This story was origionally posted in AFF but I hope to get a little more response from you readers. AFF readers are a bit picky. I am not a literary genious and as such my writing is mediocre at best. I wrote this at 2 am one night and you may find me odd. Please read and review, thanks! I don't own it and the history is from what I read at .
The Amani Warlord shifted in his chair impatiently. Since the re-connection of ties of the troll tribes, The Amani trolls hesitantly opened their gates to their cousins. For a time the peace between tribes had been tenuous at best. As ruffled feathers settled, The tribes began to more openly associate with each other and the horde. Zul'jin had been extremely apprehensive to form a neutrality with the Horde. He had been betrayed by the first orcish Horde War chief, Orgrim Doomhammer. Abandoning the Trolls in the second war, resulting in his capture and subsequent torture by the High Elves.
The blood thirsty horde fell, the orcs becoming slaves. When his own captors were attacked by a second troll war-band, Zul'jin seized the opportunity to escape by cutting ff his own left arm. Many had thought he had 'disappeared'. He simply went into hiding and rebuilt the Amani empire. The trolls had become savage and vicious in their ways. Zul'jin had promptly dissolved and alliance and association with the Horde. The slaughtered any who dared enter their territory. Seeking vengeance for the betrayal.
Two years ago, A Darkspear troll freed the warlord from the grip of the Burning Legion. He discovered that in his blind fury he allowed his 'trusted' advisor to trap the Animal Spirit Loa in his strongest warriors. That was when he had been captured again, only in mind, by the demon empowered Malacrass. Forcing the warlord to acting on the hex lord's whims. Zul'jin admitted his blindness and accepted the aid of his Darkspear cousins to kill Malacrass and return the loa to their lands. The trolls made peace with one another and worked tirelessly to keep that peace.
The Highmaster of the Darkspear, Vol'jin, had been adamant on having their histories recorded and hired a Darkspear troll to record said history. Zul'jin now watched over the troll as she read the manuscripts of the Amani history that any had thought important enough to record in script. She had a hard time translating the ancient language. Though Chan'da was fairly fluent in speaking it, she frequently asked the old priest attending her to translate a word or phrase she could not understand. She constantly wrote in a small notebook, ans asked many questions. As the day came to a close, she excused herself politely and gathered her papers. She thanked the priest and turned to the warlord. A faint flush filled her cheeks as she met his one copper eye.
"Mastah Zul'jin, may I ask ya some thin'?" The warlord remained stoic, what little of his face that showed over the top of the violet cowl betrayed no expression. She fidgeted and and chewed her lower lip. She looked like she regretted asking the volatile troll for even asking permission to ask a question. Zul'jin leaned forward toward the smaller Darkspear, resting his remaining arm on his knee. She visibly flinched when he moved suddenly.
Humor in his deep voice, he said, "Ask away, leetle historian." He watched her take a deep staying breath.
"Mastah, I would like to ask ya abou'cha history. Abou' wha' happened in da Second War an' wha' followed ya captcha'..." She trailed, hesitating on the rest of what she wanted to ask. Her plump lip disappeared again.
"An'?" he aided.
"An' I would like ta get a record of ya injuries... Possibly see them mahself." The warlord straightened suddenly. No one has ever wanted to see his scars, nor had he willingly shown any of them either. She jumped and moved away, fearing that the troll might possibly hurt her for being so brazen. The Warlord stood and and approached her, standing at his full height. His body, unlike the darkspear, held much more muscle mass, making his appearance formidable. The troll cowered under his domineering presence.
"I will tell ya mah story. An' show ya wha' da elves have done ta me. I hope ya have a strong stomach troll. Because da tale be a gory one. If yah excuse meh I am goin' ta dinnah." With that, he left her standing alone with the amani guards in the throne room.
When Zul'jin finished his dinner, he returned to his private room. He had requested of one of the servant to prebare a bath for him after he finished his meal. The steam from the hot water filled the room in a warming haze. Breathing the comforting heat, he unfastened the cinched leather girdle about his narrow waist. The troll peeled off the layers of clothes and set them on the bed.
He picked up the towel that rested on his bed and moved to the ajar bathroom door. Suddenly he had a sense of something amiss. The hairs on his nape stood. He spotted a strange article of clothing on the bathroom floor. He realized it was a silk bathrobe of a female. He swiveled his head towards the wooden tub. There staring back at him with wide eyes was the historian.
"Mastah Zul'jin!" she stammered, her arms instinctively wrapping around her chest. Even if it was below the heated water. Zul'jin however, stood half naked before her violet eyes, with only the cowl about his head shoulders. Her face heated when she realized his undressed state. She averted her gaze to the wall.
"Wha' are ya doin' in mah bathroom?" he growled instinctively protective of his own territory. She appeared speechless. He asked again, more dangerous then before, "wha' are ya doin' in mah bathroom? Answer me Darkspear."
"Ya-ya bathroom?" She gulped visibly as fear trickled down her spine. Zul'jin was reputed to be visciously possessive of his own space, and punished harshly for those that tresspassed. "I asked da servan' girl if i could take a bath and she led meh here. I did'na realize dat dis is ya private bathroom."
He growled. "Ya be lucky, leetle 'un," he hissed. "If it was no' for da treaty... Ya would be dead." She inhaled sharply at his veiled threat. He stared hard at her. Zul'jin opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.
She took the chance to say, "I am so sorreh Mastah Zul'jin. I will leave immediately." Chan'da stood in the tub, baring her aqua blue skin. Zul'jin hesitated, then stepped forward. Cursing, he thought back to her earlier request.
"Stay... Ya wanted ta see mah scars anyhow." She looked up at him, not noticing his proximity until she looked into his remaining eye. The heat there scorched her insides sending thrills down her spine. He did not move, just stood staring into her eyes. She apprehend when her hands moved from their position about her chest. Her hands reached up cautiously to brush the violet fabric around his face. He stiffened but did not halt her progress.
Hesitating, she gently tugged the heavily woven fabric, pulling the end free from the folds. As the fabric slackened, the scars that peeked above the cloth over his aged cheeks grew. Her heart pounded in her chest. Nervousness and excitement warred in her belly. She knew that the old troll never let anyone as close as she was now. She closed her eyes and pulled the rest of the fabric free, letting it fall to the floor outside the tub.
She reached up with questing fingers until they brushed against his bristly jaw. She could feel the muscles there work. He must be really uncomfortable. Chan'da flattened her palms on either side of his jaw. Feeling out the tense muscles to his chin. Moving upwards, ridges and puffy scar tissue blossomed, thickening the closer she got to his lips. The fingertip of her right hand brushed something hard and jagged and splintered. Blindly she felt out the remnants of what had once been a thick and strong tusk. It only reached about an inch from his lips. Her other hand felt for the second tusk, it's mate. all she found was ridgy and unevenly scarred lips. Those lips parted, a hand closing over hers and guided her fingers to the jagged remains of the other tusk from beneath his lip.
She sucked in a breath at such brutal evidence of torture. His hand stayed over hers, his grip firm. He was still uncomfortable and the trust she held was fragile. She would not break it. Slowly she opened her eyes. They widened slightly but she controlled her reaction. She studied the scars that bracketed where his tusks should be. It was as if they ad taken a jagged blade and haphazardly hacked off his tusks. her mind reeled at the sudden gruesome imagery that played. She weakened, collapsing into his muscled chest. He steadied her, looking down into the violet eyes. They were the same shade as his cowl. They glistened as the tears gathered.
Her fingers traced the rough edge of his lips. His body tensed and burned at the feel of her nude skin against his. Fire stirred in his groin. She was not afraid of his scars, nor sickened by them. His arm tightened her against his chest. he watched a flush creep across her cheeks. The plump lower lip was sucked between her teeth. He wished it was between his teeth that it had been sucked through. His body followed his thoughts and he lowered his head. He could feel the puff of her rapid breaths over his face.
She gasped when those scarred lips brushed hers. He took the lip he had admired and did just as he had wanted. He sucked it between his lips and nibbled on the plush skin. He could taste the remnants of her evening tea. Chan'da shocked him by slithering her tongue out to slide against his upper lip. He released her lip and closed his mouth over hers. Their tongues danced in time to the ancient tune of passion. Zul'jin growled when her fingers knotted in the white hair at his temples.
The warlord tightened his hold and pulled her from the tub. He forced her into the wall, and molded his body to hers. A mewl sounded when his hard cock pressed into her abdomen. The troll curled his hand around her bottom and with little struggle, successfully lifted her up to fit against him more comfortably. Her muscled thighs knotted about his waist, her mons lubricating the thick head for entry.
he had not felt so alive in years. Not since before his torture. Now, females quailed at the sight of his face. Not wanting to get close. But this Darkspear troll, this historian didn't hesitate to touch and see beyond the scars. His arousal burned his veins. A Darkspear troll has gotten closer than any other and he wanted her there. He wanted her... and now he had her. He shifted her weight in his arm and pushed the head of his cock into her tight quim. She moaned and gushed over him, more turned on that she had ever been in her life. The turgid length slid in inch by inch and a slow and torturous pace. Her back arched when he hit the cervix.
She rose her hips to every thrust, meeting him halfway. Zul'jin groaned when her slick heat tightened. He felt the possessive need to pound into her and claim her. This historian that nosed her way into his home. His lips attacked her neck, nibbling and licking to her shoulder. She screamed when he ground his hips against her, forcing her climax. The muscles in her pussy clenched and released around him. He fought the urge to come. Her body quivered in his embrace.
Zul'jin growled and ceased his movements. Chan'da gave him a questioning look. He released her and stepped away. Bracing against the wall for support Chan'da began to ask
his intentions when he suddenly grabbed her arm and drug her to his bed. He crawled over her when she climbed up on her back. Happily she guided him home while he supported his weight on his arm. The warlord began a slow and rolling pace, occasionally adding a slight grind against her.
She clung to his sweat covered skin and he pushed her the edge once more. his lips suckled her breasts tasting each one in turn. Her moans filled his ears. He dropped to his elbow and slipped her violet hair through his fingers. Teasingly he drew out her subsequent climax, his name slipping from her lush lips. It inly fueled his desire. His hips shifted and pounded into her, the need to come overbearing. The intensity of his orgasm shook him to the core. Zul'jin rumbled an oath in Amani, his seed filling her.
Their hearts raced in their chests like horses in a derby. Ever so slowly he slid down over her, his tongue tasting her neck once more. Her chest rose and fell in deep gasping breaths. Chan'da threaded her fingers through his white hair, combing out its length absently. A sigh escaped his lips and he rolled back onto the bed of furs. She watched him in silence as he closed his good eye, the other never opened. She slid closer to the older troll and rested her head on his shoulder. He only tensed for a moment before pulling her body close. Chan'da draped her leg over his right thigh and traced the scars on his chest.
"Why?" he suddenly asked.
"Why wha' Mastah?"
"Mah name be Zul'jin... Why did ya do dat? Why did ya bully ya way inta mah life ta seek out da Amani past? Why don'cha run like da othas when dey see mah scars?"
"I am fascinated by da troll history. 'We learn from da mistakes of our past' dats wha' mah Mama used ta say." He grunted. It was sound advice. "As for you..." He waited patiently as she thought her answer through, "I don' see ya scars. I see a troll dat has been abused an' neglected. A proud troll dat grew from 'is experiences and survived."
He was humbled by her description of him. Not once did she mention his savagery. He was almost elated that she saw past the damage that had been wrought upon him. He said not another word. But the tightening of his grip spoke thousands. He listened as her breathing deepened as she drifted asleep. He followed her shortly but not before speaking a silent prayer of thanks to a troll that had pushed this upon him. He was in Vol'jin's debt.
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A/N: Alright. I know it short, i may come back again to do more editing and possibly lengthen it some more. Yes I know I am weird for writing a story about Zul'jin. But what can I say. I'm addicted to the bad boys. I am actually hand writing another one that will be a bit longer than this. Takes place at the end of the second war, during and post torture for Zul'jin. It will be a lot darker too. Anyhoo, thanks for reading...
for a look at the Warlord go to:
.com/Image:Zuljin_
And for an idea of what Chan'da will look like, (I haven't drawn her yet!) But makhani (another female troll of mine) is close. Just replace the white hair with violet and no Mohawk:
.com/art/Kor-alli-and-Makhani-101500062
Its just a photograph of the original drawing so the quality is not good. I haven't been able to use a scanner. Also you have to be a member of deviant art to view it as it has adult content, (duh!) but its free to join! Thanks again!