Chapter 777

Chapter 777: Clue to the Legendary Giant Crocodile

Jesse opened his eyes and sat up on the bed, which carried a damp odor. The surroundings were surprisingly quiet.

Ironforge was a city built within the Khaz Modan mountains, illuminated solely by braziers lining the streets. The deep lava trenches at their edges created stark contrasts of light and shadow. Peering through narrow arrow-slit windows, Jesse saw patches of darkness and glaring brightness on the yellowish walls outside, but the streets stood nearly deserted. The few figures wandering about included even an elf.

Glancing elsewhere revealed the same emptiness. Compared to last night’s bustle, it seemed every dwarf had vanished from the city.

He checked his pocket watch—already past eight in the morning.

Descending the stairs, he encountered a dwarf squinting and swaying against the wall while climbing upward. Whether sick, drowsy, or still drunk remained unclear.

Hearing the dwarf mutter something in Language Dwarven, Jesse assumed a greeting and replied, "Good morning." The dwarf stared wide-eyed briefly but stayed silent.

Jesse wondered if he’d been insulted. Knowing few dwarven curses left him uncertain—Greed’s presence would’ve helped.

He questioned whether the hunters’ guild would bring similar troubles.

Outside, thunderous snores echoed from stone windows as he passed dwellings.

Though shops gradually opened and guards appeared, last night’s clamor of hammers, laughter, and shouting remained absent.

Evidently, oversleeping wasn’t unique to Greed.

Returning to the hunters’ guild entrance, Jesse confirmed the arrow-pierced-stag emblem before climbing the steps. His knock brought a delayed answer.

A dwarf with messy hair looked up, lips moving as his heavy brown beard swayed. Squinting at the towering Jesse, he eyed the dark cloak and hood. "Who are you? Who d’you seek?"

"I’m a traveler, master dwarf," Jesse answered, peering inside. "I seek hunters aspiring for fame across two continents."

The dwarf pondered. "Certain it’s ‘aspiring’—not ‘already’?"

"Certain." Jesse recognized the hint toward Nesingwary but continued, "I hear Ironforge teams gather clues about legendary beasts."

"Every Ironforge hunt-team dreams of fame throughout Lordaeron and Khaz Modan, human." Suddenly alert, the dwarf swung the door wide. "Enter, mage."

"Not Lordaeron and Khaz Modan," Jesse corrected, removing his hood as he stepped in. "Here and Kalimdor." The dwarf froze. Jesse gestured to a hook holding a wide-brimmed hat. "May I hang my cloak?"

"Course." The dwarf nodded hastily, then scrutinized the cloak. "What’s it made of, mage? Never seen its like… feels akin to a Searing Gorge Diemetradon’s hide."

"Black dragon skin," Jesse stated.

"Black dragon? Meaning a black Diemetradon?"

"No." Jesse turned. "A true dragon."

"Impressive. Impressive."

Though the dwarf marveled, Jesse sensed disbelief—a showy fraud, plainly. No emotional perception needed.

"I’m Hazzik," the dwarf said, offering a brief handshake before sitting. "Call me Hazzik."

"Jesse Seso."

"Familiar-sounding name." The dwarf nodded. "Human names often do. Straight to business—did Mr. Seso hear legend-beast tales during travels? Like Nesingwary’s crew, we pay for solid leads! Rest assured."

Hazzik smiled. Jesse replied, "Terramok."

Terramok—Maraudon’s true name, where the crocodile-god Rotgrip dwelled in lore. Those who understood needed no explanation; others weren’t worth the breath.

"Terramok?" Hazzik echoed softly, shaking his head. "That name ties to Kalimdor, human. But claimants outnumber true visitors. Prove you’ve been."

Truthfully, Jesse possessed no Kalimdor proof. Artifacts like Dethmoora’s scrolls or the Blade of Eternal Darkness would only baffle this hunter.

Yet proving mattered little—Greed was right: privileges should be used. He slid his court mage emblem onto the table.

"What’s this?" Hazzik lifted the ring, examining it. "Gold… Gods, a fine dragon-eye stone! This lion crest—Kingdom of Stormwind work? Apologies, mage, I don’t know this ring, but it’s valuable. Offering it as collateral for your tip?"

"What guarantee?" Jesse snatched the ring back and said, "This is the court mage emblem of the Kingdom of Stormwind, Mr. Hazzik. I am the magical advisor to Varian Wrynn. Surely this status warrants your attention?"

"Wait." Hazzik paused, realization dawning. "I recall where I heard your name—Jesse Seso!" He lowered his head thoughtfully before adding, "Hold on, I need to wake someone."

The dwarf stood and rushed upstairs, banging loudly on a second-floor door while shouting, "Sarbaan, Sarbaan!" followed by a stream of Dwarven. The awakened occupant roared back angrily until Hazzik mentioned "Terramok," prompting an immediate exit.

Sarbaan, noticeably older, followed Hazzik downstairs. Spotting Jesse below, he asked while descending, "Are you the Jesse Seso who crushed the Dragonmaw Orc Legion?"

*Crushed the Dragonmaw Orc Legion?!*

While partially true, the phrasing felt imprecise. Jesse dismissed the nuance.

"That was me," he confirmed. "But this matter is unrelated to Grim Batol. During my travels in Kalimdor, I discovered the legendary Terramok. My name and position should vouch for my words’ authenticity."

"Absolutely, Mr. Seso," Hazzik gestured to his companion. "This is Sarbaan, our guild’s most seasoned hunter and a leader. He once investigated Terramok and Rotgrip in Kalimdor but found only rumors. Share your account with him."

"For many in Kalimdor, Terramok remains mythical, esteemed Mr. Seso," Sarbaan said, settling onto the table. "Even treasure-seeking goblins never located it. I don’t doubt you, but—"

"Because Terramok is a forgotten name," Jesse interjected. "Neither Centaur nor Tauren tribes use it now. Only elemental beings dwelling there for centuries retain that ancient term."

"Centaur and Tauren?" Sarbaan nodded. "Did you hear this secondhand or speak with those natives yourself?"

"And who do you mean by ‘residents’?" Jesse countered.

"Goblins, of course," Sarbaan answered.

"Goblins are outsiders in Kalimdor too," Jesse explained. "The High Elves’ libraries might hold records of ‘Terramok’—they descend from wanderers who crossed the sea seven millennia ago."

"Then where *is* Terramok now?" Sarbaan pressed urgently.

"What’s your offer for this knowledge?" Jesse asked.

The dwarves exchanged glances. Hazzik said, "Typically, informants become our guides, Mr. Seso. But hiring a Stormwind court mage to hunt a legendary beast in Kalimdor is beyond our means, so…"

Sarbaan muttered in Dwarven, Hazzik responding in kind. Confirming Jesse’s ignorance of their tongue, they launched into rapid debate.

"I expect fair compensation," Jesse stated, watching them. "Ironforge hosts multiple hunters’ guilds, and Nesingwary’s fees won’t be modest."

Hazzik blurted, "We’ll pay four gold coins."

The sum made Jesse reconsider his pricing for The Hand of Gul’dan. If the demonic enhancement spell offset five gold, Demisette Cloyce needed only ten more—equating both clues’ value.

Yet this crocodile clue, unobtainable by hunters for years, came from peril: his past-life memories combined with a near-fatal journey through Maraudon’s depths alongside Vereesa, Greed, Mosa Woodmane, and two demons. Stranglethorn beast clues paled in comparison.

Noting his hesitation, Hazzik and Sarbaan conferred. Hazzik gritted his teeth. "If we successfully hunt this rumored crocodile-god… we’ll add ten more gold. At least ten. Agreed, Mr. Seso?"

*Ten extra gold?*

This edged him closer to two hundred gold. *Every little helps*, he mused, amused that fourteen gold now felt like "little."

"Deal," he replied, feigning calm.

Sarbaan fetched a small pouch from the basement, counting four worn coins onto the table. Jesse lifted one, examining High King Modimus’s faded likeness. "Terramok *is* Maraudon."

"Impossible!" Sarbaan gasped. "I know Maraudon—goblins speak of that massive tomb! You claim a crocodile lurks in a Centaur burial site? Does it feed on corpses?"

Jesse conceded the dwarf’s knowledge; no Maraudon explanation was needed. This guild had substance.

"The tomb’s depths hold another realm," Jesse explained. "Tauren legends say they summoned an ancient spirit there, birthing the Centaur. When the Centaur angered it, they were exiled, deeming the entrance sacred."

Sarbaan asked, "So hunting the crocodile requires breaching the Centaur Tribe’s defenses?"

"I’ll ensure your coin isn’t wasted," Jesse extended his hand. "Paper and pen."

Hazzik unfurled fine parchment, handing Jesse a gryphon-feather quill. Dipping it in ink, Jesse sketched western Desolace—Valley of the Spears, Maraudon’s position, the coastline, and adjacent forests. Finally, he marked an X near their escape point from Maraudon.

"Here," he pointed. "A coastal cave hidden by shoreline trees. Its waterways lead straight to Maraudon’s heart, bypassing Centaur and the enraged ancient elementals within."

"What?" Sarbaan exclaimed. "Ancient elementals truly dwell there?"

"They exist, and they’re formidable. Stay discreet. Navigate the waterways; never venture into the depths," Jesse warned. "If surrounding flora grows unnaturally dense—halt. Provoke the wrong forces, and survival is unlikely."