Post by Shyrendora on Jun 18, 2015 22:21:06 GMT 1
The Empire
The Birth of the Empire
The Empire was born from a meeting, one dark, cold night in the cliffs above Sen'jin village. Chance, fate, destiny, whatever you wish to call it, had called trolls of many different backgrounds to this specific place, at this specific time. Names now legendary to us, through their deeds and words.
The first Emperor, the dark and enigmatic Vishnah. A warrior from the frozen northlands, inspiring fear and respect by his mere presence. Rhashan, seeking his heritage and searching for revenge. Destined to one day become the Headhunter. Zuc'aljun, the wary but determined mage from the Hinterlands; Umankik, the feral berserker, loyal guard of the emperor; and many others. All led by the unseen hand of Dambalah, they pledged themselves this night to each other and to Vishnah, their leader.
In a ceremony we echo still today in the initiation of the Blood Drinkers, the soon to be Emperor bound the first trolls to him, by blood and by oath. An ancient golden goblet and kris, depicting the Great Serpent, were used on that first night to hold his blood, and they all drank in turn. He spoke those fateful words that began it all...
"This is the Bloodpact. This is the ancient oath to the Great Snake and the Troll race. This is a symbol of our kin. This blood carries power, but also great suffering and responsibility. I will lead you trolls to our glorious future. The earth will drink deep the blood of our enemies, and so shall you. We will become strong again, by renewing our faith and destroying those who would seek to destroy us. Drink my blood and accept me as your leader. Blood, Fire, Death."
It was after the others had said their words and tasted his blood before the old eccentric troll Meezil stood before the mighty Emperor. He had been watching from the shadows. Unafraid, he announced himself as the last Shadow Priest of the Atal'ai. Brave Umankik, loyal from the very beginning, made to attack the old troll, remembering the horrors the Atal'ai had bestowed on the troll race. But Vishnah calmed the great berserker, and listened to Meezil's words as he urged him to recreate the empire of old, to call all trolls to him and fight the ancient enemy of Hakkar. Meezil picked up the goblet like the others had, but before drinking added his own blood to mix with that of the Emperor.
"Blood, Fire, Death," he spoke aloud sealing his fate to that of the newborn Empire.
Days passed and trolls throughout the world flocked to the banner of the Gurubashi Empire. Whispers travelled the length and breadth of the world, a new hope for troll kind, and the Emperor arranged a grand gathering within the orc city of Orgrimmar. Open to any troll willing to join and fight for his new empire.
The faces of that first fateful night mixed with the fresh new faces, all watched in awe as Vishnah began a new era.
Meezil's Betrayal
The glorious days of the first reign of the Empire had begun. Meezil, ex-hakkari shadow priest was named as the High Priest, tasked with guiding the devotion of the trolls to the God, Dambalah. He set in place, a new priesthood. the Emerald Riders. At the same time Vishnah announced the names of his high council, who would take over the day to day business of running the Empire.
Thus the Emperor began to remove himself from the public eye, only seen rarely, surrounded by his faithful Atai guard. Restlessness and fear began once more to creep into the souls of the trolls of the Empire.
Rumours speculated at the possible reasons for the Emperor's distance? Illness? Mistrust of his trolls? Was he planning something? At meetings the Emperor was present but seemed distant, distracted. Letting Meezil do most of the talking. We began to ask ourselves who the true leader of the Empire was?
All of a sudden, Vishnah announced a meeting. The trolls gathered, awaiting their Emperor, eager to hear his words, to see fire and purpose in his eyes once more. But before Vishnah could arrive, Meezil, the High Priest spoke to the Empire. He accused the Emperor of being weak, failing to be a true leader. He announced his intention to kill Vishnah and take his place as emperor. Arrogant and foolish, Meezil expected that the empire would unite behind him. But he was wrong. We remained loyal to our Emperor, and the Atai Guard leapt into action. They cut down the traitorous Meezil, raining blows down upon him like a hate filled storm. With his dying breath Meezil called out "Hakkar... I will not die!"
Hakkar.. our ancient enemy. How long had Meezil been corrupted? Had he worked all along with the intention of betraying us? It was shocking to believe that someone so trusted could prove to be so false. However, Meezil was right about one thing. He did not die. Instead he disappeared entirely, and though the emperor and the rest of the empire searched; only the faintest traces were left behind.
News of a Hakkar worshipping cult, but nothing of what they were planning, were they were hiding. The search for taitors turned within. It was at the forefront of everyone's mind. Vishnah retreated deeper into seclusion after choosing Meezil's successor; Juncoatl.
As quickly as it had begun the threat was over. Out of nowhere news reached us that Meezil had destroyed his own cult. Killing all his followers and disappearing once again. However, this good news didn't seem to brighten the Emperor's mood. It was almost as though Meezil's betrayal had broken somehting within him. He ended all association with anyone within the empire. Even refusing to see his own Empress.
What should have been a time of joy and celebration, was instead a time of mourning. The Emperor abandonded us. Many wept at his passing, almost as though he had died. And perhaps in many ways he had. In our time of greatest need he had abandoned those he swore to protect. He was dead to us.
Dawn of the Second Reign
Our day to day lives changed. What use were Atai' Guard without an Emperor? What was the use of patrolling an Empire without an Emperor? The High council struggled to rule, the empty throne weighed heavily on the hearts and mind of every troll. And for the first time the very real threat of civil war loomed.
But what was to be done?
The council turned to the Loa, the wise and ever watchful guardians of our kind. The High Priest Juncoatl was sent to the ancient city of Zul'Gurub to seek their counsel.
Many weeks passed without word. Had somethign happened to Juncoatl? Had he abanadoned his people as easily as Vishnah had? The High Council went in search of him. Travelling within the walls of the mysterious city itself, but found only disaster. Juncoatl was dead.
However, at the point of hopelessness hope flickered still, for his soul remained intact. In a ritual born of desperation, bravery and faith the council brought life back to the old, fragile body of the High Priest. A miracle! A sign! The favour of Dambalah had been bestowed upon Juncoatl, and he was crowned Emperor.
The Third Reign: The new Chosen of Dambalah
The months passed in a blur of celebration. But it was to be short lived. Soon it was evident that the new Emperor was not up to the task of running the Empire. He was old, and feeble. The trolls of the Empire required a firm hand and strong leadership, it would be one of the younger trolls. A relgious zealot who would be next to curry favour with Dambalah.
The Trolls gathered in the Arena, thinking about past experiences. The smell of blood and dust filled the air as the High Priest Tziak glanced around, looking at the Trolls with him. They spoke of happy times in the Arena, and sad times. Forging of friendships and the Empire's first Betrayal. More Trolls started to gather. The Blood Drinker Quecotl, a personal guard to the Emperor Juncoatl, created a fire in the middle of the arena. Tziak spoke quietly to Quecotl. She nodded and looked at the floor, but they both knew it was time. They were joined by the Scalper Khud, just as the Emperor arrived.
Quecotl rushed to his side, leaving the other Trolls to slowly make their way to him. When they got there, Trolls were kneeling and bowing for their Emperor. He was sided by two Blood Drinkers, Rao and Quecotl. Mischa the High Counciller was also nearby. Tziak looked to her and they both nodded knowingly. Tziak greeted Juncoatl, the tension high as many Trolls knew why there was a meeting now. All Troll eyes were on the High Priest Tziak and the Emperor Juncoatl as they entered the arena. Juncoatl looking ill and sick, weakened and struggling with every step he took or word he spoke. When they got to the center the Gurubashi Trolls gathered around, forming a semi circle, watching.
Tziak smiled coldly to himself as he watched the Emperor, asking if he had listened to the spirits lately? Dodging the question Juncoatl mumbled back a reply. Tziak held himself up high commanding for the Emperor to stop mumbling. The audience gasped in shock. Commanding the Emperor..? Tziak grinned again, doubt fleeing him and he stood strong. Speaking confidently."You have grown weak Juncoatl!" The Emperor replied angrily, looking to his Counciller for support, but Mischa hid her face, looking to the floor. The Blood Drinkers moved slightly, gripping their weapons tightly. The Emperor smiled, thinking he was protected.
Tziak then commanded Juncoatl to kneel. The crowd silent as they watched, holding their breath. Still trying to defend his crown, the Emperor refused. Tziak spoke of Dambalah has a new chosen one. Angered, the Emperor tried to attack his defiant High Priest with the blessing of Dambalah.. but nothing happened. His small snake by his side slithered over to Tziak. Juncoatl watched in horror as he realised the words being spoken were true. His God had left him.
"The Crown." Tziak spoke as he held his hand out. "I am the Emperor now." Juncoatl stepped back, still willing himself to hold onto his crown. The Blood Drinkers were ordered by Tziak to hold Juncoatl, and they did. The High Priest then ripped the crown from Juncoatl's face, holding it to his own. Tziak watched the old Emperor, seeing that age and fatigue was showing upon his wrinkled brow. "Kneel, before your Emperor." He spoke. Wishing to keep his honour, Juncoatl asked for him not to, but he was replied with "Not keeling before your Emperor is punishable by death."
Tziak then said that Juncoatl could leave the Empire of his own free will, and not be exiled. Juncoatl nodded and smiled "Thank ya...Emprah" he said. Juncoatl began to walk away slowly. "Show this Great Troll your respect!" Tziak shouted, his voice booming all over the Arena. All at once, a great cheer went up as all the Trolls bowed, saluted and cried out for their former Emperor. Tziak turned and walked one last time up to Juncoatl "Dambalah be with you, Juncoatl". He said, and bowed himself. "Thank ya, Emprah" Juncoatl said with a bow as he turned and walked off, leaving the Empire with its new Emperor.
The Fourth Reign: The new rise
On the ruins, a Shrine they called it, that towered above the Lake Nazferiti, they met. Shro’gan sat, gazing down at the waters, before a voice spoke behind him.
“The Spirits were right Shro’gan... you are to be found at the Shrine.”
The High Priest turns around and meets the Emperor’s gaze. He bows low, muttering his salutes. “I greet you, Emperor. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“Tonight, you may call me Tziak.”
Shro’gan peers at him, and tilts his head to the side. “Is all well, Your Highness?”
A moment of silence ensued before the Emperor broke the stillness of the Vale.
“Am I a God, Shro’gan?”
“But of course, my Emperor. You are a symbol of hope. You are born to lead our people to greatness. The Empire looks up to you. We all trust you with our very lives,” he replies without hesitation.
“It has been a long time now since I last looked upon this mask and felt its Might. It has been too long since it first began burdening me... I believe that Dambalah smiles upon someone else.”
Shro’gan was stunned. Surely this was a jest of sorts. Surely the God Emperor could not falter.
“I believe now, that Dambalah’s sights have come to rest upon another. Ever since the Empire’s rebirth, the High Priest has followed in the Emperor’s footsteps. I, too, in the past, wore the mantle which you bear. And I feel... I know that Dambalah’s eyes have been set upon you, Shro’gan.”
Tziak stood now, facing Shro’gan.
This was a test, it could only be so. The Emperor, Tziak, would never relinquish power like he was doing so now. This could only be a test of loyalty. But... something ate at the back of Shro’gan’s head. What if... what if for a moment, the Emperor’s faith had truly faltered? What if this was true?
Shro’gan looked at Tziak once more, eyes fixed on his mask. And for a long moment, a moment which seemed an eternity, the entire Empire weighed on his decision. Hissing loudly, he lunged for the Emperor’s face, trying to take the mask away from him.
He gripped it. He felt its jeweled surface but it did not move. For a full second it stood still and Shro’gan’s heart felt like a stone. Holding his breath, it finally comes off and he sees Tziak’s face at last.
He exhales harshly. Never before had he held the Emperor’s mask. His breathing is slow and heavy, but he holds it firmly still, shaken and shaking. His blackened gaze meets Tziak’s own. He, too, seems petrified.
Taking off his own mask, shivering, nervous, Shro’gan puts it on: the Emperor’s mask, crown and visage. Again, all is still. All but the hissing of the Serpent which echoed and enveloped him. He opened his eyes, gazing upon the Vale as if it were the first time. The hissing grows louder, all around him. He flexes a few times, adapting to the sudden surge which now flows through him. Oh, no, no, this was unlike anything which he had ever experienced! Greater than the blessings of Shadra! Far superior to the Devourer’s hunger! No! He was not a champion, he bowed to no Loa any longer! He was the Emperor! Power was his to demand as he pleased!
He turned again to the former Emperor, to Tziak, now a mortal. He places his hand on his shoulder and with a swift movement, using his claw like nails, he slashes the Troll’s throat open. Snarling, nigh-feral, Shro’gan took his right hand to his tusks and slashed his palm. Then, lowering it to Tziak’s mouth, he allows him to drink the sacred blood of the reborn Avatar of Dambalah.
Slowly, fearful, one by one, Trolls begin arriving. Curious to know what it was that the winds portrayed. Finally, clenching his wounded hand into a fist, he turns to the coming Trolls which now seem to amass below them, down the hill.
“Trolls of the Empire! Your Emperor has been reborn!” Tziak howls loudly to the Trolls assembled.
Shro’gan looks upon the gathering and smiles. He would lead them to Glory. He would lead Troll kind to where it rightfully belonged!
“Gurubashi! The Dawn of a new Age is upon us! For Shro’gan Kao’Zae has been elected, reborn, ascended as the Avatar of Dambalah, Speaker and Word, Ruler and God-Emperor of all Trolls!”
And the Trolls fell to their knees for the Emperor roared with might.
“We shall bring about war and Death to our enemies! We shall ascend, transcend to a world which we have always dreamed of! Under the rule of your Emperor, the Chosen One of Dambalah! The world of Trolls will be reborn once more! BLOOD! FIRE! DEATH! GURUBASHI, HOWL, BELLOW WITH ME! BLOOD! FIRE! DEATH!”
And inflamed by their zeal, their voices echoing with fervent fanaticism, the battle cry of the Gurubashi made the Vale’s floor tremble.
“BLOOD! FIRE! DEATH!”
Credits: Malia, Shyrendora, Shrogan.
The Birth of the Empire
The Empire was born from a meeting, one dark, cold night in the cliffs above Sen'jin village. Chance, fate, destiny, whatever you wish to call it, had called trolls of many different backgrounds to this specific place, at this specific time. Names now legendary to us, through their deeds and words.
The first Emperor, the dark and enigmatic Vishnah. A warrior from the frozen northlands, inspiring fear and respect by his mere presence. Rhashan, seeking his heritage and searching for revenge. Destined to one day become the Headhunter. Zuc'aljun, the wary but determined mage from the Hinterlands; Umankik, the feral berserker, loyal guard of the emperor; and many others. All led by the unseen hand of Dambalah, they pledged themselves this night to each other and to Vishnah, their leader.
In a ceremony we echo still today in the initiation of the Blood Drinkers, the soon to be Emperor bound the first trolls to him, by blood and by oath. An ancient golden goblet and kris, depicting the Great Serpent, were used on that first night to hold his blood, and they all drank in turn. He spoke those fateful words that began it all...
"This is the Bloodpact. This is the ancient oath to the Great Snake and the Troll race. This is a symbol of our kin. This blood carries power, but also great suffering and responsibility. I will lead you trolls to our glorious future. The earth will drink deep the blood of our enemies, and so shall you. We will become strong again, by renewing our faith and destroying those who would seek to destroy us. Drink my blood and accept me as your leader. Blood, Fire, Death."
It was after the others had said their words and tasted his blood before the old eccentric troll Meezil stood before the mighty Emperor. He had been watching from the shadows. Unafraid, he announced himself as the last Shadow Priest of the Atal'ai. Brave Umankik, loyal from the very beginning, made to attack the old troll, remembering the horrors the Atal'ai had bestowed on the troll race. But Vishnah calmed the great berserker, and listened to Meezil's words as he urged him to recreate the empire of old, to call all trolls to him and fight the ancient enemy of Hakkar. Meezil picked up the goblet like the others had, but before drinking added his own blood to mix with that of the Emperor.
"Blood, Fire, Death," he spoke aloud sealing his fate to that of the newborn Empire.
Days passed and trolls throughout the world flocked to the banner of the Gurubashi Empire. Whispers travelled the length and breadth of the world, a new hope for troll kind, and the Emperor arranged a grand gathering within the orc city of Orgrimmar. Open to any troll willing to join and fight for his new empire.
The faces of that first fateful night mixed with the fresh new faces, all watched in awe as Vishnah began a new era.
Meezil's Betrayal
The glorious days of the first reign of the Empire had begun. Meezil, ex-hakkari shadow priest was named as the High Priest, tasked with guiding the devotion of the trolls to the God, Dambalah. He set in place, a new priesthood. the Emerald Riders. At the same time Vishnah announced the names of his high council, who would take over the day to day business of running the Empire.
Thus the Emperor began to remove himself from the public eye, only seen rarely, surrounded by his faithful Atai guard. Restlessness and fear began once more to creep into the souls of the trolls of the Empire.
Rumours speculated at the possible reasons for the Emperor's distance? Illness? Mistrust of his trolls? Was he planning something? At meetings the Emperor was present but seemed distant, distracted. Letting Meezil do most of the talking. We began to ask ourselves who the true leader of the Empire was?
All of a sudden, Vishnah announced a meeting. The trolls gathered, awaiting their Emperor, eager to hear his words, to see fire and purpose in his eyes once more. But before Vishnah could arrive, Meezil, the High Priest spoke to the Empire. He accused the Emperor of being weak, failing to be a true leader. He announced his intention to kill Vishnah and take his place as emperor. Arrogant and foolish, Meezil expected that the empire would unite behind him. But he was wrong. We remained loyal to our Emperor, and the Atai Guard leapt into action. They cut down the traitorous Meezil, raining blows down upon him like a hate filled storm. With his dying breath Meezil called out "Hakkar... I will not die!"
Hakkar.. our ancient enemy. How long had Meezil been corrupted? Had he worked all along with the intention of betraying us? It was shocking to believe that someone so trusted could prove to be so false. However, Meezil was right about one thing. He did not die. Instead he disappeared entirely, and though the emperor and the rest of the empire searched; only the faintest traces were left behind.
News of a Hakkar worshipping cult, but nothing of what they were planning, were they were hiding. The search for taitors turned within. It was at the forefront of everyone's mind. Vishnah retreated deeper into seclusion after choosing Meezil's successor; Juncoatl.
As quickly as it had begun the threat was over. Out of nowhere news reached us that Meezil had destroyed his own cult. Killing all his followers and disappearing once again. However, this good news didn't seem to brighten the Emperor's mood. It was almost as though Meezil's betrayal had broken somehting within him. He ended all association with anyone within the empire. Even refusing to see his own Empress.
What should have been a time of joy and celebration, was instead a time of mourning. The Emperor abandonded us. Many wept at his passing, almost as though he had died. And perhaps in many ways he had. In our time of greatest need he had abandoned those he swore to protect. He was dead to us.
Dawn of the Second Reign
Our day to day lives changed. What use were Atai' Guard without an Emperor? What was the use of patrolling an Empire without an Emperor? The High council struggled to rule, the empty throne weighed heavily on the hearts and mind of every troll. And for the first time the very real threat of civil war loomed.
But what was to be done?
The council turned to the Loa, the wise and ever watchful guardians of our kind. The High Priest Juncoatl was sent to the ancient city of Zul'Gurub to seek their counsel.
Many weeks passed without word. Had somethign happened to Juncoatl? Had he abanadoned his people as easily as Vishnah had? The High Council went in search of him. Travelling within the walls of the mysterious city itself, but found only disaster. Juncoatl was dead.
However, at the point of hopelessness hope flickered still, for his soul remained intact. In a ritual born of desperation, bravery and faith the council brought life back to the old, fragile body of the High Priest. A miracle! A sign! The favour of Dambalah had been bestowed upon Juncoatl, and he was crowned Emperor.
The Third Reign: The new Chosen of Dambalah
The months passed in a blur of celebration. But it was to be short lived. Soon it was evident that the new Emperor was not up to the task of running the Empire. He was old, and feeble. The trolls of the Empire required a firm hand and strong leadership, it would be one of the younger trolls. A relgious zealot who would be next to curry favour with Dambalah.
The Trolls gathered in the Arena, thinking about past experiences. The smell of blood and dust filled the air as the High Priest Tziak glanced around, looking at the Trolls with him. They spoke of happy times in the Arena, and sad times. Forging of friendships and the Empire's first Betrayal. More Trolls started to gather. The Blood Drinker Quecotl, a personal guard to the Emperor Juncoatl, created a fire in the middle of the arena. Tziak spoke quietly to Quecotl. She nodded and looked at the floor, but they both knew it was time. They were joined by the Scalper Khud, just as the Emperor arrived.
Quecotl rushed to his side, leaving the other Trolls to slowly make their way to him. When they got there, Trolls were kneeling and bowing for their Emperor. He was sided by two Blood Drinkers, Rao and Quecotl. Mischa the High Counciller was also nearby. Tziak looked to her and they both nodded knowingly. Tziak greeted Juncoatl, the tension high as many Trolls knew why there was a meeting now. All Troll eyes were on the High Priest Tziak and the Emperor Juncoatl as they entered the arena. Juncoatl looking ill and sick, weakened and struggling with every step he took or word he spoke. When they got to the center the Gurubashi Trolls gathered around, forming a semi circle, watching.
Tziak smiled coldly to himself as he watched the Emperor, asking if he had listened to the spirits lately? Dodging the question Juncoatl mumbled back a reply. Tziak held himself up high commanding for the Emperor to stop mumbling. The audience gasped in shock. Commanding the Emperor..? Tziak grinned again, doubt fleeing him and he stood strong. Speaking confidently."You have grown weak Juncoatl!" The Emperor replied angrily, looking to his Counciller for support, but Mischa hid her face, looking to the floor. The Blood Drinkers moved slightly, gripping their weapons tightly. The Emperor smiled, thinking he was protected.
Tziak then commanded Juncoatl to kneel. The crowd silent as they watched, holding their breath. Still trying to defend his crown, the Emperor refused. Tziak spoke of Dambalah has a new chosen one. Angered, the Emperor tried to attack his defiant High Priest with the blessing of Dambalah.. but nothing happened. His small snake by his side slithered over to Tziak. Juncoatl watched in horror as he realised the words being spoken were true. His God had left him.
"The Crown." Tziak spoke as he held his hand out. "I am the Emperor now." Juncoatl stepped back, still willing himself to hold onto his crown. The Blood Drinkers were ordered by Tziak to hold Juncoatl, and they did. The High Priest then ripped the crown from Juncoatl's face, holding it to his own. Tziak watched the old Emperor, seeing that age and fatigue was showing upon his wrinkled brow. "Kneel, before your Emperor." He spoke. Wishing to keep his honour, Juncoatl asked for him not to, but he was replied with "Not keeling before your Emperor is punishable by death."
Tziak then said that Juncoatl could leave the Empire of his own free will, and not be exiled. Juncoatl nodded and smiled "Thank ya...Emprah" he said. Juncoatl began to walk away slowly. "Show this Great Troll your respect!" Tziak shouted, his voice booming all over the Arena. All at once, a great cheer went up as all the Trolls bowed, saluted and cried out for their former Emperor. Tziak turned and walked one last time up to Juncoatl "Dambalah be with you, Juncoatl". He said, and bowed himself. "Thank ya, Emprah" Juncoatl said with a bow as he turned and walked off, leaving the Empire with its new Emperor.
The Fourth Reign: The new rise
On the ruins, a Shrine they called it, that towered above the Lake Nazferiti, they met. Shro’gan sat, gazing down at the waters, before a voice spoke behind him.
“The Spirits were right Shro’gan... you are to be found at the Shrine.”
The High Priest turns around and meets the Emperor’s gaze. He bows low, muttering his salutes. “I greet you, Emperor. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“Tonight, you may call me Tziak.”
Shro’gan peers at him, and tilts his head to the side. “Is all well, Your Highness?”
A moment of silence ensued before the Emperor broke the stillness of the Vale.
“Am I a God, Shro’gan?”
“But of course, my Emperor. You are a symbol of hope. You are born to lead our people to greatness. The Empire looks up to you. We all trust you with our very lives,” he replies without hesitation.
“It has been a long time now since I last looked upon this mask and felt its Might. It has been too long since it first began burdening me... I believe that Dambalah smiles upon someone else.”
Shro’gan was stunned. Surely this was a jest of sorts. Surely the God Emperor could not falter.
“I believe now, that Dambalah’s sights have come to rest upon another. Ever since the Empire’s rebirth, the High Priest has followed in the Emperor’s footsteps. I, too, in the past, wore the mantle which you bear. And I feel... I know that Dambalah’s eyes have been set upon you, Shro’gan.”
Tziak stood now, facing Shro’gan.
This was a test, it could only be so. The Emperor, Tziak, would never relinquish power like he was doing so now. This could only be a test of loyalty. But... something ate at the back of Shro’gan’s head. What if... what if for a moment, the Emperor’s faith had truly faltered? What if this was true?
Shro’gan looked at Tziak once more, eyes fixed on his mask. And for a long moment, a moment which seemed an eternity, the entire Empire weighed on his decision. Hissing loudly, he lunged for the Emperor’s face, trying to take the mask away from him.
He gripped it. He felt its jeweled surface but it did not move. For a full second it stood still and Shro’gan’s heart felt like a stone. Holding his breath, it finally comes off and he sees Tziak’s face at last.
He exhales harshly. Never before had he held the Emperor’s mask. His breathing is slow and heavy, but he holds it firmly still, shaken and shaking. His blackened gaze meets Tziak’s own. He, too, seems petrified.
Taking off his own mask, shivering, nervous, Shro’gan puts it on: the Emperor’s mask, crown and visage. Again, all is still. All but the hissing of the Serpent which echoed and enveloped him. He opened his eyes, gazing upon the Vale as if it were the first time. The hissing grows louder, all around him. He flexes a few times, adapting to the sudden surge which now flows through him. Oh, no, no, this was unlike anything which he had ever experienced! Greater than the blessings of Shadra! Far superior to the Devourer’s hunger! No! He was not a champion, he bowed to no Loa any longer! He was the Emperor! Power was his to demand as he pleased!
He turned again to the former Emperor, to Tziak, now a mortal. He places his hand on his shoulder and with a swift movement, using his claw like nails, he slashes the Troll’s throat open. Snarling, nigh-feral, Shro’gan took his right hand to his tusks and slashed his palm. Then, lowering it to Tziak’s mouth, he allows him to drink the sacred blood of the reborn Avatar of Dambalah.
Slowly, fearful, one by one, Trolls begin arriving. Curious to know what it was that the winds portrayed. Finally, clenching his wounded hand into a fist, he turns to the coming Trolls which now seem to amass below them, down the hill.
“Trolls of the Empire! Your Emperor has been reborn!” Tziak howls loudly to the Trolls assembled.
Shro’gan looks upon the gathering and smiles. He would lead them to Glory. He would lead Troll kind to where it rightfully belonged!
“Gurubashi! The Dawn of a new Age is upon us! For Shro’gan Kao’Zae has been elected, reborn, ascended as the Avatar of Dambalah, Speaker and Word, Ruler and God-Emperor of all Trolls!”
And the Trolls fell to their knees for the Emperor roared with might.
“We shall bring about war and Death to our enemies! We shall ascend, transcend to a world which we have always dreamed of! Under the rule of your Emperor, the Chosen One of Dambalah! The world of Trolls will be reborn once more! BLOOD! FIRE! DEATH! GURUBASHI, HOWL, BELLOW WITH ME! BLOOD! FIRE! DEATH!”
And inflamed by their zeal, their voices echoing with fervent fanaticism, the battle cry of the Gurubashi made the Vale’s floor tremble.
“BLOOD! FIRE! DEATH!”
Credits: Malia, Shyrendora, Shrogan.