((Author's Note: I began writing this story back in 2008. It is a completed story, but since I have never published it here before I am editing and uploading the chapters one by one. The story begins in what would be considered "Vanilla" World of Warcraft. ))
"Sit on de rock!"
"But, Voj…"
"Sit!" Vo'jya snarled, his lips pulling back over teeth and tusks as he placed his hands on Tak'tara's shoulders and shoved him down onto the rock. The little shaman flinched, but obediently sat still, looking down into his lap, three-fingered hands twisting at the blue leather of his kilt. Vo'jya ran an aggravated hand through his dark mane of hair, able to feel the singed places that had resulted from being barraged with fireballs when Taki lost control over his fire totem. "Now… you wan' ta be explainin' ta me wha' happened?"
"I… I dun be ponderin', Voj. Dun be asp sharp like," the miserable-looking troll said meekly.
Vo'jya ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. There the boy went again blathering on in his strange way of speaking; that Shatterspear low-common dialect that made no sense even as it made sense and drove the hunter's brains into aggravated mush.
"You don' be knowin', mon, why yer spirit-forsaken totem would take ta lightin' me up?"
"I be ponderin' mah thoughts went spit-slick an' been hoppin' da wind on me, Vo'jya," Tak'tara went on, peeking up at the older troll. "I'm grinnin' low."
Vo'jya just looked back at the young shaman, speechless for a moment, and then threw up his arms. "What does dat even mean, mon?!"
Taki tried again, looking back down, hunching his shoulders even more than usual. "I'm ponderin' mah thoughts got away from me, mon."
Vo'jya hunkered down in the road so that his face was on level with Taki's. "An' what be causin' dat, bwa?" Inwardly Vo'jya flinched. 'Bwa', a word that was apparently the Shatterspear equivalent of 'boy' - already the strange little shaman's way of talking was rubbing off on him.
Taki looked cautiously into Vo'jya's eyes and felt his stomach flop around. He knew he was nothing but a nuisance to the hunter, but since Zarjaya had gone back to the village and left him all alone in the world he was currently the only one Tak'tara had. So how could he tell him that the reason his concentration had slipped and he'd lost control of the fire spirit within the totem was because he had caught a glimpse of the hunter fighting out of the corner of his eye and become enthralled. No he didn't think that would go over very well at all. "Notin' I ponder…" he said softly, dropping his eyes again.
Vo'jya sighed. "Notin'? Yer thought's be 'hoppin' da wind' ova' notin'?"
Taki swallowed and hazarded a small smile. "I be guessin' truth."
"You are da world's worst shaman, bwa," Vo'jya said slowly, coldly.
Taki flinched at the comment as if from a physical blow, hunching in on himself. Didn't he already know it? He'd never been any good at controlling the spirits. He didn't have the confidence; he didn't have the will… So how was he ever going to become a Far Seer? It wasn't fair that his father and sister would leave this to him! What did he care for the Earthen Ring? He had only wanted to get out of the village… he had never wanted this mantel to pass to him! "I be knowin' dat!" he cried, pounding his fists into his thighs. "But I be grinding' to it!" He looked up fiercely at Vo'jya, his lip curling back over one tusk just slightly.
"Don you be yellin' at –me-, mon. I dun need ta' be here! In fact I be gone, bwa. Stay away from da voodoo," the hunter snarled, turning to amble away.
Taki grabbed after him, clutching at his pants. Vo'jya halted in his tracks. "Ya' can't, Voj! I dun know da way!"
The hunter spun around and jerked free of Taki's grasp, once more crouching in front of him. Taki gasped as one of his tusks was grabbed and his head was wrenched sideways to look down the long road that wound through the trees of Ashenvale forest. Vo'jya pointed down the road with one long arm that Taki was forced to look down. "You see dat road, bwa? You gwan take dat road an you find da Outpost. But you gwan wait on dis here rock til you watch mah back get out of sight an' den some." He jerked Taki's head around to face him once more, still holding onto his tusk. "Ya followin' me, bwa?"
"I be followin', Voj, close like," Taki mumbled, his lips trembling in misery. Vo'jya was abandoning him after all.
"Good. Den let dat be da last time you be followin' me anywhere." He gave Taki an aggravated little shove back as he released his tusk and stood up. Turning his back on the young shaman he took off down the road, giving a sharp whistle to call his vulture who had once again disappeared into the foliage. The sickly thing flapped out of the trees awkwardly and landed none too gracefully on Vo'jya's broad shoulder, giving Taki a hateful look.
Taki watched his back until it was out of sight, and then hung his head, trying to keep from crying. And not knowing what else to do just stayed on the rock beside the road.
The whole way back to Splintertree Outpost Vo'jya mumbled and grumbled to himself. He hadn't been paid nearly enough to put up with the constant trouble he'd been in since taking the young troll under his wing.
"'Jus' get him to da Earthen Ring, mon,' she said. Sure, sounds easy enough. How much trouble can one whelp be innyway?," he mumbled, recalling his initial conversation with Zarjaya almost a month ago. Playing bodyguard was not his general shtick, but he'd been hard up for cash to pay off some gambling debts, and if he ever wanted to leave Zorem'gar (an effective, but intensely dull hiding place from debtors) he figured this would be as easy a way to get it as any.
Little had he known that the young Shatterspear shaman with hair the color of Durotar rock and skin as blue as the late evening sky that was deposited into his hands would cause him more trouble in less than two days than he'd had in almost half a year. If he wasn't somehow attracting every animal in the forest to attack him he was attracting the attentions of patrolling Night Elves with his senseless and constant chatter which half the time sounded like he was arguing with himself.
Every tree, every rock, every sunspot was an object of intense interest and awe to Tak'tara. And then half the time if battle ensued even the shaman's assistance turned into more trouble, because he could never keep his Loa-cursed totems under control. If Vo'jya wasn't being pelted by wayward fireballs by one totem he was getting his feet tangled in the slowing aura of another. He hated to imagine what would happen if Tak'tara actually summoned a full-bodied elemental to his aid. A lot of running and screaming came to mind. Not, he thought, that Taki was anywhere near powerful enough to pull off such a feat, but the spirits might just be perverse enough to let it happen if only to make Vo'jya's life harder.
Finally the rounded stone buildings and the red leather flags of Splintertree Outpost came into view. They were a comfort to the hunter. He didn't like the forest. It felt eerie and full of eyes. It smelled wet and alive in ways that unsettled him. Though he supposed the forest of Ferelas, close to Shadowprey village and thus much explored by Vo'jya in his younger days growing and training there, was not so very different. It, too, was closed in and damp in comparison to the arid openness of the Sartheris Strand and the rest of Desolace where he had spent most of his life since the Darkspear came to settle Kalimdor.
But Ferelas did not feel like Ashenvale felt. It had never felt intrinsically hostile, but he supposed that had to do with the Night Elves. No self-respecting troll wanted anything to do with the Kaldorei save to have them at the far end of a sharp, pointed object. It was the greedy Kaldorei who had started the decline of the great Zandali empire and caused the sundering that so weakened and separated their people. True, it may have been millennia ago, but trolls never forget.
He hoped no Kaldorei patrols stumbled upon the clumsy shaman as he made his way to the Outpost alone…
Passing through the rough hewn gates and ambling up the slight rise to the inn Vo'jya barely bothered to look around, not even acknowledging the other inhabitants with so much a nod. "Da spirits… dey be hatin' me, mon," he grumbled to his vulture as he passed through the door of the inn.
"Dat's because you a lazy, ungrateful whelp wit a gamblin' problem and no respect fo' yo elders." The sound of the familiar, slightly slurred voice made Vo'jya flinch and close his eyes.
"You here already den, Masta Jemba?" he drawled with a sigh. "Drinkin' already too by da sound of yo voice, mon."
"Don't take dat long to get from where I tracked yo useless hide to last an here. I en't been drinkin', I been smokin', mon," the voice responded followed by a soft belch. "When dat bird gonna die, mon?"
"When he good and ready!" Vo'jya snapped, turning to face the elder troll. Jemba was lying across a hammock, one wiry arm and leg dangling over the side. He had the ridiculous fishing hat Vo'jya hated so much pulled down nearly to his eyes, ears, nose and tusks all that was visible beneath the floppy brim. There was a time when Jemba had been one of the greatest hunters of the Darkspear, having earned the honor of being called a Wilderness Stalker. But that was years ago when Jemba was a young male, before he started taking students.
And by the time he had taken on Vo'jya, his last and purportedly most disappointing student, he was already considered an elder. His days of stalking the wilds long over Jemba spent most of his time tending to his 'garden' which he then harvested, dried, and smoked and lazily fishing in the village. When he wasn't out showing up in random places just to make Vo'jya's life harder.
His former master had shown up in Zorem'gar Outpost one day a week or so ago, claiming he'd heard about Vo'jya's debt problem. Though he never made it clear if he'd come to help his old pupil or to just watch him squirm. He'd been there when Zarjaya showed up with Tak'tara, and instantly taken a liking to the Shatterspear shaman. Another sign that should have warned Vo'jya that this was a doomed undertaking.
The image of the bright-haired shaman sitting dejectedly by the side of the road flashed through Vo'jya's mind and he growled, shoving it away again.
Jemba's swung his dangling leg, his dulling skin now nearing gray from age, and pushed up the brim of his hat with one gnarled finger. "Dat t'ing ent nevar been well. It been dyin' by inches since ya tamed it, mon. Whateva happened to dat Vale Screecha ya tamed when you finally grew a pair?"
Vo'jya curled his lip and pointed to his left ear which had a coin-sized, jagged hole in it about halfway up in the inner cartilage. "Did ya fo'get dat bitch put dis hole in mah ear? She stabled, mon, and dat where she gwonna stay! Besides las' time I went anywhere near Sen'jin village wit' her I got da evil eye and I almos' got jumped like I was some Hakkari zufli! Trainin' dat sky snake was da worst piece of advice you evar gave me, mon."
Jemba blinked lazily. "I been yo masta since you was tall enough to hold a bow, Voj, I t'ink I probably gave you worse advice den dat somewhere along da way."
"You mean you –was- my masta. I ent yo apprentice no moar, mon," Vo'jya said with a dismissive hand wave.
Jemba blinked, his hazy eyes almost as gray as his skin. "Where da bwa?"
Vo'jya shrugged. "On a rock."
"What'chu mean 'on a rock?'"
"I lef' him on a rock on de side of de road. No worries he be along sure enough, and I gwanna be gone by den."
Jemba sat up, fixing his student with incredulous eyes. "You lef' dat bwa on a rock in da middle of da forest, mon?!"
"It on de side of da road!" Vo'jya snapped defensively. "And don' be callin' him 'bwa', dat ent a word, mon!"
"You in charge of dat bwa! Go get 'im back!" Jemba ordered, getting to his feet.
"I will not, mon. Dat bwa not'in' but trouble. Got a mouth that run like watah, and I swear he got about as much commune wit' da spirits as dung," Vo'jya snapped, drawing himself up to full height and fixing his former master with a challenging stare.
Jemba was not impressed. He walked up to Vo'jya and poked him in the chest. "You a heartless bastard, Vo'jya. You always been moar selfish den anyone I eva' train. If it weren't fo' yo fadda I woulda neva' taken you as my student. He'd be ashamed of you, mon."
"Don' you be lecturin' me, old man," Vo'jya snarled. "I en't yo pupil no moar."
"You be my pupil to da day you die, mon, notin' eitha or us can do about dat now. And you may t'ink you got it all figured out, but one word from me and an yo name be echuta in every troll village from here to Zul'drak. Now get yo half-dead bird off da floor and go get dat damn bwa off dat rock!"
Vo'jya snarled and tore himself away, whistling to the vulture who lamely flapped into the air and back to his shoulder before he stalked back out of the inn. There was no point in arguing with Master Jemba. He was old and he had traveled far and wide and earned a lot of respect from a lot of people in his heyday. To be disowned by him as a pupil might not ruin Vo'jya completely as Jemba liked to threaten it would, but it would definitely make his life a lot harder than it already was. And as far as Vo'jya was concerned it was already plenty hard.
It was getting into late evening, the already dim forest filling up with an eerie murky gloaming when Vo'jya made it back to the spot where he'd left Tak'tara. The shaman's bright hair, skin, and garb practically shown like a beacon in the dimness of the woods. He was sitting right where he'd left him, head down staring at his lap, hands folded resignedly. As he drew closer he heard loud snuffling and Vo'jya inwardly cringed, because he knew it meant the young shaman was crying.
"I thought you was supposed to make fo' da Outpost, bwa," he said as he approached.
Taki looked up, red-orange eyes leaking tears down his face. His eyes widened and he took a deep, quivering breath as Vo'jya approached. "V-Vo'jya…" he said softly, almost plaintively.
The sight of the young troll on the rock made the hunter sigh and hook one hand around a tusk, tugging it absently. Those big, sad eyes, those quivering lips, the utterly dejected and miserable aspect of his entire being wreaked absolute havoc on Vo'jya's conscience. He knew this would happen, because he was a sucker. It was why he wanted to wash his hands of the shaman quickly and cleanly, because he knew as soon as those hands reached out for him and wrapped themselves around his legs that it was hopeless to be mad at the bwa any longer.
Taki buried his face precariously close to Vo'jya crotch and began sobbing. The hunter flinched as sharp tusks came uncomfortably close to sensitive and delicate parts of his body, yet he couldn't bring himself to shove the little shaman away.
"I'm sorry, Vo'jya!" Taki sobbed. "Please, please dun be leavin' me again, mon. I en't got no one else out here. Mah sistah left me… mah village done set me out… you all I got, Voj… you all I got…"
Vo'jya sighed and hesitantly, haltingly placed a hand on the top of Taki's head. "You be da only person I eva met dat gets more intelligible when dey cryin'."
"You all I got! Dun leave me again, Vo'jya," Taki continued to cry.
The hunter took a deep breath and sighed, closing his dark blue eyes. "Ya, mon, I en't gwanna leave you. Now you gwan stop cryin'. It en't manly, and yo tusks is makin' me uncomfortable so close tah mah manhood."
Taki sniffled once loudly and then jerked his head back. His eyes were wide and staring straight ahead where his face had moments ago been buried very close to Vo'jya crotch. A deep, bright red blush colored his blue cheeks giving them a lavender tint. After a moment he groaned and hung his head. "I… I'm grinnin' low, mon…" he whispered.
"I dun know what dat mean, bwa, but get yoself offa dat rock and le's go. Masta Jemba gwanna tan both our hides if we en't back befo' darkness falls."