When the Horde came to Dazar’alor, they marvelled at the beauty of the city. The towering structures, the great vaults of gold, and the bustling markets were a sight to behold. Of course, the great meandering dinosaurs, used in anything from defense to travel, certainly catch the eye as well. But with every great city, there are the workers that allow the great gears of civilization to turn. Krogust was one such piece in the machinery, and at the moment of the Horde’s arrival, he was lamenting his position in Zandalari society.
As their soldiers armed themselves with powerful weapons and armour, Krogust was wielding only a pitchfork. When asked what he did for the empire, he would say he provided facility maintenance for the beasts of Dazar’alor. Of course, what that really meant was he would clean the stables of the all-too-plentiful dinosaur excrement. It was tiring and degrading, yet because of this hardworking Zandalari, the stables would be in exceptional condition under his care. As his mother taught him in his youth, it did not matter what job one did, but how it was done. He took that advice to heart.
Still, he would stare up at the gilded wonders of the city and wonder how it would be to stand amongst the greats. To act as King Rastakhan for but a day! To preside over the empire, commanding armies, bringing order and justice! But of course, not all can be king, and Krogust was bound to perform his duties as admirably as he could, even if those duties were not always admirable.
“Krogust!”
He snapped out of his daydreaming. It was his supervisor, Meatminder Teki. The head of Warbeast Krall, the grounds to breed and raise the many dinosaurs of the empire, she was resolute in her duties and fierce in her convictions. Her dedication was a large part of the reason Dazar’alor held such a variety and quality in their dinosaur companions. In fact, it was one of the reasons Krogust liked the woman; they both believed in the ideals of duty and quality of work.
“Yes, Teki?” Krogust replied. He didn’t try to hide that he had been thinking of greater things. She’d see right through him.
“Get ya mind on track, boy! One of da ravasaurs needs ya attention. He’s been snapping at everything lately. Take this,” she said, throwing him a large slab of meat that slapped in his hands as he caught it, “and feed it to ‘im. Keep that one calm! Can’t have the beast hurtin’ himself trying to break his cage!”
Krogust nodded, and went to feed the animal. Ravasaurs are impressive creatures, fierce in mind and body. The Zandalari would adorn the beasts with beautiful ornaments, using them as treasured mounts and war companions for the greatest warriors of the empire. This one simply needed to be properly tamed, and soon enough it would be on the front lines of the Zandalari war machine.
“Here ya are, friend,” Krogust whispered to the caged dinosaur. He placed the meat close to the cage, waiting for it to calm down. It smashed its body into the side, threatening its holding. Massive claws pawed at the meat, dragging it closer. Krogust moved in to push it near, but found himself admiring the creature. He thought of training it to adulthood, and the empire providing him the reins. Rastakhan himself would come down from his throne and present him with a spear and a demand for an oath of allegiance. They’d ride out together, hunting blood trolls and battling the new Alliance threat he’d heard much about in the city markets. He would be brave, and strong, and-
It took him a moment to register the pain. It was so sharp, so shocking, he couldn’t even fathom how to scream.
Caught daydreaming again, the ravasaur had reached forward and clawed Krogust’s arm, opening a terrible wound from elbow to wrist. It bled profusely, and he tried desperately to staunch the bleeding with his tunic. Pushing himself back from the cage, he slipped and fell onto his back, finding his voice now and howling in pain. It didn’t take long before Teki was at his side, urging him to stay with her, but her voice sounded so muffled and distant. The edges of his vision began to grow dark.
--
He awoke with a gasp, stunned that he was waking at all. Surprisingly, he found he was in no pain. His arm was unhurt, and, in truth, he could feel little of anything at all. The world around him was dark and misty, and even his own form looked only partially in reality. When he moved, his body seemed almost to flow like water through the air.
The strange plane of existence was nearly empty, save for one being. A troll, sitting atop a stone cube. Bones were wrapped around his shins and forearms, and the front half of a skull was attached to his face as a mask, partially obscuring two eyes glowing with white fire. It looked as if a skeleton were painted onto his chest and arms, and a decoration of tattered cloth and bone was attached behind his back. If the figure was not a strange enough site already, it was complemented by how he was laughing hard enough to nearly fall from his seat.
“Oh, he got ya good! Guess the meat ya gave him was only half the meal, eh mon? Oh ho ho, a ravasaur’s claws are not ta be messed with!” He slapped his knee, rattling the bones that were covering so much of his body.
“Where… what is any of this?” Krogust asked, still unwilling to approach the stranger.
“Come now, ya don’t recognize me? I should be taking some offense! Ya would recognize Gonk, Shadra, Rezan, but not da Loa of Graves?”
The Loa of Graves! It couldn’t be… Krogust struggled to find his voice. He knew now, but could hardly believe what he saw before him. Surely, it had to be a dream, a sight before one passed into the next life. “Bwonsamdi,” he whispered.
The loa held his arms out wide. “Da one and only!”
“Then… I be a dead man.”
“Not yet,” Bwonsamdi said, stepping down from the stone but not reaching the ground. He floated, hovering effortlessly in the air. It gave Krogust no additional comfort. “At least… not if ya don’t wanna be. Normally I just be takin’ ya soul and be done with it, but times be changing. The realm of the dead is…” He trailed off. “Instead, I be offerin’ ya a deal, mon. One I would suggest ya take.”
“A deal?”
Bwonsamdi floated up close to him, grabbing Krogust by the shoulders and bringing him in tight. “I be seein’ great things for ya!” he said, drawing a hand across the sky as if there was something more to see than infinite mist and darkness. “I know ya want more than what ya got, and I be meaning to provide. Ya gonna be one of my loyals, and don’t ya worry… I watch out for my own.”
“I’m to be a slave?”
Bwonsamdi laughed again. “Why all ya workers think ya gonna be slaves? The soldiers never say it. But no, mon. Ya gonna be a servant of a great loa. Ya gonna be a priest. My priest.”
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Krogust shook his head, confused. Why would he be chosen? He’d never done anything worthy of getting recognized by a loa. “Great Bwonsamdi, I don’t understand. There are so many trolls in the empire…”
“...and yet I’m choosing you. Sometimes Bwonsamdi needs one with a little… humility. There be strange times for the dead coming, and I be needing a few loyal followers to ensure I be getting what’s mine.”
“And ya be giving me power to do this?”
Bwonsamdi smiled wide, large tusks rising from beneath his skull mask. “Now ya askin’ the right questions. Ya keep lookin’ at that pyramid. Ya won’t be gettin’ to the top of Dazar’alor, but ya be helpin’ guide those that are.” His smile grew even wider. “And sometimes, ya see that da guiding hand is greater than da crown.”
“What would ya want me to do?” Krogust asked, still overwhelmed.
“Wait. For now. Ya know when da time comes to serve da loa of death.” He began to wave his hand and the mist began to grow thicker, obscuring Krogust’s vision. “I be takin’ that we be in agreement, then. Better say so soon, because ya be going back to ya body healed… or not.”
“Yes!” Krogust said frantically. “I take ya deal!”
Krogust blinked his eyes open to the Zuldazar sun. Gradually, he heard Teki’s voice once more, frantic and just as shocked as he. Much to his surprise, the pain had gone. His wound had healed, leaving only a scratch from elbow to wrist. He sat up, moving his hand in disbelief.
“Krogust!” Teki yelled. “Ya arm… it’s…”
“Fine…” he responded.
--
Months passed without further incident. Still, there were moments he felt the change. A direhorn lunged at him just days ago, and a protective shield surrounded his body. A ravasaur cut another worker’s leg quite deeply, and his touch healed the wound. Yet, other than a few isolated incidents, his life continued as normal. His benefactor said he would know when the time would come, and he had not yet seen a sign.
It was weeks before he would find need of his powers again. Dazar’alor was readying for battle on behalf of the Horde, and the increasingly audacious blood trolls were beginning to threaten the northern border. One such pack of the latter had found its way deep inside Zandalar, and opted to strike at what the Zandalari prized most; their dinosaur herd.
A small raid of blood trolls attacked Warbeast Krall, yelling cries of havoc and promises of destruction. Feeling a rush of confidence and a belief that with the guidance of Bwonsamdi he could fend off this attack, he rushed to meet them. Grabbing his pitchfork - what else did he have? - he stepped forward to see several of the primitive, pale trolls, covered in little more than loincloths and scar tissue, rush headlong out of the jungle.
The skill came to him instinctively. Focusing on one bony, reckless troll, he put all his power into… in truth, he wasn’t yet sure. He simply felt the power brimming within him and directed it towards the troll. Immediately, his enemy fell to his knees, holding his skull as if it was about to burst. Krogust sent another wave at him, and this time he toppled over, surely dead.
Next, he found two spear-wielding trolls harassing one of the brutosaurs he had been tending since its birth. It roared, swinging its head towards the trolls, but brutosaurs were not savage beasts like the ravasaurs. It would need his assistance. Raising one hand, he channeled his energy towards the trolls, and speaking words that came to him through whispers deep in his mind, they began to writhe in pain. It wasn’t long before the two retreated out towards the jungle from where they had emerged.
Finally, an especially large troll came forward. It was one of the great matriarchs of the rival trolls, engorged on blood and power. Krogust stepped forward to oppose her. Pulling from deep within himself, he summoned all the power and favour Bwonsamdi had bestowed upon him. His skin began to fade to a darker colour, swirling with the energy of darkness and shadow. His feet came off the ground, the call so strong it almost consumed him. It was then he discovered the meaning of being a priest of the Loa of Graves; death was his energy, and death was what he delivered.
Powerful beams of shadow ripped from his fingers and tore into the troll as tremendous blasts of energy assailed her mind. The blood troll matriarch charged forward, swinging savage weapons, but they deflected uselessly off a shield of power that had emanated from his form. Eventually, she, too, fell to the barrage.
The battle was over. Exhausted, he fell to his knees. He had taken lives, something he imagined he would do only in his most absurd, wild dreams. He looked down at the fallen matriarch. Blood oozed from her nose, mouth and ears, as if her very mind was under assault. The shadow had ripped savage wounds in her body, and the troll had obviously died in tremendous pain.
“Krogust…” It was Teki, coming out from behind the stables. “What have ya done?”
“I don’t think I know,” he responded honestly.
---
For weeks, Krogust could hardly sleep. He laid down in his bed, staring at the leaky roof that hardly provided cover in the rainy season. He never so much as looked up at the gilded city anymore, wondering if he had gotten what he wished for, and what he wished for was far too much for a simple stable master to handle. He was not one to handle such power! Why would Bwonsamdi choose him? Surely, it must have been an error, a mistake in judgement, something...
“Ya doubt me, mon?” Krogust sat up immediately, finding that Bwonsamdi appeared on the other side of the small hut in which he rested. “Perhaps ya should think ol’ Bwonsamdi knows a little more about ya than ya be thinkin’.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand! I can’t be cut out for this!”
Suddenly, Bwonsamdi appeared much larger, much more powerful. Only his face, still adorned with the skull mask, filled Krogust’s view. He saw now just how truly powerful - and terrifying - the Loa of Graves can be. “I be giving ya great power, troll! Now ya be thinkin’ I was mistaken? Ya show me no gratitude!” Bwonsamdi’s voice boomed in the tiny hut.
“No, no!” Krogust yelled, “What ya given me, I just… I can hardly believe the power is coming from my own hands!”
“Let me show ya something, mon.” Again, Krogust’s vision shifted. He saw the vast, open jungles of Zandalar. In it, he saw a rider on a ravasaur, majestic and proud, tearing through the jungle with reckless abandon. He moved closer, seeing that it was his father, who had passed just a few seasons ago. He looked as happy as he had ever seen him. “He be one of mine, now,” Bwonsamdi said. “I gave him a home. One he be happy in. I can only save so many trolls from a fate that be changin’ lately. Now that’s what I be needin’ ya for. Ask yourself; do ya want others to find a fate like ya father’s, or to be thrown into oblivion? I chose ya because ya be a humble and dedicated servant. The Horde be goin’ to the Shadowlands. Ya find ya clues there. Take my power, and do what’s right.”
The vision faded. He was back in the hut again, covered in a cold sweat. “The Shadowlands…” Krogust mumbled.
---
He had travelled to Orgrimmar as Bwonsamdi had told him. Immediately, he signed up for the expedition into the Shadowlands, the land of the dead. Whatever was out there, it was something that Bwonsamdi was yet to understand. He dared think that perhaps it was something he feared. Krogust entered the maw, the land of the tormented dead, remembering exactly as his mother had taught him; it did not matter what job one did, but how one did it. Whatever he was to do here, it was for the good of the Zandalari people. For the good of all of Azeroth.
The maw was a desolate, empty, wretched place. He could hear - even feel - the suffering of the lost souls surrounding him at every turn. He knew the moment he entered that he would dedicate himself to fixing whatever was broken in the realm of death. No longer did he dream of the power of sitting at the throne of Dazar’alor. Bwonsamdi had shown him something greater.
He fought now with the power of the Loa of Graves, for his duty to the Zandalari people, for the goodness of Azeroth, and out of loyalty to Bwonsamdi who had given him more than he had ever dreamed.