The Arakkoa Peaks were indeed a place fraught with danger. Every creature here was dangerous; even some of the great trees rooted in the soil were hunters.
Sin Slayer lay resting atop a tree, supported by nothing but a single branch. Though the Arakkoa Peaks were terrible in every way, they were far quieter than anywhere else on Draenor, making them a fine place for meditation.
Gradually, he grew tired of hunting fragile Arakkoa and turned his spear toward more powerful creatures, such as Sabretooth Tigerfolk, One-eyed Ogres, and Shattered Hand Orcs. At the thought, a cold smile unconsciously appeared on Sin Slayer's face. Half a day ago, he had been wandering through the forest when he encountered a Shattered Hand Clan patrol. The three Orcs saw an unfamiliar race and assumed he was from Azeroth, launching an attack without hesitation. Sin Slayer admired their courage and did not blame them for their recklessness, but they should at least have learned to gauge the gap in strength between themselves and their enemy...
They would all die. Sin Slayer had merely sent them to the world beyond death a little earlier.
So far, he had not encountered an enemy worthy of a battle. That undoubtedly made the long wait even more tedious. Perhaps Kargath Bladefist would make a decent opponent, but the Shattered Hand warlord was a troublesome fellow. Sin Slayer was not certain he could kill him, and besides, it was not yet time. He truly wished time would pass faster.
He could not help asking himself time and again: when exactly would Sethe begin to act? That useless god kept delaying, saying he had to wait until he had corrupted enough exiled Arakkoa. Sin Slayer did not accept such high-sounding excuses. He felt that Sethe did not cherish this