Fun in the Sun
6/5 Early Afternoon
Alex and I made our way over to the troll city of Zul’Farrak by way of Hahrana. Chief Ukorz was somewhere in the center of the city, so approaching from that direction seemed best anyway. Alexstrasza didn’t want to go in guns blazing; she genuinely saw every death as a tragedy. Unfortunately, Sylvanas was currently mass capturing a tribe of kobolds for a mission. I didn’t think trolls were vulnerable enough for mass capture anyway; they were members of a fallen empire, not mentally deficient. Alexstrasza did want to know why exactly he needed to die. I told her honestly that I wasn’t sure exactly what the problem was, but every other person had been pretty heinous. Plus, we technically didn’t need to kill him. Just “defeat” him, which meant killing, capturing, driving him off, or making him submit.
“Good to know.” She sounded thoughtful.
I was a little bummed to get the news that big daddy Raggie was too hot to handle. Especially paired with the news that my team of 7 Guardians of Tirisfal were down to 3 for the day. It occurred to me that if they hadn’t been made into demons, Sally could probably just resurrect them. Note to self: demons are only easier to resurrect if you’re expecting the deaths of hundreds. High profile people can and probably should stay mortal, ironically.
On a positive note: Sagorne Crestrider, the Tauren Shaman I collared at the same time as Tyrande and the rest, seemed to think that the direct portal to the Firelands was inactive now. That meant that full Dark Iron mining operations and the search for pure elementium could begin. Plus, Majordomo Executus was on the road to capture, and I’ll never say no to more raid bosses on the payroll.
It was a long flight, but not excessively so. Blink-flight was getting me through the sky at a very quick clip, to the point that I suggested to Alexstrasza that she should go home, contact Korialstrasz, get him an amulet if at all possible, and wait for me to summon her. If we were going to try to keep this relatively low impact, it would be best if we didn’t open with a red leviathan descending from the sky. I could get in close, she could go in for the kill, we could leave.
••••••••••
Nefarian was irritated at the necessity of waiting, but Kazakusan was one of the few members of his generation that he liked. He didn’t trust him much, mind you, which was why Onyxia had been Nefarian’s partner in the Eastern Kingdoms. She was good at politics. It was her special interest, as Nefarian’s was the underlying mechanics of magic. Kazakusan, on the other hand, adored alchemy and relics. He was, in his narrow area of expertise, almost as skilled as Nefarian. Useful, and vulnerable to Nefarian’s new toys.
When he was finally allowed past the empty eyed Kabal guards, he was already quite irritated. His brother sat in a throne, lounging in a way that had to be calculated. “Kazakus” was a white haired troll, probably intended to be Zandalari, with long dreadlocks and twisted tusks. Nefarian wasted no time. “Brother. I have a proposal for you.”
“Oh?” He spoke with irritation. “What can I do for you, Victor?” Right. Even his minions didn’t know his true nature for whatever reason. He kept most of them drugged, why bother with the trickery? Very inconvenient. “More importantly, why should I do it, whatever it is?”
“I need to work with someone in Kalimdor. There’s a thorn in my side, you see, by the name of Netorarian. He’s quite talented at warping minds, so I need someone who can counter such things.”
“I’m sure you do. Of course, my agents are mostly here. One city is more than enough to keep me busy, if it’s rich enough. Speaking of which; why not Onyxia? Doesn’t she have a spy network you could use?”
“Our dear sister has been enslaved to Netorarian’s will already.”
The troll whistled. “Not bad for someone I haven’t heard of. Does he have anything to do with brokering the peace between Orgrimmar and the Elves?”
“He does.”
“Impressive, and interesting, but back to my first question, and with more emphasis. Why am I putting out my neck against someone that can take down Onyxia and make you sweat?”
Nefarian pulled out two things. A large crystal the size of his thumb, and an injector filled with faintly glowing liquid. “I’ve made a few breakthroughs of my own. I think you’ll find both of these extremely useful for your operations here. I think you’ll find the crystal particularly intriguing to study.”
••••••••••
I wasn’t amazing at stealth, not compared to some members of my retinue like Valeera, but I was good enough. The chief was in a large keep at the center of the small city. It was heavily fortified and gated off, but a gate wasn’t going to impede me. Not at this point. I mostly navigated by target tracker, and was able to get into his audience chamber. It was just barely big enough that I thought Alexstrasza might be able to move and fight in her dragon form if needed. Excellent.
“Alright. I’m in position. You can come here if you’d like.”
Alexstrasza appeared next to me in her elf form, looking down from the top of a wall at the chieftain and shifting her visage to that of a sand troll with startling proficiency. “May I try something?”
“Sure. Go for it. This is your show, just don’t get killed.”
••••••••••
Ukorz Sandscalp was a simple man. He grew up with tales of the great troll empire of old; ancient stories that every troll knew, and the sons of chiefs knew better than anyone. Strangers had come to this land only a generation ago, intruders in the deserts, and his father had made the mistake of thinking that the cruel sands would kill them. The Sandfury tribe should have known better. Should have taken the situation into their own hands then. Now, his enemies were entrenched.
His people would need to put more effort in, which is why he pushed for war. The ogres were exposed, especially after the dragon attack a few weeks back. Their blood would bring water to the desert, and his people would be sovereign once more. The loa he served would see to it.
A tall figure leapt down from the top of a wall. A dark skinned troll with a mane of fiery red hair, wearing gold and red armor. She landed lightly, and with no fear, looking directly past his guards at the chieftain himself. Ruuzlu, his second in command, stepped in front of him with a defensive stance.
“Identify yourself, intruder!”
“Greetings. I am Alexstrasza the Life-Binder, and I come bearing a blessing and a curse for the chieftain of these people. Both will make you stronger, both will make you wiser.”
She sounded like a loa when she spoke like this, so naturally Ukorz looked to his witch doctors for advice. He seemed worried, but nodded. This being was capable of what she claimed, and the sort to do as she said. What worried them, he didn’t know, but he would shoulder any curse for his tribe. He turned back to the beautiful troll woman.
“Very well, I’ll accept both, unless you’re feeling generous and want to give me two gifts instead.” Most Loa had some level of humor, or at least weren’t offended by it. She didn’t smile.
Alexstrasza approached and looked in his eyes. “I will first give you my own burden. Empathy. The knowledge of how you have affected those who rely upon you.” Knowledge flooded through Ukorz. That his friend Ruuzlu was made strong and wise through their bond was no surprise but made him smile. The priests here mostly owed him as well; he had personally promoted them and saw to it that their Loa were properly venerated. Then he felt the grief of one of his guards, who had lost her husband in one of the raids he’d led. He had grieved with her then, but it was months ago. The pain had faded for him. Nonetheless, her pain remained. Ah. The lesson the Loa had spoken of. He would grow wiser from this pain, he supposed, but it most certainly would be a curse.
He had that thought, but didn’t realize how right he was. His new senses flooded over the city of Zul’Farrak and he felt his people, not merely his own inner circle. The families who didn’t have enough water because he had promised their supply to his more needy soldiers. The slaves he had cast out of the army and bound in chains for being too weak. The wounds of the dead, never to be healed. He did not simply know of their pain, he felt it. Furthermore, he could trace it all back to his own choices.
He clung to the sense of civic pride that he had inspired, the feeling of unity and strength, but there were no results he could point at. Nothing tangible he could place his pride in. Only dreams he had inspired, and shed blood for. His people had retaken only a few wells, and most of them had been from the devastated ogres. He felt only the faintest sense of the water flowing down his people’s throats with those victories. He was hardly responsible. He was a failure as chief, and as he saw the results of every action he had taken look back at him, he knew it.
The chieftain collapsed in shock, unable to process all of this new information at once. “And now the gift. The curse will give you knowledge and wisdom that a true leader needs. The gift will grant you the strength to carry it.” She proffered an amulet for him, and the muscular troll gingerly took it in his hands. “It will become easier soon. In a week, at most.” At least, Alexstrasza thought, according to Tyrygosa.