AkuTazee
06-22-2006, 12:57 PM
I know not from whence I came.
I was told that I was Darkspear, that I was a disgrace. That I had been banished.
Lies.
I am different from all the others, and yet, I have no memory outside of the tribe. All of them are fools. To believe that I could possibly fit in with such a renegade band of pitiful miscreants that willingly defile the name of the Trollish race is preposterous. They speak of honor, of glory, but that is something that none of them understand.
I was furious when Thrall and his green skins came. Sen’Jin trusted him so, that his dying wish was to have his people saved. I mock that sort of desperation. That sort of cowardice. The Trollish race is one of marvel, of power, and in our pinnacle we spanned the entire continent to the point where the most powerful nations in the world bowed before our might. However, there were always those who were not fit for the title “Troll”. First it was the Atal’ai, the fanatical priests who, in their crazed lust for power, wished to summon into this world the avatar of the most dangerous being in existence. Even in their lowest point, the Atal’ai contributed something to our race as a whole. That is one thing that could not be said about the Darkspears.
They could not fathom why they were deserving of banishment, despite the fact that the terms were presented as clear as day. And in the cycle of endless warfare that threatened to crush them, they sought a way out. This loop hole which presented itself required only one thing of them; shame. They, indeed, chose the shame. They presented themselves as servants to the beck and call of the Orcish race. Devoid of a strong leader, on an individual level each of them became tainted. Without the cunning and tact of Zul’jin, without the necessary levels of planning, without the consideration for the hot gaze of historians upon the past, they made themselves slaves, and they are proud of that.
No, I was never a Darkspear.
When I became a witch doctor, a profession which I loathed, and a profession forced upon me by my “father”, my tutors were amazed by my abilities. The ability to memorize curses, hexes, the controlling of the natural essence of voodoo. Though they never mentioned it aloud, I felt their jealousy. Jealousy spawned of a lack of understanding. Jealousy spawned for my heritage and my bloodline, which empowered me beyond the threshold of their wildest dreams. I excelled far past their most credited elders, augurs, hexxers, and headshrinkers.
No, I knew from a young age that I was not Darkspear.
From the moment a Troll is born, he is to commit the utmost loyalty to his tribe. He is prepared to give his life, if need be, and in return, he is sanctioned by the protection of his people. He is taught to loathe everyone outside of his own, no matter the differences between them, and in times of war, he is guaranteed recognition for his part in battle with his fellows.
I had no fellows to call my own. I was alone in the world.
Until I found the Zandalar.
No matter what I was, I am Zandalari now.
There is no going back.
Praise be to the eternal creator of Zuldazar, praise be to the maker above.
I was told that I was Darkspear, that I was a disgrace. That I had been banished.
Lies.
I am different from all the others, and yet, I have no memory outside of the tribe. All of them are fools. To believe that I could possibly fit in with such a renegade band of pitiful miscreants that willingly defile the name of the Trollish race is preposterous. They speak of honor, of glory, but that is something that none of them understand.
I was furious when Thrall and his green skins came. Sen’Jin trusted him so, that his dying wish was to have his people saved. I mock that sort of desperation. That sort of cowardice. The Trollish race is one of marvel, of power, and in our pinnacle we spanned the entire continent to the point where the most powerful nations in the world bowed before our might. However, there were always those who were not fit for the title “Troll”. First it was the Atal’ai, the fanatical priests who, in their crazed lust for power, wished to summon into this world the avatar of the most dangerous being in existence. Even in their lowest point, the Atal’ai contributed something to our race as a whole. That is one thing that could not be said about the Darkspears.
They could not fathom why they were deserving of banishment, despite the fact that the terms were presented as clear as day. And in the cycle of endless warfare that threatened to crush them, they sought a way out. This loop hole which presented itself required only one thing of them; shame. They, indeed, chose the shame. They presented themselves as servants to the beck and call of the Orcish race. Devoid of a strong leader, on an individual level each of them became tainted. Without the cunning and tact of Zul’jin, without the necessary levels of planning, without the consideration for the hot gaze of historians upon the past, they made themselves slaves, and they are proud of that.
No, I was never a Darkspear.
When I became a witch doctor, a profession which I loathed, and a profession forced upon me by my “father”, my tutors were amazed by my abilities. The ability to memorize curses, hexes, the controlling of the natural essence of voodoo. Though they never mentioned it aloud, I felt their jealousy. Jealousy spawned of a lack of understanding. Jealousy spawned for my heritage and my bloodline, which empowered me beyond the threshold of their wildest dreams. I excelled far past their most credited elders, augurs, hexxers, and headshrinkers.
No, I knew from a young age that I was not Darkspear.
From the moment a Troll is born, he is to commit the utmost loyalty to his tribe. He is prepared to give his life, if need be, and in return, he is sanctioned by the protection of his people. He is taught to loathe everyone outside of his own, no matter the differences between them, and in times of war, he is guaranteed recognition for his part in battle with his fellows.
I had no fellows to call my own. I was alone in the world.
Until I found the Zandalar.
No matter what I was, I am Zandalari now.
There is no going back.
Praise be to the eternal creator of Zuldazar, praise be to the maker above.