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The sun blazed down upon the desolate wastes of Durotar. The sun was at its peak in the afternoon and even the dark, armorclad scorpid workers avoided the sun by crawling back in their lairs built of mud and earth. A lonely troll stood crouched under a pillar of rock, providing some shadow and shelter as he watched the cave that lay before him. He was clad in the traditional witch doctor outfit, barechested only in his mantle and by his belt there were several pouches and three skulls, one obviously human but the other two seemed either gnomish or that of a human child. His kilt was covered in markings and drawings dating from the ancient Gurubashi Empire and depicting the troll gods. This was appearantely an old school voodoo user, you could see the cruelty and savageness in his red, sharp looking eyes. His skin was a feirce tone of blue, extremely striking in the red deserts of Durotar, and his hair was completely white which was a rare feat for one of his race and heritage. He wore the marks of the snake and spider god in white and grey colors on his face, which made him look even more brutal. He had remained motionless for quite a while now, having already seen some idiotic orc run in that unnatural cave only to come running back shortly thereafter, basked in flames and screaming his tusks off. His corpse lay a few meters away, the stench having already overwhelmed the troll's heightened senses. There was nothing he could have done for that orc. That fire had come from within, no doubt a spell cast by a skillful warlock. He was not ready to overcome such dark powers just yet. But soon he would be able to. Soon.

He grasped his crude stone axe by his belt as if to check if it were there and also padded for his two throwing axes by the back. He was ready. It was now or never. He lifted up his axe, muttered some trollish words and slowly stood up, remaining a bit more crouched than usual and started sneaking towards the cave. He hadn't gone for long when he immediately threw himself to the ground, luckily being able to dodge behind a small, but big enough rock. A blazing red Felhound had just crawled out of that cave and was running about, sniffing in a frenzy. It seemed to have been waiting just inside the cave, right inside that thick, putrid darkness and had appearantely cought the troll's scent. It was like a demonic dog, on four legs with a giant maw full of razor sharp teeth. On it's back were two black tentacles, which stood straight up and always seemed like they were sniffing the air, and no doubt they were. The tentacles were the beasts most effective weapon, used to suck the life, energy and magic out of any kind of spellcaster. The troll cursed quietly and opened one of the pouches at his belt. From it he took what looked like ground, grey dust and he blew it towards the beast. The wind suddenly picked up and carried the essence towards the demon, which immediately cought the smell and ran off in the opposite direction. The savage grinned, knowing that nothing would send the Felhound off faster than bonedust from a human mage. He started running softly on his bare feet after the Felhound, his axe in one hand and a smaller throwing axe in the other. He had gotten quite close to the hound, which was sniffing frantically at a cactus, its tentacles trying to lash onto the plant. He snuck up in throwing range, readied his axe and said calmly and cooly: “Say hello to my little fren'! ”. The beast spun around, but the axe was already in the air and hit the beast right between where it's eyes should have been. The beast roared and lunged for him, it's tentacles which were slightly covered in thorns, went for him. The troll raised a hand and the beast suddenly stopped and it's nose burst out, the green liquid it carried in its vains gushing out like a river from the Undercity followed by chuncks of what could have been it's brain, if it had any. The hound vailed and wimpered but finally fell down dead. The dust he had sprinkled earlier had proven more than useful today to the young witch doctor. The troll pulled the axe from the wound and drew a small hunting knife which he had carried since he was a small child. It was crude and old, but it was all what he had from his life before in his tribe. He crouched down and started cutting off the beasts hoof. It was tough, and the smell was grotesque, but he finally got it off. He stood up and put it in a pouch thanked the gods that this one was exceptionally stupid and started for the cave again. He was already very close to the cavemouth and lashed at himself for not being more careful when the Felhound could have called for more when he attacked it. He looked inside, but it seemed to be clear, so he slowly went in.

The air in there was slightly cooler but very stuffy and it reeked of burned orc. The cave was dark, but he quickly grew accustomed to the darkness and saw quite well. He kept his axe and his other throwing axe ready, since he had thrown the other one away, not being able to clean it with anything in this wasteland and the stench would only draw too much unwanted attention. There wasn't a sound to be heard inside the cave until he got to what seemed like a crossroads of sort in the cave, with paths to three other directions. He couldn't see well enough to see where they led and a part of him didn't want to know, but he decided on the path where he slightly heard the sound of water flowing.

He hadn't followed it for long when he saw into a big cave with a small waterfall gushing from an unseen source far above, forming a small stream which followed the path leading from the cave deeper into the caverns until it bent out of sight. The witch doctor saw one felbeast patrolling the area, accompanied by two blue goblin-like creatures, only they seemed more devious and deadly than even the worst goblin you could imagine, having the worst day imaginable, and being forced to do charity for the Gnomeregan Exiles. Also it was strikingly obvious that they were demons of the imp family, although bigger and even more wicked and deceitful than the ones warlocks kept as pets. He didn't have any time to think, because as soon as he saw them, the demonic band had started for him. The troll threw his axe at the hound, but it wasn't a direct hit, only giving it a deep mark on the side of it's head. The beast roared and ran even faster for him. One of the imps had stopped and was uttering in whatever foul, demonic tongue it spoke in and flames ignited from nowhere and covered it's hands. The other one was now in range and cackled insanely as it jumped with claws stretched, aiming for the troll's throat. The witch doctor slashed with his axe at the imp as he dodged, injuring him as well as sending him flying for a close encounter with the cavern wall. He rolled away, dodging the snarling Felhound as it snapped it's jaws at him when he felt the already hot temperature rise by a couple of dozen degrees, and found himself face-to-face with a fireball. He threw himself on the back, groaning as he hit the sharp, hard rocks on the floor and the fireball made direct contact with the unfortunate imp that had thrown itself on the cavern wall. He almost chuckled at it's scream of pain, and probably would have, if the Felhound hadn't latched it's tentacles to his defenceless chest. He roared in agony as he felt his powers and lifeforce being sucked right out of him, right into the maw of that ferocious beast. The spellcasting imp started to laugh as he prapaired another spell, dark energies forming around it's wiry body. The troll gathered all it's remaining strength and was barely able to reach into his pouch and to pull out a small, ancient looking stone totem. It was of the snake god and his tribe's witch doctor had recovered it himself from one of the ancient temples. It had been given to him at when he was taken in training by the old witch doctor at a ritual ceremony and great voodoo had been stored within it. He grasped the statue and using all the strength he could muster, slammed it into his chest as hard as he could. The Felhound roared and drew it's tentacles back, frothing and screaming in pain. He jumped up, powered by the strength he had gathered from the totem and slashed with his axe at one of the tentacles, chopping the sucker at the end cleanly off. Green liquid gushed out from the wound as he turned towards the imp, having almost finished his spellcasting but had suddenly ceased to cackle. He grinned, revealing his own set of ferocious teeth, clasped his hands together and said one single word before he unleashed a devastating spell unto the demon, calling forth pure, natural lightning, empowered by the numberous spirits of the spiritworld. The imp screamed and was thrown back, shaking uncontrollably until he finally fell down limply.

The troll spun around, avoiding the other tentacle lounging for him and growled. The hound growled back and jumped at him. He jumped away and landed in a crouching position and sprinted right for the beast, which hadn't seen where he had jumped off to before it could get it's bearings. He jumped over it's head, the blade of the axe gliding over it's forehead and landed on his feet, gliding across the floor on sand and loose rocks. The beast snarled and started for him, but the troll had already started to evade. He was about to roll away when suddenly his foot got grasped by the beheaded tentacle and he was swept off his feet, landing harshly on his face and in the confusion accidentally flinged his axe away. He quickly spun around and grabbed the other tentacle that had almost got him, holding it inches from being able to suck the life out of him. The Felbeast was almost onto him with it's horrible jaws, ready to tear him apart when he went for his pouch and threw a small glass vial, full of clear liquid in it's maw. The hound broke it in its mouth, and as soon as the liquid made contact it started to froth and smoke came from the wounds it caused. It burned the creature's mouth and quickly spread all over it through the plentiful saliva that was in store. Meanwhile the witch doctor had been searching like mad for a sharp stone or something alike with his free hand when he came upon his throwing axe which he had used in his opening attack. He grasped it and slashed the sucker off the tentacle, making both tentacles retreat. The Felhound was whining and roaring from the pain as he drove the axe as hard as he could into its skull, so hard that almost all of the blade sunk into it's head. The hound only wimpered and finally dropped dead. The troll sat limply down, out of breath and realizing that he was covered in scratches and small wounds caused by the hound. He sighed and was about to pick up his knife when a well roasted imp jumped on his back, scratching and biting furiously. He cursed again for his recklessness and reached above his head, grabbing it by the throat, throwing it around so that it was in front of him before he snapped it's neck like a twig. “Stay dead,” he said and went off to chop the Felhound's hoof off. He picked up his axe not far away and decided it was best not to drink the water in the cave even though the fighting and the heat had made him unbelievably thirsty and started for the exit. He was very careful not to rouse any noise although he might be sore and weak, and made it at the cavemouth shortly thereafter.

He reached the Den in the evening, exhausted, but pleased with himself. His voodoo skills had proven to be even better than he expected and now he would be able to become even more powerful. He went into camp and sought out the Earthcaller, the troll who had sent him on this mission. He found him where he left him, patiently waiting by the fire along with other shamans, witch doctors and apprentices. The Earthcaller looked up as he saw him approach and his eyes showed great anticipation. The troll walked up to the Earthcaller, having cought everyone's attention by his worn out condition, even by Durotar standards, and gave him the two Felhound hooves. “Here you go Canaga,” he said. “Like you asked for.” Canaga the Earthcaller smiled a devious trolllike smile and took the hooves. “I will ready the sapta immediately. You have done extremely well Zul'kra,” he said as he, among the others, seemed to look upon the troll in a new light. “Who knows what paths you might take in the future. Now sit and feast, for you have earned it. When the sapta is ready I will bring it to you, and the spirits will hopefully grant you their strength.” Zul'kra sat down by the fire and the others excitingly asked for stories of his adventure, offering him drinks, meat and bread which he gladly accepted. His sharp teeth tore into the fresh meat as he started to tell them the story of how he heeded the Call of the Earth.