Yesterday da boss of Thrall, Nazgrel, told us that da number of Fel Orcs in Hellfire was getting bigger. We'd been into Hellfire Citadel and seen da giant pitlord chained in the lower chamber and after having much chats we remembered dat it was dis pitlords blood dat Illidan da Betrayer was usin to corrupt true orcs into Fel Orcs.

Grig led da expedition and after fightin our way into da depths of Hellfire Citadel stood facing da pitlord Magtheridon. He was bound by some Orcs using some type of fel magic and once we started the attack they turned on us - summoning Infernals which were easily controlled by Zenith's warlocks. Five of us stood at da positions they were in, ready to activate whatever it was dey were doing, i'm not sure why but da magic peoples said it was important to stop Magtheridon doing some bad magic.

Time slowed as we concentrated our fire on da demon, one of the last burning legion in Outland. The screams, I will hear dem in my dreams for months coz da scream of a Demon is not something dat is easy to forget and even over da music of da battleshouts and the chanting of spells it was terrifying.

An then... a silence so sudden it hurt my ears...

The soldiers of Zenith quickly stepped back as Magtheridon was sent back to da Pit from which he spawned. Never shall his blood corrupt another, Illidan will need to find a new tool to make his soldiers.

Exhausted but elated we dragged his head to Thrallmar and lay it in front of Nazgrel. A pole was quickly found and da head impaled upon it then, to the cheers of da Hordes finest the pole hoisted upright. Magtheridons head sightlessly warning da Burning Legion of times to come.

A moon ago Zenith went to help out our friends, da Ogres in Bladesedge Mountains but da spirits were not wiv us. Last night though - da mojo felt right and we charged through Gruul's advisors and guards. We stood just out of site of da giant and our plan was simple - I'm a hunter not a mage or shaman - I like simple plans.

Jumble was in charge of da healers and sorted them out wiv who healed who. Snikks and Graznel charge him and keep him occupied - everyone else hurts him lots, avoid rocks falling on you and stay spread out. Good plan eh?

We had lots of different magics with us dis time and a few recently joined people but such was da powa of Zenith and da quick thinkin of everyone in da fight dat after hardly any time da mighty Gruul was dead at our feet.

Why was dis night any different from a moon ago only da spirits know but watching our people fight against dis giant I came to realise dat at this time, in this place, life is good, There is nothin that Zenith cannot do when we put our minds to it, and to do it wiv such good people, experts in all they do, makes dis troll proud.

Many Azerothian eons ago, Zenith’s young trembled as they quested through Dustwallow Marsh. An insidious peril worked into their blood, and those that still had hair on the back of their necks were never free from a tingling sensation of unease. My scars remain vivid from my first encounter with the dragonkind of the Wyrmbog, and my bony pony still neighs in terror when a winged shadow crosses the moon above the Marsh.

Oh, it seemed harmless enough, as adult Zenith sat around a campfire drinking Brewfest kegs and reminiscing about the gloomy murk of the Marsh. Then our illustrious troll leader spoke of a legend of the Broodmother of the Black Dragonflight, a black dragon of such beauty and cunning none had yet defeated her.

Our spirits warmed by the Brewfest ale, we rose as one and declared war on the scaled tyrant. Zenith would redeem the Marsh from its malodorous atmosphere of treachery, and our young would once again quest free from fear.

It took us many months to track down the Broodmother, for her deceptive ways were countless and varied. We voyaged from one continent to the other, exchanged secrets with members of the opposing faction, and even went so far as to assume a dragonkin veneer.

Oh, the sway of Onyxia was strong at that time, but our focus didn’t falter, and the night came when we gathered outside her lair, the moon bright on our faces. Knowing his fear, I left my bony pony outside the Lair and ventured in with my guild mates.

Swiftly we silenced Onyxia’s advisors and crept down the hot, sulphurous passage towards her egg-nest. There she slept, glorious in her size and beauty, and I felt her calling to me as an innocent, in need of protection.

I stood between her and Zenith, my mind crazed with dragonlust and proclaimed
“NO! Not going to happen.”

As I spoke, the Broodmother awoke, and as she rose to look upon the intruders, the ground trembled beneath my feet, knocking me to the ground and returning me to my senses. Zenith charged Onyxia, anticipating and deflecting every one of her devious moves and subtle attacks. Her death was swift and noble.

Despite being feared into the whelp caves, no-one lost 50 dkp, we all knew wtf to do, and exultant in our success we reported to Thrall in Orgrimmar.

The beauty of Onyxia, Broodmother of the Black Dragonflight, now exists only in her great head, drying and decaying, at the entrance to that great Horde stronghold, and Dustwallow Marsh is redeemed at last.

Until the next dragon rises...

Sekhmet.

It was late in da blades Edge mountains when our new subjects, da Ogres, told of da old boss High King Maulgar and Gruul da Dragonslayer and da many, many bad things that these two used to do. Many of Zenith are friends, or even leaders, of da Ogres so we, in da Zenith way, went to teach the bullies da meaning of pain.

High King Maulgar must have had some scouts out coz when we got there he had four friends with him. Four!!! Ha! there we twenty two of us. Battle was joined and everyone targeted a different boss and even though many many spirits fled battered bodies it wasn't long until only Maulgar was standing. In da final moments I looked about in my spirit form to see my friends strewn about the cavern, but determined and not to be denied Zenith continued on until about half a dozen brave souls stood over his corpse.

Quickly those wif da magic of healing summoned our spirits back to our now healed bodies and we charged through a few more guards until we came upon Gruul in his cavern. Mighty are Zenith but this night da spirits were not with us and as we lay upon the cavern floor we vowed to come back with a few more friends and teach da overgrown goblin not to mess with our friends.

Da sun was still high in da sky when we went back into da home of Zul'jin so after teachin avatars of da bear and eagle another lesson and rescuing one of my troll brothers we made our way to da home of da lynx avatar called Halazzi.

Halazzi is a shaman but does something non of our shamans can do - he can split himself into his animal and troll bits which did this lots of times. But... swift is the holy wrath of Snikks and the giant cat was quickly controlled with a good slap while we dealt with the giant troll.

A mighty battle raged within the lair of Halazzi as he tried to kill us with totems and fire but the ten of us continued our relentless assault upon da warped shamen. Like a storm unleashed weapons hit like thunder, tooth and claw like lighting. Magic struck him like a hurricane while healing surged around us like a like a tidal wave tamed. Our magic almost gone, he fell at our feet...

Exhausted we stood a while in silence, da fight was da hardest I had ever been in and it showed on everyone. Da eyes of da ten of us met. Smiles grew to laughter, laughter to cheering until our shouts echoed from da mountins surrounding Zul'Aman.

Zenith is coming... no matter how long it takes Zul'jin, your days are numbered.