One of the first things anyone will notice about Durotar is the red dust that cakes the earth. It is everywhere. It seeps into your boots and into your armor. On most days I’d rather fight a raptor then deal with the ever present grit this land belches forth. At times it makes me wonder why we fight so hard to call this place our home.

Though most of us have spent time in human internment camps at some point in our lives, we still retain our heritage in our architecture and our way of life. Our buildings fill me with pride as I gaze at their strong walls and the way they exude an air of battle readiness. Yet within the walls you will not find cushioned chairs and other products prized by the indulgent humans. We are practical people. Warrior people. We are the sons and daughters of Durotar!

A little ways from the outskirts of Orgrimmar is the troll village of Sen Jinn. The trolls have much in common with my peoples which can be easily seen when first you arrive. They too are children of the land, shunning the artificial constructs favored by the humans or the dwarves. Their camps can be stripped down and moved with ease.

However, their affinity for the darker majiks of this world does trouble me at times. I had barely spent a day in their company when I was asked to reclaim the skull of one of their kin from their former homes on the Echo Isles. Other trolls who had succumbed to the same dark majiks that many in Sen Jinn were practicing had the skull in a circle of power which they guarded fiercely. Something about the fact that I gathered a group of orcs and trolls so easily to attack these trolls troubles me. I wonder do the humans fight each other so readily?

It would be outside Razor Hill that I first extracted some measure of vengeance against humanity for my incarceration in Durnholde Keep. Admiral Proudmore’s broken navy lay strewn across the coastline, but a contingent of his troops still lay hold up in crumbling remains of Tirisgarde Keep. Commanded by a lackey unworthy of his post, Lt. Benedict, they broke upon my blade and the under the spells of my brother Mokerr.

Razor Hill is where I now rest. I find myself brimming with pride for my peoples within this town. Only a stone’s throw from human raiders we have erected a thriving outpost. It bodes well for the establishment of Durotar as a mighty nation. The inn keeper has offered me a soft mat and a cozy fire to ease my fatigue. When I awaken tomorrow I intended to speak to a few of the inhabitants. Someone must need a steady axe and just happen to have one to offer.

» Advertisement «