From Pickpocket to Primalist - The Origins of a Troll Druid

((Story of my rogue who I've had from vanilla. Rolled him into a Druid recently. This is my take on it. The following events may or may have no happened. Set on the Zeppelin to Northrend, in wake of the currently PvP campaign.))


*Inside the lower decks of one of the many Zepplins to Northrend, a lone Troll in intricate leather armour sits at a table, a large bottle of port in his hand. He seems slightly tipsy. He turns to a young Orc in one of the seats next to him. He stares. Then he smirks, and shakes his head. He begins to talk. And talk. The Orc shifts uncomfortably, realizing that there’s no space to move to another table. The Troll begins to yammer away, for no apparent reason...Half of what he’s saying sounds like it’s being made up on the spot. This probably isn’t even true. The Orc sighs and rests his head in his hands.

“This happens every time I cross the ocean...”

He begins to listen.*

“...And that’s why ya shouldn’t rub Naga oil over a woman’s navel.

...Anyhoo, If dere’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that ya can’t argue with fate - Ya can’t argue with whatever Gods ya serve. If ya Gods want to bless ya, dey will; if dey want to crush ya, dey will.
I’ve learned this da hard way.

I find myself sitting on a boat. Again. I find myself heading to fight a war that by all means, does not concern me. Again. It has been over a year since I woke up. Over a year since I awoke in an occupied Valley of Spirits with no recollection of who I was or what I’d done. A year since I escaped my captors and rediscovered da world.
Since den, I’ve travelled with various Warbands and Clans, piecing my memory together from scratch. But like one of dem strange puzzles dey have at da orphanage, I’ve been rebuilding piece by piece - except da picture I have in front of me now is completely different from da one I had before.

Before, dey tell me, I was a soldier...of sorts. A headhunter, considered light infantry in Hellscream’s war machine. Since da founding days of da new Horde, I’ve fought. Eventually, I myself was headhunted, by da Shattered Hand. Years spent on grueling training missions, followed by even more years scouting, stealing, killing, sabotaging, lying, running and fighting.
I grew close to da Soldiers in ma battalion - Orcs, Tauren, Undead - we were all recruited for a purpose. Some of us even became as close to become blood brothers. Not many Trolls will be able to tell ya dat dey share blood with an Orc! When da Kor’kron started displaying signs of xenophobia and racism, we all went our separate ways. Some joined the Kor’kron elite, others defected as rebels. I returned home, ready ta defend it against whatever was coming next.

I had a family, day say. We settled in Zabra’jin when we weren’t fighting. Hellscream came, da fighting increased. Intensified. Eventually we began fighting amongst ourselves. War. So much war. We didn’t have enough soldiers to throw into da war. More war than people. War took over our lives. War began to govern everything: Family, friends, home, clothes, food, water, da weather. War began to take everything: family, friends, home, clothes, food, water.
Day say it became too much for me. Almost all my blood-brothers and sisters, ma mates and ma children fell to Hellscream - a devastating, life-crippling tragedy - or at least it would be if I could remember any of dose who were taken. Though when I knew dem, da grief drove me to great lengths, apparantely. Those who fought in da south found glorious deaths in da Barrens, taking over it and eventually Razor hill. We however, were stuck in da north, left to defend home. When we learnt of da losses to da south, and after da Orc’s war machine had taken our village, a friend and I, da Village chieftain’s son, fled to join da Rebellion in da South, to fight Hellscream head on; to avenge da fallen. But Hellscream’s dogs caught up with us. Dere were just two of us, against a small legion of dem; we were surrounded on all sides, facing certain death.
Dey say that I was desperate to live - dey think out of cowardice and fear of death. I think it was only so that I could live to fight another day. So rather than accept capture and execution, I slit da throat of my companion - a close friend of many years day tell me - in front of Hellscream’s Orcs, as a sign of collaboration. It worked. Dey didn’t kill me. It amused dem. Instead, day beat me until I was inches from death - day beat me so severely that even with my blessed, regenerating blood, I remained unconscious for weeks. Dey dumped me in da occupied Valley of Spirits and left my kin to tend to me. Dey beat me so severely that when I awoke my mind was blank. Dey’d literally beaten da memories from my head, da fire from my veins and da affection from my heart. I awoke a husk.

When we began to fight da Kor’kron from da gutters of our prisons, I discovered that while my da memories in my head were gone, da memories in my muscles and reflexes were still very much alive. I surprised myself as even unarmed, I was able to slay one of my captors without da help of my Brodar’s and Sisters.

When da siege began, I fled Orgrimmar at da first chance.

I began picking da pieces up, until my search took me back to Zabra’jin. Dere I discovered exactly who I was and what I’d done. I was declared an outcast. I joined a warband, and travelled parts of da world again. Seeing certain sights, hearing certain sounds and smelling certain scents brought many memories rushing back. Silithus, Da Dark Portal, Northrend, Hyjal, Pandaria. I’d left my mark on all of dese places over time, and dey on me.
Perhaps what I thought was best about this, was that I began to connect with da Loa in a way I never had before. Before I had family, friends and comrades - distractions. Now, I only had myself. So I began to pray. Every morning, every afternoon, every night. Every battle, every fight, every kill was dedicated to da Loa. From every foe fallen, I took a trophy. I dedicated it to Dzja’Weh, da Loa of da Darkness. All of my kills relied on luck - I was strong, but most enemies were stronger. I was fast, but some enemies were faster. If I was stalking someone, one false step often meant discovery - discovery often meant death. If I was stealing something, one wrong move, one slip of da hand, even if ma breathin’ was too loud, it often meant failure. If I was fighting someone, one foot out of place meant instant death. I was a skirmisher and a scoundrel - not a warrior. Dzja’Weh was da Loa of da underworld - da Loa of da shadows, of uncertainty. Of “luck”. It was He that decided whether or not my strikes would go deep enough to sever an artery, who decided whether or not da ground under my feet would remain silent, and who would make my foes decide that da sound dey heard behind dam was ‘probably nothing’.
I made regular offerings to He and to Bethekk, da Panther Loa. From every kill, I took an ear, a tooth, or a coat of skin, and I devoted it to dem. And dey rewarded me. My steps became quieter, my blades quicker, my resolve steelier. I prayed more, and more. I prayed while fighting. Dey began to bless my every strike. 
Day rewarded my sacrifices, my offerings; my righteousness. I began to find myself blessed with shadow magic - voodoo magic straight from da dark side of da spirit world itself. Occasionally, I could conceal myself in dere power - I could hide in an instant, even out in da open. My blades would become empowered with dere energy - carving through my foes in seconds. I could shrug off curses using dere powers as a temporary cloak.

Though I was reaching dangerous territory. While Bethekk was satisfied, Dzja’Weh began to demand more of me. More kills, more sacrifices. While under da Loa’s blessings, I was becoming much more effective. However, da rate at which I was being blessed was becoming increasingly rare - He began to require more than I could give. I began to rely on da blessings too much. Without dem, da weakest of foes began to overpower me. I found myself fleeing from skirmishes far more than I ever had previously. My reliance on my own abilities had almost vanished. He would bless me to demonstrate his power in da mortal world - though dere were many times where he would ignore me to show me how much I needed Him.

Others had warned me against my delving with those magics early on. Only da highest trained Witch Doctors and Siame Quasi Shadow Hunters delved with dark Loa like da one I was delving with. However, like da Orcs and dere previous corruption, da prospect of power overwhelmed me until I could no longer control it. Those of my kin who hadn’t abandoned me completely compared what I was doing to da Gurubashi Trolls and dere devotion to Hakkar. Da Darkspear offered help in my early stages, den left me to my doom as dere own lives began to come at risk.
At first, I was in denial over dere claims - I knew perfectly what I was doing. But as time went on, and my battle prowess and abilities began to be drained, I knew that my reliance on da dark Voodooism was overpowering me. Dzja’Weh himself was close to possessing me entirely.

Whoever I was before waking up in da valley was completely dead - I knew dat. I had become an entirely new Troll. And that new Troll had become one of da ones who so foolishly delved with magics he couldn’t understand. Da ones da rest of us look down on with pity and disgust - da ones we used to look at and think “How can day be so foolish as to stoop to that level?” Da Loa were to be worshipped, yes, but in da right way. And dere were some Loa our priests told us never to communicate with. Having been given a blank slate in life, I decided to try my luck with dese dark deities. Though from da very start, this was never meant to be.

My final encounter with Dark Voodoo came months ago, when I was instructed to go to a place deep within da desert of Tanaris. A place so deep in that even at midday it is was dark as night. Ruins from da old Gurubashi Empire were dere - and with dam were many Tribes of ancient, recluse Sandfury Trolls who had been driven mad by dere centuries old devotion to da Dark Loa. Dzja’Weh instructed me to go to dere settlements and sacrifice his own people to him. And like a slave, I went.
It took me weeks to arrive. When I saw that da sand had started to turn black, I knew I’d made a mistake. But it was too late. I was too far gone from civilization, and too far into da Sandfury’s Dark Territory. It wasn’t I that found dem, but dey that found me. Like a fool, I had been double crossed. Da sandfury’s were under instruction to sacrifice me. Dzja’Weh was da Dark Loa of cunning, stealth, darkness and luck. Of course dis would be his will. So I fought dem, but He blessed me. Troll after Troll fell against me. He was blessing me, increasing my own power after every kill, toying with me, knowing that when I was eventually slain it would be for his own glory.

What exactly happened next, I do not know. I struck one of my foes, and dere was an explosion. A shadowy explosion. I remember taking a mouthful of innards before flying backwards. I landed on my back. A great crack could be heard. My whole body ached with a burning pain, and I found myself unable to close my eyes. Da sky went bright. As if da sun was right dere in front of me. Looking up, I saw a terrifying silhouette against the light - as large as da sky itself. I cannot describe it - it was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I do not believe da words even exist to describe it, nor do I think my mind has da capacity to do so. Da figure grew larger and larger and flew closer and closer to me - terror unlike anything I’ve ever felt washed over me. As it descended, a great wind began to blow over da figure. It began ta slow, den let out a horrifying scream. It den stopped in its tracks. It began to evaporate, like a cloud being blown apart by da wind.

Da light in da sky got so bright. It enveloped everything around me, blinding me. It grew overpoweringly bright, until all I could see was white. Den, a feeling of weightlessness.

I don’t know how long I hung dere in da void for.  I thought I was dead.  Perhaps I was dead.  I hung dare, weightless in da middle of da air, surrounded by nothing but light.  I don’t know how long I hung dare.  Hours.  Days.  Weeks. Years.  I can’t tell.  

After hanging in da void for what may or may not have been an eternity, I found myself on da ground, in a jungle.  Da Greenest jungle I have ever seen.  It was if da air, even da sky, was green too.  I was lying on da ground, tangled in a bush.  I pulled myself free and stood up.  A female Troll stood before me.  She startled me.  I jumped and fell back into da bush.  She giggled at me.

She told me that her name was Zen’tabra, and that she was a Primalist.   She told me that some of da Loa I had worshipped previously (before losing my memory) were disappointed that I’d neglected dam after reawakening.  Some were upset, others were furious that I’d instead began to serve da Dark Loa Dzja’Weh.  By all means, Dzja’Weh had killed me.  My soul had been severed with my body in dat final encounter.  However, da Great Hunter, Gonk, refused to let me die, she said.  I had been one of many, many other Trolls who had unwittingly been picked to become Primalists after Zalzane’s fall.  As it turns out, da Primalists who previously had been Witch Doctors and Headhunters had all been predestined to fit into dere new roles - dey never had a choice over dere destiny.  Some of da Loa had considered abandoning me after dey saw dat I was dealing with Dzja’Weh - da only thing that saved me was da fact that I still chose to worship Bethekk too.  Gonk saw dis and decided that my soul wasn’t worth being destroyed.  So dey saved me from da clutches of da Dark Loa and brought my spirit into da Emerald Dream.  

I didn’t know quite what to think of dis.  I didn’t have a choice in anything anyways, so what I thought was irrelevant.  

For several months, I remained in da Emerald Dream - while most Trolls who weren’t already Primalists became dem shortly after da Cataclysm, many are still being selected and grown to this day.  Even during da Pandaria campaign, when our people were needed most, veteran and young Trolls alike were spending months at a time inside da Emerald Dream, learning under Gonk and da other Loa.  Da Loa know best, dey say, and dey decide when when and where we’re put into da world.

Da Spirits dere taught me (and da many, many others who were dere) how to connect my spirit to da Loa via natural ways.  Dey taught me how to harness nature to enhance my abilities.  I learned much more than physically possible in that time - perhaps it’s because we learn more in da Emerald Dream without da hinderance of flesh.  Or perhaps time is doubled dere.  Or perhaps dare is simply something about it we don’t know about.  Either way, those of us who were dere to train under Gonk learned quickly.  

After what may have been six months, I was returned to Azeroth.

I awoke from da Dream on da Darkspear Isles, lying on a sacrificial table.  And again, dare was Zen’tabra in front of me.  She told me that it was my worship to da Shadow Pandaons that had lowered my natural abilities.  By all means, Dzja’Weh had almost destroyed my physical body.  Da Loa of restoration could restore me, dey said, but dey chose not to.  I could hardly hold a blade properly now, let along swing one.  This infuriated me at first.  I spent years honing my skillset, and had become very particular about my physical shape.  Zen’tabra told me that it was my punishment, and that I’d have to rely on what I’d learned in da Emerald Dream - on nature - to survive and succeed.  

She told me (and many of da odar Primalists who had just awoken) that we had been granted da blessings of several Loa.  We were each able to transform into different beasts - some snakes, birds and raptors, others Cats, Wolves, bats, etc...Each was chosen according to it’s kind.  While we were able to transform into many forms to aid us in different situations, we all had a certain form that we were expected to worship in da most.  I was given da blessings of da Bear, Saber-cat, bat, stag and sealion.  I was at my strongest in Cat form, however - due to my previous abilities and experience, and my past worship of Bethekk, da Loa had decided that this was best suited to me and dere plan for me.  I was to spend two weeks training on da Isles themselves, den I’d be released to da world, to serve da Loa, my people and da Horde once more.  

Da two weeks of training were unlike any two weeks I’ve ever had.  Connecting with da Loa in da physical realm is far different from connecting with dem in da Spirit Realm.  Have ya ever watched ya fingers retreat into ya hands, only to see dam replaced by claws? Have ya ever had ya bones grow while ya flesh hardens?  Have ya ever felt ya legs bend upwards to a ninety degree angle, forcing ya to crawl on all fours?  Have ya ever felt ya spine stretch and bend in ways ya never thought possible? Or ya teeth and eyes grow and distort?  It’s indescribable.  And da first few times ya do it, it’s excruciating.  Especially shifting back.  Many of us were left paralyzed for hours after first shifting out of our primary forms.  And that was only da one form.  Try it all again but differently; ya body mass quadruples when ya shift into da form of a bear, ya arms shrivel and ya skin stretches to form wings when ya morph into a bat, and ya legs join together to create a single flipper when morphing underwater.  It’s terrifying - feeling ya legs become useless whilst underwater is nothing short of horrific.

And den once ya get past da physical side, ya have to learn how to adapt to ya new senses.  In da Emerald Dream, ya experience this.  But when ya do, it feels so natural, it’s almost theoretical knowledge.  It’s in da physical world where this all comes into practice.  For example, after going through da excruciating agony of turning into a hulking saber-cat for da first time, when I eventually opened my eyes I found out that I could only see in black and white - mostly.  “How is being colorblind helpful to my cause?” I asked da Loa.  But den I noticed; I had gained a completely new focus on one of my other senses - I could smell things.  And not just smell dem, but REALLY smell dem.  As in dere scent was so clear and real I could almost see it.  Know how I said everything was MOSTLY black and white?  Well when ya sense of smell is so attuned to ya environment, scents become different shades of yellow.  Almost.  Ya can’t physically see da scents, but ya mind makes ya think ya can.  I was able to tell immediately who’d been sitting in my spot da day before, where dey’d went, what day’d done since den, and where dey were now.  I was able to tell ya what da younglings were doing at that exact moment in da training pit about a mile down da coast.  Gaining da ability to sense scent was...out of dis world.

I didn’t need to see colour - seeing it would have only dulled my now otherwise perfect other senses.

Den dere was bat form.  I awoke from my pained stupor to find that I couldn’t see. Instead of being colour blind this time, I was completely blind.  I screamed (or screeched - whatever da bat equivalent is) and dan suddenly da world opened up around me, as I began to paint a picture of da world around me in my head without having to think about it.  Except this time, I could tell ya what was across da bay miles away on da mainland - I could hear so well that wherever da sound of my screeching reached - no matter how minimal it was - I could tell what was happening, what was moving and who was talking.  Supersonic hearing day called it - apparantely my hearing became that good that I could paint a picture in my head of da world around my by hearing da sound of my own voice echoing back to me.  And again, being able to see would have simply dulled that process.  

Da rest were fairly simple or similar - da hardest thing about sealion form was learning to breathe underwater.  At first my instinct was simply to sputter and gasp for air, and since I wasn’t great at swimming in dat form to start with, I used to panic as I’d sink to da bottom of Darkspear Bay.  I quickly got used to it, however, and found myself streaming through da water in a way I’d only ever dreamed of.

After two weeks of adjusting to dese new forms in various circumstances, I became that used to dam that day released me into da world.  If we had learned dese forms purely in da physical realm, it would have taken us years to get dam to a point of usefulness.  But Gonk’s teaching in da Emerald Dream sharpened and streamlined da process unbelievably.  

Now, Ya may think with all of this shapeshifting “He must be a druid - but Druid’s are supposed to be followers of nature.  He must be peace loving, den.  Ya’d be right in a way, and wrong in a bigger way.  We have emissary's at da Cenarion Circle, yes, and all Primalists are supposed to report to Moonglade once day’ve finished dere basic training.  I was sent to Moonglade straight after da Darkspear Isles.  I won’t be returning often.  Working with Elves...it infuriates me.  Dey are da most hated of da hated.  Lesser beings.  It WAS funny seeing dere faces when we were accepted inta da circle, though.  
Anyways, hating da Elves doesn’t mean dat da Primalists aren’t one with nature.

Tell me: what do two wild beasts do when day mark da same piece of territory? Dey fight for it.  With teeth and claws, dey fight until one either surrenders or perishes.  What do ya call that?  Nature.  What about when another predator enroaches on a Lioness’s den?  Or near da field where her young sleep?  Or those stories ya hear when a creature of prey goes on a “murder” spree throughout a village, because da settlers were foolish enough to build a village near her den?  Da predator stalks and destroys dem - to defend her young and her territory. Or what about when she gets hungry?  Da brutal scenes ya see in da wild of stronger beasts slaughtering dem weaker dan her to eat and survive?  Nature.  Snakes, bats, wolves, even critters - all members of da natural world, and all known to attack and kill others.  It’s nature.
Or what about droughts caused by da sun, destroying all crops and life?  Or plagues of locusts?  Hurricanes and typhoons that level settlements to da ground?  Being associated with da “Druids” doesn’t automatically mean we become peace loving pacifists.  We Trolls care less about da Elves forests than day do - and indeed, many of our Loa will no doubt be pleased to see dere forests razed to da ground for what dey’ve done to our people.  Many are quick to associate Druids with trees, peace, and nature, but we Primalists represent da brutal side of da natural world that is often overlooked.  Just as wild beasts hunt and slay to protect demselves and dere land, we do da same.  Da Horde is our pack, and its lands our scented ground.  Much of nature is brutal and as far from “peaceful” as one can get.  

Anyways, after leaving da Moonglade, I decided to go to Stonard - I heard da Alliance were making pushes in that area, and that da fields would be ripe with combat - perfect for me to test my newly acquired instincts and abilities in a living environment.  

At first it was strange, clawing and gnashing at our foes with my teeth.  But it didn’t take long for instinct to truly take over.  I tell ya now, if I was ever efficient before, it had nothing on what I have now.  Before, I used to rely on a mixture of all four senses, and in many cases, guess where da enemy would be.  Now I knew where dey were before I even started looking for dem.  Instead of climbing trees and hoping dere’d be a gap small enough to jump to da next one for me to scout efficiently, I can simply fly above da battlefield, den drop down and land in a tree, ready to ambush foes who I know are headin’ towards me.

Instead of struggling against one or two foes, I can tackle up to three or four of dam head on, swiping and clawing, running in circles around dem.  In my primary form, I am faster, stronger and more  cunning than I ever have been.  And I have no weapons to worry about - my body is a weapon in itself.  I may not kill dem all right away, but I can keep dem busy long enough until help arrives.

After a week of fighting dere, I headed through da Dark Portal to try my new abilities against da demonic threats that are ever-present dere.  Same results.  It’s a little bit trickier trying to hit a Demon’s soft spot with claws and teeth, but I was agile enough to not get hit too much whilst practicing.

I returned to Orgrimmar and found that apart from Kor’kron cleanup, Da Horde has little left to combat - other than da Alliance, of course.  I asked around and it was recommended that I head North - dere’s a campaign on up dere, and apparantely dere’s a Warband of elite veterans that I was told to look for.  I’ll go wherever da war is, so here I am.

Also, I’ve never worn robes.  It’s funny how weak people think dem who wear robes actually are - last night, for example, I was above deck watching da stars when a group of Orcs came up from below deck.  Dey found my attire rather funny and began to laugh at me.  Dey sat at my table, and generally started being brutes.  I grunted, in no mood to play word games with dem.  Dey sniped and sneered, until I eventually said something about Hellscream and da shame of sharing da same blood as him.  That must have hurt one of dem, because he offered to scrap with me. With a smirk, I accepted expecting to beat him easily. I realized too late that my natural body was as now weak as straw and was quickly flattened by da Orc. He almost broke my neck.  He obviously saw how outmatched I was and took a step back.  Da three of dam laughed at me.  I was furious by this point - my kind don’t react well to humiliation.  I threw my arms up in frustration and snarled, turning to go back downstairs.  
Almost immediately, following my arm movements, an enormous gust of wind flew over da Zeppelin, shaking it to it’s very core.  Da blast caught da Orc off guard and he flew from da Zeppelin down to his death.  Da others ran off terrified.  I had accidentally created a powerful rush of wind using my newly found bond with da Loa.  I didn’t mean it, of course - I completely forgot I was now capable of such a thing.  Perhaps it was da Loa toying with me.  Anyways, it made me realize that while I’m now getting to grips with da shapeshifting of my powers, I still have much to lear.  It will come with time, I suppose.  Still, it was a funny accident.  I was almost thrown off of da Zeppelin myself when da engineers found out it was me - Ya may have heard all of that commotion last night.  Thankfully I was able to persuade dem that it was an accident, and truth be told, I think dey were rather pleased that da Orc I sent hurling overboard was gone.  A real bastard of an Orc, he was...

*The Troll chuckles to himself, finishing the last of his bottle before slowly rising to his feet.   He nods at the stunned Orc and walks back to the bar.  The Orc looks at others around him who also heard the story.  

“That Troll sure...wow, he sure can talk.”

“He’s been sitting there all night, talking to whoever will listen.  I don’t know how many bottle’s he’s had.”
“Dat’s da biggest load o’dung Janji ever b’hearin, mon.”
“I’d be surprised if any of that was true.  Some imagination he has.”

“...AT LAST, he’s gone.”

“I wonder if what he said about the Naga Oil was true...I’ve a bottle in my room...”

The Orc shook his head and walked back up to the top deck.  Northrend could be seen in the distance, with what looked like smoke rising from various settlements further inside the continent.  They’d make landfall by dawn.  Hopefully enough time for the Troll to prepare himself for whatever trials awaited him.”