Shadow Lands and Bwonsamdi's Chosen

The Troll spirit world is full of many things, and parallels the real world in many ways, it has days and nights, air and water, but that is where the similarities end. For those Will workers who can pass through the membrane separating the two world known as the Umbra, they realize just how different these two places can be. In the Spirit World Shamans, Witch Doctors and Shadow Hunters can apply multiple senses to their environment and bend it to their will with great effort. So a Shaman could feel sound and light, and bend those forces to their will.

When thinking of the Spirit world one must imagine a hub, an on-ramp if you will to various interpretations of life and death. Within the greater realm of the spirit world there are shard realms controlled and inhabited by various Loa and their followers/worshippers. These realms all stack on top of one another existing in the same space in a dizzying array of existence. Only a Willworker can see these realms, and only a willworker can sort and travel to them. This is the reason when a Troll dies funerary rites are critical, because without guidance in the Spirit world and the "real" world the spirit would become lost and wander endlessly through the umbra.

The great spirit realms are the principle domain of Shamans and ShadowHunters and both know the many paths to each realm, known collectively as "trods", they also know how to simply step into the Umbra sidestepping the usual path. However there is a darker place below each realm, a place where all must go when their life has ended, a Shadow world known only as the Deadlands. This is the realm of the powerful Troll Loa Bwonsamdi, and is the final resting place for many..many Trolls. The entrance to this place is controlled solely by Bwonsamdi's chosen, the Witch Doctors of the Darkspear Tribe. These "Doctors" carry the will of the guardian of the dead with them at all times, and can open trods that other will workers can not see.

The realm of the Deadlands is a shadowy bleak landscape that stretches out for eternity in every direction. A Cold wind blows bone dust along at a steady pace, and gathering clouds in the sky forever block out the light from the Realms above. Great oceans of black dot the landscape, sailed across by great Troll ships crewed by the dead, taking travelers wherever their journeys may lead them. At the center...if such a thing makes sense in the realm, is a great Troll City named "The Tomb". A gray stoned mass of funeral temples and homes are circled in by great tall walls made of black sandstone, in which the bones of thousands of dead are periodically seen reaching out, as if trying to escape their fate. Surrounding the city for hundreds of miles in every directions is a great graveyard, built in the center of a forbidding swamp. Shimmering lights slowly move through the graveyard as hundreds of spirits carrying small flickering candles searching the endless stones for their loved ones final resting place. When one first gazes upon the walls of The Tomb, despair robs all courage from their bodies, often sending witnesses mad, and if their guide is not careful, they may become lost forever in the graveyard outside the city, doomed to carry little candles of their own.

Those brave enough to step into the city realize that fear is quickly replaced by almost pleasant drone of drums sounding from the temples. The Tomb is a place of somber reservation and order, for this is the domain of the Guardian of the Dead Bwonsamdi. What at first seemed a grisly place of darkness, quickly is revealed for what it is, a place of honor, honoring the passing of life. Spirits in white cloth robes, ritually clean and dress a never ending stream of dead who come before them, carefully upholding the will of their master who demands that ALL dead be treated with reverence and honor no matter how they came to him. Death does not take sides, nor does it cater to politics or petty living world concerns, and Elven dead sent to this realm can be seen side by side with Trolls, being treated with funeral rites that are almost loving in their detail.

At the center of the city is a great open palace where sits the Throne of Bones, the seat of Bwonsamdi. One, however would be hard pressed to find the Loa there, for Death does not take a day off, and Bwonsamdi is a studios worker, seeing to his duties at all times. Spreading off from the great palace are two rising stairwells into the clouds above. One wreathed in green light, the other in baleful glowing purple light. Once a soul has ended it's long long journey through an endless cycle of reincarnation, it is given two choices by the Guardian of the dead. One, They may ascend to the realms above and live forever in the harmony of their chosen Loa's lands, or return to the world of the living or "Skinlands" and be born again. Two, they may climb the lonely dark path to the purple light, rising in the Skinlands as a Doctor, a servant of Bwonsamdi's will.

These Doctors, these Shades of life exist stuck between two worlds and not totally solid in either. In the Skinlands they appear as translucent shadows of a Troll, wreathed in shadow and flame, they always walk with either a burning lantern in hand, or a censer of funerary incense burning.
This mirrors in the Deadlands as they can be seen there as a shade drifting along lantern in hand to guide the dead to their rest. In the Skinlands they walk the world or settle with Tribes offering
the wisdom that comes with perhaps hundreds of lives that came before. A Witch Doctor who has settled with a Tribe will often live with, but apart from his fellow tribe mates. Choosing a place to rest that is just on the periphery of the Tribal lands is where you find a tribal Doctor, he will often chose to make a home in or nearby the Tribal gravyard. If none exists he will quickly establish one, creating a consecrated place where the Tribal dead may rest. He will be Mindful of the shadowy energies that swirl and boil within his form, and is careful not to casually touch his flock for the embrace of shadow effects different people different ways. To some it is a seductive embrace like fingers of silk drawing one in to the darkness, the mystery contained within, while to others it may seem a menacing threat as tentacles of shadowy seek to drag one down into the abyss.

Tribe members will often find their Witch Doctor, to be an eccentric, odd and occasionally frightening person to deal with. Upon establishing himself in a tribe he will instantly read the ashes of the tribe, knowing of all Tribe members dead kin and friends, how they died and if they deserve honor. If the dead are deserving of honor, at the anniversary of their death, tribe members will find a small wreath of flowers with a candle burning above it outside their front door. In warstricken lands where the dead are plenty, Doctors will spend much time in this pursuit, steadfastly refusing to undertake any action until the proper honors have been given. The tribe may rest assured that their honored dead are well looked after, to the point of violence if any seek to desecrate Tribal burial grounds. However a Doctor does not dwell entirely in the world of the dead, and is ever mindful of branch of life and where it ends and begins. Doctors will seek to preserve the life of their Tribe until the proper time of death is at hand, and will work diligently with healers, by offering salves and potions to heal the sick. They are particularly fond of children, and will want to meet each in turn and look into their eyes to see if an old soul is peering back at them. It is often said that a Doctor's gentle touch is the first and last thing a Tribe member will feel, at ease ushering a new life into the world, and hand in hand leading it to it's final rest.

It is this dual existence that confuses and arouses suspicion as Doctors dance a fine line between Darkness and light, Death and Life, caring for each with the same care. Also integral to this suspicion is that Doctors know the exact date you will die and how, simply by reading your branch of life. Each person is seen superimposed by a candle that slowly burns down above their head, signalling their time left in the Skinlands. Doctors will however steadfastly refuse to reveal this information, as doing so may alter the branch of life. Refusing to interrupt the cycle of life is a principle tenant of the faith, and one must come to accept that one day the Doctor will be there for you, to carry you to your death, and nothing gets between the will of Bwonsamdi and his charge. When the branch of life has come to an end, it is time and the same Doctor who has so kindly served you your entire life, will sit outside your home and wait for your death to come, unwilling..and actually unable to help you, simply waiting for that last breath to gasp free, snuffing the candle that hung above your head unseen your entire life at which time he will take you. His hand in yours his lantern will guide the way home.