The zeppelin splurged on through the night sky, the only person above deck being a lone Sen'jin Watcher. He gazed about, admiring the stars and their canvas in the sky. The watcher smiled as he recognized each constellation. One was Akama's fang, another Hakkar's Wing.
The watcher looked down below at the sea, glad that they had passed through the turbulent Maelstrom a few days ago. The winds could have torn the goblin ship asunder. But with the tailwind they had when they exited, they had covered far more ground faster than if they had gone around the Maelstrom. At this pace, the zeppelin would make it to Grom'gol before noon.
A flapping noise drew the attention of the Watcher away from the ocean, looking around. After a few moments all was quiet, and the troll passed it off for the propeller acting up. He admired the sky once again, finding his favorite constellation, the Loa Circle.
The airship suddenly leaned left hard, nearly throwing the Watcher off the deck into the churning sea below. He held on for dear life, screaming in terror. A great roar issued from under the zeppelin, drowning his cries out. The watcher was suddenly ripped from the deck, and thrown into the mighty maw of an unforeseen catastrophe.
"Attention passengers," crowed a goblin voice that stirred Jarn'dor from his slumber, "We are now under attack by a Black Dragon. Due to their violent and destructive nature, we are asking all passengers to remain calm…" At this, the assorted passengers screamed in terror, pushing each other as they all scrambled for an escape, their screams lost as the dragon roared again. Sen'jin Watchers propelled themselves up the stairs, weapons in hand.
Jarn'dor grabbed his staff, running up to the top deck. "If at this time you would better take your chances with the ocean," hollered the goblin," You may jump into the ocean directly below us. Parachutes will NOT be provided. Thank you for flying Air Kezan in our now somewhat stopped trip to Grom'Gol."
As the druid came up topside, the shredded corpse of a Watcher slammed into him, sending him flying into the rails. As Jarn'dor pushed the poor troll to the side, what he saw nearly had him jumping off the zeppelin as well.
At the bow of the airship, was a fully grown Black Dragon, slaughtering the Troll Guardians. It was bigger than the airship, its wings blocking out the moon's light, casting the zeppelin into shadow. It's black, armor-like scales protected its flesh from the spears of the trolls, while its maw and vicious talons decimated their ranks.
Jarn'dor watched as the dragon swallowed the last of the Watchers, looking for something to defend himself with that was better than a simple staff. He looked at the shredded troll that had bowled him over, and reached for the spear in its grasp.
"Mon…" whispered the troll, somehow still clinging to life. "Mon…" Jarn'dor leaned close, to hear the dying trolls final words. "Mon… Dat monsta… Killed mah brederin'… Mah friends… Avenge me, mon… Take mah spear… And mah sword…" From underneath the ravaged armor, the troll brought forth a curved blade, pressing it weakly into Jarn'dor's hand. "Kill dat beast….and get….revenge…for us all…mon…"
What was once a troll expired in Jarn'dor's arms, his weapons now in the druid's hands. Jarn'dor tucked the blade into his belt, brandishing the spear at the great behemoth.
The colossal villain looked at Jarn'dor, now the last living troll on the deck. "You think you can hurt me, little troll?" roared the Dragon, its eyes filled with the grim joy from its easy kills, the corpses of it's victims scattered across the deck, others plunging into the ocean far below. "You and all your kind will burn under the Patriarch's flames! NOT EVEN THE NEW EMPIRE WILL SURVIVE!"
Jarn'dor wasn't sure what the dragon meant by a new empire, but he would avenge the fallen Watchers. Between the zeppelin's aimless flight, and the gale-force winds caused by the dragon's winds, Jarn'dor was nearly thrown about like a leaf in a storm. With a wild roar, he flung the spear without aim, losing his footing and flying backwards, slamming against the propeller's housing on the airship.
The spear flew from the troll's hand, directed by nothing but fate. The flying weapon drove itself within the dragon's eye, ripping a scream from the beast's throat. "RAUGH! YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT, INSECT!" The monolithic creature released the zeppelin from its deadly grip, the goblins and passengers below deck cheering in relief.
The Black Dragon's roar had filled Jarn'dor with courage, and the druid ripped the sword from his belt, running at the flailing dragon. Bound by the promise of revenge, he threw himself from the zeppelin, landing on the beast's mighty face. He ripped the spear from the great colossus' eye, tearing the orb from its master's socket.
The winged predator roared in absolute agony, spewing liquid fire from its gullet. Jarn'dor pivoted upon the dragon's snout, driving the bloody spear into the dragon's other eye. The druid tore out the bloody shaft, two golden orbs impaled upon it. As the beast opened its mouth to again make its pain known, Jarn'dor leaped into the gaping maw, driving the sword into the dragon's throat. As he fell, his blade ripped through skin and muscle, filling the dragon's throat with blood.
The druid fell continuously downward, finally hitting a fork in the road. He ripped the blade from the dragon's windpipe, and drove his bloodied weapon directly forward. With great effort, Jarn'dor cut his way through skin and muscle, finally reaching the great cavity which held the monster's heart.
With a mighty scream of triumph, Jarn'dor plunged the weapon into the dragon's heart again and again, tearing and rending the mighty organ. The powerful heart exploded, spraying blood all around the gigantic chest cavity, covering Jarn'dor in the life of his gargantuan kill.
As the dragon's corpse plummeted earthward, the druid pushed past the shredded remains of the heart, hacking at the flesh, attempting to claw his way out of the abyssal cavity. He drove the bloodied tool through the final layer of skin, pushing apart the black scales and creating a gap large enough for him to see through.
Jarn'dor looked through the gap as the body of the colossal monster slammed into the earth, Jarn'dor's head smashing against the rock hard scales, and sending him into darkness.
It was daylight when the druid awoke, struggling under the weight of the shredded heart. He looked through the gash in the corpse's chest, peering between the midnight-black scales. With great effort, he pushed the gargantuan organ off his body, standing. The sword was gone, most likely having slipped through his exit in the collision.
Jarn'dor grabbed both edges of the dragon's skin, pulling the wound apart. He could only budge it an inch before his arms screamed in pain, his muscles seething. The druid released his grip, falling backwards into the heart. He sighed, pondering his predicament.
"Good job, Jarn'dor. Leap into a dragon and become a hero… Den end up stuck where it's 'art used ta beat… Brilliant, mon…" The forlorn Troll gazed through the tear he had made passing through the behemoth chest, deciding to exit that way.
He crawled up through the windpipe, hearing screams down the other passage. After a quick deliberation with himself, he hurried down the beast's gullet, finding a lump of skin blocking his path. He pried it apart, and found himself looking down into a cavern, the floor covered in a pool of water. "Hey dere mon! Help me! HELP ME!"
Jarn'dor looked over at the voice, a troll thrashing in the water, its skin liquefying and disappearing into the cavern. The troll screamed unintelligibly, twitching in the water. The druid blinked in horror, suddenly realizing where he was; he was in the stomach of the Dragon. The water wasn't water, but stomach acid. And the troll was a dead man.
Jarn'dor turned and walked away, as the troll's screams began to die out, his voice joining his melted flesh. The druid pushed his way up, up, and up, finally crawling out the monster's mouth, pushing past the rows of razor sharp teeth. Jarn'dor collapsed on the outside; finally realizing he was still covered in blood. He looked up, and saw the canopy of Stranglethorn Vale. He chuckled, laughing at how he had killed a Black Dragon, and still arrived at his destination.
The druid took a few deep breaths, weak after his battle with the beast, and his escape. He became afraid as his mind slipped away, falling into unconsciousness. As he blacked out, two figures pushed through the surrounding the druid, murmuring in deep, thick voices. Jarn'dor could feel them lifting him up, and he knew nothing more.
"He's been unconscious for days… I doubt the troll will be walking around again…" Jarn'dor groaned, listening to the voices surrounding him. "Shut up Nek'tan. Last troll you said wouldn't be walking managed to kill a Dreadlord. This one should be alright."
Jarn'dor slipped back into unconsciousness, visions assaulting his eyes. He saw a group of trolls, standing around a fire, one turning his back upon the group.
"Vol'jin. Ya turn ya back upon ya people!" roared one troll.
"…Da Horde, be mah people now," replied the Darkspear Chieftan, "If ya be startin' war, I be fightin' wit dem…"
The visions changed again, Jarn'dor looking back upon an old city, far away in some distant forest. A green forest troll stood upon an altar, four Loa looking down upon him, turning their back on him. An armor clad Blood Elf raised his blade, and impaled the scarf-wearing troll.
The druid was unable to escape the shifting scenes, slamming his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sounds. He was treated to dreams and nightmares, horrors and beauty.
And then he woke.
Jarn'dor looked around the small hut, trying to move. He found he was too weak to even twitch, let alone move. The weakened druid moaned, trying to push himself into a sitting position. His body screamed in pain, refusing to move. Jarn'dor bared his teeth, and fought through the pain. After what seemed like an eternity and a half, he managed to sit up, resting against a wall in the hut.
An orc walked in, blinking in surprise. "Oh," said the deep-throated orc, "You're awake. Good." Jarn'dor nodded. "Mon… Where be I? Last I remember I was… Outside."
The orc nodded. "You're in Grom'gol stranger… I brought you here with my comrade after we found you."
"How long…How long have I been out mon…?"
"Two days…Did you…Did you kill that beast?" Jarn'dor chuckled, remembering the behemoth. He gave a weak nod, the orc's jaw dropping.
"You're lucky to be alive, Troll."
"Me name be Jarn'dor, mon." The orc nodded. "And mine is Nek'tan. So tell me troll, why the fel did you pick a fight with a Black Dragon? I mean, were you trying to commit suicide?"
Jarn'dor chuckled. "Da beast attacked a zeppelin 'eadin to hea." Nek'tan nodded, smiling slightly. "That Zeppelin arrived a few hours ago… Those people owe you their lives." The druid sighed. "Dey be owin' me notin'… I just be puttin' spirits ta rest."
Nek'tan nodded, but his body language showed he disagreed with Jarn'dor. "Alright… You'll need to stay here for a while, before you continue on to wherever you're going."
Jarn'dor sighed. "Gotcha… But I need ta be goin' as soon as possible, mon… I be headed to Zul'Gurub." Nek'tan instantly froze, looking at the Druid. "Zul'Gurub… Are you mad, Troll? That place is cursed!"
The orc made a futile attempt to talk Jarn'dor out of it, but the druid simply shook his head. After a while, Nek'tan finally sighed. "Troll, I can't let you go alone. I'll be going with you. You need someone to keep you safe while you're weak.
" Jarn'dor nodded soberly. "A'right mon… But I warn ya, we not be safe when we enta da city…"
"I'll be alright. I'm an orc. Safe, is not our style."
Jarn'dor leaned back against the wall, chuckling as Nek'tan exited the hut, leaving Jarn'dor alone with his thoughts.
Three days later, Jarn'dor and his companion left the village, and headed to Zul'Gurub. They trundled through the jungle, cutting a swath through the thick foliage with Nek'tan's battle axe. Jarn'dor constantly thought back to his visions, wondering why he was getting them now, and never before.
Nek'tan held up a hand, a hunting signal for the pair to stop. The orc pointed ahead, a large object blocking the path. It was swathed in the jungle's native plants, hiding its identity. Jarn'dor pushed through the dense vegetation, and cleared off the vines from the statue, revealing a Gurubashi statue.
"Dis mark da paths to da city… We be close mon…" Nek'tan cocked his ears, bearing his teeth. From down the path, the sounds of people talking were coming closer and closer.
Jarn'dor leaped up into the trees as Nek'tan jumped into the bushes, both poised to strike. Two Frost Trolls rumbled down the path, both talking to each other.
"Mon, da Zandalari be powaful… We canna defy dem."
"Ya tribe gonna ally wit dem?"
"I dunno, mon. I be waitin' till da speech taday. Dey say da Zandalari and dere leada gonna talk to all da trolls before we be splitin' up and headin' to da capitals."
"Heavy stuff, mon."
"Aye… Heavy stuff…"
The two trolls continued on down the path, Jarn'dor jumping down from the trees. "Da Zandalari… Mah visions be true…" Nek'tan stumbled out of the bushes, looking at Jarn'dor. "What now?"
Jarn'dor sighed, thinking. "Mon, I need ta be seein' what's going on in Zul'Gurub. We need ta be goin' in."
Nek'tan's jaw dropped. "Are you insane? From what those trolls said, multiple tribes will be there. If they find spies there, we'll be skinned!" Jarn'dor turned, staring the orc in the eyes.
"Mon, if mah visions be right, den dere be war brewin," said the druid, a scowl on his face, "We need ta find out what da trolls be plannin'. Ya in, or ya out?"
Nek'tan looked down at the ground. "I said I'd go with you, and that I would protect you. I'll go into Zul'Gurub… But what's your plan? We can't just walk in."
Jarn'dor, thought for a moment, and pulled a cloak out of his bag, smiling.
The druid sat atop a great pillar, inside Zul'Gurub. He looked around the valley, spying his orcish friend. Nek'tan had taken the cloak and thrown it on. Once he pulled up the hood, he looked like a small Berserker Troll, blending into the crowd.
Jarn'dor scanned the Gurubashi Capital, looking at all the troll tribes. There were too many too count, the crowd in constant motion as they filed into the city. The druid lost sight of his comrade, the earthy brown of his cloak lost in the sea of bodies.
The Trolls crowded around a great altar, where the Blood God once sat. Three figures ascended the altar, one a forest green, the other two a pale blue.
One troll came to the forefront, wearing the colors of the Zandalar Tribe. "Brudda's and Sista's!" The crowd became instantly silent, waiting for the troll to continue. "We be on da verge of a new age! Da age of da Trolls!" The sea of trolls cheered, their voices shaking the pillar Jarn'dor was standing on. He leaped from it, running across the roofs of huts, statues, and finally landing closer to the altar.
"We were once a great people," cried the Zandalari, "Our mighty empia stretched from Zul'Gurub to da fa north! Look at our people now! Zul'Drak, fell to da Scourge! Zul'Aman fell to da elves! And Zul'Farrak is now just a wasteland in da desert." The crowd was unbelievably silent; hanging on the troll's every word.
"Our people be divided! We must come tagetha' ta survive! Ya all be knowin' dis! Togeda, as one empia, our race may flourish, and we shall regain da land we lost to da humans, da elves, and da oda races of Azerot'!" The crowd cheered, this one troll working them up expertly. His voice suddenly went from a shout, to a seething hiss."But dere are dose who would see us destroyed! Dose who would ally wit dese unwordeh races against us!"
Jarn'dor leaned forward in his spot, listening intently. The Zandalari troll moved forward, as the other two trolls stepped aside, a power growing on the altar.
"Vol'Jin and his Darkspea be allyin' wit da Horde against us!" The crowd booed and jeered, earning a nod from the Zandalari. "But dey not be makin' a difference against us! We have powa dat da rest o' Azeroth can only dream of!"
The power from the center of the altar grew, taking a faint form. It looked suspiciously like… Jarn'dor gasped. The form looked like Hakkar.
"Wit dis powa, we make our kingdom strong again! Da Amani and da Gurubashi be givin us homes, and we be usin' dese homes, and growing! Zul'Aman and Zul'Gurub will only be da staht of our powa!" The trolls cheered, the power growing. Over the cheers of the trolls, a booming voice issued forth.
"Spies and traitors be among you all! Orcs and Darkspears hide in your ranks!"
The Zandalari on the altar looked at the power, and began immediately scanned the rooftops. Jarn'dor began to leap to another roof, but he new he had been found out.
"Dere be a troll on da rooftops, kill da spy!" The angry crowd surged, trying to run to the exit in the crammed space. Jarn'dor looked at the crowd, and spied Nek'tan pulling out his axe. He could faintly hear the orc's battle cry, the sound of screaming and fighting issuing from near the altar.
Jarn'dor made a final leap, landing at the gates of Zul'Gurub. He quickly climbed over the gates, barring them shut with a fallen log. The druid leaped down the steps, his companion forgotten. As he ran for the pathway to the jungle, a wooden gate slammed shut, barring his way.
Jarn'dor spun around, as a giant form rushed at him. The druid leaped to the side as a Berserker Troll slamming into the gate. The Berserker was well muscled, his skin nearly tearing from the sheer mass. The Troll had to hunch over like an ape, its knuckles dragging across the ground. Its eyes looked like they were rolled back into its head, showing nothing but the whites.
The Berserker roared unintelligibly, charging at Jarn'dor wildly. The druid stood his ground, as his form began to change. Sea green hair began to sprout from his skin as his shoulders grew in size, his face elongating and stretching. Claws grew from his hands, as his limbs shortened. Jarn'dor was no longer a troll, but a great bear!
The Berserker was nearly upon him, and the bear stood, slamming its paws against the Troll's chest, holding it back. With one push the gigantic troll flew backwards, smashing into the gate. The bear charged, slamming his shoulder right into the Berserker's gut. The gate splintered as the gargantuan troll tumbled out, the bear letting out a roar of victory.
The bear shifted form again, returning to Jarn'dor's gangly body. The druid stepped over the unconscious Berserker, looking back at the city. All he could hear was the sound of trolls roaring and screaming, unable to chase the spy. The druid ran, sprinting towards the jungle.
Zi'bal needed to know… Everyone needed to know.