Tip The Hand

I sat and stared at this parchment for many hours, quill perched and ready but unable to inscribe these words. It is only fitting now in darkness, in shame, in this silent place that I may record what ultimately must be recorded. I have made a bargain...Loa forgive me I have made a bargain against my soul itself. I traded my son for the life of another, and restored peace to my Tribe...at a cost I may never truly fathom. I pray that with time my mind may become dull, that with the stains of time my memories may fade, and I may forget what I have done, but as I sit in the darkness my sins return to me and weigh about my brow like a crown of iron nails whose spikes cut deep...so very deep.

"The man who holds life in hand, carries death in his pocket"
Keeper Kha'Jur'Guul

A Shadow is Born

As I put quill to parchment I find myself distracted by the influx of energy coursing through my body and realize several moons have come and gone without rest. I've begun training my adopted Nephew in the ways of the shadow Hunter and our frequent trips to the Shadowlands have re-invigorated my powers and energy. I find however my greatest source of energy is pride, pride in the achievements of my nephew and his resilience during such a trying phase of his tutelage. I was concerned for his safety when imbibing the Elixir of Shadow..however not only did he survive he came free of the experience in perfect health. My old darkened heart can't help but swell with filial affection at the boys tenacious yet reverential attitude towards the pathway of education that he has started down. It is uncommon to find such passion, drive and respect for the old ways in such a young mind and heart, but it is I the teacher who find my student waiting respectfully for the next step.

I will closely watch my student for the next few weeks as the effects of the elixir will surely play havoc on his personality as his body learns to find balance with the shadowy essence within. Already I have seen his powers of stealth greatly improved and he has even begun to learn the art of shadow warping, which as you well know is the ability to phase ones weapons out and re phase them bypassing armor and protection to achieve horrendous wounds. I find myself with a sliver of hope that the son will persist where the father had failed, and carry on his bloodlines dedication to the Shadow Hunter art. The candle burns low and my duties in the boneyard call, so I will end this entry with a favored excerpt from the Scrolls of Infinite Shadow.

"The shadow reflects not the face that gazes into it, only the darkness hidden beneath"
- Keeper Azhil'Guul.

The Candled Flickered

Dark days are where I find myself as I sit at my table quill in hand I find myself at a loss to explain the mix of emotions that course through my tired old heart. Troubled occurrences weigh heavily upon my brow and  I struggle to keep my head up in the wake of recent events. The very ink with which I scratch these words upon this ancient parchment seems a metaphor for my existence, darkened slices leaving the history of my troubled life upon weathered skin. In the span of only a few days I have spoken the word goodbye to two very important Souls in my world and I fear I have failed both in my indecision.

My adopted Son Zon ever a creature of pride and instinct believes he has shamed our Tribe with recent events, and in his shame opted to place himself in exile. So stricken with guilt was he, that he barely told anyone of his departure and I feel has made a grievous error. His Tribe cares for him and will be undoubtedly concerned with his absence but his stubborn nature is legendary and I was unable to persuade him to speak to them. What troubles me most is that he did not inform me of his decision, and were it not for my close tie to him I would have missed his passing...but I felt something was amiss and intercepted him before he left. It was I who pulled him from the darkness not so many years ago and brought his mind back to him, for years I taught him self control to maintain his hold and to keep the beast at bay and I had thought..thought that our bond of friendship meant more than this...but it seems that he struggles with his inner demons even now. I...am hurt that he did not tell me, I have ever been a sympathetic ear to his struggle, and perhaps this is precisely why he did not tell me...for fear I would talk him out of it. I have grown to love him like a Son, and as I promised his father..sealing the bond with his dying breath, I will forever watch over him. Now it seems my son has once again slipped from my fingers and I am left with an unshakable feeling I have failed him again...I could not quell the pain and grief in his heart for the murder of his mate and again when he needed me most I watched him walk off into darkness. I pray and have faith that The Baron will look over my much loved child and lead him to the peace he so greatly deserves...but in the deepest darkest places of my soul I fear one day it will be my hands who close his eyes and my hand trembles as I put these thoughts to parchment.

Sitting in my old chair I can see the flickering of the candle at my desk and see that soon the wick will be burned to the quick casting me in darkness and for the life of me I can't be bothered to light another. The following words are best put to parchment in the same darkness that caused them, for the revealing light can only cast the shadow of doubt on my actions and this I can not face. In the lingering night I can still smell her perfume hanging in the air a gentle reminder of the joy she had brought to this cold place, brought to me. For but a brief time I was allowed to bask in her fire, warmth and love and as the Loa are my witness she made me want desire again. Like a breath of fresh air filling my lungs I breathed in her thriving life and for the faintest of moments...I was alive, a shadow of hope trapped in emerald orbs that made my soul shudder when they shone upon my lowered brow. I would have killed the world, sacrificed all that is my existence just for another night spent in that embrace...but it was simply not meant to be. No matter how enrapturing how enchanting her touch was, as I read the branch of her life there was so much more to do...to accomplish and the leaves of life require warmth...the sun on her skin to grow...not the cold shadow of a dusty old Hut. Her life so robust so powerful holds so many great things yet to come...a child born of love a joy brought into the world under the morning sun, her life...her heart should be held in the light and cherished...not forever entombed in the tender cold embrace of a love that whispers in shadows. It killed a part of my soul to do it, to see the pain etched upon her face, the rejection she felt as I had to let her go...but I beg that in time she will see the wisdom of my decision. Those first steps...leaving her there standing alone, were the most difficult I can remember taking...but the further away from her light that I got...the more the numbing mercy of the enveloping shadows grew. Had I tears to weep for my loss I would bitterly etch them upon this old parchment to sign my emotions away...but as I sit here alone in the darkness...the air filled with the sulfurous scent of the candle long since extinguished..the shadows come to me as an old friend so long forgotten...offering their chilling Nepenthe.

Strange Things in the Shadow Seen

After several disconcerting forays into places I fear the tribe was never meant to tread, two of our bravest appear to have been afflicted by some kind of madness. The spirits tell me terrible things whispered in their dreams and I fear they may be driven to the very edge of sanity if I do not intervene. This precipice, this very razor edge between sanity and the abyss of madness below is one I have long walked, and as brave as they may be they are ill equipped to deal with such. Particularly the Tauren Kruega who walks with the light, the higher one places themselves morally, the more painful and intense the fall...and he will not survive this...I have seen this. This madness...I know his foul stench for I have smelled it before with the Rising of Hakkar, ancient, foul, cruel and determined it permeates their being...but this is not the will of the Baron...and I will be damned for eternity before I let any harm befall my adopted Tribe. As the gardener to the uncooperative branch, I will guide it to it's place or snap it off at the root and begin again. My determination is my strength...I am iron...and beast nor god is prepared to contend with my will in the defense of my charges.

To this end I have fashioned a Soul string...an ancient fetish used by my ancestors to capture troubling dreams and visions and funnel them to a Witch Doctor who can guide and negate such unclean apparitions. The creation is an arduous process and taxing on my resources but necessary. I will present this to Kruega soon and have him place it where he sleeps at night...and then the game begins. Let us see how well these horrors fare against the two of us when I control his dreams, this should offer some temporary solace until the root of the issue can be found and severed.

...In an unrelated note..and one that I must confess has me at a loss...I find myself reminded of my living self in a...not unpleasant way. One has dared to brave the shadows and I fear has awoken a frightening passion that I'm concerned...this brave soul is unprepared to weather. Though as I record these words the the fragrant scent of a creature that has not graced my home in...many many years hangs about me like a warming blanket on chill nights..and I find my ears turned to the moonlit night with hope...hope that the gathering storm finds soft footsteps back to my humble abode.

Memories like a Sharp Blade.

Many times the Baron's Collectors have been asked why we do not blink, why our gaze is as eternal and finite as the grave itself, and more often than not we respond with some kind of cryptic reference to our duty.
This is however a lie, one we weave to continue the concept of the unbiased ever watchful Collector, it's a deliberate misdirection spawned out of requirement, the less questions asked the less revealed and the mysteries of the grave are preserved. The truth however is far less noble, and is an uncomfortable thought for those whose faith depends on our unshakable laconic nature.

The truth is that at one point or another we were all Trolls, our hearts beat, we felt pain, love and suffering and...we remember. As I sit in this old chair it is not swords, nor fire, nor loss of limb that I fear most...it is memories. Like spirits conjured from the darkest recesses of the mind, they return to haunt me in the late hours of the night when my eyelids grow heavy and sleep clutches at my mind dragging me down to witness all that I have done, all that I have witnessed in my long, long existence. Like many of my brethren I do not close my eyes often for when I do the ghosts of my past return to haunt me...and they are as unforgiving and cruel as only memories can be. The touch of every lover left behind, every mothers tears shed for a lost child, the anguish and pain I daily encounter are entombed within my mind for all time.

Try as I might I can not think of myself as a...thing, a creature who spirits those away to their end without feeling or concern..I am...after all is said and done..a Troll, and while my flesh has faded to shadow and my heart is a darkened grotesque mockery of it's former state, I still feel...everything.

A Moment Longer

As the War Drums again beat I followed my Horde Brothers and Sisters
to the Grim lands of Tol Barad, a barren pitiful speck of rock whose
roots soak with blood. I follow there whenever possible because the place
is a prison to the souls of those who can not pass on, forever chained to
that place, so I go to ensure the fallen in each battle find their way home.

When the cries of battle and the clang of steel passes and there is no further
glory to be had the victors and the defeated trudge off to heal their wounds,
and the battlefield becomes the home of the dead. Passing through the piles
of departed...Horde and Alliance I walk chasing off wicked spirits who seek
to claim another prize and helping guide those confused souls of the recently
departed find their way to the next place. It was during such work that I happened
upon a human man, huddled on his side, next to a tree. As I paused to look at him,
clear blue eyes looked up at me frightened, pained...Baron's will...this was a child.
His face clear and fresh as that of a youth, yet dressed in the garb of a man...sent
out to die. We Trolls are known for our brutality...but sending a child to war..is
even beyond our ken.

Stopping I stared down at the human and noticed the numerous and grievous wounds
that covered his body, his life had bleed the ground red around him and he lacked
the strength to reach the blade only a short way from his fingers. I saw his lips
curl into a snarl and while I did not understand his strange language, I perceived
that he challenged me. He had courage an admirable trait, but as his eyes swept
left and right and the realization sunk in that his companions had abandoned him
to his fate, I could feel the tightness in his heart grow as fear quickly replaced
his final attempt at bravado. I turned to leave him to his fate when he suddenly
raised his hand, a gesture...imploring me not to leave. Long did I stand struggling
with my feelings, this..man..this boy had likely sent friends to their death..yet still
I could not abandon him...Death cares not for banner on a shield, it only knows it's duty.

I moved to sit with the young man and for long unspoken moments we remained, he did not
wish to die alone, a simple request from a man who faced his demise. I retrieved his weapon
and placed it in is hand...to weak to hold it I closed his fingers around the handle. As I
watched his life slowly drip from him onto the cold rocks, and his breath shortened I sat
and waited a moment longer till with a gasp his life ended. I closed his eyes and rose
from my spot offering a blessing to the Baron to see this boy on his way. Turning to walk
off I paused to look back, no songs would recount this child's bravery, no stone would bear out his
deeds, in time no one would remember that he even existed, save for his enemy who with
compassion was willing to wait just...a moment longer.

The Staircase Dark

I record this entry in shadowscript because I quite simply lack the strength to lift a quill.
I spent the better part of last evening leading two Tribemates deep into the odd place to
show them their loved ones who had passed on before. The journey made so many times proved to
be more difficult than I had anticipated as the Odd place's draw is very strong, and the deeper we went the more powerful it's fingers wrapped about them. That is the effect...once it has you, it does not want to let you go, and I spent a great deal of my energy insulating them from harm. I do believe they were aware of the dangers around them, but to their credit they followed as directed. The end result was well worth the pain I now endure and the fathers were instrumental in the success of this trek, rescuing both Tribemates when I collapsed from exhertion.

The spirits of the dead were amenable to meeting their living relative...after some prodding by me. Their concern...and rightly so was that it was a dangerous thing to bring the living to the land of the dead..they agreed only when I relayed the pain and suffering I found in the heart of their child...who was forced to bury her entire family. I must say, I am usually impassive during such meetings but the depth of emotion and joy touched my shadowed heart. I have buried my entire family and year after year I lay more to rest, so I can empathize with the grief that wells up within a person. However I saw genuine love for the first time in many, many years and my faith in the decency of the living has been renewed. I was also particularly impressed with the mate of the afflicted who was for lack of more colorful prose...willing to walk into the underworld for her beloved.

I did not mention it at the time, but I visited the burial site of the tribemate's honored dead, and blessed and consecrated it. It was my duty to do so, however in this endevour I must confess I took personal joy in such. As I sit in my chair watching the soft rain tapping on my window I wonder when my time comes, will someone lay flowers on my grave? I suppose I have many, many years to ponder that question, but for now I must rest and regain my strength...I have to prepare a ritual for another Tribemate on the next moon.

The Lantern Lights the Way

Several of the Tribe have approached me to assist in matters dealing with the odd place. I will of course not record their names here as it is a private matter. Long have I meditated on these requests searching the shadows for their requests...but no matter how deeply buried a thing is...the revealing Light of my lantern sees all. My work to thwart the Nothingness that plagues our Tribe continues and we have collected several of the items we need, the Fathers have been surprisingly helpful in this task...but their silent assistance concerns me..they know something they are not revealing.

Private note...this evening we traveled to the kingdom under the molten mountain and faced a foul creature in the form of a Dwarf. It requested single combat against one of our finest warriors, then attacked the entire Tribe. Many were wounded and nearly killed...and the Baron was highly incensed that this creature would attempt to ruin his plans for the Tribe to survive. This dwarf knows not what he has done, what terrible unspeakable horrors await him when he lays his head on his pillow for the last time. When that last breath whispers from his lips I shall be there to capture it, fingers of bone and shadow will drag him to hell where we shall have an eternity to define the very meaning of pain.

At the Gates of Forever

The light rain was a pleasant gift from the Loa to refresh the flowers I placed at the graves.  I took it as a good Omen for the evening. Most of the Tribe turned out to witness the opening of the Boneyard and I felt a great swell of pride at their reaction to my labor. Silent wide eyed expressions told me all I needed to know that my work was appreciated. Wha-yes I know you helped, I was getting to that! In any case I was pleased to see the presence of several Will Workers, for they can fully appreciate the extent that i've done to complete the sacred resting places. Our Tribal Shaman Pip was in attendance as well as her Mate Urukha who has walked far down the path of the Shaman, and a Goblin Shaman Fizcrank whose entire aura flowed with the power of the elements...our Tribe is truly blessed with such fine Shaman breasts-What!? No not breasts, spiritual powers...and will you STOP interupting me! Yes i'm aware the Orcess had them as well..Baron's touch if you interupt me again I will toss you into the lake. Getting back on track...the Tribe brought many kind offerings to Bwonsamdi..I was touched at the gesture and the Baron was very pleased, and has agreed to lend his aid to the Tribe.

The Shamaness Urukha was brought to tears at the site of the burial mounds, and my shadowed heart ached to see such a kind soul pained in loss. As the Baron is my witness I will put peace to that child's lost ones, if it means dragging them from the darkest pits of hell. The Tribes reverence and generosity towards my work will not be forgotten. Yes i'm glad you agree...oh now you wish to be helpful..how kind....oh I see you want a taste of the steak I was given...typical.

Bless the Bones

Several in the Tribe have expressed their desire for me to see after the remains of their
departed. This pleases be greatly that they would entrust this duty to me, Baron's will be
done I will set their loved ones at rest in my Boneyard. No matter their sins, their race
or the way they entered my master's domain all shall be forgiven. This task, this sacred
task carried out by hundreds of generations of Witch Doctors before me shall be upheld
for there is peace and kindness in death, the pleasure in one's duty is what I exist for
and booze..wait what!? Not booze..I asked you to be quiet while I write..how did you ever
manage to attain enlightenment...I swear it's like I live with a bunch of hormonal teenagers.
I'm serious be silent or back in the sack you go...the lot of you.

Burning Leaves

In a rare moment of peace...I gathered the fallen leaves from the Boneyard today,
and burned them near the shore of the lake. The sun was setting and the effort sapped
my strength so I sat near the shore and watched the fire rising into the sky. Small
cindered leaves, the spines of their shape a glow like luminescent bones..then fading
into nothing. The earthy smell of the leaves mixed with the flames, brings so many
memories back to me. Long I sat and enjoyed the moment, the flickering flames mirrored
on the water, the smell of burning leaves in the air...the moment was beautiful...so few
learn to see the beauty...the austere quality of the end of life, so noble so final..like
a life the leaves are born, grow and absorb the energy of the world about them, then in
the end they flicker once again and return that energy to the world...pure glowing flames
illuminate the waterline. It is no mistake that I the agent of Death were meant to witness
such things, for I can never return anything to the world in the way these leaves do, so I
sit and watch, humble before the cycle of life and death, serving it forever. The fire grows
dim, the moon takes her place in the sky and I the hand of Death sit on the shore of this lake
my relection showing the skull beneath the skin..the Skull Beneath the Skin.

The Noose Tightens

The Regent has revealed much of the cause of the sickness and I see this
was brought upon the Tribe by it's own actions. I see the hand of the grave
about the throat of many Tribe members, at first this confused me but now
I see they are infected. I straddle a great divide between my desire to assist
and my duty to let death follow it's course, I fear soon I will bring little
candles to adopted brothers and sisters. The children will remain safe
this I have seen to.

Broken Bones & Moldy Tomes

My Hut complete, graveyard nearly done and the fathers hanging
from a nice place on the wall, they can see the Lake. What? Yes
I remembered to seal the Boneyard...are you quite done can I be
the Witch Doctor now? Thank you very much...Anyway I met with the
Tribal Elders and curiously enough the Tribe is run by an Elf. I
also set out to help Pip with..what? Stop interupting me, NO
I will not comment on her breasts..no I don't care if you like them.
Baron's sake you are dead you can't even do anyth- you are dirty old
men and I will not ask her to show you them. ANYWAY I am assisting the
Tribe with a sickness that seems to have infected them. I suspect there
is more to this tale than is being told to me, I will consult the bones
and see what can be seen.

Da Voodoo Mon Come-Come Callin'

My Journey complete, I have arrived at the Tribal lands.
I find a Tribe rich with tradition, but afloat on a sea
of confusion without guidance, without a Witch Doctor.
I have come at the request of my adopted Nephew Zon'Krul.
I find a fellow will worker, the Shaman called Pip trying
to hold the Spiritual well being of the Tribe together by
herself, and I must confess I am both impressed and offended.
However...what concerned me most, was the Tribe lacked
proper burial grounds, such an offense to the Loa, to the Baron
to be ignored thus. I will rectify this immediatly, I begin work
on a Boneyard tomorrow. Quiet fathers! I am writing I will get you
out of the sack shortly...Loa those men are more demanding dead
than they ever were alive.