The Calling
Snow and slush touched waves whipped against a hull of a massive warship. At it’s head, a lone troll stood surveying the horizon, seemingly unfazed by the cold winds which would chill others to the bone. In his hand, he tightly clutched a totem of the Loa of Death, Bwonsamdi; who had commanded him north for an unknown reason. The troll obeyed without a second thought, who was he to second-guess his patron Loa who brought him life after all? Thankfully, Bwonsamdi said nothing about bringing along company.
“Aye, Dar’kran!” howled a voice over the cold winds, as two more trolls stepped up to the head of the ship, the lone troll turning his head to see them. A man and a child, each of them was clad in heavy wool and cloaks shielding them from the cold; neither of them had quite the resistance as he. “Come on inside, mon, its getting late!” the older troll beckoned to the loner, to which he nodded and followed them.
Inside the deck cabin, the other two trolls shed their protective gear, the older one shaking his green braids free and brushing some frost from his tusks. The younger one sneezing and shaking his hands and face to warm up, he was but a tuskling really. They were Zul’jawa and Zugon, the only family that the old troll had left in this world. They settled in the middle of the cabin, warming their hands at the brazier, it’s fire flickering. Zugon rubbed his hands together for a moment and, while sneezing, managed to conjure more flame with the help of the elements, his shaman training had yielded fantastic results so far. The older troll, Dar’kran, sat with them, rustling his young son’s hair as a sign of pride and acknowledgment, a small smile on his face, “That’s my boy. Just like your ol’ mon.” Zugon flashed a toothy grin, his tusks finally starting to take more prominent shape. Dar’kran’s attention turned to Zul’jawa, his best friend, who’s own shivering had stopped and now was just reclining next to the brazier. “We should make landfall by morning. We should be able to resupply and rest for a day or two at Warsong Hold then before we move forward. Are you still along for the ride, brother?”
Zul’jawa sat up, yawning and stretching, “Mon, it’s been way too long since I’ve had a nice adventure with ya. I ain’t quittin now! And besides,” he reaches to Zugon, rustling his hair like his father just did, “Gonna need more protection than just Zugon here, you be on creaky old mon now!” He let out a hearty laugh, nearly falling backwards. while Zugon actually did. Dar’kran smiled.
“Good to hear, mon. Its always nice to have some travel companions.”
“You can always count on me, mon!”
“And me too, fatha!” Piped Zugon, propping himself up on his elbows. The little mon looked exhausted, yawning as the words left him. Dar’kran chuckled, as he rose to scoop up his son in his arms.
“That’s the spirit, lil mon. Now you get some rest, we got a big day tomorrow.” Murmured Dar’kran, as he set his son down in his bunk for the night, Zugon nodding and closing his eyes as his father tucked him in. Dar’kran returned to the brazier, gazing into the flames for a moment.
“You okay, mon?” uttered Zul’jawa, a look of concern on his face.
“Yah, mon. It’s just..” he struggled to find the words for a moment, “Bwonsamdi has never seemed so concerned before, said he could feel all kinds of bad mojo moving north.”
“Do you think it’s her?”
“Maybe, but I don’t know why he’d send me. Against someone like the her, what could I possibly hope to achieve?” He scratched his chin a moment.
“Bolvar maybe?” Zul was rubbing his chin now.
“Unlikely. Mon ain’t exactly sunshine and happiness, but I can’t imagine him stirring up trouble like the one before.” he shrugged, stepping towards the window of the cabin and gazing outward, the tip of Icecrown now barely visible in the far off distance. Zul walked up beside him, gazing outward with him.
“You know, he could be up there, causing some trouble..” Zul’s voice ran cold, fists clenching. Dar’kran rested a hand on his shoulder.
“We don’t know that. All of your Siame-Quashi agents haven’t been able to find anything to pin him anywhere. For all we know, he could be rotting under some rubble.” He trailed off, doubting even his own words, until Zul hit him in the shoulder.
“Best we don’t tempt fate then, aye mon?” Zul smirked, and did Dar’kran.
“You’re right, mon. You’re right.” He chuckled, patting his friend on the back. “I’m going to go out for a bit longer. You get some rest, aye?” They nodded to one another, as Dar’kran stepped out into the icy cold once again.
The cold didn’t bother him one bit, not ever since he first ventured to Northrend decades earlier, this was just like any other climate for him. And yet, as he stared at the monument to death in the distance, an uneasy feeling set in. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he had a sense that this was the beginning a harrowing journey, and that the ghosts of his past would surely have words with him.
