Stranglethorn Vale, nestled at the southern tip of the Eastern Kingdoms and bordered by Duskwood and the Western Plaguelands to the north, is a sprawling rainforest characterized by relentless downpours and oppressive humidity.
Beyond its teeming wildlife, the jungle's depths serve as the hunting grounds for the remnants of the once-mighty Gurubashi troll empire, making it a place fraught with peril.
At the zenith of their power, the jungle trolls allied with the Amani tribe to wage a brutal war against the Qiraji, ultimately cleaving the insectoid empire in two.
Over a decade ago, a young Varian Wrynn ventured into this treacherous region and inadvertently provoked the local trolls. The enraged jungle troll population, numbering in the tens of thousands, descended upon Stormwind, culminating in the tragic death of Varian's father, King Llane Wrynn.
However, it is a truth universally acknowledged throughout Azeroth that, with the exception of the reclusive Zandalari, the scattered troll empires have long since crumbled, their remnants often devolving into barbarism.
Yet, even a starving camel retains a certain grandeur, and the jungle trolls are arguably the most fortunate of the surviving troll factions.
Compared to their desert-dwelling counterparts, they inhabit a relatively hospitable environment, blessed with abundant water and sustenance.
Unlike the Amani forest trolls, they are not besieged by powerful adversaries coveting their ancestral lands, nor are they threatened by the rise of new races encroaching upon their territories. Their sole powerful neighbor, the Kingdom of Stormwind, was crippled by the orcish Horde and is only now beginning to recover its strength.
In stark contrast to the Drakkari ice trolls, they were spared the horrors of the sudden Scourge invasion. Even the orcish invasion of Azeroth, which saw the opening of the Dark Portal a mere mountain range away from their capital, left them largely unscathed.
Consequently, this relatively fortunate tribe of jungle trolls, aside from enduring a harsh living environment, faces no significant external threats. Their downfall, as is so often the case with trolls, stems from within.
They cling tenaciously to the greatest of troll traditions: internecine strife.
Following the collapse of the Gurubashi Empire, the jungle trolls fractured into dozens of large and small, disparate clans.
The Gurubashi clan, as the most powerful of the main branches, still held dominion over the capital city of Zul'Gurub. However, it was increasingly apparent to all that their power was waning rapidly.
The Skullsplitter and Bloodscalp clans, second only to the Gurubashi in strength, recognized this decline and began openly challenging Gurubashi authority, vying for control of the capital.
The Bloodscalp clan holds dominion over the largest swath of forest in the northwestern corner of Stranglethorn Vale.
The Bloodscalp are renowned for their bellicosity, cruelty, and martial prowess! They adhere to the most primitive form of voodoo as their sole faith, eschewing the worship of Loa, a practice that inspires fear and avoidance among other tribes.
The Skullsplitter clan, equally infamous for their warmongering tendencies, neighbors the Bloodscalp. Taking advantage of this proximity, the Gurubashi's cunning hexer, Jin'do, employed a divide-and-conquer strategy. Through his machinations, the Bloodscalp and Skullsplitter clans were manipulated into a bloody and protracted conflict, buying the Gurubashi clan precious time to prepare for war.
The bitter feud between these two clans is but a microcosm of the larger turmoil within Stranglethorn Vale. Such conflicts have become commonplace for the trolls. Every century or so, several Gurubashi clans vanish, only to be replaced by new contenders vying for power.
The trolls lack a unifying force, a single clan capable of consolidating their strength, and as a result, all opportunities for true advancement are squandered in endless internal squabbles.
The Darkspear tribe, unable to endure this environment of constant strife and bloodshed, chose to abandon Stranglethorn Vale, seeking a new destiny far from the jungle's turmoil.
Sometimes, Galen felt a pang of sympathy for the Zandalari tribe. In their unwavering commitment to the resurgence of the troll race, they tirelessly dispatch envoys and resources to aid their wayward brethren, only to be met with a seemingly endless parade of incompetence and self-destruction.
As Galen emerged from the Emerald Dream, arriving in this sweltering and treacherous land, he found the environment strikingly reminiscent of the Tanaan Jungle on Draenor.
The irony was not lost on him. Draenor's Tanaan Jungle had been personally selected by Galen as the primary staging ground for the war between the Draenor Allied Forces and the Burning Legion. Decades ago, it was utterly devastated by the clash of these two titanic forces, transforming it into the desolate wasteland now known as the Hellfire Peninsula.
But Galen considered the sacrifice a necessary one. As long as the inferno of war remained confined to the battlefields of Outland, Azeroth could remain relatively unscathed.
Having exited the Dream Gate in Duskwood, Galen found himself in the northern reaches of Stranglethorn Vale. He proceeded on foot, navigating the dense and humid jungle alone.
As he traversed a precarious suspension bridge, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He vividly recalled the countless battles he had fought in this very place, the hours lost in pursuit of elusive objectives, the frustration of navigating the treacherous terrain.
Humid, sultry, teeming with savage beasts, and devoid of any semblance of a decent road, Stranglethorn Vale was, in Galen's estimation, far from an ideal destination. Given a choice, he would much prefer the rolling hills and temperate climate of Southshore in Hillsbrad.
Having endured the oppressive tropical rainforest scenery of Stranglethorn Vale for a sufficient time, Galen opted for a more expedient solution. He teleported directly to his intended destination: the island of Yojamba, situated off the southeastern tip of Stranglethorn Cape.
The island, home to a colony of aggressive chimpanzees, was colloquially known as "Monkey Island."
The Bloodsail Buccaneers, a notorious pirate faction, had long established a formidable stronghold on Yojamba. The surrounding hundred kilometers of sea had become their de facto territory, a domain even the notoriously avaricious goblins of Booty Bay dared not trespass without explicit permission.
At this time, Galen's three troll generals, Zul'jin, Taz'dingo, and Sen'jin's forces, had converged on the island, awaiting his arrival.
"What is the current situation in Zul'Gurub?"
Galen stood atop the high tower of the Bloodsail stronghold, his gaze fixed on a massive gorilla hurling wooden barrels on the shore below, while simultaneously addressing his three troll commanders.
These three were, after all, followers bound to him by the enigmatic power of the Heart of Origin system. Even in his night elf guise, they recognized their leader, their allegiance unwavering.
"Great Lord," Taz'dingo began, his voice laced with obsequious eagerness, "not long ago, I personally journeyed to the territories of the Bloodscalp and Skullsplitter clans. I revealed Jin'do's insidious plot to sow discord between them. Now, the chieftains of the Bloodscalp and Skullsplitter, Ganzulahn and Ana'thek, have forged an alliance, setting aside their differences to launch a joint assault on Zul'Gurub!"
Compared to the flamboyant Taz'dingo, Zul'jin, a veteran of countless battles and a seasoned leader, adopted a more measured tone. "Under the combined assault of the Bloodscalp and Skullsplitter forces, even the formidable defenses of the capital city are proving insufficient. The Gurubashi clan is struggling to hold back the tide. Furthermore, despite my best efforts at persuasion, the hex lord Jin'do has resorted to a desperate measure. He has initiated a summoning ritual, invoking the wrath of an ancient evil, a dark god from the legends of troll civilization - Hakkar the Soulflayer!"
Zul'jin paused, his gaze shifting towards Sen'jin of the Darkspear tribe, a wise and respected figure among the trolls.
Having been reborn and granted a second chance, Zul'jin had learned to temper his once-unbridled rage, to prioritize unity among his brethren, and to strive for greater influence under Galen's command.
Sen'jin, initially taken aback by the Amani warlord's unexpected deference, quickly regained his composure. He understood that in the presence of their "Great Lord," such petty rivalries were meaningless.
"Great Lord," Sen'jin added, his voice steady and resolute, "Zul'Gurub is now engulfed in chaos.
While the Blood God Hakkar has granted the Gurubashi a temporary reprieve, preventing the Bloodscalp and Skullsplitter from breaching the city walls, his presence comes at a terrible cost. Hakkar demands a constant stream of fresh flesh and souls to satiate his hunger. Under the brutal reign of Hakkar's fanatical followers, the populace of Zul'Gurub is seized by panic and terror!"
Galen nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. The pieces of his intricate plan were falling into place with satisfying precision.
"The stage is set," Galen declared, his gaze sweeping across his three commanders. "Now, it is your turn to perform."
Galen turned his attention to Sen'jin. "Let the Darkspear army advance. Zul'jin and Taz'dingo will provide covert assistance. From the southern fringes of Stranglethorn Vale to the Gurubashi Arena, all the large and small troll tribes along your path must submit to your rule! Their allegiance must be absolute!"
"As you command, Great Lord!" Sen'jin replied, his voice filled with unwavering resolve.
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Galen released the three troll warlords to carry out his orders. He then turned his attention to the tranquil expanse of the moonlit sea, lost in contemplation for a time.
This time, Galen was content to play the role of the unseen hand, orchestrating the unfolding chaos within Stranglethorn Vale. For a man who was in the process of systematically absorbing the entirety of Draenor, this was a mere diversion, a small-scale affair. He saw no need to involve his direct subordinates, entrusting the task to his three troll lieutenants.
Soon, within the span of a year at most, the entire continent of the Eastern Kingdoms would be unified under his banner, a single, indomitable entity.
With his immediate tasks concluded, Galen's thoughts drifted to the bustling port city of Booty Bay. He summoned the Bloodsail Admiral Thesess, who was currently stationed there, and instructed him to procure a nondescript merchant vessel. He intended to pay a visit to the goblin city, to observe its unique culture and commerce firsthand.
Goblins, as a race, were defined by their insatiable avarice. Their obsession with gold was ingrained into the very fabric of their being. Yet, these diminutive green-skinned creatures adhered, albeit loosely, to a principle of neutrality, refraining from deliberately antagonizing any major power.
After all, such powers represented their potential customers, their "Gods," as they often referred to them.
Therefore, aside from the official fleets of the Alliance and the Night Elves, the goblins' commercial activities between the two continents had never truly ceased.
However, in this particular timeline, the most prominent goblin cartels, such as the Steamwheedle Cartel, the Gadgetzan Water Company, and Venture Co., were not as prosperous as they were in other iterations of history...
The reason for this relative decline was simple: the entire goblin business world recognized that their most powerful and influential cartel was none other than Galen Industries.
Ambitious young goblins across Azeroth aspired to emulate the success of Gazlowe, the undisputed titan of goblin commerce!
Gazlowe, that talented tinkerer and shrewd businessman, had risen from humble beginnings, starting as a mere goblin apprentice a little over a decade ago. Seizing the opportunities presented by the changing times, he had invested his initial fortune wisely, establishing a small shop in the Alliance Grand Marshal's burgeoning colonial port. From that point forward, his ascent to the pinnacle of goblin society was meteoric, culminating in a lucrative marriage to a wealthy green-skinned beauty.
His brainchild, the sprawling Galen Industries conglomerate, enjoyed the unwavering support of the most powerful kingdom within the Alliance, possessing unparalleled resources, manpower, and political clout. Galen Industries conducted business across both the Eastern and Western continents, its influence pervasive and undeniable.
The meteoric rise of Galen Industries in recent years had attracted a significant portion of the most talented goblin entrepreneurs, leaving other goblin cartels struggling to compete. The Steamwheedle Cartel, once a dominant force, found its operations largely confined to the goblins' ancestral homeland of Kezan Island.
The Gadgetzan Water Company fared even worse. Despite its early foray into Stranglethorn Vale, where it established the port city of Booty Bay, its capacity to acquire land and construct trading cities paled in comparison to the rapid expansion of Stromgarde's colonies!
The Gadgetzan Water Company found itself unable to establish a presence in strategic locations such as the Swampsong Post in the Swamp of Sorrows, or Light's Hope Chapel in the Plaguelands. They even lacked the resources to venture into the newly discovered world of Outland. Over the years, the Gadgetzan Water Company had only managed to construct a single trading hub in the remote and frigid land of Winterspring: the city of Everlook.
Not long after, in the bustling port city of Booty Bay, a merchant vessel bearing the distinctive flag of Eldre'Thalas slowly approached the pier, preparing to dock.
Galen stood on the deck, his gaze sweeping across the diverse crowd that thronged the waterfront. The scene was a chaotic tapestry of races. In addition to the ubiquitous local trolls and goblins, there were also a significant number of humans, their attire suggesting that they were, more likely than not, pirates.
"This place is a far cry from Galenport, Thoras Port, and Stromgarde Port," Galen remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of disdain. "While it shares their boisterous atmosphere, it lacks the vibrant energy and order that characterize our own seaports."
Thesess, standing respectfully behind Galen, surreptitiously rolled his eyes.
The scale of seaborne trade under your command is not only geographically advantageous but also heavily fortified, he thought wryly. Those arrow towers and defensive turrets transform the entire coastline into an impenetrable fortress. And it's not just the ports themselves. The local navy even provides heavily armed escorts for merchant vessels, and at incredibly low prices.
Coupled with the implementation of preferential trade policies and the establishment of safe shipping lanes between the continents, merchants from across Azeroth are naturally drawn to our ports.
This... this Booty Bay is, at best, a glorified black market, a haven for pirates, gangs, and other unsavory elements to peddle their ill-gotten gains. How can it possibly compare to the efficiency and order of an officially sanctioned trading hub?
"Jie jie jie!"
Thesess silently voiced his complaints, refraining from uttering them aloud. However, the green axebeak bird perched upon his shoulder, oblivious to its master's discretion, emitted a series of mocking cackles.
Galen turned, his expression quizzical. "Thesess, your bird is... quite vocal. I find its laughter somewhat grating..."
Are you a Soul Palace Elder, or am I a Soul Palace Elder?
"Silence, Saltine!" Thesess snapped, delivering a sharp slap to the offending bird, sending it plummeting into the murky depths of the harbor.
"Quack! Quack!"
The little green bird, momentarily transformed into a bedraggled "drowned chicken," flapped its wings frantically, struggling to regain its altitude.
Amidst this brief interlude, the merchant vessel completed its docking maneuver, drawing alongside the bustling pier.
At this moment, Galen's attention was drawn to another, more prominent feature of the harbor. In the center of the bay, perched atop a small island reef, stood a colossal statue. The statue, easily exceeding fifty meters in height, was a grotesque caricature of a goblin.
It was evident that the construction of this monument had required considerable effort and resources. The statue, carved from a drab, grayish-white stone, depicted the goblin's features in exaggerated detail: a wide, toothy grin revealing eight prominent teeth, a thin face framed by pointed ears, and wide, staring eyes that seemed to survey the city of Booty Bay with a mixture of avarice and self-satisfaction. The goblin's arms were outstretched, as if in a gesture of welcome or, perhaps more accurately, a demand for tribute.
Oh ho! Galen thought, a wry smile playing on his lips. A monument to pure, unadulterated narcissism.
By this time, the ship had docked at a nearby pier. Several goblins boarded the merchant vessel, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. After Thesess paid the necessary docking fees, he returned to Galen's side.
"Great Lord," Thesess explained, his voice low, "that is a statue of Baron Revilgaz, the self-proclaimed 'controller' of Booty Bay."
Revilgaz, as one of the wealthiest and most influential figures in Azeroth, was a name well-known to Galen.
He was the epitome of the cunning and avaricious goblin merchant, embodying all the negative stereotypes associated with his race: a ruthless and unscrupulous profiteer.
Hiding behind a facade of neutrality, he had established this port city as a haven for illicit trade, a black market where adventurers from both the Alliance and the Horde were routinely fleeced with exorbitant fees and questionable transactions.
He organized gladiatorial contests, pitting hapless adventurers against each other for the amusement of the spectators, and then shamelessly profited from the sale of tickets.
Moreover, Revilgaz's influence extended far beyond the confines of Booty Bay. He was, in truth, the shadowy mastermind behind the infamous Blackwater Raiders, a notorious pirate organization that terrorized the seas. Even the city guard, ostensibly tasked with maintaining order, were, in reality, members of the Blackwater Raiders, their loyalty bought and paid for by the goblin baron.
Galen and Thesess disembarked from the merchant vessel, their boots thudding on the weathered yellow wooden planks that formed the city's distinctive walkways. Booty Bay, Galen observed, was a city built upon water, its structures precariously supported by a vast network of interconnected wooden platforms.
As Galen walked, he cast another glance back at the towering statue, his face breaking into a broad, almost predatory grin.
"I have a hunch," he declared, his voice filled with an almost palpable sense of anticipation. "I'm going to make a fortune here!"
Thesess, ever eager to please his liege, responded with enthusiasm. "Oh! My friend, your vision is truly remarkable! Booty Bay is a city brimming with opportunities. In this, the only truly neutral port on Azeroth, a man of your talents is very likely to become rich beyond his wildest dreams!"