#taskboard

It wasn't out of the ordinary that Tol couldn't sleep. What was out of the ordinary was that instead of just laying awake under the stars, waiting for sleep to take him, he started to wander. And ended up where they had been at a ritual just the other day. The strange man had found himself needing to leave before he could really ask the questions he had for the strange shadow. Once again he was struck by the weird broken-whisper he could hear every so often, no shadows whispering words of doom and death in his ears. He paused at the base of the stairs, holding his raptor tightly in one hand and taking a glance behind him before ascending to the circle where they'd stood before. Sleepless nights, the island of Zul'Bahati used to be known as Zul'rokh, Island of the Great Apocalypse. Why? It was deemed that way due to a vision on the very /first/ day arriving here. Bad visions, an eagle soaring over the island, only to be struck down blind by a wave of shadow, but that was long gone now. Nothing is here anymore. Nothing that would harm him here. But it was definitely anything but chance that brought him here, the stars were quite beautiful within the Grove of Ghost Willows, the name may turn people away (and the mosquitos) but it was truly a place to take in the island. The island had a few good hours of rain over the last two nights, the veve on the ground was washed clean of any mixture of chalk or blood. The arches between the pillars glowed with a thin shimmer, like beautiful webs yet to form a picture within the moonlight that has yet to shine at a certain point in the sky. The doomcaller stood for a moment near the circle, wondering if he would be able to call the entity foreward just by himself. Last time everyone had been here - but Taz'ju had mentioned talking to it also, over by the white trees. Turning he peered down at them for a moment, wondering...But he turned back soon, deciding to just do what had been done last time - at least, what he REMEMBERED had been done. Giving his raptor one last squeeze he set it down carefully along the edge, taking a step back and staring into the circle. "Are you there? Um. Shadow troll...I don't remember your name," He said, voice sounding rather small among all this open space. Already he found himself winding a hand into his hair - what if the entity was offended at his forgetfulness?

He had remembered the offering, a way to bring him forward, but there was no veve- And there was no blood. Whatever else he may recall, he may also notice that he asked for a better offering. All of things did occur, but rattling down and through it all, Tol'chakatl did the right thing. As he placed the raptor down onto the stone, opposite of where he was last time, as he was winding his hand into his hair - He would notice the raptor plushie moved a little bit across the stone. In the silence of the night, this was easily heard, a short burst of movement, about just an inch towards the center. If he placed an eye on it, or a few moments without him doing so, it would then seemingly be thrown into the center of the Temple of the Five Pillars. A certain quietness came about, a chill followed through the ruins, and it snuck up Tol'chakatl's neck. A tap on his left shoulder, as if something behind him was asking him to turn around.

Tol stood for a few moments in silence - oh, he must have forgotten something, Zin drew on the stones beforehand, maybe he'd need to do that too? As he was wracking his brain to try and remember the veve placed he heard the scratch of his raptor moving. Ears flicking forward he looked down at it, even bending slightly to look closer. Had he imagined? But then it was thrown, and he jumped, startled, a hand reaching after it - but he squeezed it into a fist and let it drop. 'It will be okay,' he thought to himself, slowly turning to face the direction he had felt the tap come from.

As Tol'chakatl had turned around, he would be greeted with --- Nothing. Literally nothing -- But there was a very audible drumming of boney fingers against one another behind him once more. And so, when if he would turn around, what he would be greeted with was the sudden disappearing of the stars above, the air about him was stagnant and there was no breeze, and the only beat he would feel was the automated drum of his heart. "Tsk, tsk, tsk..." He was greeted with, Zuljaraal present and ethereal in a shadow veil, soon all around him shadows would begin to close in and shut out all light. It was as if he was standing in the center of a storm made of billowing soot and ash. All that was still visible was the circle around him, but the endless storm of shadow would encompass the entirety of anything beyond the most outer perimeter of the temple. This shadowy entity comprised of the same material of what was surrounding him, and he was no taller than he was. However, he sat upon a throne constructed of many things - That of death, bone and sinew, three masks binded together - That of light, with golden pieces of metal that seems as if it was forced apart, and crystals of pure golden amber - That of the elements, with all four turned into the very frame of what he sat upon. Zuljaraal pulled up his hand, ethereal and it was easy to see he couldn't possibly hold any physical form, right? However, as he did so, the raptor plushy of Tol'chakatl would be seen being carefully held upon his palm in extension to Tol'chakatl. "I am Zuljaraal, Keeper of Killers and Smith of Sleep, Little One." He'd say to him, and then lower the plushy onto his lap, where it would seem to almost float. "What do you want from this sleepless shadow?" He'd inquire, his face tilted up to him - But he would note something different than the others have before, and it was that he did have a face beneath all of that shadow - But to him, it was seen, to others it was never seen. And so, if he would recognize this with shock or pause, he may react.

Tol was quite confused at first, taking a moment to register the new sound behind him. He'd turn again, of course, ears drooping a little bit in anxiety as the air around him became dark and clouded with shadow. A moment of staring would be had as he took in the sight of the shadow-form on the throne of many things, simultaneously relieved that he'd managed it and worried about what might come. "Hello," he said, voice even smaller than before. "Zuljaraal. I'm sorry I forgot your name," he added in an even more shy tone, very intent to cause no offense. The shadows spoke to him often, but it was rare he was able to speak back. If this was even the same type as the ones who showed him the bad ends. Momentarily he was distracted by the sight of a face under the swirling shadow, and he tilted his head, almost seeming to relax only slightly at this revelation. An odd reaction, maybe, but Tol was really anything but ordinary.

Zuljaraal would be sat upon this throne, the face beneath being seen for a moment, and he would know he saw it. "Oh.. Interesting." He'd tilt his head back to sit up straight against the throne. The face he saw prior was obviously Zandalari, but much much older, the features were considered archaic by their modern Zandalari appearances. As he leaned back the face he held would be seen melding into the shadow again until it was no longer seen. The only thing of note he would see before this was that its eyes were a pure white as opposed to the common blue of what many of them hold. "No, no, Little One, we have not been appropriately introduced!" He'd say, laughing to himself a low rumbling laugh - It did not sound natural or from a body of flesh and bone - Then he'd hold up the raptor plushy, toying with the flower crown, the rock, and the mask. "This is a powerful relic, do you know that?" He'd ask, now standing up from his throne. The throne would begin to meld with the shadow and almost seem to melt into the stone. As he walked, he could hear the sound of fleshy footsteps walking against the stone. Each step sounded heavy, and it almost felt as if it carried weight with it. "Tell me who you are, Little One." He'd say, standing within five feet of him, now holding out the plushy to him.

Tol'chakatl took note of this, feeling somewhere deep inside that he had just seen something special - or at least rare. He blinked tearing his gaze from the face as it disappeared back into the shadows. "Powerful?" He replied, brow furrowing just a little bit. He wondered why - it was just a keepsake. Perhaps the mask that Nar'zuul had given him to hold onto until his return held something? But he didn't inquire beyond that. Slowly he reached out, taking the raptor plush in hand, waiting for a moment before slowly holding it close to himself once again. "I'm Tol'chakatl. You can just call me Tol," he added - his usual introduction. His voice had gained a little strength - he still sounded rather shy, but no longer quite as soft as the first time he spoke. "I'm. Nobody special, really."

Zuljaraal stood at the /exact/ same height that Tol'chakatl stood at. "Powerful." He'd repeat, then extend it out to him to take. There was a sense of calmness, like as long as he stood here, nothing can harm him from the outside. A safety within the center of the storm, as no one may dare cross it. No one like him. He could sense a pair of unflinching eyes beneath the dark pits of shadow upon where eyes should be upon a regular person of their humanoid troll shape. "You are Tol the Sleepless One." He'd voice. "I am Zuljaraal, Smith of Sleep." He'd claim. "And you are someone - Maybe not someone special now, but you were once." A low voice came about him, the last part rang out like a hissing fog.

Tol watched the shadow with his bigger-than-average eyes, squeezing his raptor to his chest. Powerful...the next statement drew him from his thoughts once again, and his brow furrowed once more. "I...no, I was never anyone special. I'm just me." Tol's past was shrouded to him, a mess of broken memories and snatches of scenes he saw some days at night. "I'm just me," He said again, his hand subconsciously going to the fabric he wrapped around his chest. The broken, scratched golden tattoos he covered though he didn't quite know why, other than that they were ugly and the people on the streets of the Zocalo would oftentimes look at them with pure disgust or shift their gazes away quickly out of pity. He hated those gazes.

Zuljaraal would stand before him and he would be looking into his eyes. He would see the slow breaking of light as the dark pits of shadow would begin to break forth with beaming white eyes that seemed like intense fog lights within the dark around them. And that it was. Pure, perfect darkness. Afterwards, he would see nothing before him - But there was no drowning, nothing - Until he sensed the ground beneath him give away, and he fell.. Fell.. Fell... The feeling of air brushing past his hair, into his eyes, and the sense of the absolute freedom. Then, suddenly, there would be a sound of a body hitting the ground, and the sensation of his heart bouncing up into his throat and then down into his chest. Beating at a pace no drummer can meet. "You were something special, Tol'chakatl. You dream of it every night, do you not?" He'd inquire, whether true or not. "It is why you are afraid of the dream - Not the shadows, the shadows bend to my will. You are something else. Someone who knows the shadow around him more than the light within." He'd claim, all around him, but soon he would appear in front of him again. Tol was thrown off balance by the sudden blackness, the feeling of falling - he buried his face in the raptor, squeezing his eyes closed. But still he listened to every word Zuljaraal said. The sound of a body hitting the ground was unmistakable and sent a jolt of fear through him - it was familiar, familiar in a terrible way. He looked up, visibly tearing. "I don't know. I don't...remember. My dreams show me lots of things," He murmured, trying to fight the inevitable waterworks. "I see the end. I see my end, I see...I see things I don't understand. Just...pieces. It scares me," He had grown quiet again, shoulders shrinking forward and hair falling into his face. "The light is blinding. The shadows...they're scary. But all they do is talk. It doesn't hurt as bad as looking..." He shook his head, falling silent for a moment. "Inside."

Zuljaraal appeared before him, taking a deep breath, the billow of shadow sent forth and they'd seem to collect at his feet. It was warm, like a pillow of cooling ash from a distant fire, but it was as it was. After, he'd extend his other hand forward, and a shadowy form would walk forth from the twisting walls around them. Moving towards where both stood, exactly like Tol'chakatl, but it was seen differently. Taller and prouder, then a reaction was being gauged. After, a sound of snapping fingers came - And the shadowy figure melted into the ground. Zuljaraal then extending a hand to one of his, making sure he doesn't drop the raptor, then turned it up to the sky - So he may look up into the eye of the shadowy storm. "Where there is shadow there is light. Where there is light there is shadow." He'd claim. After, the light above would be coveted by a cloud of ash and soot, that which began to fall upon them like a bastardous snow. However, it fell through Zuljaraal, and when met upon Tol'chakatl he would see it stick upon his skin. "You don't remember, Little Bright One. I know that too." He'd claim. "You don't see an end," He paused, then turned his back towards him. His hand moving towards the shadowy veil, and he would pull it aside. "I can help you remember, Tol'chakatl, or forget them... But I only ask one thing." He'd say to him softly, but there was always the voice of something there that was never going to be of this world.

The seer recoiled a little at the sight of the shadow - he felt its familarity, and he didn't like it. He gazed upwards as gently directed, staring into the eye of the storm. He was silent once again, listening, thinking - trying desperately to understand. Turning his gaze back to Zuljaraal he looked past the shadowy being to the veil pulled aside, his ears drooping. Silence pervaded for many moments. "I... don't want to remember," he said quietly. "It... things would be different if I did. I don't...I don't want things to be different. I finally found people who like me, just like this. I want to keep being just like this." He rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, clearing them if only just for the moment. "But... what is it? That you want me to do?" he asked in return.

Zuljaraal waited for him to ask that very same expected question: "What do you want me to do?" is what he waited for. So, once he heard it, he would pull take a deep breath and exhale towards the veil that was slowly parting. Before it was seen the place between everything he knew. The island had a veil, a place between the shadowlands and where the others would be found. Currently, they stood in that place between - And when the veil touched the water of the sea, it would stop - The stars ahead and Tol'chakatl would shine upon them. The moon casted its white light towards them. The moonlight shredding away at the ethereal shadow that is Zuljaraal, revealing what was beneath, a tall handsome man, with the appearance akin to that of a Zandalari of darker skin, like if it was stained with the very shadow it lived in. Eyes were as white as ash, and they let off a light as bright as day. There was a cryptic, ominious feeling about him, his hands behind his back and his eyes towards the moon. He wore regalia akin to that of an old, old Priest of ancient times. A Priest to the Loa of Death himself. "Tend.. To my grove. The Witch Doctor is good at doing so, but you live in shadow now, my son." He'd say with a soft tone. His voice as natural as any other voice can be. His hair was as white as ash too, and it fell to his lower back. Old would be difficult to say, as it looks as if he was no older than Tol'chakatl. Now, finally, turning to look at Tol'chakatl, letting him take in the sight of the moon breaking into the veil or on himself, his true form, he would smile brightly at him. A warm chuckle from his chest. "Be as who you are, but do not fear the shadows. Not mine, at least." He'd claim, then extend a hand out to him. "Do we have a deal, Bright One?" He asked, a thin almost boney hand extended to him now.

Tol squinted a little as the veil was pulled back, watching - and as Zuljaraal's form was revealed he could not hide the surprise blooming in his expression, enough so that even the tears clinging still to his eyelashes stopped threatening to spill over any minute. The ominious feeling was not lost on Tol, but somehow with the revelation came a sense of something akin to security. He stared for a few moments after the man was finished speaking - then remembered his manners and flushed a little up in the cheeks, averting his gaze to the side. "I can do that," He said with a small little smile, the apprehension on his face fading as he accepted the hand in his own. "I'll make sure the trees are okay. And that nothing bad comes in."

Zuljaraal took his hand in turn, and Tol'chakatl would feel a supposedly real and fleshy hand. A beat of a heart was felt. When he pulled his hand away, Tol'chakatl would see a mark of a circle of eyes. It would however fade into his skin after a few moments. "This Grove used to be my home, I was able to see valleys of green, all sorts of things. This used to be a mountaintop, you know." He'd say, then laugh to himself. "Tend to them well, as I know you will." He would say, then within an instant, the shadowy veil would pull away. Just leaving Tol'chakatl with himself, beneath the night sky, and the chill breeze of the sea.