Part 1
Messenger was born in the land of "Halo'yakee" which, in his native tongue,
>means
>"Land of the storm." He was born to a mother and a father. His father,
>being a powerful
>shaman in his own right, was named "Awake'obeah" which means "Brother of
>the sky" and his
>mother, who was also a very respected druid, was named "Neashumen" Which
>means "Earthchild"
>in his native tongue.
>
>His father was pure troll, with a bloodline dating back to the first
>empire in troll history, the Zandalar. He had long blue hair, with
>magnificent tusks
>that pointed out and curled upward. They were adorned with gold and jewels
>and other such
>ni-nacks for appearence, but the real power lay in the runes that were
>incribed on them.
>His face was soft and gentle, very rare to his speciecs of people. He did
>not slouch as
>so many other of his kind did, he stood high and mighty with dignity and
>presence that
>demanded respect. His eyes were a soft shade of green, and they hinted only
>of a
>barely containted power and gentle understanding of all things in life. His
>skin was blue,
>as was all the trolls in his tribe. He was the chief of the tribe, and was
>regarded as a
>wise and great leader.
>
>His mother was a different story. She had not been pure troll, but rather,
>she had been
>a mix between troll and night elf. She was born orignally as a night elf to
>her night elf
>mother, but her father was a troll, and she beared quite a few
>resembelences to her troll
>heritage. Her eyes did glow, as was natural with her kin, but they did not
>glow a soft
>amber as was so common in females of her race. Instead, they glowed a
>gentle and brilliant
>white, a color that spoke of kindness and compassion, understanding and
>caring. She was
>soft-spoken, but nontheless a very powerful woman. Everyone knew to treat
>her with respect,
>not that she commanded it herself, but because everyone knew that she was a
>wonderful and
>caring person who had helped the tribe in many profound ways. Her eyes were
>white, her skin
>was a rich purple. Her hair was a beautiful shade of brilliant silver, and
>it flowed down her back,
>beyond her waist, stopping just short of her knees. She was gentle and
>beautiful, a kinder
>soul in the world there could not of been. She loved her husband, and he
>loved her back.
>Their love was the love that you would read in story books and hear being
>sung on the hyms
>angels.
>
>He was born on a very stormy night, in a tent on the grassy fields of his
>native land
>(Which, in present day, is know as "the barrens") His birth was fortold by
>the elders
>of his tribe, who stated that "One day a great child will come to us, This
>child will
>be a gift from the gods. He will be thier tool and their instrument to help
>guide us
>in troubled times" His mother and father were overjoyed when their child
>was dubbed
>the one mentioned in the prophecy, although almost everyone else naturally
>assumed the child
>sent from the gods would come to the two most powerful and respected people
>in the village.
>Because of this momentus occassion, they could think of only one name for
>their son, and so,
>they called him "Messenger".
>
>Messenger had a very luxorious and peaceful childhood. He was well cared
>for and always
>treated right. As he grew older, his life started to unfold. He never told
>anyone, but he
>cared little for servets waiting on him hand and foot. He never liked the
>idea of someone
>with no meaning in their life but to tend for him. So, he would always make
>friends with his
>servets, and he would never call them "maids" or "servets" he would always
>adress them with
>their names. He never asked them to do things for him, he always wanted to
>do things himself.
>Instead, he would help servents with their lives, talking to them about
>their problems
>and helping them with whatever they needed. For this, he gained great
>reputation among the people.
>And was truly regarded as a godsend.
>
>But not all was well in his life. On the day of his 18th birthday, a great
>day for all trolls,
>but even more so for he was a gift from the gods, there was a grand
>celebration. All people
>in the village were invited, everyone had come to see the child of the gods
>as he became a man.
>His father, his mother, his friends from all over the village, the priests
>and shaman about to
>do the ritual, they were all there. It was held in a great building, the
>building in the middle
>of the village which was used for ceremonies and gatherings. The top of the
>building had been cut out,
>because the people of the tribe enjoyed the rain and the elements, they
>found no need to shield
>themselves from mother nature.
>
>But on this day, the sky was dark. It was not uncommon to his people, but
>today, it was not a sign
> of good tiding. Rather, it marked the end of their peaceful lives,
>weather they knew it or not.
>As the ceremony began, his mother and and father watched from a royal seat
>high on the walls
> of the building. His mother was crying, and his father was holding her.
>But they were not
>tears of sadness, they were tears of joy. At least for the moment.
>
>The ceremony began. It was a ceremony that symbolized the life of a boy,
>becoming the life of a man.
>This particular ceremony, however, also symbolized the new leader of the
>tribe, and as such,
>was very special. The priests and shaman chanted songs and hyms of power,
>praying to the gods,
>thanking them for their gift, asking them to protect their son. The high
>priest, Zul'thandis,
>began speaking. "On this day" He bellowed so that all could hear "On this
>day, a great
>event has happened. The child of the gods, Messenger, has nourished and
>become a fine man.
>He stands before you today, not only as a child of the gods, but a symbol
>for our people.
>The symbol that the gods have blessed up with their offspring, and allowed
>him to flourish
>into the world of adulthood. We thank and give praise to the gods for
>finding us worthy of
>such a gift." He bowed and told Messenger to kneel. He complied, and the
>priest continued.
>
>"And with these words," He said "I, a most humble but nevertheless servent
>of the gods, dub
>you the new chief of this village. The new leader of our people, the
>shining light for our
> race, the inspiriation to us all. The child of the gods, Messenger."
>The tribe of nearly 25,000 thousand trolls erupted in cheers and praise and
>happiness. A louder
>sound was never heard.
>
>After the inital part of the ceremony was complete, it was time for them to
>rejoice and be
>merry. They feasted on great animals, they drank deep of heavy, aged wines
>and danced for many hours.
>Messenger had gone to his parents, his mother still crying from the Joy she
>felt, his father still stern and holding her.
>Although he thought he could sense a hint of tears running down his cheek,
>he quickly dismissed this as impossible.
>His mother embraced him and told him how proud she was. Then he, too, began
>to cry, and hugged her. His father turned to him and said.
>"You are a great son. I could not ask for a greater gift in this world then
>to see my people led by such a strong and wise young man.
>You have already become a powerful shaman, and your power will only
>increases as you age. Im proud of you, my son, and im proud that
>you can take my place and lead our people so well, as I know you are
>capeable of" And with that, he saluted his son, tears fully
>visable now. Messenger saluted his father back, and then embraced him as he
>had just before, embraced his mother.
>
>After the ceremony had been finished, and everyone had said their
>congratulations and they had all shaken hands with the new leader, it was
>time to rest. He had gone to his bed, exausthed from dancing, but estatic
>from all that had happened today. He told himself it was a
>big day coming up, the first day of his leadership. He must be prepared, he
>must rest so he can lead his people. That night however, was not peaceful.
>After he had fallen asleep, he had dreamt of horrible things. He dreamt of
>seeing his friends and family run through fields of buring fire
> and ash. He had seen fire falling from the sky in large boulders that,
>when landed, transformed into monstorus creatures of fire and rock.
>He had seen buidlings and tents toppled, fire set ablaze all that it
>touched. Nothing had survived.
>
>He woke up in a cold sweat, still reeling from the dream he had just had.
>He got up instantly, as was his nature, and went to check on the house.
>He was horrified at what he smelled. The smell of burning ash and smoke,
>the crackle of fire in the distance. At first he tried to dismiss
>these senses as just him still thinking of the dream, and his mind making
>him smell and hear these things. But he soon realized, to his horror,
>that it was no longer a dream. He stepped out of his room to what could be
>called a balcony. He looked down at the village, and could not help
>but feel sick and scared and terrified all at once. From the sky, massive
>boulders of flame and rock came crashing down into his village,
> just like in the dream. He could see them hitting all the buildings and
>tents, utterly destroying everything that came into their radius. He
>could hear the screams of his people, could see the burning fires and
>scorched earth all the way down to the tip of his fair village.
>From the craters of where one of the boulders had landed, a huge, monstorus
>being took shape. Like in his dream, it was a creature of fire and rock.
>Hulking in appearence, seeming to lack any form of emotion.
>It hurled its huge arm into one of the structures, and it crumbled under
>the sheer weight of the beast.
>
>He could only look, horrifed, not knowing what to do, not knowing what was
>happening. Only then when one of the servents shook him did he
>realize that he was still alive, and action must be taken. The servent
>yelled "Sir! Please, your mother and father need to see you right now!"
>He complied without a word. As the servent lead him through the long halls
>of his house, he could only think of what he must do. He thought at
>first that father would know what to do, but then he realized that HE was
>the leader now, and he needed to make the decisions. He arrived at
> his parents room, his father was there, sitting on the floor, seemingly
>meditating, and his mother looked very distressed, but there seemed to be
> a calm about her as well. She noticed him come in and instantly jumped to
>the door. She said "Messenger...." She hugged him "My son....there is
> nothing we can do to save this village. Your father says that the evil
>that leads this force is beyond our power to thwart. The village is
>doomed."
> Her words struck him like a thousand needles in his heart. No way to save
>the village? To save the people? To save everyone he had grown to love,
>the people he had come to be so close with, the land that he had just
>yesterday taken an oath to protect? "I know you must be feeling horrible
> right now, but it is not your fault. We knew about the coming of this
>great evil a long time ago, our elders predicted it would happen when you
>were born."
>She smiled "But we were lucky enough to see you become a man"
>
>Just then, his father seemed to break his trance. Getting up, he rushed
>over to his son and said "My son, I know this is all very strange to you,
>after just being charged with the protection of this village, and now the
>diaster has come to it. But it is not your fault. Like your mother said,
> we were lucky that you have become a man and for that we cannot be more
>greatful. This village is gone, there is no hope of saving it, or its
>people.
>But, I have talked to my old teacher, he is a demigod who lives in the sky.
>He is very powerful, very wise, he is an godsend, like yourself. He has
>agreed to keep you safe and teach you all he knows until it is right for
>you into this world again." This was to much for Messenger. Was his father
>telling him that he
> had to leave everything he knew and loved to be taught by someone he
>didnt know? His parents....his friends....his land....all gone. As if
>sensing his sons thoughts,
> his father replied "I know this is difficult my son....but you must
>understand, we already knew this would happen one day. Your mother and I
>are very greatful
> we got to see you become a man, but we can do no more for you now. You
>must go, leave here so you can live and help our people thrive." Tears came
>into Messengers eyes.
>He didnt want to go, he didnt want to leave, he wished none of this would
>of happened.
>
>But he knew that was wrong. He couldnt change the past, and he knew that
>everyone was counting on him. He knew that his father and mother loved him
>very much
>and he wanted to make them proud. He couldnt be weak, not now, not when
>they all needed him to be strong. And so, he said "I understand, father. I
>will make you proud."
>His father embraced him, and he embraced him back. He hugged his mother and
>she cried. But he knew she only cried because she would miss him, and he
>would miss her.
> But he knew, and she knew, that it was the only way. His father said
>"Come, sit here. I have prepared the spell that will take you to him.
>Once you get there, it may be disorienting, and much time will have gone
>by. But nevertheless, he will be your teacher and your family. He will
>teach you many things,
>and you will become powerful"
>
>With that, he sat on the floor and looked at his parents. His mother
>crying, his father holding her and looking at his son with grim
>determination.
>He knew what must be done. He knew he must be strong, like his father and
>mother were. He must do what he had to, so he could be powerful and help
>his people.
>That was the last thing he saw of his parents.
>He suddenly became dizzy and fell down, unable to move and feeling very
>light headed. He dozed...slowy at first, but then he could not fight it. He
>fell asleep, deep asleep, and for a split second
>was at peace.
>
>And then he was gone.
>means
>"Land of the storm." He was born to a mother and a father. His father,
>being a powerful
>shaman in his own right, was named "Awake'obeah" which means "Brother of
>the sky" and his
>mother, who was also a very respected druid, was named "Neashumen" Which
>means "Earthchild"
>in his native tongue.
>
>His father was pure troll, with a bloodline dating back to the first
>empire in troll history, the Zandalar. He had long blue hair, with
>magnificent tusks
>that pointed out and curled upward. They were adorned with gold and jewels
>and other such
>ni-nacks for appearence, but the real power lay in the runes that were
>incribed on them.
>His face was soft and gentle, very rare to his speciecs of people. He did
>not slouch as
>so many other of his kind did, he stood high and mighty with dignity and
>presence that
>demanded respect. His eyes were a soft shade of green, and they hinted only
>of a
>barely containted power and gentle understanding of all things in life. His
>skin was blue,
>as was all the trolls in his tribe. He was the chief of the tribe, and was
>regarded as a
>wise and great leader.
>
>His mother was a different story. She had not been pure troll, but rather,
>she had been
>a mix between troll and night elf. She was born orignally as a night elf to
>her night elf
>mother, but her father was a troll, and she beared quite a few
>resembelences to her troll
>heritage. Her eyes did glow, as was natural with her kin, but they did not
>glow a soft
>amber as was so common in females of her race. Instead, they glowed a
>gentle and brilliant
>white, a color that spoke of kindness and compassion, understanding and
>caring. She was
>soft-spoken, but nontheless a very powerful woman. Everyone knew to treat
>her with respect,
>not that she commanded it herself, but because everyone knew that she was a
>wonderful and
>caring person who had helped the tribe in many profound ways. Her eyes were
>white, her skin
>was a rich purple. Her hair was a beautiful shade of brilliant silver, and
>it flowed down her back,
>beyond her waist, stopping just short of her knees. She was gentle and
>beautiful, a kinder
>soul in the world there could not of been. She loved her husband, and he
>loved her back.
>Their love was the love that you would read in story books and hear being
>sung on the hyms
>angels.
>
>He was born on a very stormy night, in a tent on the grassy fields of his
>native land
>(Which, in present day, is know as "the barrens") His birth was fortold by
>the elders
>of his tribe, who stated that "One day a great child will come to us, This
>child will
>be a gift from the gods. He will be thier tool and their instrument to help
>guide us
>in troubled times" His mother and father were overjoyed when their child
>was dubbed
>the one mentioned in the prophecy, although almost everyone else naturally
>assumed the child
>sent from the gods would come to the two most powerful and respected people
>in the village.
>Because of this momentus occassion, they could think of only one name for
>their son, and so,
>they called him "Messenger".
>
>Messenger had a very luxorious and peaceful childhood. He was well cared
>for and always
>treated right. As he grew older, his life started to unfold. He never told
>anyone, but he
>cared little for servets waiting on him hand and foot. He never liked the
>idea of someone
>with no meaning in their life but to tend for him. So, he would always make
>friends with his
>servets, and he would never call them "maids" or "servets" he would always
>adress them with
>their names. He never asked them to do things for him, he always wanted to
>do things himself.
>Instead, he would help servents with their lives, talking to them about
>their problems
>and helping them with whatever they needed. For this, he gained great
>reputation among the people.
>And was truly regarded as a godsend.
>
>But not all was well in his life. On the day of his 18th birthday, a great
>day for all trolls,
>but even more so for he was a gift from the gods, there was a grand
>celebration. All people
>in the village were invited, everyone had come to see the child of the gods
>as he became a man.
>His father, his mother, his friends from all over the village, the priests
>and shaman about to
>do the ritual, they were all there. It was held in a great building, the
>building in the middle
>of the village which was used for ceremonies and gatherings. The top of the
>building had been cut out,
>because the people of the tribe enjoyed the rain and the elements, they
>found no need to shield
>themselves from mother nature.
>
>But on this day, the sky was dark. It was not uncommon to his people, but
>today, it was not a sign
> of good tiding. Rather, it marked the end of their peaceful lives,
>weather they knew it or not.
>As the ceremony began, his mother and and father watched from a royal seat
>high on the walls
> of the building. His mother was crying, and his father was holding her.
>But they were not
>tears of sadness, they were tears of joy. At least for the moment.
>
>The ceremony began. It was a ceremony that symbolized the life of a boy,
>becoming the life of a man.
>This particular ceremony, however, also symbolized the new leader of the
>tribe, and as such,
>was very special. The priests and shaman chanted songs and hyms of power,
>praying to the gods,
>thanking them for their gift, asking them to protect their son. The high
>priest, Zul'thandis,
>began speaking. "On this day" He bellowed so that all could hear "On this
>day, a great
>event has happened. The child of the gods, Messenger, has nourished and
>become a fine man.
>He stands before you today, not only as a child of the gods, but a symbol
>for our people.
>The symbol that the gods have blessed up with their offspring, and allowed
>him to flourish
>into the world of adulthood. We thank and give praise to the gods for
>finding us worthy of
>such a gift." He bowed and told Messenger to kneel. He complied, and the
>priest continued.
>
>"And with these words," He said "I, a most humble but nevertheless servent
>of the gods, dub
>you the new chief of this village. The new leader of our people, the
>shining light for our
> race, the inspiriation to us all. The child of the gods, Messenger."
>The tribe of nearly 25,000 thousand trolls erupted in cheers and praise and
>happiness. A louder
>sound was never heard.
>
>After the inital part of the ceremony was complete, it was time for them to
>rejoice and be
>merry. They feasted on great animals, they drank deep of heavy, aged wines
>and danced for many hours.
>Messenger had gone to his parents, his mother still crying from the Joy she
>felt, his father still stern and holding her.
>Although he thought he could sense a hint of tears running down his cheek,
>he quickly dismissed this as impossible.
>His mother embraced him and told him how proud she was. Then he, too, began
>to cry, and hugged her. His father turned to him and said.
>"You are a great son. I could not ask for a greater gift in this world then
>to see my people led by such a strong and wise young man.
>You have already become a powerful shaman, and your power will only
>increases as you age. Im proud of you, my son, and im proud that
>you can take my place and lead our people so well, as I know you are
>capeable of" And with that, he saluted his son, tears fully
>visable now. Messenger saluted his father back, and then embraced him as he
>had just before, embraced his mother.
>
>After the ceremony had been finished, and everyone had said their
>congratulations and they had all shaken hands with the new leader, it was
>time to rest. He had gone to his bed, exausthed from dancing, but estatic
>from all that had happened today. He told himself it was a
>big day coming up, the first day of his leadership. He must be prepared, he
>must rest so he can lead his people. That night however, was not peaceful.
>After he had fallen asleep, he had dreamt of horrible things. He dreamt of
>seeing his friends and family run through fields of buring fire
> and ash. He had seen fire falling from the sky in large boulders that,
>when landed, transformed into monstorus creatures of fire and rock.
>He had seen buidlings and tents toppled, fire set ablaze all that it
>touched. Nothing had survived.
>
>He woke up in a cold sweat, still reeling from the dream he had just had.
>He got up instantly, as was his nature, and went to check on the house.
>He was horrified at what he smelled. The smell of burning ash and smoke,
>the crackle of fire in the distance. At first he tried to dismiss
>these senses as just him still thinking of the dream, and his mind making
>him smell and hear these things. But he soon realized, to his horror,
>that it was no longer a dream. He stepped out of his room to what could be
>called a balcony. He looked down at the village, and could not help
>but feel sick and scared and terrified all at once. From the sky, massive
>boulders of flame and rock came crashing down into his village,
> just like in the dream. He could see them hitting all the buildings and
>tents, utterly destroying everything that came into their radius. He
>could hear the screams of his people, could see the burning fires and
>scorched earth all the way down to the tip of his fair village.
>From the craters of where one of the boulders had landed, a huge, monstorus
>being took shape. Like in his dream, it was a creature of fire and rock.
>Hulking in appearence, seeming to lack any form of emotion.
>It hurled its huge arm into one of the structures, and it crumbled under
>the sheer weight of the beast.
>
>He could only look, horrifed, not knowing what to do, not knowing what was
>happening. Only then when one of the servents shook him did he
>realize that he was still alive, and action must be taken. The servent
>yelled "Sir! Please, your mother and father need to see you right now!"
>He complied without a word. As the servent lead him through the long halls
>of his house, he could only think of what he must do. He thought at
>first that father would know what to do, but then he realized that HE was
>the leader now, and he needed to make the decisions. He arrived at
> his parents room, his father was there, sitting on the floor, seemingly
>meditating, and his mother looked very distressed, but there seemed to be
> a calm about her as well. She noticed him come in and instantly jumped to
>the door. She said "Messenger...." She hugged him "My son....there is
> nothing we can do to save this village. Your father says that the evil
>that leads this force is beyond our power to thwart. The village is
>doomed."
> Her words struck him like a thousand needles in his heart. No way to save
>the village? To save the people? To save everyone he had grown to love,
>the people he had come to be so close with, the land that he had just
>yesterday taken an oath to protect? "I know you must be feeling horrible
> right now, but it is not your fault. We knew about the coming of this
>great evil a long time ago, our elders predicted it would happen when you
>were born."
>She smiled "But we were lucky enough to see you become a man"
>
>Just then, his father seemed to break his trance. Getting up, he rushed
>over to his son and said "My son, I know this is all very strange to you,
>after just being charged with the protection of this village, and now the
>diaster has come to it. But it is not your fault. Like your mother said,
> we were lucky that you have become a man and for that we cannot be more
>greatful. This village is gone, there is no hope of saving it, or its
>people.
>But, I have talked to my old teacher, he is a demigod who lives in the sky.
>He is very powerful, very wise, he is an godsend, like yourself. He has
>agreed to keep you safe and teach you all he knows until it is right for
>you into this world again." This was to much for Messenger. Was his father
>telling him that he
> had to leave everything he knew and loved to be taught by someone he
>didnt know? His parents....his friends....his land....all gone. As if
>sensing his sons thoughts,
> his father replied "I know this is difficult my son....but you must
>understand, we already knew this would happen one day. Your mother and I
>are very greatful
> we got to see you become a man, but we can do no more for you now. You
>must go, leave here so you can live and help our people thrive." Tears came
>into Messengers eyes.
>He didnt want to go, he didnt want to leave, he wished none of this would
>of happened.
>
>But he knew that was wrong. He couldnt change the past, and he knew that
>everyone was counting on him. He knew that his father and mother loved him
>very much
>and he wanted to make them proud. He couldnt be weak, not now, not when
>they all needed him to be strong. And so, he said "I understand, father. I
>will make you proud."
>His father embraced him, and he embraced him back. He hugged his mother and
>she cried. But he knew she only cried because she would miss him, and he
>would miss her.
> But he knew, and she knew, that it was the only way. His father said
>"Come, sit here. I have prepared the spell that will take you to him.
>Once you get there, it may be disorienting, and much time will have gone
>by. But nevertheless, he will be your teacher and your family. He will
>teach you many things,
>and you will become powerful"
>
>With that, he sat on the floor and looked at his parents. His mother
>crying, his father holding her and looking at his son with grim
>determination.
>He knew what must be done. He knew he must be strong, like his father and
>mother were. He must do what he had to, so he could be powerful and help
>his people.
>That was the last thing he saw of his parents.
>He suddenly became dizzy and fell down, unable to move and feeling very
>light headed. He dozed...slowy at first, but then he could not fight it. He
>fell asleep, deep asleep, and for a split second
>was at peace.
>
>And then he was gone.