Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 249, Section 6. The evil dark trolls have breached Cenarion Hold! Marad! Why are you just watching!

Something's not right! Something's definitely not right!

On the deck of the deluxe goblin airship that was cutting through the sandstorm, Marin Noggenfogger, holding a water-tube telescope, carefully observed the elven fortress that was faintly visible ahead. He had been here more than once, but the alchemist's expression was very unpleasant at this moment.

"What's wrong? Is there any problem?"

Irelia, who was standing guard nearby with a sapphire shotgun, asked curiously:

"You sensed danger? Was it because of those strange, large insects flying around in the air?"

"No, the Qiraji is a specialty of this godforsaken place. You get used to it after a while. The real problem is that Cenarion Hold is too quiet."

Noggenfogger was a little worried.

It uneasily took out a goblin "dragon spear," loaded it with a flaming fuel canister, and whispered:
"As the largest military fortress in the Silithus Desert, the elves here are very professional. There are always quicksand guards patrolling around to maintain the safety of the roads between the fortress, Southwind Village, and several front-line observation posts."

They've been doing it this way for centuries, to the point of being rigid.

But look, there's nothing on the roads carved out of the desert!

No patrols, no guards, not even the scout owls they'd sent out—something's wrong! Something might have happened to the fortress; it might be under attack by alien insects!

The goblin merchant grew increasingly frightened, even scaring himself.

As someone who is convinced that he has a "big treasure" in his hands and is about to make a fortune, he will be eager to leave this dangerous place.

Yrel thought Noggenfogger made a lot of sense. As a Draenei born in Draenor, she had never seen such a terrifying giant insect in her homeland.

Even the insects in the Gorgrond Wilderness, catalyzed by wild life force, are not as dangerous as the alien insects that roam the desert. The smallest of them is about the size of a human, and some of the leader insects fly like small bombers, inspiring awe.

Most importantly, there are just too many of these bugs.

How many different kinds of insects are hidden beneath this vast desert?

Irelia wagged her tail nervously and said:
"They seem to be flying in formation around their nest, but I can't even imagine what kind of force would be needed to stop these terrifying creatures once they decide to leave their nest and head towards the town?"

The answer is no, they can't stop them!

Noggenfogger sighed and said:
"The Qiraji are not only found in Silithus. More than a hundred years ago, they created a terrible rift valley on the edge of the Tanaris desert. These worms have changed the desert terrain with their strange fungal carpets."

They nested and multiplied there, and the previous mayor of Gadgetzan had been hiring greedy adventurers and local Sandfury trolls to reduce the insect population, but to no avail.

The adventurers couldn't kill them as fast as they laid eggs.

"The Qira worm is a very unique life form."

Rexxar, his entire body hooded, approached the edge of the deck. He fixed his sharp eyes on the giant insects and said in a hoarse voice:

"I circled over the Great Rift Valley for several weeks last night and discovered the strangeness of these insects. They have ant-like colony thinking. Individuals do not have true intelligence, but perform different duties according to their division of labor in the group. There must be a brain worm in every nest."

It controls the insect hive with its strange mental power.

You're right, Irelia, that's a very dangerous life!
Their evolutionary logic is entirely based on war and destruction. Their innate unity and extreme pursuit of efficiency, coupled with the absence of emotional constraints, mean that once these insects receive a destructive command, they become a nightmare for all living beings.

Rexxar, who held immense tolerance for all beasts, said coldly:
"This is the first time I have felt fear and aversion towards a wild animal. They are not naturally born creatures, and their reproduction poses a great threat to other animal groups and the entire world's ecosystem."

The war that Saint Diakum was to wage in the great desert was absolutely necessary!
True justice lies in eliminating the swarm before its devastation arrives. As for the fortress you're worried about, there's nothing wrong with it; the life force is normal. Prepare to land.

Ireil ​​nodded, and the big man's judgment put the suspicious Nogfogger at ease. It ran to the airship's control room to prepare for landing.

"You only talk this much when you're giving your opinion to a beast."

Yrel joked with Rexxar:

"You're far too quiet when it comes to humanoid beings."

Faced with Yrel's teasing, Rexxar remained silent for a moment, then shook his head and said:
"Intelligent life is too complex, unlike the pure nature of wild beasts. But this continent is drawing me in."

He touched his chest and said:
"Compared to the Eastern Kingdoms, the natural wilderness of Kalimdor is more profound and enchanting. After assisting the Vigilantes in the Desert War, I want to take a wilderness tour here. Perhaps, I can gain a deeper understanding of the natural order here."

"But the devil is coming."

Irele reminded him:

"The war led by the polluters will definitely focus their offensive on the elves, and it will be dangerous for you to stay here."

"Then someone needs to step forward to protect this wilderness."

Rexxar pounded on the railing and called out to his raven companion with a beastly roar. The moment Rukran burst out of the light of nature's call, he snapped at a nearby large worm, tearing at it with his beak and splattering juices everywhere.

Enveloped in flames, the fearful raven cried out with delight. It loved the delicious taste of these alien insects and breathed fire to burn the approaching insects before feasting on them.

Ah, the food quality in Azeroth is so much better than in Draenor.

The airship quickly landed on the platform of Cenarion Hold. Because the Shifting Sands Guardians and the Gadgetzan Consortium had a supply agreement, and the goblins were the only race that could send supplies here on a large scale, this stone fortress had a dedicated airship platform.

As Diakum, draped in a black wolf-skin cloak, led the others down the platform, Marlaad, whom they hadn't seen in a long time, was waiting for them below.

Upon seeing his superior approach, Marlaad stepped forward to salute, but Diakum reached out and hugged him. In human form, he was two heads shorter than his great-uncle, but he still reached out and patted his "adopted son's" armor.

"Thank you for your hard work during this time."

The guard said something, and Marlaad smiled and waved his hand to indicate that it wasn't that hard to endure.

However, Irelia noticed that her company commander's armor had been changed to a strange style, a special form that seemed to be a mixture of insect carapaces and elf armor. It was a bit odd, but because the alien insect limbs adorning it were so ferocious and imposing, it also gave this unique plate armor a sharp feel.

"This is armor treasured by the Sand Guardians. It is made of precious source steel mixed with the carapaces of the insectoid lords. While ensuring its sturdiness and durability, it also provides extremely strong protection against the insectoids' evil magic and highly toxic corrosion."

Marlaad explained to Irelia:
"It's more convenient to wear this kind of armor when fighting the Qiraji in Silithus."

"Hmm, it's proof of merit!"

Irelia patted the dragonbone armor on her body and said:
"I have also earned the proof of my heroism in Stormwind Kingdom. In short, Yrel, the deputy company commander of the 1st Company of the Hand of Argus, reports to you. Company Commander Marad, I request to rejoin the team!"

"Approved to return to the team."

Marlad returned the salute solemnly. After this brief exchange, his great-uncle looked at the sentry standing by the platform, surveying the entire stone desert fortress with a nostalgic gaze. He stepped forward and whispered:

"General Deer Helmet was supposed to come and greet you, but a small 'accident' happened here. Do you remember what the forest spirits said, that when the plague infects patients in the final stage, the degeneration of flesh and blood often causes the patient's body to undergo special mutations?"

"Ok?"

Diakum looked at Marlaad in surprise, who said with a serious expression:
"Unfortunately, the quicksand guards here have already entered that stage. They have been infected for too long, and even with the druids' constant treatment, they have irreversibly entered a state of flesh and blood degeneration."

This was the last straw for these strong soldiers, and even the steely-willed General Staghelm broke down.

They locked themselves in their camp, praying day and night to Elune, but…

"Take me to see it!"

The vigilant's tone was very serious.

The others exchanged bewildered glances and quickly followed Marlad, arriving at the Quicksand Guards' camp inside the fortress.

The moment the door was pushed open, Marin Nogfogger, who had come with his boss to see what was going on, screamed:
"Trolls! How can there be so many trolls here?"

"Not a troll, but an elf."

Diakum covered the goblin's mouth with his hand, looking at the distraught elves in the room. Amidst the strange, mocking laughter of the Shadow Whispers, he sighed and said:

"The night elves have regressed to their 'primitive form,' they have reverted to their former dark troll form. By the Holy Light, it is a tragedy, a tragedy in every sense of the word."

The vigilant gestured to his noisy finance officer to be quiet and not to further agitate the already fragile spirits of these "spirits" at this moment.

He strode forward and came to a Sand Guardian who was slumped on the edge of the bed, completely drunk and with lifeless eyes. He half-squatted down and reached out his gauntlet to touch the elf's skin.

The gray patches caused by the plague are dissipating, which is good news.

This indicates that these elves survived the plague infection on their own, but their skin was no longer as smooth and delicate as the purple skin of the night elves. Instead, their skin was rougher and tougher, with some strange black spots.

This is the most obvious characteristic of trolls. As the most resilient race in Azeroth, trolls possess tough skin and the amazing ability to "heal severed limbs." Warriors of Stormwind would say that troll skin is so tough that it's difficult to cut through with an axe.

The once delicate elven faces have become rugged under the ravages of the plague.

Diakum also noticed that the elf girl had grown small fangs at the corners of her mouth, a distinctive feature of trolls.

But the night elves' donkey ears remained unchanged.
This is normal.

Trolls also have such ears, or rather, the long ears of night elves are a feature that they were unable to eliminate when they "evolved" from dark trolls.

“Look at their fingers, saints.”

Marlaad whispered a reminder from the side:

"These warriors' little fingers and index fingers are atrophying. When I went to hunt down that demon, I saw some trolls whose hands only had three fingers. They are indeed atrophying; the hateful plague is still transforming them."

"I am an elf! I am a dignified Kaldorei warrior! I was born in Auberdine on the Darkshore, my parents were elves, so I am an elf too! I have stood guard in these yellow sands for a thousand years as an elf!"

Certain words in Marad's speech provoked the drunken "dark troll," who jumped up, baring her teeth and claws, and shouted:

"How dare you slander me as a troll! I am an elf! I can only be an elf!"

She scolded and shouted, then finally curled up at the foot of the bed, muttering to herself.

“You are an elf, child, do not doubt this.”

Diakum reached out and placed his hand on the shoulder of the broken elven warrior, and said softly:
“My eyes can see through illusions. All illusions are meaningless to me. I can tell you clearly that in my eyes there is only a brave elven warrior. You are just too tired. You just need to rest.”

You need a little courage to help you resist the plague.

This is an illness.
You're just sick. If you're sick, you should see a doctor, and the doctor will cure you.

Go to sleep.

Just get some sleep.”

His words soothed the spirit, who soon fell into a deep sleep.

"I brought magic seeds; let them consume them."

Dick took a large bag of seeds from Augure's chest and handed it to his great-uncle, indicating that he should distribute them to the diseased elves in the room.

But the vigilant knew in his heart that it was useless.

The Forest Spirit's natural seeds can only prevent the plague from spreading further, but they cannot restore the degenerated flesh and blood to their previous state. The degeneration effect of the plague on the flesh and blood is permanent. Old Man Hatton's hunched back and shrunken body did not return to their original state after being healed.

For these proud Kaldorei elves, perhaps it is more difficult to accept their current "cursed face" than death.

The feud between elves and trolls is endless, but one thing is certain: in Azshara's time, the elven empire and the troll empire were true mortal enemies, with absolutely no possibility of reconciliation between them.

Even in the most tolerant realm of the Night Elves, anyone who dares to spout nonsense like "Elves evolved from Dark Trolls" will absolutely be tied to the Moon Well and burned alive by the Priestess of the Moon.

Although this truth is already a generally accepted fact in the current "archaeological" and prehistoric circles of Azeroth, there is too much evidence to prove the complex kinship between elves and trolls.

Even in the chaotic religious circles of the Zandalari Empire, some older Loa gods had personally experienced that era, but the elves simply didn't believe it, and anyone who dared to spread such rumors would be beaten to death by the elves.

Even though the elves themselves are divided into complex factions and are mortal enemies, they miraculously reached a consensus on this matter, from the High Elves to the High Elves and then to the Kaldorei.

Let's put aside internal strife for now; we must kill that bastard who spreads rumors!

"Historians are ecstatic."

Dick stood up and sighed.

But over there at the door, Irelia was still whispering with Marlaad about the elven lineage.

Yrel stubbornly believed that the elves' degeneration into dark trolls was based on the same principle as the draenei's degeneration into the Lost and Broken. Marad didn't know how to explain it, but he felt that there should be subtle differences between the two.

"Was this intentionally designed by the polluters?"

Nelly realized the seriousness of the problem and stepped forward to ask Dick:

"In the spread of the plague in Azeroth, it seems that the malice towards the elves was the greatest. Humans and dwarves did not show such drastic changes in appearance, and even goblins only experienced mental degeneration in this regard."

The only problem is that the elves' regression is a bit too exaggerated.

"It's hard to say, but Cenarius was once the nature protector of the elves, so he certainly knows how to do things to the greatest extent possible to demoralize them."

Dick frowned and said:
"These elves did not actually become weaker because of the degeneration of their flesh and blood. With the help of the druids, they had survived the most difficult time of the plague infection and were now in the recovery period. They even received some life blessing, which made them stronger and able to heal themselves like trolls."

But as you've seen...

The elves' minds collapsed, not so much due to the mental degeneration caused by the demonic plague, but because they couldn't accept reality.

"Once this situation spreads throughout the entire Kingdom of Kaldorei..."

Nelly said in a horrified tone:

"There's no need to fight this war. This powerful mortal kingdom will collapse on its own before the demons arrive."

"Well, that's not all."

The Shadow Word rang in Diakum's ears at just the right moment, speaking in a teasing tone:

“Please think about this carefully, Diakum. Why would the Corruptors spread the plague in Cenarion Hold first? What is around here? And what can that thing lurking in the darkness do to the elves in their despair?”

"The Void, the Ancient Gods, the Curse of Flesh."

The vigilant squinted and immediately turned to Marlaad, who was distributing seeds, and shouted:

"Seal off the fortress! Quickly, and check if any quicksand guards are missing. Everyone go and help."

Moments later, Marlade brought bad news.

"Seventeen people are missing, including a commander of the Quicksand Guards."

My great-uncle said in a serious tone:
“They were supposed to go out on patrol today, but they haven’t returned. Guardian, do you know where they went?”

"They went to seek 'salvation'."

Looking at the massive black wall that loomed faintly at the northern edge of the vast desert, Dick said:
"The Old Gods have begun their 'preaching,' what a terrible situation! I need to see General Staghelm immediately. Lady Aegwynn, could you please go to Southwind Village? I fear the situation there is even worse."

“I’ll go with her.”

Nelly had already realized Dick's concerns.

She and Aegwynn rode their magic carpet into the sandstorm. Yrel, Rexxar, and the goblins were all assigned tasks: to close the fortress gates and be on alert for any unusual movements by the elves—no, the dark trolls.

Led by Marlaad, Diakum strode quickly through the desolate fortress and finally arrived at the general's command room, but the door was tightly shut.

When knocking went unanswered, the guard kicked the sturdy stone door open.

Rushing inside, they found General Vastan Staghelm, now completely "Dark Troll-ified," lying peacefully on his simple bed, an empty potion in his hand, his beloved sword on the weapon rack, and an unfinished letter made of stone and wood bark beside him.

"These elves are outrageous! Can a mere change of appearance really drive a general with such a distinguished record to the point of actively seeking death?"

How obsessed are you with the appearance of elves! You bastards.

Diakum reached out and placed his hand on the elven general's chest, preparing to invoke the Holy Light.

But the next moment, the elven general, awakened from the deep sleep brought on by the potion, opened his eyes in a daze. After suffering from insomnia for many days, he finally got a baby-like sleep with the help of the potion and looked around in confusion.

Finally, his gaze settled on the broken stone door.

"I...no, where are we?"

"Uh, would you believe me if I said it was an accident?"

(End of this chapter)