Arjak shielded his eyes from the great fire in the sky as he gazed across the sandy wastes of Vol'dun. From his elevation, he could make out innumerable ruins scattered across the landscape, a tragic reminder of the Zandalari Empire's former prosperity. He, like many of his kind, considered this land to be cursed. Any who dared to set foot in this desolate graveyard were at Bwonsamdi's mercy. Yet, the perils of the desert did little to dissuade new adventurers from braving the sands in pursuit of fame and fortune.
While he did not count himself among these opportunists, he did find himself in their employ. Two blood elves who claimed to be representatives of an organization called The Reliquary had hired him for protection as they scoured Vol'dun for artifacts. Most Zandalari trolls would have balked at the thought of leading foreigners into the ancient vaults of their ancestors, but not mercenaries like himself. If these elves were determined to pay someone handsomely for a trip through the desert, he figured it might as well be him.
The elves, notorious for being discriminating, did not settle for just any mercenary to accompany them on their journey. Arjak had been selected out of a dozen other candidates for his most favorable qualities. As a ten-foot-tall tower of muscle with dark blue skin and spiny white hair, his reputation as a living weapon was well deserved. When armed with a spear and dressed in traditional Zandalari garb, few dared to question his expertise.
After taking a drink from his waterskin, he glanced over his shoulder to check on the rest of his party. One of the elves was male by the name Anadar, the other a female by the name Zarina. He deduced they were married from their quarrelsome interactions which provided him some amusement along the way. As creatures of vanity, they both filled out their stereotypes, favoring fashion over function. They sat comfortably with their luggage inside a wagon pulled by two alpacas. The driver, a quiet vulperan woman named Alma, was the fourth member of the party. She kept to herself, but he could tell she was glad to be back in her homeland.
"It gonna be nightfall when we arrive," he announced.
"That's just fine," Anadar replied as he peeked out from the wagon. "We'll begin the survey at sunrise."
Arjak was not exactly sure what the elves wanted, but it didn't matter to him as long as he was paid. His clients may have been pretentious but they had no shortage of coin. Jobs such as this were quite lucrative, and without a family to support back in Zandalar, he had no trouble spending his wealth on mortal delights. As a troll in his prime, women were his prevailing indulgence. Now, with recent political developments bringing in visitors from all over the map, his menu was more diverse than ever.
When the wagon reached Arjak's vista it came to a stop. The two elves climbed out to stretch their legs and see the lay of the land for themselves. "What a sight for sore eyes" Anadar stated sarcastically.
"At least we're no longer trudging through that disgusting, insect-ridden swamp" Zarina commented after him.
Nazmir had an ordeal for the woman, but she failed to appreciate just how fortunate she was to pass through unharmed. If not for Arjak's intuition, she would have found herself devoured by a carnivorous beast or sacrificed by a blood troll. Despite her feckless demeanor, he found himself vexed by her presence. She was an attractive nuisance, shaped to his liking but just out of reach. He wondered what was most appealing about the elven enchantress. Was it her shiny golden hair that flowed down to her lower back? Was it her fair skin set aglow by the Zandalari sun? Was it her voluptuous figure tightly concealed underneath her rakish couture? He simply could not decide but considered the dilemma a perk of the job.
When Zarina stood next to her husband, Arjak's eyes instinctively settled on her posterior. Indecent thoughts began to pervade his mind as he examined her curvature. She must have sensed his appetite, for moments after he had begun studying her assets she turned her head to look at him. His eyes shifted to another direction right away, but not before noticing her heated glare. This had not been the first time she had caught him eyeing her, but so far she had not said anything about it. He wondered how much longer she would allow him to get away with it before confronting him.
A few minutes passed before the party was ready to depart once more. The elves boarded their wagon, retreating into the shade of the vehicle as Arjak took the lead on foot. He became vigilant as he scanned ahead for danger, silently hoping the heat would be the worst of their worries.
Exactly as Arjak had predicted, the party arrived at their destination just as the sun was dipping beneath the horizon. Their camp was set up at a fertile oasis nestled within a rocky gorge. With his help, the elves erected their enormous tent near the edge of the water. By the time they were finished, it seemed more like a palace than a shelter. As impressive as it was, he was not envious. Sleeping under the stars in a place like this was a fitting reward for completing such an arduous trek.
Before Arjak could enjoy his sleep, however, he would face the consequences of his lecherous habits. With an air of indignation, Zarina marched over to him from her tent just as he was finishing changing into a loincloth. She stopped a few feet away from him, placing her hands on her hips in a display of authority. "Let's make one thing clear," she began crossly. "I know elven women aren't a common sight for you Zandalari, but you should learn to be more discreet."
Arjak narrowed his eyes. "What ya be talkin' about?"
"Don't play dumb. I've caught you staring at me countless times."
"I think ya have de wrong idea..."
"Look, I get it. You aren't the first mongrel who's wanted to fuck me and you won't be the last. Just remember I'm a married woman... and even if I wasn't, the last type of man I'd want to sleep with is a troll."
Before Arjak could try to deny the accusation, Zarina began to walk away. He could not help but smirk to himself as he watched her depart, thoroughly amused by her forwardness. If she had intended to discourage his interest in her, the exact opposite had been accomplished. Every troll knew the forbidden fruit always tasted the best.
The next day, after breakfast, Arjak led the elves to the pyramid of Atul'Aman. He allowed them to explore the structure at their discretion, ready to fight off any fiends who had taken up residence in the lightless halls. Fortunately, no such encounter transpired. By noon they had set up a research station to conduct their business, granting him a bit of reprieve as they studied the various artifacts they had uncovered along the way.
A few hours later, Anadar seemed to take notice of Arjak's complacency. "Things will be fine here," he insisted. "Why don't you return to camp and help Alma with preparing dinner?"
Arjak shrugged. "Not much of a chef, mon. I'd only be gettin' in de way."
"Then perhaps you can clean her wagon. I'm sure anything is more useful than loitering around here."
"Sandfury could attack at any time. Ya be wantin' me around if they do."
"I appreciate your concern, but it's unnecessary. Go on."
Arjak scoffed. This elf had hired him to guard his life, but there was nothing he could do to save him from his hubris. Refusing to waste his energy in an argument, he left, leaving the couple to their own devices. He made his way back to camp to find Alma preparing ingredients for a stew and greeted her with a nod, then selected a spot near the water to strip out of his armor and relax.
