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For other uses of "Vishnah", see Vishnah (disambiguation).
Vishnah Atai Hakor
Guild Dogs of War
Gender Male
Race Troll
Class Warrior
Faction Horde



The first Emperor of the Second Gurubashi Empire and the original creator of the notorious structure.

General Information

Vishnah Atai Hakor is an Ice Troll that came all the way from Northrend to find a true meaning in his life. His past is not a pleasant one and is filled with losses and pain.

For many years this cold blooded troll served as a mercenary, but when time was right he gathered many trolls of different ancestry to create a unite troll nation, which would be able to protect itself and survive on its own. He chose to name his Empire after the once glorious Gurubashi Empire.

After being betrayed by his own bodyguards and soldiers he left the Empire to seek the wisdom of the Dragonkin. Those loyal to him joined him on the epic journey. They formed the Draconian Dominion, that became a serious force to reckon with and the ex Emperor's goal became vile revenge on those who stabbed him in the back. Unfortunately due to a sickness and political downfall Vishnah had to flee back home to Northrend where he joined his people.

There in Northrend he plotted until one day a sole surviving paladin of the Alliance found the mighty troll there. That was a breaking point for the troll and the "Cobra King" made a decision to come back.

Alongside with his servants he made his way back to the Azerothian lands. Rumour has it that he is hiding somewhere in Everlook waiting for his hour to strike. The wind whispers that he allied himself with a band of mercenaries called the Dogs of War.

Stories

The Return of the Warlord

Oh what power does our past have over our future? Oh why does the legacy remain? Shall I fall into a sleep of madness and forever seize to use logic, is our life really that meaningless or is it truly a power granted to us by something above?

When the 63 candles burn, and we remember the brothers and sisters who are not with us, and 7 crosses stand plain in a field in dustbowl of sand and dirt, we realize that what we have become but if not bloody savages of this cold world. Is sleeping forgetting? Then why can’t I forget? There is work unfinished, a destiny unfulfilled, the void in the heart left for evil or for good, yet it is not in the power of one being to decide which path to take, but the surrounding society that pressures the individual.

Horrors of the past, the song that was sang by wolves at the moon, and the falling star – was that a sign from above or just a coincidence? The time of the war is close, yet all the comrades are dead and gone. And there is nothing, but dull heartache from the agony that a one’s soul has when seeking redemption for the sins of the past, a past neither good, nor evil, with a question pending – is this the end?

It was a cold night, a night that sent shivers down the spine of all normal living beings, with only the moon in the sky to light the way of the lonely dark traveler who made his way across the snowy mountains of Winterspring. The lonely figure was moving slowly, covered by dark furs and a violet cape the stranger kept pressing on against the powerful wind.

How far is Everlook? The question ran through the wanderer’s mind. It seemed like the tall individual was lost in the lands that he knew best. It was impossible to see or recognize the identity of the traveler, but something gave away signs of a troll, the long tusks that protruded from below the cape.

This figure slowly made his way to the city, a city in which he knew the goblins would be awaiting him. As he entered through the gates the goblin guards gave the stranger a look, a worried look, but decided not to impede the movement of the mighty large wanderer.

That night most houses in Everlook were closed and windows shielded due to a warning of a snowstorm in the region. The goblins knew very well that the power of nature dominated the area and that it was best not meddle with it.

Only the Inn remained opened. As the dark figure entered through the large wooden doors, only a silent cry of surprise and interest was heard – “By the Gods…. He is back………….” And as a small parchment with a strange scribing about a certain group called the Dogs of War flew into the inn with the stranger, the doors were firmly shot and locked for the night, as if a seething secret was revealed, as if conspiracy was to begin once again.

Return of the Warlord: From Desire to Power

A lonely figure made his way through the night. The pale white moon illuminated the snowy path and the howling of the wolves pierced the silence every few minutes. The strange figure kept pressing on, going north to the final frontier where the city of Everlook was situated. The dark violet clothing and the fur overcoat concealed the identity of this creature that seemed to be moving at a fairly regulated pace with only some movement impairments. It seemed like the movement of whatever this stranger was had been slowed down by lack of muscles and withering bones. The figure muttered something in the dark and kept moving. The gates of Everlook were well visible from the small hill that the stranger reached.

“At lasssttt…” The strange man lowered his cape and revealed a horrid sight – a face with no eyes, and flesh exposed. The tissue of this being was withering away and the jaw was frozen in an awful grin. It seemed like the head of this creature was held together by two metal strips that were screwed deeply into the very skull of this man. Oh what horrible will could keep this creature alive?

The Goblin guards approached the undead with caution and one of them asked “Hey! Where are you going?” The stranger turned his head to the short fellow and hissed in reply, and then added – “I have business here, matters of which are beyond your concerns, but let me say that I came to see Him…” The Goblins understood what the undead man meant by ‘Him’ and stepped away. The creature made his way towards the Inn.

“Emperor, there issss no more time to waisssstttt… We musssstttt acttt…” The undead turned his face towards the sitting troll. The presence of evil was so strong that the candles wouldn’t burn bright enough to illuminate the room, as if Light itself was abandoned. The troll smiled, adjusted his sitting position and leaned towards the undead with his large tusks almost touching what was left of the undead man’s face.“You know I be ready for dis, but der be a few issues first hand mon.”

“I know what you sssseeeekk, I know why as welll Emperor, but it issss no excusssseee… If you wish to ssstrike against our enemies you mussssstttt do it ssssssoooon…” The undead felt certainly confident, although he still showed enough respect to the one who was sitting in front of him at the table.

“Destruction awaits mon, ma broddas and sistas will aid me when it is most needed, but da time has come to do things dat will forever ensure our supremacy in dis world… Da time will soon come for many to choose, and der will be only one correct choice…”

“As you wisssshhhhh Emperor, or ssssshhhhhall I call you Warlord?”

“Dat is up to ya to decide… just do not underestimate me…”

“Ssssoooon we will unleasssshhhhh our full ssssssstrength upon Azeroth…” The undead man took out a dusty tome with strange runes all over it, the cover had a large encrusted golden title – ‘Our Legacy: From Desire to Power.’

“The time has come mon, to once again enter this world… and use da knowledge dat we have to take full control. It is good to see dat ya be still around Anamelech LaCroix……… your power is what we need……. But I know who we really need - have you heard about the Dogs of War?”

Once again, the troll Warlord Vishnah Atai Hakor, known as the Cobra King to some and as the Emperor to others made a return to the two continents of Azeroth. With a strange and influential undead assisstant the famed warrior seeks to achieve new levels of world domination and this time not only with the troll race. A new evil is about to be unleashed upon unsuspecting inhabitants of Azeroth, an evil strong and mighty, confident and intelligent, what is next, is uknown…

The Legend of Blood and Ice - The Tale of the One Troll

What is it that makes a warrior great? Is it his courage? Or is it his valor? Is it his strength or is it his quickness?

The right path that one takes is what determines a warrior and the decisions that one makes is what brings forth the greatness.

In a land of eternal icy twilight, in a land forgotten by light, in a land cursed by forces divine, a sole survivor stands at the crossroads of destiny and makes his first choices, deciding on his own fate and sealing the fate of his comrades to be. And one shall ask – oh what evil or good can be left in one’s soul when all that was held dear has been lost and all that was cherished has vanished, and only a void remains.

There are things beyond our mortal understanding, and let it remain so. Vengeance drives us to do deeds and fulfill our primal duties, while desire drives to a greater power. And only when the earth will drink enough blood, this child of a nightmare will stop, for he has come to Azeroth to do a greater will, to seal the fate of many a man, woman and child, for in a struggle for survival only one race can reign supreme, the other will be annihilated.

Part 1: The Beginning

Prince Arthas brought war and destruction to the great continent of Northrend, spreading affliction and hatred, dealing death and greed. The very roof of the world was shaken by constant battles and bloodshed brought forth by the great Evil that had awoken in the Great Glacier where Nerzhul was imprisoned. Frostmourne was broken free of its icy containment, and the greater corruption began.

Inhabitants of the vast frozen lands of Northrend suffered plagues, diseases, poverty, pestilence, and great losses. Tribes of various creatures were being wiped out, killed merciless by agents of the Scourge and the Burning Legion. Those who did not die in the vile extermination were slaughtered in wars with hostile clans of Murlocs. And even if those troubles did not finish off the living beings, the disease and starvation did the job. Among the suffering races of Northrend were the Frostmane Trolls, or simply Ice Trolls of Northrend, who for centuries fought the Dwarven race and the great Nerubian Empire for the ultimate dominance of the continent.

For the Ice Trolls the conflict grew into something that could be defined as “total annihilation.” The proud Frostmane nation was on the brink of a civil war as things gotten worse and worse. Many villages and cities were burnt to the ground by either Alliance armies or by the Scourge; others were devastated by natural cataclysms. Not many survived. A few cities remained as strongholds of what was once a Northern Troll so to say Empire. A lesson was learnt from the conflict – once Evil of the Scourge won, all living and breathing creatures lost.

Most Ice Trolls made their living by fighting for gold and glory – they were the famous Troll Mercenaries – ruthless and brave warriors of Northrend who worked for many vainglorious Trade Lords, Pirates, and Empires. Everything was going well enough for them until Arthas arrived, still as Prince Arthas, to fight the cursed Scourge. The Voodoo society of Trolls in Northrend was shaken and heavily damaged. Many mercenaries were hired by the humans who came with Arthas, but unfortunately most of them were later betrayed and killed. Only a few bands of Mercenaries survived keeping their outposts hidden from the eyes of stranger and fighting a guerilla war against the Scourge, the Murlocs, the Dwarves, and all other invaders. Vishnah Atai-Hakor was born in a small Frostmane village called “Shadowlake.” It was a very little village that was located 5 miles from the secret outpost of the Mercenaries, who were lead by Warlord Amon’rathgrin, Vishnah’s childhood hero of whom legends were composed and songs were sung. This village served as a trading post and as a supply center for the Mercenaries. From early ages Vishnah learned the ways of guerilla warfare and was trained to become one of the Mercenaries in the future. His parents were normal Trolls who fought everyday for survival. Each day only brought death and sickness, and the village slowly decayed from the pressure of constant attacks by Murlocs, Dwarves, and the Scourge. Vishnah’s father was a local Voodoo Priest who served as an advisor to the Warlord and a fisherman at the same time due to the lack of labor force in the village. His mother was a huntress; she hunted wild beasts and skinned them to later make clothing and food for the village and Mercenaries. Vishnah also had an uncle, a good rogue named Hakor who taught Vishnah the ways of speed Hunter-Killing and he also taught him how to survive in the frozen lands of Northrend. Vishnah’s father made sure that his son was literate and knew the ways of the Voodoo. Vishnah had a brother and a sister, both younger than him. His brother dreamt to become a shaman one day, while his sister wanted to be a huntress.

The Plague spread across the Northern continent consuming all the living. Very soon the Trolls of the small Frostmane Village found themselves turning to cannibalism for survival. They ate what they found, dead trolls, dead humans, or anything that was eatable. Fishing became essential for survival, but the ice covered seas and rivers posed many threats. Only by fishing many good Ice Trolls have died, either by freezing and drowning or by falling through the unstable ice.

One day when Vishnah was away with his uncle in the woods, perfecting his survival and fighting skills, when an army of the Scourge attacked the village, leaving none alive. Vishnah lost all his relatives in a matter of a few hours. The village was burnt to the ground. When he returned home with his uncle they found only broken bodies. The mercenary outpost was safe though, as the Scourge would have never been able to find it the frozen woods of Northrend. They brought the bodies to the Mercenary camp where they burnt them and then buried the ashes in traditional Voodoo urns. Vishnah swore on the grave of his parents to fight the Undead and all those who have invaded the lands of Northrend and made the Troll race suffer so much. This happened when Vishnah was twelve years old. For the next seven years Vishnah lived and trained with the Mercenaries, traveling across Northrend and all other continents of Azeroth.

At the age of 19, Vishnah was a powerful warrior and fought alongside his troll brothers for survival and gold. He became a true mercenary, a famous and brutal hunter killer. During a dangerous mission the Mercenaries were set up by those who hired them, human scum who wanted to see Trolls dead. During the night, the group of 40 Mercenaries was ambushed in the open sea by a whole human fleet together with the Bloodsail Buccaneers. The Trolls fought bravely, but were outnumbered almost 14 to 1. That night of bloodshed brought death upon all of the Mercenaries. Only 3 Mercenaries survived – Vishnah, his uncle Hakor, and an old troll sea dog called Volgrin. Warlord Amon’rathgrin fell in battle, a canon ball hit him in the head and broke his body. It is said that the 40 Ice Trolls managed to destroy half of the ships that the humans had. It is also said that the 37 that died that night took with them the souls of about 300 humans, dwarves, and gnomes.

Vishnah, Hakor, and Volgrin were all wounded and left to die in the ice cold Northrend Sea. After two days a Goblin trading ship picked them up. They traveled a lot, here Vishnah’s memory is blank; Goblins brought the three Trolls to Everlook. There, for two weeks they tried to save the lives of the three Trolls, but unfortunately only two survived. Hakor died from multiple wounds and blood poisoning. Vishnah and Volgrin survived. The night that Hakor died Vishnah made a blood oath to his uncle that one glorious day he would reunite many trolls into one large Empire, just like the Frostmane Empire in Northrend used to be. After his uncle passed away, Vishnah took on the name of Hakor and became Vishnah Atai-Hakor. The Goblins surprisingly were very nice to the Trolls and Vishnah began to like them. When Vishnah and Volgrin regained their health, the Goblins of Everlook proposed them a job for the Steamwheedle Cartel. The Goblins knew that Ice Trolls were the best mercenaries in the world of Azeroth. Vishnah and Volgrin recruited a small fleet of three ships. Volgrin was 63 years old, but in great shape. They created an elite force of 60 professional mercenaries and would dominate the business for the next ten years.

For 14 years Vishnah and Volgrin worked for various Goblin Trade Lords, thus building up warm relations with the Goblin race. Vishnah never had any real long term friends. Vishnah was responsible for securing trade lines and eliminating important trade rivals. He took pride in his work – for he was respected by Goblins and this is what they said about him “A Troll with a smile and a job well-done…” Valerian was responsible for recruiting new mercenaries and commanding the three small ships. Vishnah Atai-Hakor dyed his bright white hair into a yellow color and painted his face green. He wanted to resemble to the great Amon’rathgrin, who had the same hairstyle and dyed his hair into bright yellow.

Vishnah and his partners have been responsible for several important assassinations in the Eastern Kingdoms. The goblins paid much gold to see their opponents dead. Vishnah enjoyed work with the Goblins because he always found them to be warm-hearted small fellows with a large brain. Very soon Vishnah got the nickname “Cobra King” among Goblins. While working in Stranglethorn Vale, Vishnah learned a great deal about the culture of Jungle Trolls, while the Hinterlands enlightened the young mercenary about Forest Trolls. He carefully studied their fallen Empires and the causes that led to their downfall. He studied and drew his plans in utter silence.

Part 2: The Rise to Power

Right now Vishnah is 33 years old, an experienced Troll with lots of great talents. Volgrin has died in one of the battles, which was a tremendous shock for Vishnah, since Volgrin was like a father to him. The force of the Mercenaries has been disbanded and many left to seek fortune in separate groups on the edges of Azeroth. The life span of a mercenary is not a long one, thus many are dead by now. Vishnah decided to work alone from this time on.

Lately, there have been talks in Booty Bay that Vishnah worked not only for the Goblins, but also for the Blackwater Raiders and Sea-Wolf McKinley. That is unconfirmed information and only mystifies Vishnah as to who he really is and for whom doess he really work.

Recently, with a secret business trip, he visited Durotar to see what the great city of Orgrimmar was like and what was happening with the Horde. It is rumored that the Tinkers Union sent their top Assassin to investigate the Co. Venture Company’s presence in the Barrens and Stonetalon Mountains. It is also rumoured that Vishnah was sent with secret trade business propositions from the Gobin’s Steamwheedle Cartel to Warchief Thrall. Vishnah arrived to Orgrimmar, not knowing that his life would change forever.

There, in Durotar, not far away from the Senjin Village, in the great city of Orgrimmar he met other Trolls who were brought together by destiny and who dreamt to restore the once glorious Gurubashi Empire. Vishnah Atai-Hakor saw this as his ultimate chance and immediately took the initiative. Many Trolls were shocked to see an outsider Troll, a Frostmane firmly taking control over the growing Troll Army. The created a hierarchy and a well balanced structure. These Trolls were preparing for a war, a war of extermination of the Alliance. Very soon, Vishnah, with the consent of the majority, proclaimed himself the new Emperor of the Second Gurubashi Empire. He knew that this was his destiny.

A Warrior's Legacy - When the Troll meets the Paladin

It was a cold morning, with the winds blowing from the North and rain falling down from the sky as if the Gods themselves have been creating new rivers up there in skies.

Vishnah woke up, his wounds were still hurting and bleeding from the Great Battle at the Shimmering Flats, but he managed to get up and put his armor on. He thought of all the friends and enemies, of all his family - dead and gone. He thought of the years spent in battles and blood-ridden campaigns. He thought of the time spent as an Emperor and as a Warlord. Vishnah did not regret what he had done, he was thankful to the Gods for the strength that he received.

Vishnah called in the Legionnaires of the Dominion, he was going to tell them all, the final order, the order of Deliverance. As the soldiers poured in, the broken leader smiled and started speaking:

"I shall be quick, ma mind is numb, and ma hands be weak, ma body be broken..."

A tear had flown down his cheek, but the smlile did not vanish.

"I have lead ya so far ma warriors, I have lived ma life for ya all. I thank ya for being der for me and by me - for not betraying me when der were chances to. I thank ya for defending me, i thank ya for following orders."

Eire tried to say something, but Vishnah motioned to keep utter and complete silence.

"Ah, please do not say anything... Ma time has come - ma ancestors are calling on me, I am a broken troll, da strength is gone of ma body, but da strength of ma soul is strong. Da call of the North is strong, it is time to go home."

By saying this - Vishnah knew that everyone understood what home meant.

"I have met many worthy oponents in Azeroth, I have met many friends, many broddas and sistas who followed me through dark and cold, through fire and ice. And I want to say dat I leave ma legacy to all of ya - ma last request is to remember da one leader who served ya, just as much as ya served him. I ask for a small rememberance, and a final farewell. Whatever destiny has in store for me - it is in the North.

Vishnah stopped and waved good bye, with the final words: "Blood, Fire and Death as it was in ma old day - for Blood and Ice as it was in da new days! Ya are da Horde, ya are da Dominion!"

Then two goblins came in and helped Vishnah out. Vishnah left a parchment on the table and walked slowly out, as he couldn't move fast and quickly. The wounds were horrible and the all strength was gone.

That night Vishnah sailed ona goblin ship to Northrend to seek the final forgiveness and peace. Vishnah left the world of Azeroth and sailed away into the neverending coldness.

the Warrior of the Wolf:

Vangard made his way through the ice, through the barrens and forests of the great North. He was amongst the final survivors in a game that destiny had organized for him and his two ships.

Death and disease was all that he found in the foul continent - nothing that would increase his chances of survival.

Accidentally Vangard stumbled into a small troll village - not populated at all. He saw a few old Ice Trolls which immediately grabbed their axes and roared their battle cries.

"And so be the end of my time, and so be it - I will meet death in this battle with honour and pride!"

As a large ice troll charged at him swinging a large battle-axe, Vangard dodged the attack and quickly retaliated, screaming "Light give me hope, hope give me strength!" He brought his sword upon the head of the troll and broke the skull of the white creature. As raging trolls began to charge - a scream came from the dark - "Stop ya fools! Der be no need to spill more blood in dis forsaken land, der be no need for us to risk loosing more trolls, look at us!"

Everything froze. Vangard did not understand what happened. He was shocked to see the trolls freeze and then a large, massive figure came out of the dark, locked in armor of beautiful gold and arcanite, wielding a mace as large as a titan would. His golden hair and green face paint were easily visible.

Some troll said: "Ya Master Vishnah..."

Vangard heard the word "Vishnah" and understood that it was the name of the leader. He heard that name many times before - the name of a great Ice Troll warrior who lead many many armies. A troll of whom he heard as a child, a troll of increible power and psychological strength. He heard that this great leader left Azeroth to go back home, to protect his people and build the Kingdom of Ice Trolls and bring his race to glory.

Vangard fell to his knees in respect to the troll of great power.

What happened that night was never reavealed, but it is told that Vishnah said a few words in the common language that he knew and with the help of drawings and hand gestureshe explained to Vangard that he was not going to harm him. The Ice Trolls took in Vangard and their Witch Doctor Miklajin nursed Vangard.

Vangard learnt about the troll history and about what Horde was like. He learnt some word and a bit of the Ice Troll language. Vishnah on the other hand learnt pieces of the common language.

Vishnah took Vangard as his apprentice and taught him the skill of using weapons, the way of the warriors, and the way of the Ice Trolls. Vishnah gave Vangard some of the greatest knowledge. And so a paladin by the name of Vangard had learnt of the ways of an Ice Troll.

Vangard grew healthy and strong, his skill becoming greater and his courage becoming unheard of.

One day Vishnah took Vangard to a forbidden cave, there he and Vangard and the Miklajin talked about a series of important things. Vishnah explained to him how Vangard had to go home and what he had to do. Vangard understood that the Goblins would take him home, the Goblins who were such big friends of the Ice Troll. A goblin lived in the village, he served as a translator - when he had free time.

And so Vangard set on his journey home but before he left something happened. Vishnah took of his shoulderpads, his belt, his gloves, and his boots and gave them to Vangard. He explained that it was a gift of honor to the brave human whom Vishnah was never able to hurt, and whom Vishnah respected.

Vishnah explained that he wanted Vangard to take on his name as Vangard had no family left, everyone was dead. Vangard was shocked, buthe agreed.

And so on the last night, Vangard got a tatoo on his chest, which in the language of the Ice Trolls meant - Vishnah the Second. On his left shoulder Vangard got a tatoo of a wolf, and on his right shoulder a tatoo of a Bronze Dragon.

And so a new hero was born that night - Vangard Vishnah the Second.

Vangard took many charms and troll ritualistic elements with him. He swore not to ever kill Ice Trolls in his whole life and to defend the race of Ice Trolls as if it was his own. He made the blood promiss and drank the filled golden bowl of blood from Vishnah, who as always cut his arms to fill it.

And so Vangard sailed home, bearing a new name, and a new legacy. So the legends were true - the great Ice Troll survived after the battle of Shimmering Flats, and so Ice Trolls existed. He now knew what it was like to fight for a home in the harsh conditions of Northrend, and he knew of what a true path of a warrior of the wolf was.

And so Vangard, standing on the ship smiled and said quietly: "Thank you Master, I shall not forget you, nor your people, I shall not forget your accent, nor the lessons you taught me. Thank you for the name and for a family......"

The Burning Plains

What makes a soldier into a hero? Is it courage that drives one to the pinnacle of heroism or is it the recklessness and the fury of a berserker? What makes one greater than the other? And what is the price to pay for greatness? “Listen to me for once….” Said the hooded figure, “You have nothing to do in this world, why did you have to come back?”

Vishnah was sitting across from the dark man. They sat in the far corner of the Everlook Inn, drinking tea and discussing something of great disturbance. Vishnah grinned at the man sitting in front of him and replied in a cold tone - “Der be something great awaiting all of us at da end of da journey dat we call life…. And I sense dat something of great power is calling me….”

“You trolls are superstitious, you believe in mysticism that has no logical explanation, your race is not what it used to be.” The man was comfortable with saying the things he said, it was obvious that he believed in what he said with all of his heart, even a dead one. “I know exactly what you seek…. I know…”

“Ya don’t know anything LaCroix, ever since ya were burned in yar own village ya have lost yar mind. I remember that small village in da mountains of Alterac, I remember those fanatics killing in da name of religion. When ma trolls arrived to the village we found more dead bodies dan in da Plaguelands.”

“Ezili, that was the name of the troll that found me. I remember that indeed. He wrapped in his leather cloak and carried me to the nearest troll outpost – oh the compassion, something so rare to see in a troll.” The undead being was not too fond of discussing the past, especially that chapter in history when he lost his humanity forever.

“Ya owe us yar life, even if it’s da life of an undead.” Vishnah said as a matter of fact.

“I do, and that is why I am not lying to you. I sense something, I sense a danger to our world, I sense that something of horrible magnitude will happen soon. It’s as if the Dark is approaching to consume the living. The flames of the thousands pits of Hell are burning stronger than before, there must be a reason for that.”

Vishnah was puzzled, ever since he met Anamelech LaCroix his life changed dramatically. He aligned himself with those whom he hated with a very passion of a martyr. He knew it was destiny, it was fate to fight alongside the fallen Baron who was well respected in the ranks of the Defilers of the Arathi Highlands. They called him a hero of the Defilers, a hero of the Frostwolf Clan, an agent of the Dogs of War, and an Emperor, fallen from grace who became a Warlord. Life has been rigid and horrible, but something was about to happen.

“Where and when shall we start looking for dis great power?” Asked Vishnah Atai-Hakkor in a low tone, trying to keep the conversation as quiet as possible. “I am awaiting the hour when I can slay dose who have betrayed me, I am awaiting the hour of greatness.”

“You shall start soon, but you have to figure out who is behind this strange disturbance. I suggest that you venture to the Ancient Gates in the horrid Blasted Lands, go there and look for signs. I was there a few months ago and I found pulsating rays of great energy as if lightning was striking those gates. I saw it, with my dead eyes, I swear I saw that something was attempting to break the barrier and unleash the great Red End upon us.”

“But one does not dare to enter the horrid lands without company, the dangers are beyond a mortal’s comprehension and strength.” Vishnah was worried, he knew that the Blasted Lands held many dangers for heroes of the Horde. If it wasn’t for the Alliance who had set up camps there, then it would be the demons who would scalp any living member of the Horde in that region.

“Gather brave soldiers and those who seek a new beginning, gather them and venture into the heart of the Blasted Lands. Find what is causing this great disturbance and find a new beginning!”

Vishnah looked at the undead wizard and replied in a cold tone - “I hope ya be right about dis mon, I hope ya are…..”

Three Days Later, the same Inn in Everlook.

The inn was dark and nearly empty. You could hear a few drunken goblins and gnomes debating over their magnificent engineering achievements in the far corner of the central hall, Vishnah was sitting on the opposite side, away from the crowd, away from the extra attention to his dark deeds. As the door cracked opened, the wind blew in and dimmed a few candles. A strong cold draft filled the room and as the door closed it vanished.

A tall troll came in. He was locked in light mail armour and leather pads. He peered at the drunken goblins and then turned to the table where Vishnah was sitting. He made his way towards the mighty troll.

“Hail Emperor!” He saluted the fallen hero, and sat down at the table. “We have an intelligence report for you great Warlord!”

“All right mon, can ya please keep it down… der be evil ears listening to us everywhere brodda….” Vishnah was not too keen on all the salutations.

“Aye, Skullminer and myself have found a concentration of Alliance forces in the Nethergarde Keep in the Blasted Lands. We took a team there with us and managed to find that the Alliance has sent researchers and archaeologists into the area.” Said the green troll. His short tusks were still a bit blueish from the cold in Winterspring. “But what is even stranger is that they sent a few demonologists there. It seems like they are expecting something bad to happen.”

“Good work Ezili, I always knew I dat could trust you. I take it dat da wizard informed ya of what our plans are….”

“Yes he did, that is our luck that we were in the region. But there are negative news as well, we lost two of our fine soldiers in the journey. We encountered an Alliance patrol on the border with the Swamps, they seemed to have ventured rather far. We cut them down like pigs, but unfortunately Jina and Kros had fallen in the battle.” Ezili’s mood changed to a darker one, he was clearly devastated by loosing his friends.

“It be a sad day indeed mon…..”

Silence fell at the table as both trolls thought about how many more friends were they going to loose and why has the conflict taken so many sacrifices.

Five Days Later, City of Orgrimmar.

“Temeluchus it be good to see ya, how are ya?” Vishnah arrived to Orgrimmar and saw his good tauren friend and companion, a proud member of the Dogs of War.

“Good, good…. thank you… The Dogs are doing very well and we have completed some very successful missions.”

“I am glad to hear dat mon, now tell me, where can I find Linton and Dudg, I must speak wid dem.” It was clear that the troll had serious business in thecapital city of the Horde, otherwise he wouldn’t have risked such a visit.

“I saw Linton in Thunder Bluff a few days ago, while I saw Dudg in the Orgrimmar Inn last night. I suggest you send parchments to them.”

“I will…….”

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