Some years passed, until Za'rhin was one day riding through the jungle of Strangelthorn Vale. He had been commissioned by a man in Booty Bay to find a very rare type of plant, and had been searching all morning. He started to feel the need to find shelter from the scorching midday sun, but as he dismounted his raptor reacted to something in the air.
"What?" he asked the animal out loud, before he let his mount lead him through some bushes.
There was a black panther lying between the trees, its fur covered in blood and cuts.
"It be a dead panther only," the warrior snorted, stroking the raptor's flank. "Nothin' to worry..."
And then he felt the smell. For a moment he just stood frozen, before he started scouring the ground for something. Finding what he was looking for he knelt down and when he lifted his eyes from the ground there was a look in them that would have made the most skilled paladin think twice about going near.
Za'rhin was in the saddle with a jump and let the raptor run along the trail freely, causing him to have to duck under branches and cling to the reins during the wild ride. His heart was pounding hard with fear, and his breath was shallow even though it was the raptor doing the running.
The trail led him to a small shack not far from a cliff overseeing the ocean. Leaving his mount behind he crawled through bushes and undergrowth without making a sound, and soon his worst suspicions were confirmed.
In front of the shack there was a huge pole rising from the ground. It was coloured a dirty brown from old blood and to Za'rhin's keen senses the entire clearing around the shack smelled of fear and death.
"Hunters," the warrior growled between his teeth.
He had heard rumours that there were groups of them spread around the forest, hunting solitary trolls for their beads and tusks, but had not yet had the displeasure of confirming the rumours himself. Trying not to look at the troll bound to the pole, he circled around the clearing scouting what he knew would soon be a battleground for him.
He forced his eyes away from the figure in front of the shack time after time, knowing he would have to keep his head clear and his rage controlled if he was going to fight the men who's voices drifted out to him through the open doorway of the shack.
Squinting through a crack in the boards at the back of the cabin told him there were five men in there, three by a table, one at the stove frying something, and one on a mattress, his bandaged body filling Za'rhin with a moment's pride; they had not escaped unharmed.
'
The men were waiting for breakfast. They had had a long night and yawned as they planned the day ahead.
"We have enough for taking a trip into town today," one nodded happily.
He was sitting with his back to the door and thus never knew what happened before he was lifted off the ground, the tip of a spear protruding from his chest.
The other men drew their weapons, but hesitated slightly. The troll in the doorway was armoured and as they watched him the white around the blue orbs of his irises turned a burning red.
'
Za'rhin let the rage take over. He threw aside the dead man before kicking one of the men by the table into the one by the stove. That left him a single man to fight for the next moment, and soon the second of the hunters was on the floor, blood oozing from his throat.
The chef screamed in pain as the man who was pushed into him caused him to put one hand on the frying pan, but did not have time to contemplate the pain as he was grabbed by the hair and his face slammed into the sizzling pan. A nauseating smell of burnt flesh and hair immediately filled the air as Za'rhin turned to the last standing man.
The troll-hunter lashed out with his sword only to find the troll was not where he had been a second ago. A muscular leg connected with his head and sent him spinning into the wall, making half the shack crumble as the boards keeping it up fell away. A large hand grabbed the man before he could recuperate and dragged his body through the debris of the hut just to slam his head against one of the rocks on the outside.
Za'rhin did not stop until the troll-hunter's head was a gory mess. Then he re-entered the shack, this time dragging the scorched remains of the chef out. The man was still alive, but not concious enough to even fight the troll.
The fall from the cliff ought to kill the man, but if it did not then the rocks in the water below could certainly do the job, or the frenzied sharks flocking to the cliff side when they smelled fresh blood.
The last man was the one lying bandaged and fevered in bed. As Za'rhin knelt down beside him he opened his eyes and looked up at the troll with fear evident in his gaze.
"Please," he begged. "Mercy! Don't kill me."
Without a word, Za'rhin picked up a skinning knife that had fallen on the floor during the previous struggle. He buried the blade of the knife in the man's stomach before leaving the crumbling remains of the shack.
"Don't leave me like this," the man gasped. "I'll bleed to death!"
Za'rhin did understand his words, and if he had been bothered he would have told the man that bleeding to death was much better than what he could have done, but at the moment the rage was subsiding and there were more important things at hand.
He knelt before the troll at the pole, supporting the limp body against his shoulder while he loosened the chains that held him. Even expecting the worst he was shocked as he lifted the young troll's head carefully with shivering hands.
The left eye of the troll was swollen and glued shut by all the blood in it and the face Za'rhin knew well was beaten and bruised, but the worst part was the gaps at each side of the lips where his tusks should have been. It had obviously bled a lot, and the dried cakes of blood told the warrior it had been done some time ago. The panther he had found had been killed the day before, probably late in the evening, and Za'rhin shuddered with the thought that they had kept the torture going all through the night.
As there was a short gasp from the weak body in his arms, the warrior stroked the green hair comfortingly and whispered:
"Ah got yah, Tata Parnko. Don yah worry. Ah got yah."
*****
For those who know Jah'ren and his story; this is how it happened. I always knew Za'rhin was the one saving him, but I just had to get it down on paper.
And I don't know if there'll be any more chapters before the wedding... I am so busy these days. At least I'll convince my boys to come to my bachelor-party... ;D