Under the Vulpine Shadow ((Story))

Prologue: Cleaning Up.

Zul’dazar. The jungle region of Zandalar. Seat of power for the troll race. The great golden city of Dazar’alor rose up from the green landscape, magnificent in both raft and regality. However, the city is only one part of Zul’dazar. The jungle pressed in on all sides. The strangling trees and vines grow quickly and densely, all but blotting out the harsh sun.  It is hot and humid, the air heavy with moisture and the constant smell of detritus. It is rarely silent, with the constant droning of birds and insects, punctuated with the roars and squeals of predator and prey alike.

For the uninitiated, the jungle is a labyrinthine living wall. One direction is much the same as the other, for even the usual guides to navigation – the sun and the stars – get lost within the coiling mass of vegetation. Many a foolhardy adventurer has met their unrecorded end in the jungle – never returning from seemingly basic tasks, an empty space and missed rendezvous the only clue as to their fate. The jungle sees all, and swallows all.

This, of course, makes it a brilliant place to hide.

It had been months since the uncovering of the Prophet Zul’s plan to overthrow and destroy the empire, starting with the attempted assassination of King Rastakhan and release the blood god G’huun. The attempt was doomed to fail, as Zul met his end, as did G’huun, at the hands of adventurers acting on behalf of the Horde and Zandalari. Since, then, much had happened. Dazar’alor was attacked by the Alliance, bringing their conflict with the Horde to a boil. Rastakhan was killed, even as the Alliance was repelled. Queen Azshara made her presence known, drawing heroes and villains alike to the sunken realm of Nazjatar. This series of events led to the release of N’zoth the Corrupter, the fourth Old God, who threated the very life of Azeroth itself. Darkness and madness crept through the realm, leading to the resolution of the Horde/Alliance conflict, and a desperate expedition into the dark empire of Ny’alotha itself. As all looked to be lost, N’zoth was destroyed when heroes managed to fire the powers of the forge of origination, obliterating the Old God once and for all. In the aftermath, a tenuous hush fell over Azeroth. Much had happened in the past months. It was chaos.

It also provided the perfect cover for a small group of fugitives. A group of fanatical zandalari trolls to escape the clutches of the defenders of Dazar’alor and melt into the jungle. There, they could wait and avoid death. There, they could hide and scheme. However, even scheming could wait. For now, it was best to stay quiet and stay down.

Chaka, one of the last surviving members of the extremist faction known as Atal’zul, hunkered down behind a patch of ferns. His body was still, and he barely even breathed. Despite having lived in Dazar’alor for many years, he had been raised in the jungle, and he knew how to make himself hidden. He glanced behind him, noting with relief that his four companions had done the same. They looked to him for guidance. Yuho’s eyes, however, scanned the jungle behind them. She briefly met his gaze, and hiked a thumb in the same direction he was looking. Yes, Chaka thought. Dat was where de sound came from.

The other three crouched and said nothing. Za’kos had his hand on his sword. The young, hotblooded troll was aching to slice something up. Behind him, Juloc and Asho stood with their daggers out. They had not heard the sound, but they trusted Chaka’s judgement enough to follow his lead. He smiled inwardly. As long as we draw breath, the prophet’s vision endures. We will see G’huun restored. We will see our enemies dead. He shook his head, casting thoughts of revenge and redemption aside. First, we will survive. We will leave this jungle.

The five cultists crouched immobile for what seemed like an age, responding to the small rustling sound they had heard from behind them. Too small and quiet to be one of the jungle’s many predators, too loud to simply be another bird or small animal. Eventually, Chaka began to relax. The gestured to his companions that the owner of the noise, whatever it had been, had seemed to have moved on. He then reached for a low branch to hoist himself to his feet. He grinned at Yuho, but his smile froze as he saw her eyes. They were wide with horror, and were fixed upon the branch he held.

The branch that was decaying rapidly as he gripped it. It turned from green, to brown, to black, before finally oozing out of his hand. Chaka gasped, and leaped back from the sight. He did not notice the ground around him also blackening and dying, the lustrous green giving way to colours of death. He also did not notice the massive, looming shape behind him, nor the glowing, runed broadsword that came down hard, cleaving his skull in twain. He died without sound or knowledge, collapsing into a puddle of decaying blood and brain.

Yuho’s eyes darted around, looking for escape as the hulking form stepped forward, hoofed legs squelching through the remains of Chaka. Icy, glowing eyes fell upon her, and despite the jungle heat, she felt a chill run up her spine. Before her and her companions stood a tauren, one of the Horde races. However, this tauren was different. He smelled of death.

Za’kos drew his own sword, and began to shout a battle cry. He got halfway through it before a second sword, this one glowing with golden light, flashed out of the undergrowth, cleaving his head from his shoulders. A second tauren stepped into view, this one clad in plate armour that glowed with holy light. Were the first reeked of death, this one held a stern, righteous expression as he brought his now-bloody sword to bear.

That was enough for Yuho and her two remaining zealots. They turned and fled, no longer caring about stealth as they crashed through the jungle. Yuho glanced over her shoulder, sure she would be seeing the two plate-clad behemoths surging after them. But no, they stood silently where they had emerged, staring after them. She swore that one of the had a knowing smile –

“STOP!” Yuho bellowed, realizing the reason too late. She dove to the side, rolling into the undergrowth. Her two companions skidded to a halt and tried to follow suit, but Juloc stopped fast. Yuho began to urge him on, when she realized that he had not halted under his own power. A thick, thorny vine had risen from the ground to loop around Juloc’s ankle. He howled in pain as the thick, sharp thorns sliced into his leg. Blood ran in rivulets from the hapless cultist as the vine wound higher, circling his hips and torso. Yuho saw his eyes, horribly wide and desperate as he reached with a free arm towards her. Then, the razored vine slid across his throat, and his eyes lost their shine. Juloc fell limp, propped up by the vine.

Stepping up beside the newly-created corpse was yet another tauren. However, this tauren was like nothing Atal’zul had seen before. This tauren was almost transparent, and glowed with a pale, lunar light. He seemed to flicker in and out of being, except for his eyes, which glowed brighter still. They fixed on Yuho, and she felt all the fury of nature behind them. Zul help us, she prayed fervently. She did not move as the ethereal tauren stared at her impassively.

Beside her, Asho broke. She turned and ran. The tauren’s gaze shifted “NO!” Yuho called after her. Too late.

The tauren lifted a hand. The trees parted above the fleeing troll. A column of pale light slammed down upon Asho, who howled in pain as her body burned. In a fraction of a second, she was gone. The light retreated, leaving naught but smoldering ashes upon the ground. Yuho noticed with horrible detail that the jungle was not burned. Only Asho had been affected. Who are dese people?

She turned back to the glowing tauren, who had nonw been joined by the other two. Three towering, horned monsters, staring down at her. Yuho struggled to her feet, backing away slowly. All the while, her mind raced. Escape was near impossible, but her eyes darted left and right, searching the jungle for something, anything she could use to her advantage. She tried to banish her fear, to replace it with the usual level of faith and rage. Still, the thought kept resurfacing. Chaka was so careful. I was so careful. How did dese 'tree beasts find us in our jungle? How did dey trick us on our own homeland?!

She bared her teeth at her tomentors. “Zul take ya all, demons! I swear by da prophet, you all will die!”

The tauren said nothing. The one who reeked of death grinned again, a horrible, sinister grin. The other two simply looked up. Yuho followed their gaze, and her heart fluttered as she saw a dark shape leap from the branches above. Long legs unfolded as a fourth figure landed in front of the tauren. It all became clear to her then. Why the tauren were able to find them so easily in the jungle. Yuho’s fear momentarily turned to rage. Dey had help.

“Zandalari?! You would hunt yo’ own kind?!”

The newly arrived zandalari troll straightened. Standing upright, he was as tall as the tauren. Dressed in simple zandalari attire, his person was adorned with ivory totems, rings and symbols. His tusks were long and curved, and his eyes were clear and focused. They burrowed into Yuho’s, even as the small smile played across his lips. His voice was quiet, but clear.

“You are no kin of mine, Atal’zul,” the troll shook his head. “You try an’ destroy our empire, sacrifice us all to ya blood god, an’ you dare to say we are de same?”

'Tree steps to reach him. Yuho howled and lunged at the troll. On the first step, the troll raised a hand. On the second, he closed his eyes. There was no third, as the ground opened up under Yuho’s foot. She fell, landing hard on jagged rock. She wailed as ribs cracked and limbs broke. She screamed and swore as she rolled over on to her back, seeing the troll’s face hovering far above her, the knowing smile still on his features. Forgetting her agony for a moment, Yuho howled in fury from the depths of the pit he had created.

“Demons! Zul will rise again! Nothing will stop him! He will come for you.” She cackled deliriously. “Da end will come! We believe! De Atal’zul will rise again! Dis land will be ours!!!” She choked, tasting blood.

The zandalari chuckled. “I guess cannot be arguin’ wit belief.” He gazed down at the prone Yuho, and his mask slipped. She saw cruel light creep into his eyes, and he bared sharpened teeth. “I be leaving ya now. Here be one last question…”

Yuho felt, more than saw, the walls of the pit being to move. She struggled hopelessly, her scream rising in her throat. She cried out in her mind as well. Zul, take me! Spare my suffering! Grant me relief! As the pit began to close in around her, she saw the troll turn and walk away. The tauren followed, moving past the pit. She heard the troll’s words come floating down.

“How can ya believe ya be blessed, when even dis’ very land be against ya?”

The final thing Yuho heard and felt was not Zul’s relief. It was the crunching and grinding of her own body as the earth slammed shut upon her.

“I am simply saying, we needed to provide evidence,” Row sighed, “and by that I mean not evidence that needs to be scraped from the leaves.” The tauren paladin shouldered aside a low-hanging creeper vine as the party moved behind him through the jungle. A pair of tusks, torn from the skull of the cultist he had decapitated, swayed at his belt.

“There was enough left,” scoffed Garrug. Also a tauren, the death knight looked the polar opposite of Row, clad in his ebony armour and with his glowing blue eyes, the legacy of the scourge magic used to reanimate him all those years ago. Although, the magic had seemingly neglected to reanimate Garrug’s ability to not splatter his victim’s brains all over the jungle floor.

“Hardly,” Row shot back, exasperated. “Talanji’s officers would simply say ‘dat could be anyone’s brains you be holdin!’”

Gashkali lightly smacked Row on the back of his horned head as he strode past, taking point. “If ya gonna be imitatin’ us trolls, at least be doin’ a good job wit’ de accent.”

Garrug snorted in amusement. “Row, you’re giving me grief over my mess. At least I didn’t bury my kill twenty feet under the earth!”

The zandalari turned and glared at the death knight. “Talanji not be de only one I be answerin’ to. Zul’s miscreants cursed dis jungle wit’ their’ hatred and blood magic. De loa and de very elements on Zuldazar cried out for vengeance.” A small smile tugged at the shaman’s features. “I be simply givin’ de elements wat dey want. A small price for our safe passage.”

Guruum, the usually taciturn druid, spoke up. “Fair enough, Kali, but you chose for her to be alive when that happened.” He shook his horned head. “Was it your vengeance as well? Did you choose to leave nothing of that cultist behind?”

Gashkali smiled slightly, showing pointed teeth. “Perhaps.” Just as quickly as it appeared, the smile was gone as his eyes settled on a small break in the vegetation ahead. “De trail be ahead. Should e back to de city by afternoon, and de guild by nightfall.”

The four quickened their pace through the jungle. As they did, Row’s voice sounded once again. “Wait, Guruum. Didn’t you vaporize one of them?!”

“…maybe.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________


“Drink up! Taz’dingo!” Gashkali raised his cup.

The members of the Vulpine Shadow Guild repeated the troll guild leader’s cheer and raised their cups in response. Ale flowed freely in the makeshift headquarters of the guild, situated in an out-of-the-way abode close to Dazar’Alor’s port. From there, the guild’s many members staged their adventuring expeditions and hoarded their fund and supplies. Gashkali, Row, Guurum and Garrug’s foray into the jungle had proven lucrative, and they had used the zandalari gold so supply the rest of the guild with food and ale. With Zandalar now experiencing relative peace with N’Zoth’s defeat, adventuring quests were becoming less frequent, so the Vulpine Shadow – formed at the start of the Fourth War from adventurers seeking a multitude of things - was considering leaving the island nation and heading to Kalimdor. For some horde members like Row and Guruum, it was a return home. For Gashkali and the other Zandalar natives, it was a chance to see a different part of the world.

“Gashkali, the Echo Isles are breathtaking,” Kali’bane, a Darkspear warlock, said, leaning over the table towards his zandalari counterpart. “Vol’jin, loa rest his soul, carved out a good home for us.” Kali’bane’s troll accent was nearly non-existant – the legacy of extended service to the horde. Gashkali found the warlock fascinating. He had spoken of incredible things - of journeys and redemption in another world  - another time. Almost unbelievable stories - but true, all of them.

“No doubt, brudda,” Gashkali replied with a smile. “I look forward ta seein’ dem.”

“Isles? Does that mean sand?” asked Debden, the diminutive Vulperan hunter and tracker. “I’ve seen enough sand to last a lifetime…”

This got a laugh from the table. Kali’bane started to respond, when his eyes glazed over. His cup fell from his grip as his hands shot to his temples, squeezing them hard and screwing his eyes shut. Gashkali lost his smile and began to ask what was wrong, when a thousand silent screams erupted in his head at once. He shot to his feet, reeling back against the stone wall. De elements! Dey be in pain! Gashkali felt the horror and agony of the elements and loa as if it were his own. It was as if a giant hole was being torn through the very heart of the earth. He fought against the tidal wave of anguish, forcing his eyes open to check on his guildmates. What he saw through the pain froze his blood. “By de loa…”

Every magic user in the guild was doubled over, seeming wracked with the same pain he was. Kali’bane was slumped over the table, lips moving soundlessly. Guruum flitted in and out of his ethereal moonkin form, his skin flickering like a candle caught in a breeze. Row moved his mouth in silent prayer, his armour creaking and shaking as he fought to stay in control of his functions. Jodai and Gami, both monks, had sunk into lotus positions on the floor, trying unsuccessfully to block out the pain by meditating. He saw Garish, the other shaman in the guild, writhing in agony, wailing for the elements. Behind him, Rowhot the Nightborne priest struggled through a prayer of healing, attempting to come to the aid of his guildmates even as the pain lanced through him. Even Perollis the demon hunter had his eyes screwed shut behind his blindfold. Not even his demonic sight could shield him from the element’s pain.

The pain began to subside, and magic users began to pick themselves up as their physical guildmates looked on in worried anguish. However, Garrug seemed the worst affected. He slammed his huge frame this way and that, swinging and fighting an invisible enemy. Then, he gasped in horror, sinking to his knees as if bound by invisible chains. His dead tauren’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “She wouldn’t…”

Gashkali grasped the death knight’s shoulder, shaking him hard. When Garrug’s glowing eyes met his, the shaman spoke softly.

“Who, Garrug? What did you see?”

The tauren death knight shook his head. “Sylvanas… she has… the veil… gone…” Garrug lurched to his feet. “We must stop her…”

Gashkali sucked in a breath, quietening the roaring of the elements within him. He had no idea what Garrug was saying, but for every magic user, regardless of path, to feel the same thing. Dis bodes ill for us all, he thought, dread creeping up his spine. He opened his mouth, but as interrupted by the massive beat of zandalari drums. They ripped through silence left by the pain. He eflt, rather than saw, his guildmates eyes turn to him, the sole zandalari. He faced them, lightning sparking in his eyes, his pain being replaced by rage at the one who had done this to the elements. The dread, however, remained.

“Dey sound de drums. It be a summons. We will go. We will find out wat be happenin’.”

"Another attack on Dazar'Alor?" asked Valhanzo, a sin'dorei ranger and a recent addition to the guild.

Kali’bane shook his head. “Dis is not just Dazar’Alor’s problem.”

“No, it isn’t,” Garrug murmured, climbing to his hooves. “This bodes ill for us all…”