The Story of Saytin
I am Saytin. I grew up on the southern shores of Durotar, in a village called Sen’jin. From an early age, I was taught how to hunt and survive of the land efficiently. I was always surrounded by beasts, the most common being scorpions and boars to the north, and crabs to the south. We thrived for many years, living in harmony with our kin, the orcs. We knew we could trust them to give us anything, in return for something else, of course. But the orcs were not going to be my friends for long. One night, as I was out scouting, the village suffered a terrible attack from the centaurs to the west. The entre village was razed. Those unfortunate enough to be there were killed on sight. It was only when I saw the smoke that I realized what was happening. I was too late. No-one lived. I fell to the ground, tears streaming down my face. It was then it happened. A voice came to me, promising power, power greater than that of the centaurs. But at a terrible price. All it took was a simple “yes” to change my life forever. I was instantly transformed to a soldier of the insidious Lich King, Arthas. A Death Knight.
For years I was under the will of the Lich King, laying entire cities to waste, no survivors. I had no control. So what released me from the iron will of Arthas? It was an attack on a small village of trolls, the same as me. As the bodies piled up, a spark flared in my memories. Instantly I was freed. I ran away from the insane Death Knights laughing at the cowardly inhabitants. I was now a free troll. But I knew that today’s’ society would never accept a solider of the Scourge.
Despite the many insults thrown at me, I still try to find a place for myself, so much so that I now aid the Horde’s campaign against the Lich King, my former master. But the one thing that really keeps me going is my new goal in life, a goal as bloodthirsty as the deeds I once committed.
I want Arthas’s head on a pike. And nothing will stop me.
Say’tin's Return Home
In an attempt to get back to my former allies, the Darkspear trolls, I trekked back to Durotar, avoiding sight by hiding my face from the guards. I saw that nothing had changed, as I swept through the terrain. Only one thought came to mind: Home.
Avoiding the camp known as Razor Hill, I eventually made it to Sen’jin Village. As I dismounted, many of the Sen’jin watchers turned in horror as they saw me.
Despite this, I remained calm and, in a gesture of peace, I kneeled down, casting away my axe. The watchers stared at the glowing weapon, awestruck by the very sight of it. It was then that Vol’jin, son of Sen’jin, stepped forward out of the nearest hut. Staring at me, he drew his weapon and stood before me. I kept my cool and made no attempt to harm the leader. Swinging his mighty weapon up, he swung it down. I closed my eyes, anticipating what might happen next.
But it didn’t…
The cold steel only met the blue skin of my exposed neck.
After a moment, he sheathed his weapon and touched my shoulder, motioning me to stand up. He looked into my face and said “Welcome back, Say’tin.”
The trolls cheered as I rose. My axe was returned to me, as I received many pats and the welcomes flooded me.
A huge celebration took place that night, and I felt that a piece of me inside had finally come to ease, the part that wanted redemption for my acts. But one other part of me wanted revenge on the horrid undead Arthas Menethil, or the Lich King. But I put that aside and rejoiced with my kin. In my mind, I knew the day was coming, the day when I will slay the Lich King and my bloody goal would be achieved.
I have since taken a warrior by the name of Bloodknuckle Stormfist under my tutorage. We met on the day after my rejoining of the tribe. I now train him in the ways of basic and advanced combat, things like how to wield a weapon and how to use it accurately. He has taken this into his daily practice and, with good time, I can see that he will be a capable solider of the Horde. But for now it’s scorpids and raptors for him to kill.
August 6, 2010 - in Dalaran - level 80
After my quick return to my tribe, I decided to have a little time to myself in Durotar. Bloodknuckle had enough training to last him and my blood elf brother Kileth was in Stranglethorn Vale. Things we=re looking okay. Until the call was made. The call to meet at Sen=jin Village. The call that would see the defeat of the one and only Zalazane. After completing the necessary things beforehand, I raced to join others and Vol=jin at the island that would be the staging area. We were ready. After a long wait, Vol=jin arrived and we all raced across the water to our first target, a pile of bones. There, Vol=jin summoned a past troll called Bonswadi. He took some >convincing= in the form of swords and axes, but he agreed to help. Zalazanes= troll army was vast, but we made to the insidious witch Bdoctor, who put up a great fight. But it wasn=t I saw him fall, that I saw it. A silver glow in the soil, that was partially masked by Zalazane=s body. I rummaged through the dirt as everyone cheered each other on a well-deserved victory. I went un-noticed, and soon I had unearthed it. It was a bright silver locket. I opened it, causing a brown piece of paper to fall out. I was masking a small painting of a family inside the locket. It depicted a small troll boy, one male adult troll and a female adult blood elf holding a small blood elf baby in her arms. The boy looked familiar, as did he baby blood elf. The troll was me. The baby was Kileth (my brother). The two adults must be my parents.
I slumped down to the ground in disbelief. Still as shiny as ever, I placed the locket in my bag and read the note. ATroll or blood elf. If you find this, your parents have been killed by my adversaries. I took them under my control at the death knight=s rejoining of the tribe. Yes, they were there. When I found out what you could do if I was discovered, I had them killed and buried. Good luck finding them. Zalazane.@
I roared so loud I could have shaken the very halls of Naxxramus. The monster killed my parents. I spat on his pathetic body and rode away. I threw away the old note. My feelings went from satisfaction to hatred. Hatred to Zalazane and his army, and some to my parents. Why didn=t they tell me they were there? I knew the parents of my mother never wanted a troll as a son-in-law, but why didn=t they talk to me?
I flew into Dalaran after a talk with Vol=jin about the defeat of Zalazane. How long would it take to find the bodies? I knew nothing that an engineer could make of alchemist could brew would help. What to doY
As night came, I went back to the islands to dig. I had a shovel I had made as a blacksmith with some spare iron I had. I went from one island to the next, digging holes and searching for some sign of a body. Nothing came up for hours. I slumped down for a drink. I was tired and thirsty, but I had to find them before a foraging tiger did. So I went on till dawn. But it was only with help on Bonswadi that I found the bodies. He appeared and beckoned me over to a hump of long grass. I dug, the floating undead watching silently. I swear I was near water level when I found them. Two decayed bodies of a troll and blood elf, close together, and holding hands. Carefully I lifted them out of their shared grave and placed them on my horse (add stuff here). Waving to the floating spectre that was Bonswadi, I rode to the tallest peak of Durotar and dug them a grave. I place the smell rotten corpses into the hole, making sure their hands were linked, and marked it with a stone, onto which I carved AHere lies the remnants of Say=lan, a hunter of Sen=jin, and Tinadia, a paladin for the Halls of Silvermoon. May their spirits move on. Any who dare defile this grave supper the wrath of Archerus. Mum, Dad, we love you.@ Tears in my eyes, I smashed the rock into the ground, where it stays, untouched.
In disguise, Saytin roams the caves on the Netherwing Ledge...
(October 6, 2010)
