I never liked soothsayers. Especially never liked the dark ones. Those eyes all sunken, telling me things I don't want to hear but know will come true. And Zul, he was the worst of them. Worst because he always saw the worst things. Worst because there's never anything you can do to stop it.
When King Rastakhan ordered me to join Zul's fleet, I thought I'd done something to offend the Council. I thought he was sacrificing me and the others just to get Zul off his back and away from Zandalar. I cursed my luck: ferrying that old prophet all around the oceans, meeting with those disgusting Sandfury trolls or crazed Drakkari.
That was weeks ago. Before I heard what happened to the capitol.
I see now why the spirits sent me here. We Zandalari got to find a new home, and Zul was the only one looking. Zul, and his cursed, cursed eyes.
Can you see a future for us, dark prophet? What now, old troll? What now?