Guests from Zuldazar

Zandalar, the City of Gold, Zuldazar.

Inside the throne hall at the top of the pyramid, the atmosphere was as heavy and cloying as the swamps of Nazmir. King Rastakhan sat upon his towering golden throne, his fingers unconsciously tapping the armrest as the gems embedded within it gave off dull clicking sounds. A lingering gloom and impatience hung over his dignified face.

Below, members of the Zanchul Council, representatives of the various tribes, and high priests were arguing fiercely. Their voices echoed through the grand hall, mixed with the Trolls' characteristic shrill rasping, like a pack of hyenas fighting over carrion.

"We have waited far too long! Troll glory should not be confined to this island!" A towering Tribe Chieftain wearing tiger ornaments waved his arms, his tusks bared with excitement. "The fleets of Kul Tiras run rampant, attacking our merchant ships and humiliating our banners! They must pay the price! Seize their vessels, occupy their ports, and let Zandalar's Golden Panther gallop across the Endless Sea once more!"

"Roar! Well said!" Several warlike councilors immediately cried out in agreement, their eyes gleaming with desire for war and plunder.

King Rastakhan raised his eyelids listlessly. He knew that behind those fervent slogans, the families of these warlike councilors had long profited greatly from raiding Kul Tiras. But that had also invited retaliation and revenge from the other side—indiscriminate attacks against every Zandalar vessel. They took the benefits, while all of Zandalar bore the consequences. Now they even wanted to drag the entirety of Zandalar into a full-scale war with Kul Tiras.

To his right, he silently signaled a councilor close to him.

"Foolishness!" another, older Troll in elaborate priestly robes shouted coldly. He was Bwonsamdi's high priest, and his voice was as chilling as a tomb. "A rash attack