Foreword:
I’ve always felt bad for the Syndicate. They are cast as thieves and criminals, but who’s laws do they break? All human kingdoms in Lordaeron are in ruins. Today’s Syndicate is comprised of the humans of the former Kingdom of Alterac who’ve lost their homes. This tragedy is a direct result from their King’s arguably poor decisions. Now they struggle to survive in Hillsbrad and Arathi Highlands. They are on the brink of extinction. The Syndicate is not alone in their struggle; there are others who are desperately fighting just to stay alive. One such example is the Witherbark tribe of trolls. Some would say that this is their own fault. They allied with the Horde, but then promptly betrayed them and began attacking the orcs of Hammerfall. Perhaps their fate also suffers from a leader’s poor decision? In Stranglethorn Vale, the Bloodscalp tribe has been hit hard by Alliance and Horde war parties and mercenaries. The Bloodscalp hold only a small area, seek to attack no one (apart from the Skullspliter tribe) and they’ve had scores of their people killed by outsiders. In the mountains of Alterac, another group has been devastated by outsiders: the Winterax troll tribe. They’ve had their homes and lives destroyed as they found themselves caught in the war between the Horde and Alliance.
Now, with that backdrop…
Chapter 1: Old Memories
Nicholas Grond just wanted to go home. He was in the middle of a war, he was cold, and he was tired. And all he wanted to do right now was to go home and crawl back into bed.
Except he couldn’t.
His home didn’t exist anymore. It was burned down by the Alliance after his King allied with the Horde during the second war. And it wasn’t just his home, it was everyone’s homes. His friends, his neighbors, his family were all forced to watch as the Alliance burned their homes, destroyed the walls that kept them safe, and salted the ground to keep the crops from growing.
But that was then, and right now Nicholas was in the middle of a war.
“All right everyone, Horde troops are leaving the area! The blues will be here soon so everyone pack up – we’re moving to Go’Shek Farm!” yelled Nicholas.
Nicholas was the unspoken leader of what was left of the survivors of Alterac. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he lived as a farmer in the mountains, living in a small cottage with his wife and daughter. All he had now were memories of better days. And his wedding ring. As Nicholas walked into the command house (a small, one room house on a hill), he took a moment to reflect on his ring, as he often did these days, and wonder if he was making the right decision. As he stared at his ring, old memories stirred.
~ ~ ~
As the Alliance left the kingdom of Alterac in ruins, the few citizens still alive were left alone, albeit many had fresh bruises and broken bones. Nicholas remembered gathering up the survivors into what remained of the town hall. Alterac was known for its fierce winters and a storm was moving in fast that night. He knew that the head alchemist was still missing and he wanted to be sure that every home was checked before he gave up. One by one, every ruined home he checked was empty. As he turned to give up the search and head back to the town hall, he heard a scream.
“Where did that come from?”, he thought. A second scream rang in the cold air and this one Nick knew came from near the Keep’s entrance. Nicholas was not terribly far from there, and he ran to see what the cause was. It did not take long to find out. As Nicholas ran, he began to see large shapes through the falling snow and wind. The large shapes carried large clubs and a few seemed to have 2 heads.
Ogres! Panic set in as Nicholas recognized these creatures for what they were, remembering how the Horde had used several in their assault against the Alliance. Ogres were known equally for their brutality and their stupidity. Fear continued grow in Nicholas… if they found the survivors gathered in the town hall…
Nicholas ran fast back to the hall. “Everyone! We’re leaving as fast as we can! Grab only what essentials are in sight! Ogres are pouring into the Keep! Carry those who cannot walk! We move for the north keep wall!” Nicholas looked around the room for his wife and daughter. “Darbel, where is my wife and child?” Darbel Montrose, the apprentice to the Royal Court Wizard, looked horrified. “Nicholas, they went to look for you. They thought you might be near the gates and headed that direction. Nicholas, I’m so sorry – I just scryed their location and… they didn’t make it.”
For all the tragedy that happened that day, they were able to hold on to some small measure of luck – the invading Ogres did not see the survivors of Alterac slip out of the crumbling north keep wall.
Chapter 2: Trust in Strangers
~ ~ ~
“Nicholas, we can’t keep this up”, said Darbel.
“Hmm?” said Nicholas.
“We can’t keep moving from farm to farm when control of Arathi changes hands. We need somewhere we can fortify, and rest.”
“I know, Darbel, but we don’t have much choice! The world has turned their backs on us! It’s not like we can just go back home, go back to the way things used to be! We have to keep fighting to survive! Farming is what will keep us alive and our best hope to make it through the winter is one of these two farms.”
“But what if we could, Nick?”
“What if we could what?”
“What if we could go back home? My contacts in the Wake…” said Darbel.
“When are you going to drop them, Darbel? They are a bad group intent on bringing evil to this world” said Nicholas.
“You know I’m only using them so we can get by. When they figure out I’m not actually providing them any assistance and stop sending us supplies, then I’ll cut ties.” “Anyway, as I was saying, my contacts in the Wake tell me that the Horde had been conducting raids on the Crushridge Ogres in Alterac before they were recalled for the fourth war. I hear the Ogre numbers have been greatly reduced. This might be our best chance to retake the Keep in years.”
“Darbel, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about our home. But there are so few of us left. Surely the Ogres are not so few that a ragged bunch like us can overwhelm them. We simply don’t have enough men and women.”
“I wouldn’t give up just yet, commander” said a strange voice that spoke from the shadows of the room.
“Who goes there!” yelled Nicholas. “This is Syndicate territory and you are trespassing!” Nicholas had his sword drawn and pointed at the stranger in the corner. Darbel had drawn her staff and was readying a spell on her lips.
“No worries, commander. Let me introduce myself. I am Reath Sunreaver and I am a spy from Silvermoon. No, no, don’t worry. I am choosing to reveal myself to you because I’ve actually grown to care for you in the months I’ve been watching you. And I’m telling you right now, the leadership of Quel’thalas wants to see you survive.”
“You’ve’ been spying on us?” said Nicholas.
“Yes, I’ve worked with you as one of your guardsmen. And I’ve sent several reports back to Silvermoon that the Syndicate is not a threat. Now, I must be brief – when next you take Go’Shek farm, you and Darbel must free the Witherbark prisoners there. And when you do, you must give them this token.”
Reath laid an intricately cut golden figure of a spider on the table.
“What is that?” asked Nicholas.
“That is a symbol of their Spider god, Shardra. It is the only reason they will trust you enough to return to that farm with the leaders of their tribe. And when they do, you and the Witherbark trolls must unite if you are to succeed in retaking Alterac”.
“You expect the Witherbark will ally with us? Why would they do that?” said Darbel.
“Their tribe is attacked mercilessly by the Alliance and the Horde. Their tribe has its back against a wall, and they pray each day to their favored loa, Shadra, for help. You will answer that call” said Reath. “Commander Grond was correct when he surmised your forces were not enough to push back the Crushridge Ogres, weakened though they may be. Yet, if you join with the Witherbark you may actually stand a chance of driving them out.”
“If the Witherbark return to us at Go’Shek farm, what am I to do? I don’t speak troll and I doubt they speak common”, said Nicholas.
“They don’t speak troll, they speak Zandalari. And you don’t need to speak at all. Some things transcend words, though I will teach you two of theirs” said Reath. “The first thing I want you to do when they see you, from a distance, is to take out your knife Commander and cut your palm open. Miss Montrose will do the same. Then I want you to shake hands with your cut palms. This action will be full of meaning for the Witherbark. When you do this, to them, you become blood brothers – allies. You must extend your bleeding hand to their leader and offer the knife in the other.”
“Finally, I want you to say “Zok Beth”, which means ‘brother’ in Zandalari. Then walk over to a map and say “Aktun” and point to Alterac. They will know your meaning.”
Chapter 3: Exodus
~ ~ ~
It was another sweltering hot day in the jungle, just the way Nezkon liked it. Of course, this was really the only weather he’d ever known.
“Nezkon, pay attention!”
“Yes, father.”
Nezkon’s father was the tribe’s High Witchdoctor, and had been ever since raiders had killed Nezzliok the Dire.
“Today is a very important day, Nezkon. Do you remember why dat is?” said father.
“Yes, father. Today is the day we make offerings to all of the loa, so that they may aid us in defending against the attacks of the outsiders.”
“Very good, Nezkon. You are no longer a child. You are of age now and I cannot afford to have your mind wandering off. One day, I will be dead and you will have to lead this tribe. The tribe will need your mind sharp and ready. Do you have de skulls?”
“Yes.” Nezkon pulled the skulls out of his pack to show his father. The skulls belonged to some unsuccessful Zul’Kunda raiders. The only upside to having their home and stronghold raided more and more frequently by jungle invaders was that they could donate their skulls to the loa communion ritual. Tonight’s communion ritual was actually the combination of many smaller rituals used to speak directly to the spirit of a loa. Nezkon’s father intended on summoning the spirits of many loa so they may consult their wisdom, if only briefly. Nezkon put the skulls back into his pack, part from one.
“Father, we’ve buried so many of our people lately. The skullspliters, the alliance, the horde, the goblins – everyone be killin us. Do you ever think that maybe we be better off someplace else?”
“And where would we go, Nezkon? Zul’Kunda is our home! We have no other place to turn to! The loa communion ritual be the key that saves us, mark my words.”
~ ~ ~
“Nezkon, pay attention!”
Nezkon breaks his gaze on the skull he’s holding and moves it behind his back. “Yes, father.”
“We’re almost ready to begin the ritual. Do you still have the skulls?” said father.
“They be right here, father.” Nezkon set his pack next to the other pile of reagents needed for the ceremony. They would need them close if they were to execute properly in the ceremony.
ZZZZZZNCHT!
What was that!?
“FOR THE ALLIANCE!” Blue and white soldier burst into the ruins, and began stabbing Bloodscalp left and right.
“NOOOOO!” Nezkon yelled. Not again! Not now!
Arrows of fire fell from the sky. More Bloodscalp fell. One arrow caught fire on the reagents pile that was meant for the loa communion. The pile quickly ignited.
“No, no, no!” Battle was thick around Nezkon, but he had only eyes for that fire. That fire was to be their salvation! The loa were supposed to give them desperately needed council and guide them on what they needed to do to survive!
There was only one thing to do now… pick a single loa and use the burning reagents as a mighty offering to them.
Nezkon made a decision. He fell to his knees and began chanting the ritual offerings. There was only one loa on his mind and on his lips as he performed the communion rites: Quezt’lun. Quezt’lun was not a traditional loa for the Gurubashi spliter tribes, like the Bloodscalp. But it’s one that he knew his father’s former mentor, Nezzliok the Dire, made bargains with.
“QUETZ’LUN!” shouted Nezkon. “I make this offering to you, that you might save the Bloodscalp people! Here me now, before we perish!”
“I HEAR YOU, MORTAL”
“SAY THE WORDS “RA KIM KU GEH RA FUS”. WHEN YOUR ENEMIES ARE DEAD, SPEAK TO ME AGAIN.”
The loa has spoken! Nezkon shook his surprise and steeled himself to say the spell.
“Ra kim Ku Geh ra FUS!” yelled Nezkon.
In an instant darkness fell over Nezkon’s vision. The world turned to shades of gray all around him. Mighty bolts of blueish white issued from his being and found their marks against the Alliance raiders. The trolls who had fallen started getting up. These trolls picked up their dropped weapons and began fighting those few that survived the death bolts. The battle was over in seconds.
Nezkon was elated! They’d done it! They survived another day! He looked for his father amongst the trolls. His magic has saved every one of them. No troll was on the ground.
As he looked for his father, Nezkon realized that some trolls had still grievous wounds, but shown no signs of pain or weakness.
Realization dawned on Nezkon. His spell hadn’t healed any troll, it had brought the dead back to life. It had been Nezkon’s first spell of necromancy. Continuing to search through the crowd, Nezkon found his father.
“Father!”
His father was covered in arrows that stuck out from his body, and his skin was stained with blood and matted with dirt.
“Nezkon, do not fear for me. I am proud of you. I am proud that you saved our tribe. I see now that our salvation lies with Quetz’lun. Follow her guidance, and those of the spirits. There words will guide your way. Quickly now, speak to the loa!”
Nezkon nodded and turned back towards the still burning pile of offerings.
“QUETZ’LUN! I have done have as you said! Our enemies lie dead and we owe you our lives!”
“THAT IS THE LAST FAVOR I WILL DO FOR YOU, NEZKON… UNLESS YOU PLEDGE YOURSELF AND YOUR TRIBE TO ME.”
“That be a mighty choice for me to make! My heart jumps at the chance to become your priest, but the Bloodscalp do not want another Hakkar!”
“I AM THE COUNTERWEIGHT TO HAKKAR’S INFLUENCE! I DO NOT DEMAND SACRIFICES, NOR DO I DEMAND ETERNAL SERVITUDE LIKE BWONSOMDI! I ONLY DEMAND A HUNDRED YEARS OF SERVICE AFTER YOUR DEATHS TO BUILD POWER IN THE SHADOWLANDS AND COUNTER HAKKAR.”
“This be good to me, and it be good to the Bloodscalp tribe! I will become your priest, Quetz’lun! And I will make you the loa of all de Bloodscalp!”
“THEN AS MY HIGH PRIEST, YOU MUST SUMMON ME INTO YOUR WORLD AT THE TEMPLE OF ATAL’HAKKAR IN THE SWAMP OF SORROWS. YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO DO THIS ALONE. YOU MUST GATHER ALLIES. TRAVEL NORTH TO THE MOUNTAINS OF ALTERAC. IN THE SNOW YOU WILL FIND A RAGGED ARMY OF HUMANS AND TROLLS CAMPED NEAR THE RUINS OF A HUMAN FORTRESS.”
“JOIN THESE HUMANS AND TROLLS. THEY ARE KNOWN AS THE SYNDICATE. THEIR LEADERS WILL GREET YOU WITH A BLOOD-BROTHER BOND. AFTER YOU PURGE THE OGRES FROM THE KEEP, RALLY YOUR NEW ALLIES TO TRAVEL TO THE TEMPLE OF ATAL’HAKKAR.”
“IT IS THERE THAT YOU WILL SUMMON ME. COMMAND YOUR NEW BRETHREN TO CLEAR THE SITE. YOU AND YOUR PRIESTS WILL RAISE THE MIST LURKERS FROM THE SWAMP. THE LURKERS ARE ESSENTIAL FOR MY ENTRY INTO YOUR WORLD. ONCE THEY ARE RAISED, BEGIN MY SUMMONING RITUAL!”
“It shall be as you say, Quezt’lun. For the Bloodscalp! For my father! For Quetz’lun!”
Chapter 4: Blood Bonds
~ ~ ~
“I still can’t believe that worked.” said Nicholas. “I always thought trolls were savages.”
“Many in the Alliance would say the same about us, Nick”, said Darbel. “I never thought I would commit magical heresy and take up the darker arts, but I did what I had to to survive. We all did.”
“It would appear that the struggle for survival runs deep within humans and trolls alike.” said Nicholas.
Nicholas and Darbel were walking side by side, with the rest of the Syndicate behind them, with the exception of a few scouts up ahead. Not far off to their right, walked the troll that Nicholas and Darbel had shaken bleeding hands with. Nicholas looked over at the troll who was now his blood brother. Blood sister, rather. She was a large troll, even for a forest troll. But she was not dressed as a warrior. She was dressed as a mystic, perhaps a healer or a mage for their kind. Something about her reminded Nicholas of himself. There seemed to be a kind of sadness about her, though Nicholas was certainly no expert on troll expressions. Behind her, the Witherbark tribe walked as well. Nicholas was surprised to see so few trolls arrive. Was that because there were unwilling to leave what remained of their homes? Nicholas could certainly sympathize with that. Or was this all that remained of the Witherbark? How similar their fates had become…
“ZOK BETH!” A troll had jumped out from a nearby tree.
“Halt! Who goes there!” yelled Nicholas.
A white-haired troll walked towards Nicholas with a dagger drawn. “ZOK BETH!”
“Nick, that’s the word for brother!” said Darbel.
Nicholas now realized that the troll’s hand was bleeding. He looked down at his own palm. Had it really healed already? There’s not even much of a scar left.
“Syndicate, stay your blades!” yelled Nicholas.
Nicholas drew his own dagger, and cut his palm open again.
“Zok Beth”, Nicholas repeated as he extended his hand toward the unknown troll. This troll had long tusks, white hair, and, unlike the green skin of the Witherbark, he had blue-white skin. Nicholas remembered stories of “vicious trolls” that lived in the secluded reaches of Alterac Mountains. How “vicious” had the Syndicate become has they struggled harder and harder just to survive? He kept his hand extended.
The blue-white troll walked slowly to Nicholas and shook his hand. “Zok Beth”, Nicholas repeated. Darbel had already cut her palm open again. Nicholas stepped aside to let Darbel repeat the process.
“Zok Beth”, Darbel repeated.
Nicholas thought there was a wonder in the eyes of this new troll, which by now he suspected was quite aged. “Zok Beth!” repeated the old troll.
The greenskinned Witherbark leader was now at Darbel’s side, palm dripping blood. The two trolls repeated the process.
With that last handshake, the old troll placed one hand on his chest and with the other he pointed at the direction the group was travelling. “Aktun!” he said.
Darbel spoke one word softly to Nicholas. “Attack.”
Nicholas nodded.
The old troll simply turned around and began walking away.
~ ~ ~
“There are more groups of them joining us every minute”, Darbel said.
Nicholas looked through the falling snow at where Darbel was pointing. Indeed, two more blue-white trolls emerged from the twilight and fell in line with the Syndicate forces that were traveling to Alterac. Groups of trolls in twos and threes had been joining the Syndicate ranks ever since the older blue-white troll had gone missing. Now, they must have had dozens more added to their ragtag army.
“How close are we Darbel? I’d rather we have a chance to eat and rest after this march before we begin the attack”, said Nicholas.
“I just scryed a few minutes ago, we’re about an hour away from where we should camp. Nick, I’ve been working on a spell that will allow me to understand most of what our troll friends say. I’ve had a little success so far; I learned the name of the Witherbark leader. Her name is Ojin’ba, and it sounds like she faked her death to get her people out of Stromgarde.”
“I know what it’s like when the city you live in becomes a nightmarish prison” said Nicholas. “It amazes me that the more we learn of the Witherbark, the more we have in common. We may look different, but we are truly the same people.”
~ ~ ~
“Sir, there are lights coming up the mountain. It looks like they’re headed right for our camp!”
“Alex, how many are there forces?” said Nicholas.
“It’s impossible to say in this darkness, sir”, said Alexander.
“Let us hold council with Darbel and the others. Here she comes now with Ojin’ba and the elder frost troll”, said Nicholas.
“Greetings, Nick! Ojin’ba and I return with Geb’nir the Seer. Geb’nir is the troll that we become blood brothers with and he leads of the Winterax tribe.”
Geb’nir nods.
“Greetings, brothers.” Nicholas bows to the new arrivals.
<Ojin’ba speaks in Zandalari>
Nicholas looks at Darbel.
“She says that Geb’nir has made us aware of a war party that will arrive here soon, but that we should ‘rest our blades’”, says Darbel.
“Let us hope Geb’nir is an accurate seer, because our scouts have already spotted them coming up the mountain. They’ll be here shortly!”
“Nick, I think the war party is another troll tribe. I think we should cut our hands again, just in case.”
<Geb’nir speaks in Zandalari>
“Geb’nir says to do just that, right now! We are being watched through magic!” say Darbel.
Nicholas draws his blade and cuts his palm. “It’s amazing how our hands keep healing, with barely even a scar.”
Darbel cuts her own palm as well. “It’s troll’s blood, Nick. A little runs through our veins now too. An something stronger too… I wonder if some ancient magic is at work with these blood bonds.”
“Sir! They’re almost here! What are your orders?” yelled Alexander.
“Stay your blades! Everyone, stay your blades and let the newcomers pass freely!” yelled Nicholas.
Slowly, trolls begin to emerge from the blowing snow. These trolls look ill adjusted to the weather, occasionally shivering from the cold.
“Make room around the fires for our new guests!” Nicholas yelled.
One troll approaches Nicholas. His hand is bleeding.
“Zok Beth”, said Nicholas, and extended his bleeding hand.
“Zok Beth”, said Darbel, as she does the same.
“Zok Beth” repeats the new troll, as he shakes each of their bleeding hands.
Ojin’ba and Geb’nir cut their own palms and repeat the process.
“Sir, what now?” whispered Alexander.
“We attack now” Nicholas replied loudly. He pointed at the direction where he knew Alterac Keep existed not too far from where they were camped. Holding his finger at the keep, he looked at his new blood brothers and loudly said the word “Aktun!”
~ ~ ~
Chapter 5: Risen Temple
A note from the author:
While I don’t have an actual story with dialog written for this chapter, I do have an idea of how things play out.
The tentative story goes like this.
After the victory in Alterac, the Bloodscalp tribe does not want to stay. Nezkon urges his allies that they need aid in creating a new home in the swamp of sorrows – one the loa and the spirits have urged must be done if their people are to survive. They speak of a mighty quest – the capturing and raising of the sunken temple in the Swamp of Sorrows.
The humans of the Syndicate, while euphoric with the retaking of Alterac, are happy to see some of their new allies seeking somewhere else to live. Many consider Alterac to be human territory and while troll allies are fine for battle, they are not fine to live with. Many trolls feel the same. The Winterax are not leaving Alterac, but they are happy to see more competition for food go. All parties agree to aid the Bloodscalp in their quest to capture and raise the “Temple of Atal Quetz’lun”.
It takes many months to prepare for the journey. The Bloodscalp arrived on pirate ships and these pirates did not stick around. Silvermoon reluctantly agrees to provide a couple ships, but that is partially because they wish less of a Troll presence in Lordaeron. In the months of waiting, Nicholas and Darbel are busy making Alliances with the forces of Hearthglen, and reaching out to dissidents in Westfall. The message is clear: “if you’re not happy with Stormwind and the ‘Alliance’, travel to Alterac and start a new life". Many humans respond to these calls and arrive in Alterac. To keep the peace, each faction has clearly governed areas of domain, and while some are unhappy with the current arrangement, they realize that it is just temporary.
While the humans are busy making Alliances, the Bloodscalp share the stories of their loa with the Witherbark and the Winterax, specifically of the primary loa urging them to raise sunken temple: Quetz’lun. The tribes learn that they have something in common: Quetz’lun has guided all of them in the recent months. The Bloodscalp know the most however, and share with the other tribes that the spirits say Quetz’lun is seeking to block Hakkar’s power. Quetz’lun is gathering allies from the spirit plane to help capture and raise Sunken Temple. Some allies you can’t see, but others must be summoned. Specifically, the elemental Mist Lurkers, kin of Orbiss.
Eventually, the ships arrive near the docks of south shore – which now exist as deserted and semi blighted ruins. The ships sail through the Thandol Span and arrive on the shores of the Swamp of Sorrows. The Syndicate forces dock at BogPaddle and learn that the zone is largely uninhabited since the fourth war recalled all Alliance and Horde forces. Old god forces have taken up residence in the temple and are channeling dark magic. The Syndicate forces must channel 4 rituals around the temple to raise the Mist Lurkers allies from the mists of the swamp to combat the growing faceless/naga forces being brought in to protect the temple. After a large battle, the Syndicate forces prevail and the humans stand back as the trolls perform a summoning ritual to return Quetz’lun to Azeroth. Quetz’lun has been busy gathering allies in the Spirit plane to aid the Syndicate. With her power, and that of the troll factions and their new Mist Lurker allies, the group is successful in raising Sunken Temple!
Most humans choose to return to Alterac rather than stay in the swamp, but some remain to ensure strong ties remain. The Bloodscalp and Witherbark stay in the swamp, but the Winterax return with the humans to Alterac. Before the Winterax leave, however, they request a favor from the mighty Quetz’lun – that she speak to Har’koa on their behalf. They seek to pledge themselves to her snowy might and atone for the crimes of their Northrend brethren. Quetz’lun, remembering the aid Har’koa once gave her, obliges to their request and summons Har’koa’s spirit form. Har’koa hears the pleas of the Winterax and agrees to become their loa. However, she also makes a public deal with Quetz’lun, that should their followers ever betray them, the other’s forces shall kill every last one of the traitors.
~ ~ ~
Over the next few months, the Syndicate works to restore Alterac Keep and the Temple of Atal Quetz’lun (though some simply call it Risen Temple). The Bloodscalp are eager to set about their work, but the Witherbark are more lethargic. The Nezkon notices this, and speaks to the Ojin’ba about her people. She says that her people are glad to be a part of the Syndicate. She says the Witherbark are grateful to Quetz’lun, and she is a mighty loa, but the her people’s hearts and minds belong to the loa of spiders, Shadra. Sadly, though, Shadra has been silent for a long time.
The Nezkon meditates on this. He seeks council with Quetz’lun on the matter. Quetz’lun speaks of how Shadra’s former High Priest consumed Shadra’s own power and killed her, just as Quetz’lun’s High Priest had once done to her in Zul’Drak. But while Quetz’lun was able to protect her spirit, Shadra’s was more unguarded. <if this is a playable faction, this would open a quest to gather materials to begin a ritual that saves Shadra’s spirit, so that one day, she might return to the Witherbark>.
The Syndicate is now made up of:
- Humans of the old Kingdom of Alterac
- Humans of Westfall, disillusioned humans of Stormwind
- Forest trolls of the Witherbark tribe
- Jungle trolls of the Bloodscalp tribe
- Frost trolls of the Winterax tribe
- Elemental Mist Lurkers, kin of Orbiss
- Quetz’lun
- Har’koa
Please let me know what you think in the comments.
Addition:
I’ve thought of a couple of additions to this new Syndicate alliance.
- I think it makes sense for the Bloodscalp and the Alterac humans to exchange an ambassador child, with their parents, to live with the other group. That way, they can grow up and learn about the other culture and language, but still learn about their native culture through their parents. Much like immigrants today. Please comment on any thoughts around this.
- I think the old Alterac banner actually does work for this new faction. Especially if you read the follow up story, Akilzon’s nearby presence lends the eagle to being a wonderful banner for both the humans and the trolls.
Please read the next chapter of this story here: The Syndicate Atal'ai