The sun was high on the plains as the Witch Doctor sat in his tent in rags, surrounded by dried weeds taller them him. He had finished smoking the latest batch of Faerie Dragon dust and recycled Hellbear bone powder out of a gun he looted from one of the Keen Snipers yesterday, and to him, the world was a dazzling array of rainbow haze.
"Ooooooooooh yeeaaaaaaaah!" commented the Witch Doctor as the rush of the powder kept him on a monumental high like he has not felt before. He felt as if he was floating aloft the puffiest clouds, while the endorphins in his brain flooded his bodily system. The Witch Doctor unconsciously stumbled out of his tent at the peak of his high and into the harsh sunlight, almost causing him to go blind as he tripped over the ring of rocks he made to host last night's fire. Face first he fell into the spent fireplace, scattering ashes everywhere. Witch Doctor sadly turned himself onto his back to stare at the blue sky through his hazy high for a while, before passing out and taking a nap on the fireplace with dozens of colors racing across his vision.
It just so happened, that a mischievous Dark Seer was in the surrounding foliage. He came from the southeastern swamps not far from where the Witch Doctor was; a rivaling tribe that was in eternal conflict with each other. He poked his pointy cranium out of the dried plants and noticed the passed out Witch Doctor that may have overdosed on his latest "experiment".
"Hahaha! What a fool! Let's lighten his load…" whispered the Dark Seer to himself as he snuck into the Witch Doctor's tent to look for things to steal. He saw a lot of dried tangos, a wooden fetish mask of sorts, a very shitty straw bed in the corner, a staff carved from bones and wood, and finally, the Witch Doctor's drug lab. There sat the Keen rifle, covered in a myriad of colorful specks of dusts and baggies that was used as the Witch Doctor's personal drug pipe.
"Aaah, what have we here?" thought the Dark Seer as he approached the gun. It was about as long as himself, and the craftsmanship was top notch, pardon the burnt and worn out parts from vigorous use. The Dark Seer picked up the gun, realizing it was quite heavy and ran off with it and the baggies to explore its potential back at the safety of his swamp homeland.
Several hours passed as the Witch Doctor finally came to his senses and got up to brush the soot off him. A splitting headache painful enough to drive him to suicide took hold of him as he wandered back into the tent.
"Well, everything seems to be-"
The Witch Doctor noticed the gun he scavenged from a corpse and most of his powder was stolen in the meantime. He stared on in horror; open mouth and unblinking eyes as there sat the empty space that once contained his personal drug pipe.
"WHODUNDAT?!"
He frantically searched every corner of his tent for it, but there were no signs of it. A profound terror filled his heart at the thought of him being unable to smoke his fine powders in such an efficient way ever again. But, all was not lost.
"Oh, I know who did dis."
Now with a headache and hatred in him, the Witch Doctor grabbed his staff and his trusty bone shank that was well hidden in his bed to make his way to the swamps.
The Witch Doctor walked for over an hour through the plains as he came to the wall of trees that housed the swamp the Dark Seer went off to. The area darkened from the foliage, which pleased the Witch Doctor greatly with coolness. Only but a foot into the wall of trees did the ground turn into a disease-ridden mucky soup, and then a few steps further, water that went up to the Witch Doctor's neck. He knew the dangers of the swamps, and tried to find a suitable method of transportation to get deeper into the swamps.
"Shitty wizard!" cursed the Witch Doctor in anger as he thumped his staff around the rim of the swamp to look for a way to progress. Thankfully, the gods he worshiped blessed him with a Dark Seer taking a piss on a raft ready to be shipped off. Sounds of urine mingling with swamp water could be heard further from where Witch Doctor was as he snuck up on the Dark Seer. As the Dark Seer finished his piss to turn around, the Witch Doctor pulled out his trusted bone shank and stabbed the Dark Seer in the stomach. A deflating cry came from the Dark Seer's mouth as the Witch Doctor stabbed him several more times before embedding the shank into Dark Seer and kicking him off the raft. The blood and urine quickly attracted many large fishes, prompting them to bite onto the Dark Seer's succulent flesh and tear him apart.
"Heh hah heh hah heh heh hah!" laughed the Witch Doctor as he stared emotionlessly at the mutilated Dark Seer corpse in the water. He was too primitive to feel empathy.
With the Dark Seer taken care of, the Witch Doctor used his staff and various magic powers to propel the raft forward in search of the stolen rifle. The raft gracefully glided through the evil waters for quite a while. Fearful thoughts of the raft falling apart and him falling into the murky waters greatly frightened him. As he thought of what could go wrong, he spotted a ferocious gar swimming near the surface. This disgusted the Witch Doctor as he remembered he had some poison in his possession; a brisk opening of a lid later, a thin, olive-green trickle of fluid was poured onto the fish. Several seconds later, the gar flipped over and went belly up on the surface.
"Not today!" taunted the Witch Doctor as he passed the poisoned fish. A couple minutes later, he found a very large structure in the swamp. It was about twenty-five feet high and made mostly of leaves and branches. Four poles in each corner kept it afloat from the predators below, for now. The unmistakable scent of burnt Faerie Dragon powder could be smelled in the air, far from where he was. Excited, the Witch Doctor paddled to the left of the house to see what was happening. A dock stretched about seven feet from the house as three Dark Seers were huddled around the gun. Sounds of Dark Seers high off the finest powders could be heard as the Witch Doctor got closer to the structure.
"Hmm, what next?" commented the one that stole it from the Witch Doctor.
"What if we put in these things instead?" said another as he clutched a fistful of bullets suited for the gun. One of the bullets was loaded into the gun and cocked to be fired at a small amount of pressure on the trigger. It was at that moment the Witch Doctor stepped onto the dock to take back what was his. Three dirty, aggravated faces turned to the Witch Doctor.
"You!" the other one cried out as he got on his legs and prepared to fight off the Witch Doctor. At that very moment, the Witch Doctor gazed at the sky and raised his staff overhead to chant to the many gods he worshiped,
"Abota-labashu-neba."
A translucent pink staff rose from the ground with a menacing skull orbiting around it. The skull stretched forward ever so slightly to unleash a rapid-fire assault of orbs that struck each Dark Seer on the hit with the force equivalent of a large rock. They stumbled back with every impact until big, bleeding welts formed on their heads and they fell into the water to attract more hungry fish. All the Dark Seers were vanquished, and the gun treasured by the Witch Doctor remained intact.
"Howyeah!"
To celebrate, he sat down and crossed his legs to smoke the remaining Faerie Dragon powder. But little did he know, the gun was loaded with a live cartridge. The barrel was put into the Witch Doctor's mouth and pointed up at his brain. He got a firm grip on the barrel with one hand, and placed the other one around the trigger. The trigger was pulled from a tiny amount of pressure, and the gun fired the bullet.
The Witch Doctor met a most justified end.