On the horizon, far beyond the eastern shores of the Gurubashi Empire, the sun was rising. The sky burned in breathtaking hues of orange and pink. A cool breeze blew in from the ocean, carrying with it the scent of salt. Trolls emerged as one from the shelter of their small village with slow and casual grace; they were headed out to hunt and to war, but they knew both well. This land was theirs, and they were one with its dangers and its bounty.
Upon a low cliff, he eyed the village boredly. He decided that he didn't like it. It was small and insignificant; any one could see that. The trolls within were so wretchedly pleased to go on with their everyday, unimportant lives. How very contemptible.
And yet, he watched it. Watched it and waited, as he had been instructed to do. What he was watching for, he did not know. Even his lord had not known. Nonetheless, he had been sent here, to watch the small blue folk as they partook in their hunts and fought their pointless wars and raised their unnecessary children.
Yet another day of endless boredom faced him, and finally it was too much to bear. He would set this task to one of his inferiors. One with some experience in this matter, but one unimportant enough that they would not be missed by his lord. Then he could spend the next fifty years of his life doing something interesting.
He raised his hands into the air slowly. The sleeves of his garment fell down his arms to reveal intricate, swirling tattoos. He muttered a few words in a strange tongue, causing his palms to momentarily pulse with a pale light, then lowered his hands once more. The air beside him shifted and shimmered, and suddenly another pale stranger stood on the bluff.
"I am here, lord," the newcomer said serenely. This stranger was a delicate figure, far smaller than the summoner.
"Excellent. Be ready for a simple task," the master replied with a smirk. "Though it's not a small one, by any means."
His charge returned the smile, though it was not so wry. "Of course, my lord. I have been awaiting this for some time."
"Oh, I know." And he did. His charge had been most emphatic on the matter. With a nod and another gesture, he vanished.
The smaller stranger remained on the shore, looking down upon the village. Before he had left, the master had telepathically conveyed the task at hand.
The stranger smiled.
Ril'jun smiled.
Communing with the great loa was not something easily done. It relied on many things: a strong and healthy body, an agile and focused mind, and a powerful will to bend the loa's whims to one's bidding. And when all these things were right, perhaps then, if one was either lucky or blessed enough, a connection could be made.
It was not so rare an occurrence for Ril'jun as for others. As a shadow hunter, he had been trained to have the utmost in all the necessary strengths, but even so he was either more lucky or blessed than any troll he'd met – other than the High Priests of each god and, of course, the king himself. Indeed, since his people – the Zandalari – rarely had much need to consult the loa for matters of war or other perils, he was even fortunate enough to be in such a position as to sometimes be able to establish contact merely for the luxury of basking in their power and wisdom.
He was doing so now. The pure, animalistic energy of Zanza coursed through him, searing his soul, cleansing him in an almost painful bath of fire. He elated in the sensations, knowing himself to be nearer now to his true spirit, and the spirits of the entire world.
Amidst all this, a speck of darkness appeared. A frown corrupted his ecstatic expression. He focused upon it, seeking out its truth. As soon as he opened his mind to it, it suddenly expanded, transforming into bleak knowledge and settling in his mind.
With subdued thanks, Ril'jun withdrew from the godly presence. He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the carcass that had been his offering to Zanza. He scarcely saw it, instead focusing all his awareness on this new, loa-given knowledge.
A storm was coming, and with it, doom.