troll warriors began to hunt them down as they ran for the village's exit. Even the villagers were caught up in the violent atmosphere, and started throwing stones at their running enemies. Kul'thran managed to knock one in the back of his head with a large stone, making him feel satisfied.

He ran to follow the humans, thinking to cut them off. Thrall seemed to be thinking the same thing and joined him. However, as soon as they reached the humans, they found them entangled in thick web-like rope traps. The human soldiers struggled to cut at the cords, but could not slice through.

"What? Who captured them?" Thrall asked.

His question was shortly answered as he and Kul'thran were suddenly entangled in the same traps, wrapped up in tight web-like rope cords. Thrall struggled with his hammer, trying to bust the ropes open and his wolf gnawed at the strings, but nothing they could do would break free. Kul'thran looked around, everyone in the village was being taken captive by the unknown attacker... except he knew who it was.

"Da murlocs have come..." He said soberly.

Thrall cursed. "They used our fight as a distraction!"

Soon, the small, fish-like creatures with legs and arms appeared all over the village. They were everywhere, and outnumbered both the trolls, humans, and orcs combined. One murloc spoke to Thrall. "It's worthless!" it said in perfect common, except for the awful hiss. "You're our prisoners now, and we will do what we want with you..."

And with that... Kul'thran, Thrall, and the others including Vol'jin, Mahka'jor, and Senjin, were dragged and led into a dark cave. Suddenly, Kul'thran felt something hard slam into the back of his head, knocking him out completely, and sending him into darkness; a world of darkness with murlocs waiting to sacrifice him to their precious Sea Witch. Now, he could only wait to see what happened next.

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 2 - Enter Kul'thran

2008-10-19T22:04:00.000-06:00

He had done it again; Kul'thran was skipping his priest training to go explore one of the larger areas of the island's jungle. The trees with their large, green-leaved branches spread from every point. Every part of the jungle was thick, even the ground with its tightly-packed grass and weeds. It was humid in the jungle, as usual, but the trolls were used to such weather that it was comfortable for them.

Kul'thran passed through thick vines hanging from two trees. He was a lanky seven-teen year old troll with light-blue, triangular-set hair, and gentle red eyes. He was wearing a dusty brown pair of pants and a black, rough-cut shirt. He wore no shoes over his two-towed feet, they were rugged enough to withstand the harsh nature of the wilderness. While his two-fingered hands were not as tough, he did not wear gloves (though, all trolls have only two toes and two fingers--not counting a thumb).

Scouting around, Kul'thran was looking for a good tree to climb; something with a strong set of vines to hang upside down from. He loved to do that, and thought it was fun to see the world from another view.

"Ah!" He found one. It was a moderately-sized tree with thick, green, and grassy vines hanging from its knotty branches. The sight delighted the teenage troll. "Dis ought ta be fun!" he commented to himself as he climbed up the tree using his hands and feet rather skillfully.

Now, while he was skilled at climbing trees and the vines, hanging onto them for a long time while upside-down was a difficult task that Kul'thran had yet to master.

Grabbing the vines, Kul'thran jumped over and landed his feet on them. Then, with a swing of his body, the troll flipped himself upside-down. He smiled and said, "I made it!" Just as the words popped out of his mouth, the vines made a loud snap! noise and Kul'thran plummeted to the ground like a fallen stone. Fortunately, he hadn't been very high up, so he only suffered some scratches and bruises.

Kul'thran let out a groan of pain. "Dang it, mon!" he cursed. "Not again... jus' when I was... huh?" He stopped talking to himself when he heard someone laughing in the distance. Pulling himself off the ground, the young troll looked up to see another looking in his general direction and chuckling.

This other troll was huge, and buff-type of troll with large muscles. He was a berserker, one of the strongest types of warriors in the tribe, or in any troll tribe. He was mostly naked except for a large loin cloth over his waist and upper legs, and had a spear pouch filled with large throwing spears strapped to his back with a thick, leather shoulder belt. He had a red mohawk and darkened face. His skin, like Kul'thran's, was light-blue.

"Ha ha ha," the large troll chuckled. "Tried hangin' around again, eh, brudda? Ain't ya supposed be studin' ta be a priest?"

Instead of being insulted, Kul'thran just smiled and returned the laughter. This large troll was his best friend, Mah'kajor Spearstrider, one of the best berserkers in the Darkspear tribe. "Oh please, mon! Dat stuff be so borin'!" he said to the berserker. "I haff told ya before, but it be like bein' a dumb zombie, all walkin' around like dis." Kul'thran exasperatingly pretended to be one of the priests, holding out an invisible staff with flags on it. He waved it around rather mindlessly with an extremely stupid-looking expression on his face while he had his tongue out.

Mah'kajor laughed heartily. "Ya, mon, ya have told me dat one before. Mmmm... hey, Kul'thran, wanna see what I be up to?" The teenage troll knew his friend didn't really care whether he attended his clerical training, and he appreciated it. So, he gave Mah'kajor a vigorous nod, and the berserker waved him over to follow him.

The two trolls walked down the path of the jungle, hunched over (as trolls usually do), until they reached an opening with many different trees around them. Mah'kajor pointed to one of them which had a circular part of bark jutting out of its surface. There were some throwing spears on the ground, and some in the tree; a few of them lay scattered and broken.

"I've been practicing ma aim again. See dat spot in da very middle? I haff been tryin' to hit that spot fer awhile," he explained, pointing to the donut shaped part of the bark.

Kul'thran had to admit, while Mah'kajor was already a great spear thrower with an excellent aim, that small hole in the middle would be definitely hard to hit dead center, even for an arrow or a dart. The hole was probably at least half-an inch thick. If Mah'kajor hadn't pointed it out to Kul'thran, the teenage troll wouldn't have noticed that spot in the middle of circular bark.

"Watch," the berserker said to him, taking a spear out of his pouch and balancing in his arm. Carefully, Mah'kajor aimed and then thrust the spear towards center of the tree. The spear hit and stuck into its side, but both trolls found to their disappointment that the spear had just landed only barely above the point that Mahka'jor was trying to hit.

"Dat was close," Kul'thran said reassuringly to his friend.

"Yeah... still a little too far though," Mah'kajor replied as he walked over to the tree, and examined the spear. He turned around and smiled, "well, gotta keep practicing if I want ta ace it, right, brudda?"

Kul'thran nodded with a cheerful smile. He knew that a single miss would not break Mahka'jor down at all. The berserker was too upbeat for anything to hinder his powerful spirit. He was a grand warrior after all, a troll with no regrets or fears in his life, and Kul'thran admired that.

The berserker removed the spears from the tree's bark, and walked over to his little friend. "Hey, mon, do you want to try?" he said, offering the teenage troll one of the smaller spears. "I bet ya could at least hit da tree."

"I dunno, Mahka'jor... but, I'll give it a try," Kul'thran said. He felt a little nervous, and excited to try out the throwing spears. As he took the spear in his hand, he realized just how heavy they were (at least for him). He expected them to be as light as a breeze, but then again, Kul'thran wasn't very strong. It felt like a medium-sized stone rather than a light spear.

Nevertheless, he managed to put the spear the throwing position, aiming it horizontally above and across his right shoulder. Lifting it back, Kul'thran threw the spear towards the tree, aiming for the small circle in the center. The spear flew like an arrow through the air and made it to the tree, but the spear landed into the grassy ground next to it instead.

"Awww, mon...! Dang it!" Kul'thran moaned.

Mahka'jor, on the other hand, was positive about the situation. "Dat was pretty good fer yer first throw, mon," he said with his hand on his chin. "Ya almost hit yer target! Dat's great fer somemon who's supposed ta become one of our priests." He winked at his younger friend. "C'mon, let's be seein' ya try another shot at it!" The berserker went over to the tree and picked up the light spear in the ground next to it. He handed it to Kul'thran and nodded firmly.

Once again, the teenage troll took the spear in hand and attempted another throw. Again, he missed the tree, but the spear landed a little closer to it this time around. Again, and again, Mahka'jor kept urging him on, and every time, Kul'thran missed. His arm was starting to hurt from all the throwing, but he was having fun at least.

Soon, the sky began to turn light orange, signaling the coming of the late afternoon and its follower: evening. At that time, both Mahka'jor and Kul'thran had to stop and head back to the village. In order to avoid being caught, Kul'thran sneaked into the village while Mahka'jor took the main entrance. Once he had slipped past the gate through the side of the village, he ran to his home.

It was a large, wooden hut with a small tower on the side that had a spiraling staircase that was made of wooden beams for the rails, planks for the steps, and grass to hold it all together. The hut was lifted from the ground by small beams, requiring a brief staircase up to the front portal in order to reach the first floor. Like the rest of the huts, it was made of wood, with the top of the hut made in the shape of a cone with tightly bound straw. It had two extra rooms that jutted out of the back of the hut with doors on the front of them. The small tower was Kul'thran's room, it had a hammock in it, his favorite type of bed and place to sleep in.

Once he was there, Kul'thran ran up the front steps through the door. He planned to make up a story about taking his studies to home instead of going to the ritual grounds when he found himself facing the old troll, Sen'jin--chieftain of the Darkspear Tribe and Kul'thran's foster father. He did not look pleased.

He was wearing his tribal outfit, a cloth coat that wrapped around his body like a long cloak. It was marked with painted symbols, mostly representing peace, hope, and the Darkspear Tribe's insignia. In his withered hand, he carried an oaken staff. Sen'jin was fairly old, in the last years of his life. He had a long, white beard that went down to his waist and was a bit shorter than Kul'thran. However, he was still very intimidating.

"Ah! F-father!" Kul'thran said. He tried to stabilize his voice in order to avoid stammering, but he had little success. "I was jus'--"

"Foolin' around in the jungle," Sen'jin finished for him. "Am I right?" There was no harsh tone in his voice, just a little sternness.

Kul'thran sighed with dismay. He furled his brow and said with a quiet groan, "yes, father. I was fooling around in the jungle. I was throwing spears with Mahka'jor at a tree." He looked down at the wooden floor shamefully. "I-I'm sorry."

"Ya bettah be!" said a louder and much more harsh voice from the back of the wall. Kul'thran looked up to see Sen'jin's son, Vol'jin--the tribe's top Shadow Hunter--glaring at him. "Ya skipped yer studies fer some fun again! When will ya learn ta be responsible, Kul'thran!? Yer going to make a shame outta our tribe!"

"Enough, ma son," Sen'jin said calmly. Even though Kul'thran had been constantly disobedient, it was, more often than not, Vol'jin who tended to be rougher on the teenage troll than his father. Rarely did the chieftain yell at his foster son, though his words sometimes stung. "Kul'thran, you know dat you have great spiritual potential. Do not shun it, do not forget it. Otherwise, ya will regret yer actions as an adult. Understand?"

"Yes, father..." Kul'thran said slowly. They stung this time.

"So, become a priest like yer supposed to!" Vol'jin added heatedly.

The teenage troll nodded slowly and said, "I be headin' up ta ma room to catch up den." With a remorseful sigh, the teenage troll slowly ascended the stairs to his room. He looked back to see Vol'jin leaving the hut, obviously going to hunt for some food.

Turning around again, Kul'thran took it easy and walked up the steps, as he went around the spiral staircase he heard his foster father say out-loud, "it may not be a priest that he needs to be."

Kul'thran's Introduction - Part 1 - The Child Without a Surname

2008-10-12T16:36:00.000-06:00

Dark clouds arose from the distant east, gathering in full power like thick volcanic smoke. Sen'jin, the chief of the jungle troll Darkspear Tribe stood upon the cliffs above the eastern shore of the small islands he and his tribe inhabited, observing the darkening sky. He could tell... something ominous was happening that day, or perhaps a few nights ago as he wondered if the events before him were connected to his dream.

Yes, a vision, a dream of a burning village belonging to an innocent, small group of jungle trolls. He could not tell if they were Darkspear or not in the dream--all he could see was bloodshed, flames, and death. The attackers' glowing green eyes haunted him; he could not see what they were, or who they were.

Blinking his eyes, Sen'jin suddenly saw a long dark shadow approaching the island from a distance. Within minutes, he realized it was a small boat carrying a personage of some sort. The strong waves of the waters seem to carry it towards the shore, slowly bringing the boat and its single traveler into the dim light. Finally, the boat touched down on the shore below, and Sen'jin leaped down from the cliff-face onto the shore to see who the boat was carrying.

It was a troll woman with an arrow stuck in her right side. She was still alive by some miraculous power because there was nothing east to the isles--that Sen'jin knew of--besides the distant land of Stranglethorn Vale. She was fair, and blue-skinned with gentle, red eyes and light green hair. Yet, he she was weary, wounded, and her clothes were a little bit burned at the fringes. She turned her head to look at Sen'jin and then moaned in pain.

He knelt down to help her up when the troll chieftain noticed that there was a bundle in her arms. She has a child! he immediately thought, relying on his insight. Sen'jin had to hurry and gather help from the other trolls. He reached to pick her up, but the mother refused, and instead she raised the bundle up to Sen'jin to take.

"Please..." she spoke weakly. He knew she had little time left to live. "Please take care of my son... his name is 'Kul'thran...' 'Kul'thran R...'"

Sen'jin motioned her to silence. "Don't speak, save yer strength, lady." He took the bundle containing the child in his arms and then reached out to pick up the woman and intended to lift her over his shoulders. However, as he touched her skin, it felt cold and then Sen'jin realized she had died. The mother had lived only long enough to tell him her child's name. "Dang it," he cursed himself. "No... there be nothing I could do to save her." Yet, he could fulfill her dying wish.

Unwrapping the bundle a little, Sen'jin found himself looking upon the face of an infant troll. The little troll's wet eyes were gentle and red like his mother's and his skin was light-blue in color. The child looked like he had been crying for a long time, without sleep or comfort.

Kul'thran out a sudden cry of pain, and Sen'jin tried to shush him softly, but he was no natural parent to this child, so he could not qualm the infant's tears. Could the child possibly know or understand that his mother was dead? Yet, after a few moments, the infant troll stopped crying, and closed his eyes, perhaps trying to fall asleep in the dreary darkness.

Sen'jin gathered the others, and buried the child's mother in an appropriate fashion. Soon after, Kul'thran was accepted, unanimously, into the Darkspear Tribe as Sen'jin's foster son.

A word from the translator

2008-10-11T12:30:00.001-06:00

It has been difficult, translating Kul'thran's old records into the Common language; most of it is in Darnassian (Night Elven language) and Trollic. Some of it is in Azerothian Common, which makes it easier on my shoulders. Overall, it's been a difficult task, yet very satisfying. Keep your eyes peeled on this section ((*OOC: blog post)), as I might add to it later as I gather more information from the plates that I feel is adequate to add to this commentary.

I will not be giving a commentary on Kul'thran's individual adventures. I will merely tell the stories as they are. There will be an end eventually, but I do not know when, for his record, a codex of mithril plates seems to be endlessly large. The potential for story-telling here is almost limitless.

Now, I'd like to say a word about this Kul'thran. He was born in the third year of the Azerothian timeline and was seventeen years old when Thrall came to his island and rescued the trolls of the Darkspear tribe from utter destruction. Their leader, Sen'jin, was slain in a ritual sacrifice by a Sea Witch. The islands that the Darkspear Tribe lived, shortly after, began to plunge into the sea. Quickly, the tribe was gathered, Kul'thran along with them, and taken with the orcs to Kalimdor where they would forge a new home.

Kul'thran was an extremely spiritual person, with a strange, and strong belief in the Night Elf goddess, Elune, instead of the spirits. Despite this, the people of the new Sen'jin Village hoped that he would make a fine Priest or Shaman for the Horde. However, when the troll was twenty-one, a group of harpies began to attack the food and trade caravans from Orgimmar (the new Orcish Capital on the north-eastern protruding land-mass called "Durotor"; Sen'jin Village was just south of the Capital.

Returning to my tale, the caravans had been under attack and were waylaided from their journey from and to Sen'jin Village. The people grew hungry, and out of necessity, many trolls were trained to be hunters for food in the nearby regions under the direction of the new Darkspear leader, Vol'jin (Sen'jin's son); Kul'thran was one of those trolls. Without hesitantion, he went to the Valley of Trials and trained as a hunter and began to gather food for the needy.

Although there were some that mourned the loss of Kul'thran's potiental as a Priest or Shaman, there was hope that he might become a Shadow Hunter--A mixture of a hunter and a shaman. Also, many were grateful for the troll's sacrifice in order to help his people.

Kul'thran is a bit strange, he likes Night Elves, and has an attraction to Night Elf women. He sports pictures of them in his own house which sometimes disturb many of his tribe. However, he is only considered eccentric among his tribe, while other troll tribes (when they later learned of this), thought he was insane. He also loved raptors, Durotar Raptors to be precise, and soon, one would become his best friend for life (though that is a tale for another section).

Regardless, one of Kul'thran's perks was his kind, selfless personality. Well, mostly selfless. There were times when the troll had to get what he wanted--now, or there would be blood (figuratively speaking). He was a rather carefree troll, trying to leave a life without regrets. Yet, at the same time, he wanted to be a hero, like the ones of legend.

As the picture portrays, Kul'thran is clean-shaven, neatly- combed hair (for a troll), no facial paint and polished tusks. I've read in many stories that there humans, elves, and others who thought the troll was a rather handsome fellow (especially for one of his race). Though, he got little attention from other women--either he was too shy, or the other women were too shy.

Finally, the last thing I wish to mention is Kul'thran's determined goal to unite the Horde and the Alliance. After reading many tales and seeing and hearing about the Battle of Mt. Hyjal for Nordrassil of the Horde and Alliance against the Undead Scourge and their Demonic masters--the Burning Legion--he was certain that if a true war broke out between the Alliance and Horde that the Burning Legion would come out of their hiding places and kill each side while they were fighting each other. Thus, along with his Trollic and Orcish language studies, he tried to study Common, so he could communicate with the other side.

However, after a few years, Kul'thran mysteriously vanished. It's unknown where his whereabouts are now, or at least, according to what I have translated so far. Hence, his dream may never come true. Or might it have? Let us see what this young troll hunter, a hero in his own, has to offer.

~Signed~
Aegis Runestone

((*Stands for "Out of Character." These are notices that will tell you what I'm thinking when not role-playing/writing the posts out. Usually, it will be done in (()) format, surrounding the text with "OOC:" in front of the text.

If you're lost about any the posts or stuff concerning Azeroth, there's a Lore/History section below the archive section of this blog. Beware, some of it is very long (like the lore). So, read at your own pace. And please do read the posts. Just if you're confused about anything, refer to the lore/history. I don't want to make long explanations that blizzard has already made.

And you can make comments in OOC.))