The Lost Ones
Snap. A branch breaking through the jungles. Ja'bundi sat alone in the hollow of his tree, breaking limb after limb of fallen trees. The early morning was dim, the sun shrouded by the canopy above and a nearly impenetrable fog.
Snap. Another limb. Another, sickening limb. How many times has he heard the shatter of bones, thr tearing of flesh? He couldn't remember, it was far too often. The worst part... It wasn't even his doing most if the time. The already scowling expression of the troll grew into a snarl, just like Ja'nari.
Snap. He spoke to some older troll the other day, a somewhat foolish mage, but he brought up memories. Family was one of them. The comparison of Ja'bundi's own life to a dear friend's. She was hurting before, he knew that already, but it went deeper. Snap. Then he brought up siblings. Fuck him for that. The past few nights he had to go without sleep, even with his eyes open he saw her! Ja'nari... Cut down for nothing. Snap.
Now, in that quiet hollow, he heard whispers. The troll's ears pinned low, none were in zandali or orcish, but they were all familiar. The shriek of gnomes, prayers in darnassian, a dwarven battlecry. Fuck them. Fuck them all. It wasn't his fault they died, he was just there... Protecting what family he had left.
The whispers continued around him, molding into distant shapes in the fog. Cowards. Ja'bundi stood to inspect the work he'd done. A effigy made of massed sticks and twin laid before him. It was no larger than four and a half feet, lean and small. At its head was a weathered skull, one of a troll. The troll stalked to the sides of the idol, lighting bundles of fragrant herbs and incenses. He knelt at the head of the idol, drawing his broken spearhead high. The whispered words grew into shouts, screams of protest. He didn't care, it was their fears, not his. "Bwonsamdi... I wanna make a deal."
