Enthrallment

[TadanoHitoshi]

Enthrallment
Part One
Though the sun blazed overhead it was cool within the small adobe shack, the hide roof flexing in the slight breeze that blew through the winding streets of Orgrimmar. Young orcs ran past the heavy drape that covered the doorway, giggling as they went, but the atmosphere within was decidedly darker. A wet, hacking cough split the heavy silence.
The hovel was sparely furnished, a wooden-framed bed with a flea-bitten, mangy old fur for a mattress by the window. A clutter of bric-a-brac, badly-repaired ornaments and dusty old ledgers stood atop the wonky mantelpiece above the dead fireplace.
A wooden spoon grated against the rough earthenware bowl as the son scooped gruel and offered it to his father, the old orc's gnarled green lips parting and the spoon passing between chipped and yellowed protruding teeth. He had barely swallowed half before his body was racked with coughing once more and the grey foodstuff flew across the room. With a sign the son set the bowl upon the uneven side table and took up a rag to clean his father's face. As he wiped gruel from Karc's chin a withered, calloused hand rose up. At first he thought his father meant to bat his hand away but rather the old fingers closed about his wrist and pulled the younger orc close. Karc's eyes were frosty blue, clouded with cataracts, but they now shone with an intensity the son had not seen for quite some time.
It was a moment before the old orc managed to summon his voice, which came as a hoarse croak, "I was there, my son. I was there at the isles. I was there when we were taken, and I was there when we and the Spears held the ships."
The son nodded, resisting the urge to sigh. He had half hoped that his father, clearly on his death bed, was about to reveal the hidden location of some great heretofore unspoken of inheritance...but no, the old orc merely meant to retell once again his one tale of glory in a long life otherwise unworthy of note. He looked about the hut, ignoring his father's droning voice as he recited the tale of the merlocs and their vile Sea Queen.
Soon all this will be yours, thought the son. Thank the spirits I've made something of myself. Not that you would approve, would you? he thought, looking back at his father as the old orc got to the bitter climax of his story: Thrall's freeing of the orcs and the trolls, and their unsuccessful rescue of the troll leader Sen`jin. He wasn't even sure he believed the old orc. It might all just be something he had made up from second-hand tales. His father had never been more than a merchant as far as the son knew.
It was then that the young orc realized that his sire was crying. A lone tear making its way down the pitted and wrinkled green flesh of his cheek.
"I must tell you, my son, before the end, of my greatest regret. An act which shamed our family, our line...and I hope against hope it is not too late to set right."
And with his remaining strength Karc pulled his son close and whispered into the young orc's ear.

With a shaking hand the son closed his late father's eyes and, turning, left the small hovel he had called home for so long, a look of profound surprise upon his face.



Part Two
Dibykali curses the dirt in the air and her empty stomach. Her companion, a raptor named Samsonus, has eaten quite well, feasting on any small creature it passes. She begins to scold him when a scream penetrates the air. She races to the scene to see a young troll woman kneeling off the road. "What's wrong yah crazeh woman? Yah hurt?" The woman sits kneeling before the peacebloom, though the front of her robes are deeply stained with blood...a bloody hold in her chest. She does not appear to be breathing. Dibykali notices the blood and her eye widens. She tries to shake the woman a little. "Madam?" The woman falls onto her side, evidently dead....but recently so, due to the warmth of her body. Dibykali looks around concerned "She just shouted a minute ago. Samsonus, we'd best beh watchin our backs" Dibykali inspects the body looking for clues and finds the hole where her heart used to be. She gasps and looks around more frantically. Her heart is nowhere to be seen...and as Diby checks the body, the medicine mask falls off...as if he had been hurriedly put into place. On the back of the mask, the word "Zufli" has been recently written...in blood. "We best be takin this one tah town before dem buzzards get her first." Dibykali picks up the corpse and carry it into town.

As she arrives in the nearby village, Dibykali looks around and calls out, "ANYONE KNOW DIS WOMAN?" A troll man spots the body in the orc huntress's arms and his jaw drops, "Nooo! Jezlek! Meh sista!" Dibykali looks at Jof'zert with sadness "Meh heard her scream, but when meh got to her she was already dead." The troll looks over the bloody body in the other`s arms, "What `appen? Where ya find me bredren? Tell meh quick, orc!" Diby responds, "She was off deh road not far from here. She was kneelin an dead an wearin dis funny mask." Dibykali hands the mask to the troll. He examines the mask, "Dat's `er mask, mon...she waza witch docta in trainin', see," he holds the mask tight then looks at it in his hands. Dibykali nods sadly "Yah prolly want dis stuff too den" and passes the troll her things "Dere was nuthin meh could do. Mah sympathy tah yah."

He turns the mask over, almost not noticing what the orc says when he notices the scrawled writing on the back. "What?! Zufli?!" Diby looks at the troll, "Yah know deh name?" He responds, "It natta name. It meanin `Baby Witch`." He spits on the ground and mutters a curse, "Ooeva done dis, dey not only killin` meh Jezlek." He cracks his knuckles loudly. "Den dey be aftah yah too?" Diby asks. The troll scans the edge of town with his eyes, "Ifn dey wrote dat...meh tinks dis a witch matta. Dis wasan insult mon. An insult fe Jezlek fe bein what she wanna be. Me?" Jof'zert shakes his head, "Me nottin butta fishaman."

"Meh be sorry fer yah loss. Meh hope she find peace where she be." The troll looks down at the body of his sister and takes it from the orc, "I an I'll take care o Jezlek alrigh'," he then looks back at the orc, "You gatta name, orc?" She answers, "Call meh Diby. And who yah be?" He nods, "Diby. Meh be Jof`zert. Chu knowin much 'bout uz Darkspears an' awa ways, mon?" Dibykali shakes her head "All meh knows be what dat road teaches meh...what deh creatures in deh woods show meh bout livin an dyin." Dibykali pets her raptor, "Dis be mah best friend Samsonus." Jof'zert almost smiles wanely, "Den you mus' be wise woman indeed, Diby. Com wit me and I teach ya what 'umble fishaman cyan...an we say goodbye fe me sista."

Jof'zert sets his sister`s body down in the graveyard and wraps it carefully in its bloodstained robes. He says "De trolls...we usta be pretty savage. Messin' wit de voodoo an all dat bangarang." Jof'zert looks up from his preparations to Diby, "But de warchief Thrall, `e elp us change dat. De ladyfolks too...der be no 'warria like you, Diby, inna old day. And def'nily no lady witch dacta." Jof'zert finishes preparing Jezlek's body, his hands shaking. He moves to wipe the bloody writing from the back of her mask, but shakes his head and puts the mask back in place over her face. Dibykali says, "Deh times be changin meh guess."

"Ooeva did dis. Dey no repect dat change, Diby. An me sista pay for dat." Dibykali answers, "Yah got tah follow yah heart sometime." Jof'zert nods at the orc woman's words, "true dat." Jof'zert stands, taking a flask of oil from his belt and anointing the shrouded corpse. Diby continues, "Dem woods may kill meh but meh not stoppin goin dere. She died doin as she wanted.

Jof'zert smiles, "You a 'ard woman, eh, Diby?" She grins "Life be hard. Meh just kick back. " Jof'zert lights the oil and turns to face Dibykali, standing between the orc and the funeral pyre, "Den I aks you ta do a fava. Ta do it fe me Jezlek." Dibykali asks, "What yah be needin o meh den?" Jof'zert looks at Diby with sore eyes and a clenched jaw, "De one oo' did dis te me sista. 'Im...'im cut 'er 'art out. Me wants you cut 'im 'art out, ya hear me, mon?" Dibykali nods and grins, "Yah want meh tah bring it? Cuz Samsonus..he be gettin hungry on deh long trips." Jof'zert is almost shaking with anger and anguish, "Me donkya 'bout de polytricks, de old way, new way. We jus' wants what the spirits callin' fe. What me sista be callin' fe. You cut 'im 'art out...feed it fe ya beast here if ya want. Me jus' wants this bandulu.." Jof'zert gris his teeth, "Dead."

"Where can meh find dis creep?", Diby asks. Jof'zert shrugs reluctantly, "Me got no idea...'e no like de lady witch dacta...dat all we know. Someone close te de old ways, mon. Close, an' bitter." Jof'zert takes a small purse from his belt and hands it to Diby, "'sall me got. An' it yours now." Dibykali replies, "Meh better keep me good eye lookin round den. Meh will make sure it be worth it." Jezlek says, "Me be 'ere, Diby. You find summit, you come tell me now. Jezlek be watchin'." Diby nods as they part ways.



Part Three
Sen`jin Village
The news of Jez`Lek's murder had spread quickly about the village, eliciting the hanging of various fetishes and other assorted phylactery from doorways in order to hex the evil eye lest its gaze follow the dead troll's body back to her home village.
Old habits died hard.

Gyou`sha finished packing his bags, carefully wrapping the vials of catseye potion in the hide of a feline prowler from the Barrens. He hefted the large of the bags over his shoulder, the smaller ones tied to his belt, and stepped out from his wooden hut. The sky was clear overhead and out past the Echo Islands to the sea, but inland to the north banks of grey cloud were coming in. He shifted his shoulder to settle the sack on his back better and trod the path through the village, past the small pool in the center of their settlement, nodding and greeting those he passed. He caught a glimpse of Jof'Zert: brother of the late Jez'Lek, down by the waterside with his fishing pole, his head hung low. It had been a week since the young shaman's death. No. Murder. That much had been frighteningly clear. Yet there had been no news...nor had there been any other attacks.
At first some had said that the killer was clearly trying to send a message to the villagers. Tearing out poor Jez'Lek's heart and scrawling `Baby Witch` on her mask.
Gyou`sha nervously fingered the murloc fang that hung on a leather cord at his neck.
But after a week and no news, some had said that perhaps she had fallen prey to bandits with a sick sense of humour.
There hadn't even been word from the orc huntress Jof'zert said had found his sisters body.
Shaking his head, Gyou`sha set out on the dusty road north, across Durotar toward Razor Hill and beyond to his final destination.

The huge armoured walls of Orgimmar, the orc capital itself, rose up before him as he left the shadows of the gorge the road passed through and the troll merchant felt a measure of relief, stepping back into the sunlight, weak though it was with the gathering grey clouds above.
The guards: great hulking warriors draped in spiked armour and clad in iron-shod boots, nodded to him and exchanged few words, letting him pass after he had stated his business. A few potions and tailoring patterns to sell. He didn't mention the wolf-pauldrons or the dynamite-plans - which he hoped to get a good price for - lest they press him for a cut.
He quickly passed through the brazier-lit passageway and into the grand city itself...


Less than half an hour later the troll merchant's body lay prone on the ground behind a large building in the Valley of Honour, his head resting in an expanding pool of blood. His eyes were absent, the sockets gory and vacant. His bags, even his purse, however were still there. His sack by his sprawled body, the rest still tied to his belt.
As the rain that had threatened to break all morning finally fell, it began to soak his robes, to dilute the pool of blood...and to wet the note that had been left upon his chest.
A note which read, scribed in his own blood,
No Vision

After some time, he was found by one of his own: Kahla, and soon after the elf Astus and the orc Irik...



Thrugg Bullneck had expected a relatively peaceful day and at his age it was something to be thankful for. He`d fought his way through countless skirmishes, the Third War, survived the camps and was glad to have been granted a guard's position when the orc capital of Orgrimmar was founded. The aging warrior was proud to walk the streets of the Valley Of Honour, clad in his old battle armour. Both the old plate and his own skin were crisscrossed with scars.
The Valley was usually a relatively peaceful section of the city and the old veteran could patrol the streets casually, nodding to those who recognized him, partaking of the occasional offered drink or leg of boar. The slopes caused stabbing pain in his knees and as the morning wore on his armour grew heavy, the onset of rain not helping matters. And as he huffed and puffed his way up an incline he came face to face with a dark yet ornately clad blood elf.
Thrugg's day was not going to be quite as quiet as he had anticipated.
He soon found himself guided to where a troll female stood over another of her species, sprawled in the mud with his head in an expanding pool of blood.
"You found him?" Thrugg asked, looking to the troll female.
"Ya, offica'. 'e 'ad dis note on 'em," she replied, handing over the note she had found. "Who woulda done dis?"
"I bet they're still around," the elf added, looking about.
Thrugg took the note from Kahla and read it, "No Vision," he then peered down at the dead troll, wincing when he noticed the eyes had been gouged out.
The troll woman, Kahla, ran around a bit, shaking her head, "I don' see anyt'ing else."
The orc guard, sighing internally, realized he'd have to actually do some real work today, "What were you two doing here?"
"I was taking a walk through the city..."
"Jus' takin' a jog."
Not the solidest of alibis, Thrugg thought but it was too soon to go accusing the two of anything. Arresting two members of ally-races for murder within the orc capital would be...troublesome. He looked down at the body, "He wasn`t robbed?"
The elf, Astus, said, "You outta have better security," and peered around for anyone suspicious while Kahla shook her head.
"Don`t you go wandering off!" Thrugg snapped as the two began looking about, "For all I know one of you two is responsible for all this!"
"Please, if -I- were responsible for it there would be a pile of ash sitting there," the elf replied, somewhat haughtily. Typical bloody elf, the guard thought, "Oh, how comforting!"
"Ah' didn' do et," the troll answered, indicating the pair of clean daggers at her sides while the elf showed his staff.
"Yes, well, I'd rather not have to search either of you for additional eyeballs."

The three went on to discuss the note, the words "No Vision,” scrawled in blood...presumably that of the deceased. It was then that Kahla noticed they were being watched...by another orc.

Irik eyed the commotion from a distance and in silence.
Thrugg looked over his shoulder, following the troll woman`s gaze, and spotted Irik.
"You there!"
"Deh's anodda guy."
Irik peered at the guard. "Yes?"
"Mista, deh's been a murda. Ya know anyt'ing about et?"
"What do you know about this?" Thrugg looked down at the body and shifted it with his hobnailed boot.
Irik too looked toward the body on the ground, having figured it was just another drunk who passed out. "A murder? Surely not here... and not under the watchful eye of our guard."
Thrugg coughed uncomfortably and looked around, "It seems so. Must`ve been damned quiet too."
"Well this -is- a rather out of the way area of the Valley," Irik replied, indicating the shade of the large building in which they stood, out of sight of the streets that wove through the Valley.
After examining the dead troll's clothing and bags it was evident that he had not been robbed, for a purse of ten gold coins was still at his belt and three bags of merchandise were untouched...unless of course the killer had been interrupted by either Kahla or Astus' approach before he could finish his pilfering.

"Maybe we should take him inside?" Astus finally suggested and, hefting the large body over his shoulders, carried it round and into the large hall they had found it behind while Kahla, Irik and the guard Thrugg followed.

Thrugg looked down at the body once more and shook his head, "This is bad. First that one on the road...." while Irik tugged gently on his beard. "No vision, mmm..." he muttered to himself.
Astus looked at the guard. "What?"
Thrugg returned Astus' gaze, briefly glancing to Kahla, "There was a...ah...woman troll...murdered a few days ago."
"In the same manner?" asked Irik.
"Di' she 'ave a note too?"
Thrugg shook his head, "Not exactly the same, though we didn`t see the body before the family took care of it."
"Was there a note?"
Thrugg creased his brow, trying to remember the scuttlebutt he'd heard on the grapevine from Razorhill. "She`d had her heart cut out," he finally said, swallowing back bile, "And apparently a message written on her mask. In blood."
"So et da same murdera," Kahla concluded. "I wonda ef et be anodda troll?"
"What was this message?" asked Irik.
Thrugg shrugged, "Seems likely it`s the same murderer, yes." he then looked to Kahla, "What does `Zufli` mean?"
"Et mean baby witch. 'Afta do wid da voodoo."
The orc guard rubbed his chin then his eyes with his calloused knuckles. This was turning into a far busier day than he was used to. Death was commonplace out on the Barrens, but not here in the capital.
"Vew-dew? " Astus pronounced, "I've heard of it...but haven't looked into it much."
Irik put his staff in front of him and leant onto it. "Baby witch..."
"I no' look into et much," Kahla replied similarly, "Anyways, et be a witch docta."
"Apparently she was. But this guy...?"
Astus ventured, "Was he blind?"
Thrugg muttered under his breath, "Is now."
Astus looked at Kahla, "So because he lost his eyes...his spirit is blind?"
"Prolly, et be weak'a, dats fo' shu'. I t'ink dis gonna 'appen again. An' da person's goin' afta trolls..?" Kahla seemed rather nervous, worried that she might be next.
Irik finally input his own thoughts, "The eyes of this one were taken, and the heart of the first... It appears to me as if some sort of Cult were involved. Perhaps demonic in nature."

Before the three left, Thrugg made sure to get their names...
"Anar'dal," the elf said.
Irik put a hand to his chest. "I am Irik Earthcaller."
"Ah'Kahla."
Thrugg warned them to watch their step. If any of them had interrupted the murderer, they might have caught his attention. Once they left, the old orc knelt, his kneels protesting, and he picked up the body. It was going to be a long journey to Sen`jin village. He just hoped someone there could identify the body...



Part Four
Some Days Later, In Orgrimmar

A slight orc clad in subdued robes, a pouch at his belt stuffed with parchment, made his way into Orgimmar's inn located in the Valley of Strength. He meekly nodded a greeting to the female owner and cast a nervous glance about the room, taking in the handful of patrons. Predominantly orcs like himself, a tauren...and a troll. The latter was stood with his back to the door, partaking of a tabletop hookah along with a pair of orcs.

He eventually look a seat on the furs lining the floor along with an armour-clad male orc and an older female, who greeted him warmly and introduced themselves as Koragrim and Kana.
Kana proceeded to ask the younger newcomer about himself...how long he had been in Orgrimmar, how old he was. The usual getting-to-know you stuff that travellers asked over drinks. He was evidently somewhat shy and perhaps she had picked up on the fact.
Denk, as he introduced himself, had grown up with his father - a merchant -, travelling the caravan trails. He recalled a little of their exodus across from the Eastern Kingdoms...a subject that was evidently somewhat difficult for Kana, she revealing that her son had recently died at the time.
Denk immediately cast his eyes down, "Ah...my condolences."
Kana nodded, "It is in the past; the past cannot be changed."
The younger nodded firmly, "Quite so, quite so. We must live with an ever increasing burden, do we not?"
"You are wise beyond your years, young one."
"You give a young scribe too much credit, dear lady."
He went on, at her inquiring, to explain that as a youth he had been too weak to assist in hefting his father's heavy goods and so had been relegated to keeping the business' logs, a chore he had proven adept at and, having left the merchant life, he had taken to writing and inscription.


Denk cast a quick glance over his shoulder once more.
"Have you heard of the recent...murders?"
"Murders?"
He swallowed audibly and nodded, "A young troll shaman out on the road from Razor Hill...and a troll merchant here in Orgrimmar. If you would believe such a thing!"
"Ah... Both trolls?"
"Yes. It is most worrying."
Kana nodded and the young scribe shrugged, "I am doing what I can to find out about it all."
"Commendable. But... You must be careful, young one..."
"Thank you. I am no warrior...," he smiled meekly and patted the small dagger at his waist, "I just hope this is enough if I get into a corner." He then ventured carefully, "Or perhaps troll matters are best left to the trolls...?"
Kana shrugged, "Perhaps, though, the Trolls do seek our protection now... Supposedly."
Her tone, particularly the way she had said supposedly caused Denk to raise an eyebrow.
Kana 's voice dropped low. "They claim to be loyal to us, to the Horde, but many of them still practice their voodoo in secret, and many of their men maintain their mentality of superiority over their women. From my experiences with them, they cannot be trusted too deeply; they have their own interests at heart."
Denk nodded grimly, lowering his voice, "Indeed. I have heard so....even tales that they persist in consuming the flesh of others...even their own kin."
Remembering the troll stood not far behind him he coughed and looked about, feigning nonchalance while Kana grimaced and nodded.
"We can but trust to the warchief`s wisdom in allying with them," Denki said, trying to lighten the conversation.
"Of course I do not doubt Thrall's judgement. I just would not trust a troll with my life, personally," Kana replied, "They have no reason to betray -us- for the alliance, and they are indebted to us."
"Indeed. You have a good point. Nevertheless, I`ll be careful. I thank you for your counsel."

As time wore on their conversation came to an end, Denk excusing himself and heading out. He had supplies to pick up before he headed south to Razor Hill and Sen`jin village beyond. If he could not find the answers to his questions there, where would his quest for information lead him?



Part Five

Denk, the young orc scribe, set out from Orgrimmar in midmorning and though the distance was not great for one who roamed the continents of Azeroth, Denk was not one for such pursuits and so by the time he reached Razor Hill he was tired and his feet ached.
He quickly sought respite from his travels at the town's spacious inn. Despite the growing heat on the Durotar plains, he had heard that heat was good for fatigue and so took a seat upon one of the rugs surrounding the central fire. Stripping off his footwraps he began to massage his protesting feet, when a voice came from beyond the doors.
"Samsonus...yah stay out here while momma get some tings."
At first his eyes had widened at the accent. A troll? Indeed perhaps two? His heart leapt, half at the prospect of finding members of the Darkspear tribe he could speak with...and half in fear that it or they might be the roaming killers.
The doors spread open, silhouetting a humanoid form at the threshold. Slender legs, but a torso bulked with muscle and some form of armour. Alas somewhat too short for a troll.
As she moved into the inn it became clear that the newcomer was an orc lady. A huntress, Denk surmised, from her rugged appearance and the bow slung across her back. He also noted the patch over her right eye and a stiffness, a limp, in her right leg. One accustomed to living a considerably rougher life than he, he judged with the eye of an author seeking inspiration.
Being the only two customers he felt somewhat embarrassed to watch her so closely but, finding himself devoid of distractions, could not help but watch her. Finally he nodded and waved.

Dibykali smiled at inkeeper Grosk "Meh Sammy been a good boi, so me want some Roasted Quail fah him."
She noticed Denk and nodded politely, then turned back to Grosk "An some water too."
Denk rubbed absentmindedly at his feet, wincing, then looked up again to Dibykali, "I take it you`ve been walking some distance too, eh?"
Taking her supplies, the other turned to Denk "Always have boi..been harder lately but meh get by."
She paid the innkeeper and limped across to Denk by the fire. "Yah be a travella?"
The orc scribe nodded but muttered a curse, "Grombolar! My poor feet!" He then coughed uncomfortably, "Ah, no...I travelled much as a child...but always riding a caravan. Since then I have only steered a quill for the last few years."
Dibykali grinned "Ahh...yah be a lazy boi...needin tah be carried on deh steed eh?"
To which the other smiled sheepishly, "Ah, if only I could afford one!" He slapped at the footwraps on the ground beside him. "It's these until the winds of fortune blow my way."
He motioned to the carpets around the fireplace, "Rest a moment?"
Dibykali smirked "Let me feed mah Sammy and meh come join yah."
Who's this `Sammy`, he wondered. Surely she's not leaving a child out in that sun! A travelling companions then, perhaps?
He heard her shout once more from outside, "SAMSONUS! Meh gat quail fa yah boi!" before she returned.
"Sorry bout dat...meh Sammy get restless on deh empty belly."
"Might I ask who Samsonus is?"
It turned out that `Sammy` or `Samsonus` as was apparently his full name, was her pet raptor - confirming in Denk's mind that whilst they shared race, their lives were clearly quite different - and closest companion.

The orc lady took a seat next to Denk "So what brings yah out here boi?"
"First, allow me to introduce myself: I am Denk, a humble scribe." He bowed.
"Meh be Dibykali, but yah can call meh Diby fa short."
Denk smiled, "Diby it is then! Well, in answer to your question, I am out here....investigating, I suppose one might say."
"Investigatin a way tah get some gold in yah pocket so yah don't got tah walk?" she asked, winking slyly and causing the orc male to burst into laughter.
"In an indirect fashion...perhaps so. No...actually....well, it all sounds rather melodramatic but..well....murders."
This caused Dibykali to raise a brow "Murdah? Seem tah be a lot o that den, cause meh be lookin fah one too."
Denk shuffled on the carpet to face Diby better, his face taking on an expression of great interest, "Oh? Do tell!"

"Well...meh was travellin wit Sammy like usual, huntin an stuff, when we found dis dead girl kneelin in deh desert without a heart in her chest."
The scribe leaned forward a fraction, "My word! How hideous."
She nodded, "Me took her to deh village, an her brodah claim deh body. She was deh voodoo priestess, an he tell meh some no be likin dat type o girl practicin dem ways."
Denk's eyes narrowed a fraction, "This `girl`...is was a troll, then? A shaman too, I presume."
Dibykali nodded, "Was a troll, meh not sure much else. Her brodah be a fisherman."
"These are the murders I am investigating. I heard of this troll girl's slaying. I am sad to say she is not the first..." He then frowned at Diby, "You, if you don't mind my saying so, you seem to have an accent somewhat similar to the Darkspears...?"
She nodded once again, "Meh was nevah much fa deh city. Meh live out in dem plains an jungle an trade wit deh trolls. Been on meh own fa a long time now."
"I see, I see," he replied, scratching his chin and looking about as if thinking, his brow furrowed.
"So how yah come across dees tings? Wanderin like meh?"
"I heard about the first killing from traders. It seems the Darkspears gossiped amongst themselves...it spread to the city. The second I heard of from a guard about a week later. It was a troll merchant, killed in *Orgrimmar* this time," he explained, shaking his head slowly and sighing.
"No respect fa livin tings dees days boi" the huntress noted.
"Quite. And the manner of the slayings...these trolls are capable of such brutality."
Denk lowered his voice and continued, "Some say that we should leave them to sort out their own troubles."
Dibykali whispered back, "Meh saw deh look on dat girl's brodah's face...meh can't leave him be like dat without knowin what happened."
"Then you seek the killer? Do you think it wise to delve into these matters of voodoo? Trolls killing trolls? There are those who believe we orcs are best to leave them to their own bloodshed."
She grinned, "Meh always lived by meh own rules. An while meh not always deh most helpful, meh can't turn away from deh murdah o dis innocent girl fah some reason."
"Aka`Magosh! You are a kind soul, Dibykali. Perhaps you can prove the naysayers wrong."
She then asked about Denk, what he would do. In truth he had set out out intending to go to the Darkspear village in South Durotar....perhaps even visit the echo isles if he could get a boat...but perhaps Dibykali here could be of assistance and save him the journey...
"I will do what I can. I would appreciate it if you would tell me if and when you do find out anything, if you would be so kind?"
"Meh will be happy tah help"
Denk smiled widely, "And when you do find this...this monster, Dibykali. Slay him. Slay him swiftly and do not give him the chance to beg for mercy. Do it before an orc loses his or her life to *their* troubles," he leaned forward, "Do it for the Horde, Diby."

"Strength an honour."
"Strength....and honour."
Exchanging salutations, she said she was bound for the Barrens and hunting, and the two made their separate ways...


So it was that the orc huntress and her raptor set out west toward the Southfury River, Far Watch Post and the Barrens beyond.
Crouched behind a cluster of sandstone spires jutting up from the dusty plains, The Killer watched the orc and her pet make their way along the road. Glancing east and west along the road he noted that she was the only one on the road. Even the only one in sight. Perfect.
He watched as she slew one of the roaming boars with ease, downing the muscular beast with a single arrow.
This was the moment. When she would be distracted inspecting her kill, like all killers do. Like he did.
He turned to his companion and made a violent motion toward the orc woman...

Dibykali looked up at the approaching voidwalker, the blue-black being of shadow, almost an anatopism in the bright light of day and upon the dusty plains of Durotar.
Her eye grew wide "What is dis?" as the demon swept toward her and her pet, its ethereal talons outstretched toward her.
The huntress quickly drew her claws and attacked the walker, Samsonus slashing at it as well. The Voidwalker let out a hollow, echoing yell as the pair's claws slashed at its shadowy body, its own razor-sharp talons grasping for the orc, rending her leather armour.
She gritted her teeth against the pain as the unearthly claws drew her blood, but continues fighting back for her life. She knew that, unlike a beast that once injured might flee to preserve itself, this demonic aberration was unlikely to do so.
The demon's left eye exploded in a gush of ectoplasm and the voidwalker wailed. Its remaining eye darted between the orc and her pet, but settled back on the orc with a terrible focus.
The three traded blows back and forth with a ferocity unmatched in nature, Dibykali finally aiming both claws at the demon's chest, trying to drive them in and pierce whatever amounted to a heart. The voidwalker, either in a rage or driven on by its unknown, let the orc huntress' blades sink deep into its shadowy torso, ichor pouring from the wounds, as it desperately tried to fasten its talons about her head in a last-ditch attack.
She grimaced and howled as she tried to cut the walker in half from the inside...
...and with a scream that rattled one's very bones and chilled the marrow, the malevolent apparition was torn asunder into ribbons of shadow than rapidly dissipate as the demon was sucked back to whence it came, the last of its presence being the talons lifted from the orc woman's face.

Dibykali sneered and wiped some of the blood and ichor from her face, looking around for the owner of the demon. Such beings did not simply wander Durotar of their own accord. As she and Samsonus checked the rocks, she exchanged a look with the raptor, the beast's eyes sharp and alert, "We gonna have tah be careful boi."
But the master, if there had ever been one...was nowhere to be found.



Part Six
In Booty Bay


Jof'zert had wandered all across Durotar, from the Valley of Trials through Sen`jin village, north to Razor Hill and Orgrimmar, in his search for clues as to the identity of his sister's murderer. He asked those he met on his travels: orcs, fellow Darkspears and a couple of tauren. Most had heard of the troll merchant's murder in Orgrimmar, and a few had heard rumours about another, earlier killing `out in the wilderness`.
Jez`lek.
He ground his teeth in frustration at how news of the merchant's murder, having taken place in the orc capital itself, had spread wide, and yet his sister's killing was mere gossip.
The troll fisherman promised himself he had to contact the orc huntress: Dibykali again. Perhaps she had found out something...though in all honesty Jof'zert's faith in his race's green-skinned allies was wearing thin.

He found himself in Ratchet. Looked about the arena that overlooked the port, searching for any word of a traditionalist troll stalking the land. Spent a couple of hours wandering the shore and casting his line occasionally, to no avail. Both information and fish evaded him.
Gazing into the sea water he thought to himself of something else that he lacked: money. If he hoped to hire others to track down and exact vengeance (for he knew that he himself was no warrior and was not up to the task) he would need money to pay them with. The life of a simple fisherman would not provide the gold that mercenaries so lusted for.

The goblin brew slaked his thirst, took the dust from his throat.....and alleviated his worries -as alcohol was wont to do- for a brief moment.
He sat, half-slumped, propping himself up against the mailbox outside the port's tavern, gazing shamelessly at the other denizens and travellers. There was an orc and a couple of blood elves sat on the wooden railing, and a human clad in dark clothing, a pair of swords crossed on his back, stood just inside the shade at the tavern's threshold.
"Chu look like warrior, huh?"
"Not the "Stand before my might if you dare!" type, but yea. Fer hire," the human replied.
Jof'zert chuckles, "Nah, chu don` look like a pallydin, dat be troot. Tell meh, mon. You knowin` tha jungle well?"
"Not like yer kin'. But for a human - quite well - most my jobs'r over in Stranglethorn," the human - Jake - grinned, spouting off in a fairly passable zandali accent " An' I can be doin' tha' local colah fairleh well, too, mon."
The troll scratched his jaw in contemplation, "Me ain't been in de jungle fe me not knownin' ow long." "Eh. As a troll co-worker of mine use to say: `Ya can be takin' da troll out da jungle, but there be no takin' da jungle out da troll`."
This elicited a chuckle from the tipsy fishertroll.
"Ya gat dat right, mon," and his eyes were once more drawn to the man's weapons. Who would wear swords so openly if they weren't skilled in their use? "But chu be sayin' you a blade fe `ire, ya?"
"Mhm, top tier," the other replied.
Jof'zert dove straight in..."'Ow much fe one 'ead, den?"
"'pends who. From thirty silva' to three hunn'er gold, dependin on the target. Wha'ya got in mind?"
Jof'zert nodded slowly, "Dat be da 'aad part, mon. Me not knowin' who...nor where 'e be. But me tinks he must be in da jungle."


They soon found themselves sat at a table in the shade, as befit such conversations.
"Me be lookin' fe a killa. A troll. Traditionalist too...'cause he don' like if de lady be a shaman, mon."
The human nodded. Jof'zert was a humble fishertroll, but he had deliberately taken the seat at the table facing the entrance, forcing the human to take either one with his back or side to the entrance, to see how he reacted. He took it in his stride, not seeming concerned - even answering back and driving off a mouthy blood elf that came over at one point.
Jof'zert leaned forward, his face serious, "'e kill me sista. Cut 'er 'eart out. Den I 'ear 'e kill another troll...in Orgrimmar."
"Name, likely locations, relations, danger level, escort type if any - and of course, not least - pay."
Jof'zert had to admire the human's professionalism, "Ain't got no name, but meh tinks he be Darkspear. Either 'e's on Durotar or in de jungle...where we aall cyem from. As fe danger...like I sez, 'im cut up me sista. A shaman. He be a brutal one, an quick. 'im got 'elp?....me don't know. As fe money..." he checked his money bag and coughed, embarrassed, "Me kin pay ya four silver now....and me promise ya gold after ya bring me 'is 'ead."
"I see... Still, -anything- to identify him by?"
"'e be traditionalist....'im cut `Zufli` into meh sista's mask, and 'e wrote a bloody note, "No Vision" on da other troll. I says ya be looking for one wit da mojo. One who walks wit de loa. Mask and fetishes like. De old ways." Jof'zert shivers involuntarily.
"A couple of'm running around tot hat description still, mon."
The human spoke a lot of sense. Who knew how many trolls were out there fitting the slim description Jof` could give?
For a moment, Jof'zert's anger got the better of him. He gritted his teeth, "Dem kill 'em all, mon. De Darkspears not be like dat no more. We don' eat our own now. None a dat bloody-ballawang."
"Heh - that'd get me killed within the week -running around popping old school trolls. I mean, I need a lead to link me to'm specifically - item, name, trait -something that wouldn't likely be true about more than a few people. You ain't got the money for it anyway mon - but even when and if you will - you'll still need a lead. I mean - f'real - I have no idea how much somethin' like that can hurt. But be smart about it. If ya wan' get vengeance."
This human was more intelligent than Jof' gave his race credit for.
They exchanged names and Jof' promised to send any information to the human -Jake- that he could find. He would try to track down the orc huntress Diby again, and pray that she had something to tell him.
But before they parted ways, Jake had one last suggestion...
"Say - that does give me an idea for ya tho' - The emancipated trollettes that've managed to become great mystics and slashers and such - they might empathise with yer plight and maybe just maybe help you out."
After a few moments he came up with a couple of names.
"So there's this berserka' gal - Simmy or something- she rides with some Bloodbound Honor Gang - or such - new horde enthusiasts. Also, some Zealya mystic woman use ta' hang 'round here..."

Jof'zert wasn't quite sure what he was getting into, possibly hiring this human - who was undoubtedly a thief or brigand - but he left the tavern with a couple of names to check up on.



Part Seven
Jof'zert stuck around Ratchet. There was more traffic here. He had unsuccessfully searched Durotar and the Barrens for word of any troll witch-doctors, and if his quarry had indeed traveled all the way from foreign lands to carry out his grisly work, there was little chance that they would use a busy port like Ratchet…but at least hear the fishertroll could pick up rumours, gossip…and seek out sellswords for when the time came.

It was one hot afternoon that another troll –a female- came into the tavern. From the weapons dangling from her belt, he surmised she was a warrior. Perfect.
Approaching her he checked that she too was a Darkspear, and engaged her in conversation.

Kaidu – for that was her name – was an interesting troll. Jof'zert spoke of his sister's killing, and the two talked about the changes that had come to the tribe since their arrival on Kalimdor and the alliance with Thrall's orcs. The new ways. Jof'zert had thought that the emancipation that had been granted to the womenfolk of his race, their new equal status alongside males, would have been something they would readily and easily embrace…yet Kaidu told him such was not so.
“Ya mean da new ways? I 'aven't a'justed to dem much.”
"No?"
"But dat be da change an' all. 'ow would ya treat a womon? Like she unda ya, o' equal? Dat's wot I talkin' 'bout. Mo' an' mo' womons a' t'inking dey above mons.”
Jofzert raises his hands, palms open and defensive, "Equal. No betta, no worse."
He himself had been in his teens when they had arrived on the long sea journey from the east. It had been a time of great upheaval (not that the years before had been particularly stable nor peaceful times) and all had had to take things in their stride. Our homelands sink into the very ocean, our leader dead? The warlike orcs are our new allies? A new home in a new land? Females now equal to males? The youth had simply nodded and accepted all his elders told him.
Kaidu continued, “Den ya go' used to da new ways. Dat be a sorta new t'ing fo' us trolls... I no' used ta it.”
Jof'zert nodded slowly, clearly somewhat surprised, "An' here was me tinking de womenfolk be the first t' get used to it."
“I guess it be easya fo' some den oddas.”
He could see that she was uneasy with her new liberty. And it was then that Jof'zert saw something.
He brought up his sister's murder again, pointing out that it seemed she had been killed by one following the old ways. How he had killed Jez'lek for being a shaman…and for being a woman. If Kaidu sought security and recognition of her freedom, what better way to confirm that than by slaying one who would keep her down? One who would take away that fragile liberty?
Deep down, a part of him wondered if he was manipulating Kaidu by saying such things.
Was he obsessed with avenging Jez'lek?
But who would not be obsessed with avenging the murder of kin?

Kaidu agreed to give what aid she could, as soon as Jof'zert knew more about the killer.
For that, he needed to find Diby.

Enthrallment could not be completed before the reset and so is continuing. If any of the character mentioned above no longer exist, then please mentally replace their names with ‘a [sex][race]'.
Any who wish to get in on the storyline: feel free to do so, either In Game or via a PM to me.

[TadanoHitoshi]

Part Eight
…and he did not have to wait long.

The fish weren't biting…or rather he was too distracted to catch them.
"Hey dere boi!" came a familiar female orc voice –tinged with a dialect reminiscent of the Darkspears- from behind. Jof'zert turned to find the orc huntress striding toward him, a limp in her step, though she hid it with a friendly grin and a warm welcome.
“By deh way, meh got some news fah yah. Came across dis boi at Razor Hill lookin inta what happen ta yah sis,” she soon said.
Jof'zert 's expression suddenly became serious, his brow furrowed deeply, "An 'ere was me almost givin' up hope on youse greenskins. Whachu hearin', girl?"
“He no find nuttin yet, but good tah know dere be more den one eye lookin fah clues. As meh left em an went out tah hunt, meh got attacked by a ghost. One o dem purple or blue fel tings. Meh tinks it gat someting tah do wit yah sis but meh not sure. Me tink someone know we be lookin.”
"Ghosts? De loa?" the fishertroll's eyes widened, broad as the moon that hung in the sky overhead, and a chill breeze blew in from the sea.
“Ain't no ghoul gon stop meh. Yah gat meh word meh keep lookin fah yah.”
Searching for a living killer was proving difficult enough…but did they also have some kind of spirit ally? A demon? This was far more than Jof'zert figured he could handle.
"Chu orcs ain't all bad den,” he smiled nervously, “Mebbe just da idle asses in da city. Who was dis one...dis other pair a' eyes?"
“Name was Denk. Lil soft but he no be all dat bad. Seem like he want tah keep deh strength o deh horde tagetha. An he be one o dem smarties, so yah got brains an brawn on yah side.”
“Dis `Denk`? Where meh can find 'im?”
“Saw em at Razor Hill. Meh suppose when yah want tah find em he be passin dere or Orgrimmar. If meh see him meh will look fah yah.”

At last he had something he could do, someone he could find.
Thanking Dibykali for her information and continued support, he headed off back to Sen'jin village to pray at Jez'lek's grave.




Jof'zert was welcomed back to Sen'jin...with distraught wails. A woman sprawled in the dirt by the pool at the center of the village, her blue face streaked with tears and her hands held an amulet in a vice-like grip, her voice such a high keen that the pleading words were indiscernible.
Much of the rest of the village was gathered about the clearing, their faces a mixture of shock, sadness and anger. Some comforting the female troll, other exchanging words in hushed tones. Some hefting weapons.
Jof'zert approached Mah'chida, a weaver, his eyes fixed on the woman.
"What 'appened, mon?"
The weaver jerked his long chin toward the weeper. "'er kids gone missin'. 'pparently de lil' one, she was playing down by de shore, she send de older te get 'er....and neither be comin' back."
"Has dere been a search?"
"'course dere 'as, mon! No sign 'a dem anywhere."
The Darkspear Strand wasn't exactly the safest of locations. Kolkar centaurs prowled the land to the west and parents warned their children of the various sea creatures that slithered from the ocean on moonless nights. Yet who could doubt that the disappearances were somehow linked to Jez'lek and Gyou'sha's deaths?
"It be Hakkar! De Soulflayer!" exclaimed another troll, Guun'tar, stood near them.
"D-Don' talk crazy, mon!" admonished Mah'chida with a nervous chuckle, though the fear was clear in his voice.
"'tain't crazy!" spat back the other and stabbed at the two with a finger, making no attempt to keep his voice low, and thus attracting the attention of most who were not attending to the grief-stricken mother, "Dat be four now! Ya own sista, Joffy! Den Gyou'sha an' how Okk'an's little ones."
He then continued in a lower voice, though looking about to ensure that all were listening, "w'all best be makin' offerings ta Hakkar an' de loa, I tells ya mon."
Jof'zert shook his head, took a deep breath and ran a hand through his long red locks before replying to the superstitious Guun'tar, "what's all dis talk a' loa? Didn' de 'Spears give up alladat? Chu forgettin' so quickly?" The other put on a mock expression of surprise, gesturing toward his own chest with a skinny finger, "Oh? Me forgettin'? Me ain't forgetting nuthin', Joffy. Me ain't forgot de old ways." He then turned to point at the grieving mother, "an' me ain't the only one."
Jof'zert and Mah'chida could seek the amulet clasped in the mother's hands: an icon of Bwondamdi, guardian of the dead and, to a great many of the tribe, the patron of the Darkspears.
"Ya sayin' de Darkspears don' follow de old ways, Joffy? We don' worship de loa no more? Whattabou' 'i'm?" Guun'tar asked, not giving voice to the loa's name. There were mutters of agreement from the crowd and for the first time Jof'zert noticed the orc guards – sent from Orgrimmar – who were watching the confrontation with wary interest. At the back of his mind part of him asked how there could still be troubles what with guards from the capital present…while another part prayed that they wouldn't take news back to Orgrimmar that the Darkspears were up to their old – supposedly abandoned – tricks. Either way, he could not answer and Guun'tar went on, taking out a talisman from beneath his jerkin, "'raps de loa be angry fe de 'Spears castin' dem off. Abandonin' our roots."
Now did not seem prudent to mention that Dibykali's tale of being attacked by a spirit, it would only give the superstitious of the village more fuel for their hysteria.
"Well chu needn' worry den, Guun'. De killa –or ya angry loa- only be killin' dems who follow de new ways. Dems who embracin' dere freedom. De ways what got us allies ana new home." Jof'zert motioned toward the orc guards, hoping it would remind the others to watch what they said.
"An' whatta dem allies done fe us?" asked Guun'tar in a low hiss.
Jof'zert explained about Dibykali's help and that she had told him to seek out a scholar by the name of Denk. He suddenly found himself defending the orcs, whom he himself had doubted until so recently.
"Scholar, 'e says!? Well, while youse got ya 'ead stuck inna book wit an orc, me gonna be out patrollin' round de village, me an' me loa," and Guun'tar stormed away, brandishing his icon of Bwonsamdi in the fishertroll's face.
“Don' worry ‘bout ‘im, Joffy,” said Mah'chida, patting the other on the shoulder as Guun' strode off, “'im nothin' but shit an' ‘ot air.”
But as Jof'zert watched him leave, it brought back to mind Kaidu's words, that some had adapted to the new ways easier than others. And some had simply hidden the old beliefs under a thin veneer.

Edited to clear a chronological cock-up :roll:

[TadanoHitoshi]

Part Nine
After paying his respects at his sister's grave, the fishertroll gathered his meager possessions: his fishing gear, a change of clothes, some provisions and his axe, and set out northward along the dusty road toward Razor Hill. Before heading to Ratchet he had sold the hut that he and Jez'lek had lived in: the small building holding too many memories and besides, he doubted he would be spending much time in the village until matters had been settled. The money would come in handy if he needed to hire some warriors too.

Once he arrived at Razor Hill he began asking around for an orc by the name of `Denk`. As had become a habit ever since Diby had brought his sister's bloody corpse to Sen'jin village, he also asked - by now half-heartedly - if anyone had seen either non-Darkspear trolls or male voodoo-practitioners in the vicinity, to no avail.
After losing count of the number of head-shakes he was answered with, he headed to the shelter of the inn, buying a flask of water and sitting against the wall.

He awoke from his doze to find a shadow cast across himself.
“You've been looking for me.”
Jof'zert looked up to find a thin orc stood before him, clad in somewhat eccentric and gaudy purple and red robes, with a ragged and unkempt shock of blue-black hair. He looked young, perhaps in his mid twenties, and somewhat scrawny for an orc.
Rubbing the gumminess from his eyes, the troll rose to his feet, coming to stand a good foot taller than the orc.
“Chu Denk?”
The orc executed a graceful bow and smiled charmingly, “That is I. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
Dis ‘as gotta be the one. Looks weak, dresses strange, talks funny, just li' Diby said.
Jof'zert hooked a thumb toward his chest, “Jof'zert, brudda of Jez'lek. Darkspear,” and extended his hand to shake the orc's.
The handshake was as weak as Jof'zert had expected.
“Meh ‘earing that chu know stuff. Stuff ‘bout de killings of meh peoples. Meh sista.”
This brought a look of recognition to Denk's face.
“You would be kin of one of the trolls who was recently killed?”
Jof'zert clenched his jaw and nodded.
Denk studied the troll's face carefully before responding, “And pray tell what do you want of me?”
Jof'zert explained that Dibykali had given him the orc scribe's name, that she had said he might be able to help the troll in tracking down the killer. The two soon sat by the table in the middle of the inn and began to exchange information, Denk drawing conclusions from the various facts they knew.
It was apparent that the killer had no love for female trolls: he had cut Jez'lek's heart out.
Nor did he have any respect for females who tried to embrace their new freedom within the Horde: Jez'lek, a female shaman, had had Zufli: `Baby Witch` written on her mask in her own blood.
The second victim: the merchant Gyou'sha, had been neither female nor linked to shamanism or voodoo in any way, but perhaps what was most telling was the fact that he had been slain within the walls of Orgrimmar itself. Was the killer trying to send a message that despite the Darkspears' alliance with the orcs, it would lend no protection from him?
Then came the message that had been left with Gyou'sha: `No Vision`.
“'is eyes was cut out,” shrugged Jof'zert, “Simple.”
Denk nodded but ran a hand over the stubble on his chin, “Yes...but why?”
“e's sick,” Jof'zert tapped his temple with a fingertip, growing irritated with their discussion as it wore on, the orc obsessively going over minutiae.
“You know better than that,” the other replied patronizingly with the tone of a teacher teasing an answer out of a student.
“Voodoo,” Jof'zert said with a sigh, eliciting a nod from the other.
“Removal of the eyes, the heart, other major organs. All symbolic.”
“Dere is summit else,” Jof'zert said uneasily, his brow furrowed and he only went on after some prompting. “Dis killa, chu agree ‘e's a troll. One who be followin' de old ways. ‘Cept dere ain't anyone who does dat ‘ere. Not among de Darkspears.”
Denk nodded, “It was part of Vol'jin's deal with the warchief,” it was then the orc's turn to frown, “Then you believe the killer is not a Darkspear?”
Jof'zert shrugged, “If anotha tribe wanted to get at us, meh doubts dey'd be pickin' us off one-by-one li' dis. Dey'd be riskin' alla da Horde comin' down on dem too.”
“Then...?”
Another uncomfortable shrug, and the troll lowered his voice, “'tain't easy, givin' up a whole chunka ya culture, mon. Someadem can't, nomatta ‘ow much dey try.”
Denk nodded sympathetically as he listened.
“Meh don' tink it be anyone in Sen'jin village but...someone who ain't ‘appy wit Vol'jin's choice.”
“But Vol'jin was the choice of warchief Thrall,” Denk pointed out, “son of Sen'jin.”
The flagons on the table jumped as Jof'zert's patience wore thin and he hammered a fist on the wooden table. “Don' tell meh meh own peoples' ‘istory, orc.” He was beginning to think that Guun'tar had been right in saying talking with this orc would get him nowhere.
Denk quickly help up his hands, palms outward and open, and he spoke carefully, “I merely wanted to...to point out that vision does not necessarily always mean eyesight.”
“Wha' chu talkin' ‘bout Denk?”
“You yourself surmise that your killer disapproved of Vol'jin's choices...or those imposed upon him by Thrall. But who gave that power to Thrall?”
“Sen'jin. ‘e told de Darkspears to follow de orcs.”
“Why?” Again the irritatingly patient lecturing tone.
“'causa ‘is dying-,” and a look of realization passed over the troll's face, “-vision.”
A smug smile appeared on the orc scholar's face.
“Perhaps your killer disputes that vision. Or it's interpretation. Certainly its implications.”

[TadanoHitoshi]

Part Ten
Hefting his pack on his shoulder, Jof'zert looked over the badly scrawled letter in his hands, nodded and slipped it into the mailbox before the Ratchet tavern.

After a deep breath he nodded to himself and headed off down toward the pier and the waiting ship.

He just hoped that Diby could find some able warriors...if he was honest with himself he didn't think he could finish this on his own...

[TadanoHitoshi]

Denk stepped off the galleon and onto the pier of Ratchet, quickly passing the goblin hawkers and traders, waving off their attention and disappearing into the port town.

Not long after...
Denk watched as a familiar figure strode through the streets. An orc female, a slight limp in one leg, a patch over one eye and -as always- a red lizard loping along beside her. As she approached, the orc scribe stepped out to greet the huntress: Dibykali. The two exchanged greetings, Denk mentioning that he had met the troll Jof'zert...Diby' then relating that she was about to meet him in Booty Bay over in the Eastern Kingdoms. But first she was gathering warriors.
It was as Denk had suspected: the troll wanted revenge, and was willing to pay others to venture into the depths of Stranglethorn Vale in order to get it.
"You comin Denk?"
Denk shook his head vehemently, a look of shock on his face, "I couldn't! I- I'm no warrior, Dibykali," though he promised to aid her in finding warriors in the port town, hence the pair headed up the hill to the inn hoping to find some salty sellswords.
As luck would have it they encountered a few individuals who agreed to help...a pair of forsaken warriors by the names of Rikhard and Vyrin, whom Denk could do naught but look at with suspicion, and a female troll called Ranija. The two warriors signed up for the money (Money. You can't take it with you...but should you yourself come back from the dead: you still need it.), the troll volunteering after hearing about the attacks upon her tribe and that they sought the killer.

At the pier Dibykali and Samsonus, Vyrin, Rikhard and Ranija boarded the next ship bound for the neutral port of Booty Bay in the Eastern Kingdoms, Denk seeing them off.

"Goodluck! And farewell!" the orc scribe called as the ship cast off.
Dibykali replied, "Take good care Denk," while the undead complained about who would be paying their fare aboard the ship.
"Give my regards to Jof'zert!" Denk added and leant on his pole, smiling to himself as the ship moved off, gathering speed as the wind filled its sails and took it eastward...


Stranglethorn Vale
The air was hot and heavy with moisture, midges buzzing about the party, particularly the two walking dead. Once they had to defend themselves on the makeshift path itself as a great raging mistvale gorilla bounded from the underbush to attack them, sending Ranija diving for cover and the two undead charging to meet it.
"Great. I got blood on my armor now," Rikhard complained.
"Complain more, it'll wash off," the other forsaken replied.
Turning back to the road they noticed a figure slumped against a tree a few meters distant, as if a drunk had fallen asleep.....but none would be so foolish as to fall asleep in Stranglethorn Vale. If you weren't killed by the wildlife you could expect to be captured by the roaming troll tribes or pirates.

But as they got closer, Dibykali alone could recognise the fisherman's garb, for Jof'zert sat, propped up against the tree, his head hung low. Not moving.
"Joffy?" Diby asked tentatively.
"Bwonsamdi, revenge us!" Ranija exclaimed at the sight of the body as the orc gently tapped Jof'zert's body to no response.
Vyrin knelt before the dead troll, examining him almost casually, noticing that the word `Slave` had been carved into his forehead and that the body was still relatively warm. He hadn't been dead long.
A single word, "No," escaped Diby's lips, accompanied by a tear from her eye.
"Unfortunately, I must take my leave," Vyrin said, standing and looking about.
"Was probably one of those apes. Those things can pack a punch or two . ." Rikhard ventured while Diby looked about for clues, Ranija still cowering behind a tree in fear.
"No," said Vyrin, correcting her fellow forsaken. "It was definitely done by a person."
"How can you be so sure ?"
The word cut into the troll's forehead was pointed out to him.
Dibykali handed Vyrin some coins, her deep accent betraying all the time she had spend around the trolls, "Fah deh trip back".
"Thank you."
"Leavin' already?" Rikhard asked while Ranija frowned nervously and looked around. "Don't tell me you got scared by seein' a dead body. I mean, have you -looked- at yourself?"
This elicited a laugh from Vyrin.
"Some day you might understand, Undead. If you ever see me again."
"Fine then," he replied, making a rude gesture at Vyrin's back as she left.

But while the two forsaken had bickered, Dibykali and her pet had had the feeling that they were being watched...perhaps Ranija too, though her nerves were stretched so taught anyway.

"This is gonna be dangerous. If yah want tah go now be deh time," Diby warned them.
Rikhard let forth a sharp whistle as he examined the corpse of the troll fisherman, ""That's some grim business right there."
Ranija hesitated.
"Hey lady, as long as I get paid, I'd cut a tree with my fists," the undead warrior finally replied.
"Going back alone not bein' tha option fo me now," came Ranija's reply.
It was then that Samsonus growled in the direction of the hills to the northwest, sniffing at the air intently.
As Jofzert 's head lolled forward, blood drooling from his mouth, Rikhard held it, eyeing it for a moment. As he finished staring at it, he let out another whistle. "Man. grim business indeed." Rikhard approaches the body, pushing the head back upright atop the shoulders.
"He was a good mon. He no deserve dis," Diby added before leading them off up the trail.



Tozai was old. His back was bent, his joints protested at the very slightest movement, but his senses were sharp. One did not survive all these years in seclusion in the jungle unless one stayed sharp. While his body had steadily begun to fail him, his powers had not. And what need had he for company? There were the loa to pray to, and the spirits of his ancestors. Ancestors who had followed The Old Ways. Not that he himself referred to them as such. To him they were *The* Way. The true way of the darkspears. Of trolls. But years before he had seen his homeland sink beneath the ocean, and with it had gone the old chieftain...and *The* Way had become The Old Ways. Unwilling - incapable at his age even then - to adapt, he had taken himself into a self-imposed exile.
Damn the darkspears.
Damn Vol'jin.
And damn the orcs.

It was as if the very thought of the greenskin caused one to materialise out of the humid haze that blanketed the jungle, and Tozai peered intently through his carved and painted wooden mask at one of the very orcs he so loathed, on the pathway far below his lookout.
Curiosity getting the better of the old troll, he tottered his way forward, leaning on his feather-festooned staff, until he could get a better look at the orc and her companions: a walking corpse and, of all things, a young female troll.
Before he realised it, they were headed straight for him. Turning, he ran as fast as his arthritic limbs would carry him...making it back under an overhang before he was out of breath. But escape had been futile for one so advanced in years.

"Why did jah kill meh friend?! Tell meh now before jah become food fah mah lizard!" Dibykali shouted at the panting and wheezing troll.
Tozai looked up from his gnarled hands clutching the haft of his staff, "Whacha talkin' 'bout, orc?"
Ranija, who had half-hidden herself behind fronds, sneezed and rubbed her nose.
Tozai squinted past the orc and undead, "Dat a troll back dere, ain't it?"
Ranija didn't move a muscle and just glared at Tozai, eliciting a wicked, spite-filled laugh from him.
"Yah even tink about doin tah her what yah did tah dem oders an meh cut yeh face off!" Diby spat.
"Meh smell a 'ooman!" Tozai said in a lusty voice, watching Ranija, then looking to Dibykali and Rikhard, "Ya brought it for meh, ha?"
Ranija fought the instinct to storm off and instead stood up, 'Ya smell, ya make me sneeze,' she stated angrily.
Dibykali readied her bow, notching an arrow, "Time ta answer meh!"
Seeing the orc was serioius, Tozai staggered backward toward the edge, his voice turning serious, "Meh don' know whatcha talkin' 'bout, orc!"
The female troll snorted, unhappy with the situation. 'He be da killa, he be killed like those he slain!'
"Why would he?" put in Rikhard, the forsaken having been quiet until now, "I'm on into the Voodoo zuzu zug zug thing."
"Den tell meh...who jah be an why jah here?" Dibykali said, focusing on the old troll clad in the strangest charm-decorated garb and a wooden mask painted with a skull.
He then raised that mask enough to spit on the ground between them, "Don' come 'ere troublin' ol' Tozai, lil' orc...corpse-boi...and," he licked his old, wrinkled lips, "troll. Meh be ol' Tozai."
"You would do wise refraining from calling me corpse, troll. Or you'll see just how lively I can be," Rikhard put in, fingering the pommel of his sword eagerly.
Ranija placed her hands on her hips. 'Explain yaself! What ya know about da murders?'
The old troll put on a wholly unconvincing innocent voice, "Meh not be botherin' no one. Livin' jus' meh and de loa...now wasis 'bout killin's?"
"Someone been muderin jah people. Just found deh latest down below an it be a fresh kill."
Tozai looked over his shoulder as it started to rain, the water joining the torrent from the waterfall above, feeding the curtain of water that dropped away dozen of yards behind him. "Killin', ha? Dere be plenty killin' here, gal...dis be de *jungle*. And meh ain't no darkspear no more. What me carin' 'bout dem?"

"Oh goody. He's no Darkspear. Can I kill him now?" the forsaken was filled with glee.
"IF jah no do it...den did jah see who dun it?" Dibykali continued, sparing a grin for Rikhard "Perhaps in a moment."
Tozai leaned forward, "If 'e was a darkspear...den good riddance!" and laughed hoarsely. "Dey all slaves a' you lot," and he pointed at Dibykali. Orcs.
"My sword is itching. Can I scratch It's handle?" said the forsaken warrior.
"What do jah mean old mon?" asked Diby. Perhaps there was some doubt forming in her mind. This strangely garbed troll might have had the foulest manners...but was he capable of murdering people so violently?
"Aye, he be behavin like a menace, why ya not be darkspear anymore?" added Ranija, agitated.
"Ain't dat right, lil' one?" Tozai leered at Ranija once more, "Ya gave up being a slave ta us men...and now ya do whateva de greenskins be tellin' ya, no?"
The other crossed her arms and didn't answer the question. 'What ya be waitin for, kill da thing!'
She fumed but refused to get into a discussion of the nonsense the old troll seemed to be muttering.
"Forsaken...dis one need ta have lips loosened so meh can find answers. Can jah oblige?" Diby said, unleashing Rikhard, who immediately advanced onto the small rocky promontory Tozai was stood upon.
"'t all happen years back. Sen'jin died....and who chose 'is son ta lead us?" Tozai spoke quickly now as the intimidating figure of the walking dead moved toward him.
"Meh heard deh stories, an meh know jah be too stubborn ta accept change, even fah deh bettah," the orc huntress countered.
"Here troll," taunted the forsaken.
"Ya be mad, ya are," said Ranija and, "Tah kill jah own people be sick," Dibykali said while Rikhard steadily moved closer and closer to the old troll who now watched him with real worry in his eyes, taking careful steps backward toward the precipice.
"Come closer. I don' bite....Come on Troll...If you'll just come closer.."
Tozai finally began to speak some sense, "Meh was told all 'bout it. Onna ship...'im tell me dat ya warchief chose Sen'," he took another step backward, loose rocks tumbling over the edge.
'Who be "'im"?'
Tozai 's eyes darted from Rikhard to Diby and back, "Don' know 'is name...'e was old, even den. 'ad gold teeth...scrawny little shit, 'e was. 'gave me moneh to leave." The troll spat with disgust.
"Come on now...Be a good troll..Gotcha!"
Rikhard noticed the old troll heading towards the abyss that gaped behind him. With a sudden, swift motion, Rikhard reached out with his hand, grabbing the troll by the hand. As he did so, he pulled him towards himself, only to lose balance and fall, along with the troll.
"Shi- "
"No...!" cried Dibykali just as she had been starting to get some answers from the old one. She and Ranija dashed to the edge and peered over as the two bodies hit the water hard, disappearing into the white foam at the bottom of the waterfall.
Rikhard's platemail dragged his body down toward the bottom of the lake the river flowed into, but there was no sign of the old troll...



Durotar, Kalimdor

Denk looked at the jumble of golden teeth in his hand, all held together on a leather thong. Ever since he had buried his father he had worn his teeth about his neck. His father's legacy had been his burden. With his dying words, the old merchant Reus had told his son of his greatest regret.
Reus had been there when Thrall and the orcs had helped the Darkspears escape their home island. To escape the sea witch and her minions. He claimed to have been there when Sen'jin had told Thrall to lead his people to a new home.
It had been all Denk could do not to smirk and call the old orc a liar.
He had gone on to say the orcs had known that some of the Darkspears - some of the older ones - might oppose Thrall's plans. Not just appointing Vol'jin: Sen'jin's heir...but giving up the old ways. Reus had mentioned the name Tozai...and that he had, trying to do his part for the Horde and their brave young shaman leader, approached this Tozai after all had departed from the sinking isle.
Ever the merchant, he had bribed the old troll...only to have his money thrown back in his face.
But he had succeeded.
The next day Tozai was nowhere to be found. Had he slipped overboard in the night? None knew, and Reus - consumed with shame - had told no one of what he had done.
With his dying words, Reus had asked his son to find Tozai or his decendents and set matters right. Then he had given his son his old golden teeth, telling him to give up being a scribe for it would never get him the power that money could.
Until the end, you never did learn did you, father? Denk thought, rolling the golden teeth in the palm of his hand. These were a burden to me, as was keeping my true calling a secret from you. He opened his other hand a fraction, the amethyst glow of a soul shard radiating out from between his digits.
And so he had set a plan in motion.
He would kill off Darkspears...those worthless, foul barbarians...and make it seem like the killings were done by Tozai. Even if the old troll was already dead, what were the chances of anyone finding him? And if they did...all the better: he'd be killed and take Reus' secret with him to the grave.
Sometimes he had killed them himself: the first one, that troll shaman lady. He'd enjoyed cutting her heart out...
as he looked up he noticed he had come to about the same place in the road where he had done it. How fitting.
...and other times he'd let his demons do the killing for him, then dress the bodies himself.
Everyone would be hunting for some voodoo-practitioner that didn't exist...the trolls complaining that the orcs weren't protecting them...the orcs wary that the trolls had reverted to their own ways. He grinned to himself. All weakening Thrall's position. And why not? The warchief had chosen to ally with those hunch-backed barbarians...and prohibit warlocks like himself. Such weakness!
He chuckled to himself, but already his mind was in motion. Depending on how things went in the jungle, there was a chance that Dibykali and her hired killers would have found nothing...in which case Denk would string them along for longer...or they would kill off Tozai and return victorious...and Denk could try to frame her: an orc having assassinated a former darkspear...and possibly responsible for several other killings. Either way, it was best if he distanced himself from Durotar. Perhaps he would hide out in the forests to the north for a time.

It was then, as he looked up, that he spotted the orc huntress herself, her raptor Samsonus at her side and a large body-sized bag over her shoulder. Shaking his mind to clear it, Denk slapped the reins of his wolf and rode down toward her. But in his haste, he made a fatal mistake...

"Dibykali! You've returned!"
Dibykali looked at Denk with a mix of sadness and anger.
The orc warlock frowned, slipping back into his role as a humble scribe, "What...what happened? He is *dead* isn't he?"
Dibykali noticed the chain of gold teeth clenched in the other's hand and looked at Denk, "Jah know exactly what happened boi." She dropped the body carefully and stared at Denk.
He followed her eyes, coughing embarassedly and stuffing the necklace into a pocket, "A-a-a- keepsake. An old momento. Dibykali...my dear...what happened?"
'Keep dat "dear" stuff ta jahself...murderer! Deh troll in deh jungle...he couldn't name jah...but deh teeth..an...meh just don't know why jah would do it.'
Denk tried to ignore the fact that his whole scheme seemed to be crumbling before his eyes, "The troll in the jungle. He is dead, isn't he, Diby? You did do what was necessary, yes?" He stared at her hard, only to get a growl from her raptor in reply.
"So..nuttin tah say fah jahself?"
"If you did what needed to be done...then you have my *deepest* thanks."
"An dat bein?"
Denk looked about, seeking both mentally and physically a way out, his always-so-pleasant voice steadily hardening as the veneer wore away, "Those teeth? A keepsake from my father...the old fool. He thought that money was power. Thought he did us all a favour...you see: Years back, that old troll you just murdered, according to dear old dad..." and he explained it all to her. Reus and Tozai. Out with the old ways. Thrall's taking Vol'jin under his wing and leading the trolls to a new home.
"I`d like to thank you for doing what dad couldn't...killing off that old bastard. Oh...there's also the fact *you're* the only one who could be linked to most of the killings, no?" Denk looks about, "I don't see Jof'zert anywhere?" he asked sarcastically.
He then clicked his fingers, "Ah yes...of course! I gutted him back in the jungle, didn`t I?!" and he drew a serrated dagger from a sheath at his belt.
Dibykali glanced at the bag on the ground and back to Denk with a smirk, "Jah can tink dat...all deh way teh deh grave" and readied her bow.
"Ah, a place I so nearly sent you...but you proved resourceful...and useful. An orc killing trolls, no less. That ought to drive a wedge into the Horde. Weaken that fool Thrall." Denk tugged on the reins of his wolf a little, betraying nervousness.
Dibykali aimed steadily at Denk, still grinning "Dat be true. But dere be a huge difference between us. Jah nearly sent meh dere...an meh? Well, meh no takin chances."
The warlock sneered, his lips curling back and he beings to dismount, "Then allow me to reintroduce an old friend. I believe you've met before."
He indicated the voidwalker that materialised beside him, "This...is Maklos. Remember him?"

"Sammy! Get dat glob! Deh orc be mine!"
Maklos charged at the raptor, his shadowy claws extended...Samsonus roaring and leaping at the voidwalker, trying to slash at it while their masters looked on. Maklos gave an unearthly screech as Samsonus' talons tore into it, and it raked at the lizard in turn.
"Foolish female!" Denks said with glee as he watched, "It was demons that elevated us from barbarism! But we can be *their* masters!"
"Shut up traitor!" Diby shouted as the beasts fought on, and she fired an arrow at Denk's chest.
Denk attempted to dodge: an impossible move at such close range, and the arrow thudded solidly into his upper right chest, sending him staggering backwards while Maklos attempted to wrap it's arms round the raptor and crush it, receiving a terrible clawing in return and the lizard's jaws closed around the demon's head.
"That was for Jez'lek," said Dibykali, indicating the arrow shaft protruding from Denk's chest, his robe quickly turning dark with blood, "An this...this be for Joffy!"
Denk staggered, one hand holding his dagger, the other the shaft buried in his chest, a look of agony on his face...and he turned to run!
A wicked grin on her face, Diby let fly the arrow.
Maklos' head exploded in a gush of ectoplasm as it's master fled and it succumbed to the raptor's attacks.
"No! No...!"
#thunk!# the arrow struck home, burying itself deep in the orc warlock's back and sending him sprawling into the dirt, snapping the shaft in his chest and driving the head deeper.

Dibykali looked at her injured raptor, the smile fading as she bent down to comfort it, "Jah did good Sammy. We will be goin home soon. But first..."
Denk panted, fighting for breath, blood oozing from his wounds and running from his mouth as he rolled onto his back.
He mumbled, "N-n-no. The warchief is...is weak!"
Standing over him, the hunter pulled a dagger from her belt. Pointing it at his chest, she replied, "No...jah be deh weak one," and knelt by his side.
In a last act of defiance Denk spat blood at Dibykali, clenching his teeth, "Fool!"
She let the blood trickle down her face, then silently carved out Denk's heart, just as he had Jez'lek's.
Denk initially gritted his teeth, trying to bare the pain, but as the dagger sliced through his chest, grating against his ribs, he cried out.
The scream quickly died away as his lungs were punctured and the breath hissed from his chest in a bloody foam. He gagged and choked for breath, eyeing Dibykali pleadingly.
She finished the grisly job. As she held the heart in her hand she quietly contemplated all that had happened. Looking at Denk, she drew the blade to his head, and carved a single word on his forehead..
"HONOR"

Dibykali finally got up and tossed the heart to Samsonus, who promptly devoured it. She returned to the spot where Jof'zert's body lay and picked it up, carrying it to the village to be put to rest with his sister.



THE END......?