Chapter 8: INTO THE TOMB

(Disclaimer is at the prologue of this story) Story may not be accurate to that of written accounts in various sources.


Jah'Rakal arrived in the ruins of Alterac discovering immediately what haunted these areas. The Black Spirit that had knocked the two individuals unconscious was proving to be a very strong enemy.

For a long time, Jah'rakal was on the search for the forest troll relic, the Manta Style. It was said to have been lost during the Troll Wars between the humans and the forest trolls. For a long time, his ancestors have been trying to find the place where this artifact was last seen. They were pretty much unsuccessful in their search, because of the fact that during the war, the trolls were widespread in Lordaeron.

But when Jah'rakal received the throne of the remaining forest troll dominion, he was able to establish a localized war between the neighboring satyrs of the land. This war was not really well-known since the civil war of the Undead had sparked up a few years ago. The war in all aspects yielded both good and bad results. For one, his army was defeated and the forest troll dominion crashed under his control. He fled, dethroned and deprived of his kingdom. In his fury, he was able to kill the satyr leader, Farimaru and lay hands on some valuable information about the hidden artifact, the Manta Style.

And thus, Jah'rakal had ventured into the wilderness, searching for this place, Alterac Ruins. He had never heard of such a place before. His assumption was that this place lay somewhere in the Alterac Mountains south of Stratlhome. It was a wide mountain range and would require at least a month to comb.

Jah'rakal was able to find the place in two months. It was an eerie place; here, his ancestors had died in the battle with the humans, he knew.

And so Jah'rakal stared in admiration at the Black Spirit's speed and agility. But he was not as gullible as the these two individuals who appeared to be an elf and a satyr. From his readings of Farimaru's compiled text, there was a lone guardian of the Tomb, the Spectre, able to form haunting images of itself and appear in front of the enemy half as strong as the Spectre itself.

Jah'rakal sighed as he saw the two warriors fall under the Spectre clone's power. How pathetic. He'd have to deal with this with his own powers.

The Troll Warlord, as he would like to be called (although he wasn't one anymore), jumped from his hiding place, alerting the towering black figure. He gripped his throwing axes and aimed a sharp throw, hitting the clone in the head. A loud violet explosion filled the air.

Jah'rakal cursed under his breath. This wasn't a clone! This was the real Spectre, using its handy Dispersion ability, which enables it to scatter the damage received around it leaving the Spectre unharmed.

Summoning power from his mana pools, he imbued a blinding glare in some golden powder he brought with him in journeys. The powder when fixated with this power can totally blind the target making it miss. The powder hit the Spectre and a sort of strangulated screech filled the air.

Not minding the sound, Jah'rakal jumped towards the black figure and used the remaining mana for his two skills, Berserker Rage and Rampage. Combined, these skills will make him unstoppable.

In a series of blows that the Spectre could not counter, Jah'rakal slashed with a final strike, killing the Spectre. But he was doubtful the creature would stay dead. It was a spirit after all and a tomb guardian too.

He was about to run for the tomb entrance when he suddenly saw the sprawled form of the elf at the back of his eye. Jah'rakal turned and stared.

Would he save the elf and satyr? By all accounts, he wouldn't, taking into fact that elves and satyrs were a general enemy to the troll dominion. But the troll dominion was no more and it wouldn't hurt to have an ally in fighting whatever horrible beast lay in the depths of the tomb of Alterac.

So Jah'rakal, grabbed two bottles of Sapphire Water he got from a goblin merchant along the way and poured its healing prowess onto the satyr and the elf.

Instantly, they woke, taking in large gulps of air as if it were the first they had in so long a time.

Jah'rakal waited impatiently for the two to recover from their ordeal. He had one eye on the place where he struck the Spectre dead, hoping against hope that it wouldn't reappear at that moment.

The satyr was first to realize the importance of the situation. He stared indefinitely at Jah'rakal before speaking. "What happened? I thought we were dead for sure..."

"I went a-coming, mon," Jah'rakal spoke with pride. "I got a-pouring of Sapphire Water on boths of you."

The satyr stared at the still semi-conscious elf. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Jah'rakal shrugged. "Normally, I would be a-saying yes. But not today, mon, not today. He might a-been under the tricksy spells of a-baddie."

"So I take it you have not slain the Black Spirits..."

Jah'rakal stared at the oblivious individual. "There no Black Spirit, bossmon. Only a-Spectre with a-ice-cold name of Mercurial. Ice-cold, mon, cool. Spectre a-go a-haunting nearby victims making that ice-cool illusions. It's wicked, boss, wicked. But I got wickeder power. He was like, BOOM, one, two, three, four, five a-poundin' and the Spectre was a-gone, a-gone away."

The satyr looked dumbstruck. "Wait... The Spirit Nortrom fought was the Spectre!"

"Whos-a-be-a-Nortrom...?" Jah'rakal glanced at the elf for a second before glancing back at the satyr. The satyr nodded.

"Nortrom is a Silencer from the Arcane Sanctum of Quel'Thalas," the satyr said. "I am Rikimaru, the Stealth Assassin as I'd like to be called."

"Jah'rakal, I be Jah'rakal," Jah'rakal inclined his head. "You can call me the ultimate Troll Warlord of a-century. I was a-controlling forest trolls before, boss. I was also a-fighting with the tiny satyrs like you, boss. That was no offense, tiny mon."

A sudden memory sparked inside the satyr. He remembered the story of his mother, the story of the satyrs and the trolls, the war between them, the war his father had died fighting in...

Anger pulsed inside his veins so suddenly. The trolls were responsible for his father's death! They are beyond the satyr's trust!

But then the memory of his quest and the vision at the Tirisfal camp tugged at him from the edge of his mind. And so he thought about Jah'Rakal's proposal...

"My father had died in the war," Rikimaru spoke in spite of himself. "But the circumstances present now are not fit for an ancestral blood feud. I shall bring this topic once more when Nortrom and I have finished our quest."

"Would you be after ice-cool Manta Style?" Jah'rakal said, grinning. "I be after it. It's ice-cool powers, mon, quite wicked."

"Manta Style?" Rikimaru stared at the troll. "Wait, isn't that..."

The satyr flashbacked to a time long ago when his father was still alive... During that time, he heard of the secret artifact, the Manta Style, that his father wanted to give him as an heirloom. But due to the event of that war with the trolls, Farimaru was not able to fulfill his promise...

"It's wicked, mon," Jah'Rakal grinned. "I'd stay here an' talk long but a-Spectre might be a-revivin' and go poundin' us three..."

Rikimaru nodded his approval and tried to heave the elf upon his shoulder.

The elf's eyes suddenly blazed open. "Rikimaru! What are you doing?!"

Nortrom pushed himself up and raised his weapons high. "What happened? Where are the Spirits?"

Rikimaru briefly explained to the elf about the Spectre, Mercurial and how Jah'Rakal happened to pass by.

"I used Sapphire Water on ya, mon," Jah'rakal replied which surprised Nortrom. "Them goblins really a-knowing their stuff."

Nortrom just looked from Rikimaru to Jah'rakal. "Well, we've wasted much time already. We better go before Mercurial wakes up again..."

"That'd be the right thinkin', boss," Jah'rakal agreed heartedly and the three ran into the entrance of the Tomb of Alterac unhindered.


The path down the tomb was no easy task. The unused stone stairs were overgrown with cobwebs and other detritus. The three heroes had to traverse the rough terrain and it took them a long time to reach the bottom where a crossroads met their path.

Jah'rakal broke the mounting silence. "Does both of you mon a-knowing where we go?"

Rikimaru shrugged. So did Nortrom.

"Tha'z rather fortune on you, boss," the troll continued. "I got them planned from up to the heavens to the bottom of this well. Le'z a-go lookin' for this pointy sort-a rock that would show the true ice-cool path."

They searched each entrance until they found a rock in a shape of a hand pointing into the east direction.

"Great," Rikimaru said, leading the expedition. "Let's go."

They ventured deep and silent for one whole minute with only the sound of the dripping water accumulated in the cave's past. Stalagmites and stalactites filled the cave. It cave a creepy feeling of going inside the mouth of a many toothed monster.

Nortrom was not amused by the lack of underground critters that would bar their way. He had expected other creatures to protect this place apart from the Spectre. Apparently, the being that ruled this sanctuary believed it impossible for his defenses to be breached with his immortal defender around.

"I don't like this place at all." Nortrom called to the others.

"I don' like it either, boss," Jah'rakal said shaking his long head. "But I gotta get ice-cool Style."

"What is it about this Style?" Rikimaru piped up. "I know it's great but what's so cool about it?"

Jah'rakal pointed to himself confoundedly. "It has this ice-cool power of making clones of any mon. Very helpful for tight spots. I just wanna get some troll artifact, boss. Kinda like a remembrance for my Warlord days."

"Clones?" Rikimaru said, thinking it over. "Won't that be helpful... We're just going here out of gut instinct. From what Nortrom and I feel, some kind of evil will begin from this place.."

"Hey, leave me out of this, Rik," Nortrom grunted. "I'm just coming with you. Our priority should have been to catch up with the Horde and the Alliance. And suddenly you come running out to the Alterac Ruins because somebody from another world told you to..."

"I don't want to start again, Nortrom," Rikimaru sighed. "If you don't trust me enough, why don't you leave us already?"

There was silence. Nortrom had nothing to say to this remark. Jah'Rakal was just grinning there.

"You, mon, say some bad voodoo will come a-risin' here?" Jah'Rakal broke the silence. "That'd seem not unlikely..."

"Really?" Rikimaru inquired. "Why not?"

"'Cause Alterac be home to a great bad voodoo..."

But before Rikimaru could inquire further, Nortrom suddenly hissed. "Shh!! Something's moving over there..."

The satyr and the troll glanced at the cave wall in front of them. Some light coming from one side was sending out its luminescence into a body of liquid. And some kind of creature was moving in that liquid...

"I'll check it out." Rikimaru suddenly disappeared from view.

"Ice-cool," Jah'rakal commented vaguely. "He could be gone."

Nortrom peered over a large boulder and found the source of light to be a glowing green cage. The moving creature that contained it was a enormous golem way larger than anything he'd ever seen. It was constantly appearing in and out of the cage as if something tugged its essence from the real world.

"You gotta see this, Jah'rakal," Nortrom whispered behind him.

The troll leapt on the rock and silently viewed the sight. "This is more ice-cool, mon! Better than puny little satyr goin' gone!"

Behind him, Nortrom heard a gentle whoosh and Rikimaru materialized once more. "I suggest you don't come near it. It's been tugging on me since I approached it. There's some sort of portal there that leads to another universe or something."

"Would Manta Style be there?" Jah'Rakal inquired, glancing at the golem with delight.

"It's nowhere there." Rikimaru said. "But I think it's further down the cave. Besides, ever since you mentioned that artifact, I thought it would only seem reasonable that the Style was by the end of this cave.

They clambered over the rocky path deeper into the cave. It lasted longer than their trip down since they did not encounter any other spectacular scenery since the golem-portal thing earlier.

As they rounded a final corner, a sudden light burst into their eyes. In the center of a clearing devoid of rocky terrain, a huge stone casket seemed to release a self-sustaining light. It blinded them with bright-yellow luminescence since their eyes were very much accustomed to the darkness of the cave.

The awe-aspiring site instantly consumed them. This was where the answer to Rikimaru's quest had to be. This was where Manta Style of Jah'Rakal had to be.

Instinctively, Nortrom crossed over to the threshold of light. Apparently, it was a mistake he would never forget.

Instantly, upon the elf's entrance into the clearing, the casket opened up and red smoke filled the cave blocking out all light. A booming voice which came from the casket itself echoed into the darkness.

Hear, you mortals, the song of old. The dawn of death approaches.

You have crossed into the realm. Thy be in Tarrasque's clutches.

Golem of death, seek thee out. Into the world of another thee shall flee.

Tarrasque has spoken and you shall fall. By Style's blade and Roshan's glee.