Mul'Zeb, Troll Priest

After reciting a devotion to Bwonsamdi, Mul'Zeb gathers his few personal belongings and the supplies provided to him for the journey. The path to Razor Hill is a well traveled one, although not altogether safe for those less prepared. It would be his first time away from the tribe, his chance to prove his abilities... and his worth. Breathing in the fresh air and relishing in the color of the trees and plants, knowing that the sight of which is scarce in the dry lands of Durotar, he readies himself. It would not be a straight shot. A short trip across the waters to Sen'jin Village to speak with Vol'Zan for more information on his quest was necessary. He had already procured a small boat to take him away from the Isles, scarcely more than an arrow shot away. Not uncommon, given the trade and travel between Echo Isles and Sen'jin Village. There were usually extra crafts to be rented out, able to be left on the other shore for the next traveler to return. Of course, the more athletically inclined could always swim across the still waters, but Mul'Zeb was not one of those. Tossing his pack in the little boat, he pushed away from the shore and began the crossing to the Village, to Vol'Zan.

Bringing his hand to the carved bone totem hanging from his neck, connecting him to the Loa, Mul'Zeb brushes away the doubts from his mind and pushes through the beaded curtain and into the hut of Vol'Zan. With a short bow and gesture of respect he says, "Hello Elder, I be Mul'Zeb, sent from de Isles, seekin' ya wisdom. He moves to stand in close to the old troll elder, glancing about the small hut as he does, taking in the scent of the various elixirs brewing. Many bottled potions line a small shelf against one wall, each a different color than the last. Like most trolls, he knew a decent amount about herbs and their uses in potion-making. "Do' I believe ya already be knowin' why I be here."

"Tank you much, Elder. I will find da orc. I will prove meself to da Darkspear." With another gesture of reverence, Mul'Zeb stands and exits the small hut. Once outside, he breaths in the fresh air to clear the headiness caused by the incense. "I be wonderin' what be blindin' dis orc? He be reborn in da shadow, eh? Shadows not be all bad..." While contemplating this new information, he makes his way back to the boat he left. "Hmm... Guess I be waiting longer to stretch dese legs." He turns toward the south and surveys the coast and the mountains in the distance. Taking the water around the bottom of Durotar, around the small mountain range and into Ratchet would indeed make a much quicker journey than traveling the roads by foot. Quicker, sure, but also slightly more dangerous, as the waters are home to various creatures, not all of whom are friendly. Mul'Zeb smiles at the thought, "Maybe I be gettin' to test meself sooner dan I be tinkin'." And with that, he climbs in the tiny craft and pushes off the shore, keeping to the shallow waters along the coast until the shore disappears, overtaken by the hills and mountains.

"Argh! What the-?" It takes a moment for Mul'Zeb to steady himself. He lays his paddle in the boat at his feet and looks down into the water. As he does so, another fish jumps up and he leans back in time to narrowly avoid being hit in the face with one of their razor fins. Angry, he takes his hand axe from the sheath at his hip and swipes along the side of the boat in a feeble attempt to scare the fish away. Unsurprisingly, it has no effect and a few more fish jump towards him. Swatting at the projectile fish with the axe in his hand, he looks toward the mass of the school. A rather simple spell comes to mind that was taught to him by the high priest of the tribe. "Hmm... That could do the trick." A memory flashes through his mind.

Nervously glancing to either side of the empty pen, he makes quick measurements of the fences encircling the worn area outside of the village, in case the lesson failed and the Loa did not deem him worthy. The pen usually held the tribe's raptor mounts and pets, when they weren't needed for other duties. Now, however, it was emptied to allow him room. Across from him was a cage, inside of which was Nahaka, the alpha of the tribes hunters, and she was not happy to be locked in such a small cage, nor for being denied her usual meals this day, in an effort to increase her ferocity. This effort was largely unnecessary, for she had a reputation as the most ferocious beast on the island, although she was kept on a tight rein by her master. The high priest had asked a favor of the head huntsman, for use of Nahaka in a special training. Vuzash agreed to the request, conditioning that his prize pet not be hurt. In compliance, Mul'Zeb had been stripped of his favored hand axe and the crossbow he had learned to use. The axe would have been a comfort, as her cage was a long throw away, which he may have been able to accomplish, had he been able to concentrate and had his weapon handy. Still, this was a training session and as such, he was not given the luxury of choosing when he was ready. The cages gate was lifted and Nahaka crouched down, staring at the lone target provided to her. Letting out a screech, she bounds out of her cage toward the troll. Planting his feet and mentally calling to the spirits, Mul'Zeb raises his arm toward the predator and shouts "Halt!" His voice echoing with the power of the Loa. Immediately, the charging raptor makes the necessary movements to slow and stop her charge, coming to a pause at the end of his outstretched hand.

These fish were certainly less dangerous than Nahaka, as long as stayed in his boat. Unfortunately, he was unsure of whether the divine command would be effective against the entire school. It was possible that the spell could hit but a single fish and be ineffective. Still, something had to be done, and it would not be wise to jump in the water to fight the fish. Directing his gaze at the mass of fish in the water and calling on the Loa as he was taught, he commands "Flee now! I be meanin' ya no harm!"

Mul'Zeb quickly glances Grimble. He reaches into his pouch and hands 50 copper to the goblin. "Tanks, but no tanks. I be having me own work to be doin' here." With that, he turns and walks up the small pier and enters the city proper. Not having left the isles often, he stands and silently gawks at all the people for a few moments. The calls of the merchants lining the streets, the chatter of the people, and the clinking of coins being exchanged fills the air. Mul'Zeb smirks and mutters to himself, "Dere be an orc, he says. Go find da orc. But did Mul'Zeb tink to ask da orc's name? No, no." He chuckles and begins walking down one of the main roads, keeping notice of the passing citizens and travellers, paying special attention to the orcs and trusting that the spirits will guide him.

Not long down the road, after a turn down a side steet, and another, his stomach growls. "Maybe I find clues and get some grub at da same time." He wanders a bit, looking for an inn. It doesn't take long before his nose guides him to a small, out of the way location. As he enters, he notes that the place isn't particularly busy, although that could be due to the time of day. Still, food is food. He takes a seat at the bar and places down a handful of coppers for a drink.