Sen'jin

"The vultures have already set in..." Sen'jin's old mentor rasped. The old orc warlock hobbled along on his cane as the young troll in a similar though loa styled garb walked with him.
"Ya, an' I be one of them." Sen'jin said. Despite his young age, Sen'jin was quite tall for a troll. He personally thought that his size and muscle came from his mother's Zandalari side but he kept that to himself. Master and apprentice, plus a annoying imp, approached the Siame-Quashi honour guard. The Shadow Hunters immediately moved aside before either the old orc or the young troll could ask them to move. After all, why would they stop the Warchief's advisor and his son from seeing their Warchief?

The old orc's imp was perched on his shoulder and surprisingly kept his mouth shut for the past few days. Ever since he first started out as an apprentice to the warlock a few years ago, the little imp was always there to verbally abuse the youngling. Sen'jin had his own companion in the form of a Felhound, but he only summoned him when needed. He picked the Felhound because it wouldn't talk back at him like the Imp would. Once he send his hound after the laughing creature who effortlessly threw the hound back into the Twisting Nether. He was deceptively strong, his master's eternal pain.
"Finally, da imp be keeping its fat mouth shut." Sen'jin exclaimed a hour ago in order to provoke it, but it kept silent.
Drak'thul muttered as he squeezed his old staff." That rarely bodes well my young friend…think of him as a fish stall. If the fish smells, the fish will be foul. If it doesn't smell, it's good. Same thing applies here, my apprentice. If my imp squabbles, everything is alright. But when he falls silent… "He inhaled deeply." A storm is coming."
"Did you ask him what's wrong?" Sen'jin asked. Drak'thul explained what the imp said…and knew what had to be done. It was not long before a messenger called Sen'jin to see his father.
"He will ask me." Sen'jin said sadly." He will ask me to be warchief."
"We shall see, my young friend…" Drak'thul replied. "It all depends if you can do what you need to do."

The son of Vol'jin saw the other vultures standing just outside the Warchief's bedroom. Durak and his sister Geyah were the first he saw. Durak was an imposing figure with long black hair, a warrior much like his father and clad in the same black armour of the former Warchief, Doomhammer. He didn't use the Doomhammer himself of course, since it belonged to Thrall still, but he held a familiar two handed axe nearby which according to bystanders would wail horribly when swung.

His younger sister meanwhile seemed to walk the path of her mother. Unlike her green skinned brother, she skin as brown as a tree bark, had long black hair tied into a bun and although slightly less muscular than her brother she was still quite strong guessing by the shield and hammer she was carrying. She wore the garb of the shaman and already served as her brother's advisor during the Razorfen Kraul campaign. The two siblings were as thick as thieves ever since childhood….and were two of Sen'jin's closest friends. Geyah looked up from her tomes and gave Sen'jin a sad smile which he returned with a nod.

There were two other vultures however. Warlord Torakk Bloodrain, in his fully decked out combat attire with a wolf mask that covered his face, stood with his arms folded alongside a large direwolf with fur as black as night and a young orc male, around Sen'jin's age. He guessed it was his son, Marakk. He did not know much of him but more of his older sister Talik, Sen'jin wondered why she wasn't here.
Bloodrain was conversing with Durak, no doubt about the campaign. Of all the Orc chieftains in the Orcish council, Bloodrain was the most ambitious and he didn't make it a secret he aspired the title of Warchief if none took it. Sen'jin however did want it. It was his by birthright after all.

The last who stood quietly to the side was Baine Bloodhoof, a old friend of Vol'jin's and currently the strongest man on Kalimdor some claimed. In the last fifteen years he united the Tauren, Taunka and Yaungol tribes all over Azeroth, with many taking up residence in Mulgore. The Centaur were pushed back thanks to the Yaungol and the Taunka's more assertive ways with the elements made sure that the more unruly elements got a proper 'scolding'. Slowly but surely the damages done by the Cataclysm were being completely healed and more often than not Orgrimmar thanked its food and water supply to the Thunderbluff trade caravans to nourish the many, many trolls who had taken residence there. Sen'jin knew Baine's own advisors, even his own life mate, wanted him to take control of the Horde but something held the bull back.

Drak'thul scuttled to the side to sit down. Sen'jin looked to his master who made a gesture with his hand to go see his friends. Well…friends for as long as the carrion lasted.
The young troll made his way to the others." Greetings, mons." He smiled weakly." I came as fast as I received ta summons."
Geyah gave him a quick hug." Lok Tar, little brother. Are you alright?"
"Of course he is!" Durak smiled and slapped the young troll on his shoulder." Look at him, all tall and lithe and stuff."
Sen'jin nearly buckled under the force but smiled nonetheless at the tall orc." Nice ta see ya to, brotha. I heard of ya victory ovah da Quilboar, well done!"
The son of Thrall snorted." Hardly a real fight. I can believe why Blademaster Mankrikk killed so many in his time, the pigmen barely put up a fight. I fought Murlocs with more spine! I wish we faced a real challenge like in the tales of the Third war! Like the humans or the night elves!"
"Be careful what you wish for, son of Go'el." Warlord Bloodrain said." They have a tendency to come true."
Durak merely folded his arms and snorted again in reply.

Better get it out of the way, he thought. "How is my father?"
All present did not speak for a moment, Sen'jin knew enough." How long?"
"We do not know." Baine said from his corner." He claims today was his last day, Bwonsamdi made sure of that."
"Father is already inside with Lord Khort. Zen'tabra only allows two people in at a time." Geyah said.
"Sen'jin." Durak began." If you need-"

He fell silent as the doors opened and two more people who bid their goodbye's to the wArchief of the Horde left. One was Thrall, the leader of the Frostwolf Clan and Lord Tyrathan Khort, the Alliance ambassador. Despite them being both not being trolls, these two men were his father's best friends. Both looked upon Sen'jin with a sense of pity. It began to infuriate him. His anger subsided when his stepmother ushered him in. Those present all wished him silent good luck's. Even his master gave a small nod, although his good luck meant different than the others.
Sen'jin nodded and went inside his father's room.

Sen'jin did not like the druid and the feeling was mutual. He was the child of a traitor, his mother had tried to kill the Warchief to save her father, and he was a warlock to boot. Plenty of things to hate. He never met his mother nor was he encouraged to write to her. He did write a few times but he felt no connection to this female he never met. His father had offered to take him to the penal colony of Icend in Northrend but something always came up. A storm, a sickness, a centaur raid, a Zandalari raid and so on. In the end Sen'jin stopped getting letters and lost interest in the matter, like his mother did.
His other stepmother Moraya did raise him well, treated him as he was her own, but she was killed two years ago when another attempt on Vol'jin's life was made. The same poisoned wine that crippled Vol'jin was the same that killed Moraya. The perpetrator, a orc female who was send to die in one of the portals that led to a demon world, was caught shortly after and burned alive.
Sen'jin watched this happening with Durak and Geyah by his side. Even when Aggra tried to usher them away, Sen'jin stayed and the siblings stayed. Durak wanted to see the Warchief's justice, Geyah wanted to make sure both her brothers were alright. But Sen'jin stayed for one reason and one reason only. He wanted to see her burn.

The son of Vol'jin entered the room where his father was dying for weeks now. He scarcely left his side save for the times Drak'thul pulled him away for training. The once mighty troll chief of the Darkspear and Warchief of the Horde, a strong and long blue specimen of trollhood was laying on a soft human styled matrass as he was wasting away. Zen'tabra slowly closed the door behind him." Make it quick." She whispered harshly to Sen'jin before she closed the door and left the boy inside with his dying father. The smell of death and decay hung in the air, like Fel magic.
Vol'jin's breath was slow and heavy, a old man at half the age of his own father when he passed, his namesake Sen'jin the elder.
The Warchief smiled despite the obvious hints he was feeling pain all over. As he saw his son he weakly held out his hand, one Sen'jin gladly took and held to his cheek.
"Fatha…" he felt tears welling up. He tried to make his heart a stone but he couldn't.
"Hello son…" Vol'jin smiled." Why da long face?"
The young troll sat down next to his father." Ya know why. Bwonsamdi will be claimin' ya soon."
"Tonight even, yah ah know." The warchief said." But it be alright…ah be ready ta meet him. Take ma place among ya grandfatha and all da people I killed."

"And me?" Sen'jin asked." What bout me?"
Vol'jin inhaled deeply as he tried to gather his strength. "Ya mastah will take care of ya, as will uncle Eitrigg an' so many others…" he looked at his son, tired." Ya be ma son, a Darkspear true and true…soon ya will be chieftain of da Darkspear."
Sen'jin sniffed and tried not to cry." But I'm not a Shadow Hunter like you. Nor a Witch Docta like grandfatha but a…a warlock, like da traitor Zalazane."
"Ya not be like Zalzane….ya be ma son, I raised ya to be betta den that." Vol'jin smiled." And even so, ya be helpin' our people in your own way. Da Horde loves ya…just as much as ah love ya."
"But not as much as Durak or Baine or Bloodrain…" Sen'jin said. He pondered for a moment before he spoke." Didya decide on a da next Warchief?" He turned to him." Is it me?"
Vol'jin closed his eyes, wrecked by pain." Son…."
But Sen'jin did not listen." I learned everything ah could be da Horde, how ah can help. Ah aint no war mongah like Durak and no conservative like Baine. I can lead da Horde to a bettah future! Show Sylvanas she-"

"No."
That one word shattered Sen'jin's dreams. He stared at his father for a long while before he spoke again." No?" he repeated the word with disbelief.
"No. Son…ya be a smart man, a strong troll…but ya cannot be Warchief. It don't work dat way. A warchief can't be appointed, da Horde has to choose him."
Sen'jin growled. "The Horde will choose a fool! A war hero! By da Loa fatha, they picked Garrosh! A stupid choice in da same ranks as Blackhand or Ner'zhul! Doomhammer and Thrall took their rank by right!"
"Thrall was given da title as was I, son…" he placed his hand weakly on his son' shoulder." Have faith…" his father said calmly.
His shock turned to anger. "Then who did you pick? If ah am not good enough, then who?!"
Vol'jin coughed loudly, bits of blood sputtering over the sheets. Sen'jin's anger subsided and he immediately grabbed the flagon of water and poured some water in a cup to give him a drink.

Vol'jin nodded his thanks." Tank ya…"
"Is fine…sorry. I just…I thought you wanted me da be Warchief." Sen'jin admitted as he fluffed up a pillow.
"Da only way…" Vol'jin seemed to drift off." Ta became Warchief is ta kill…kill…" he began to slur out his words but Sen'jin understood. Doomhammer killed Blackhand to become Warchief. So if he wanted to be warchief…
Sen'jin gazed down on his pillow and looked up to the barely conscious Vol'jin. So weak, so tired…he would die tonight. His father didn't deserve this pain. Durak would become another Garrosh Hellscream, Baine wouldn't know how to handle the troll tribes and Warlord Bloodrain was to conservative to lead this new troll led Horde. He knew what he had to do. For the Horde.
"I love ya, father…" Sen'jin said and pushed the pillow over his father's face. His father barely struggled but Sen'jin kept shaking as tears came down from his eyes. Memories came to him. His father teaching him how to use their blades, how to dance, their first drink, chasing raptors…
It was almost over, he said to himself, it was almost over…

He did not know how long his father had stopped struggling, but when Sen'jin took off the pillow he saw Vol'jin was dead. Sen'jin cried out loud when the realization came in and shook his father in vain to bring him back. He screamed until his throat was sore but nobody came. He wipes his tears before he stood up and ran outside. Nobody was left in the waiting room save two Siame-Quashi and his old master.
Sen'jin's voice broke." He's dead…"
The Siame-Quashi looked at him before they ran inside to verify the claim. Sen'jin, all numb, seated himself next to Drak'thul. He didn't even bother asking where everyone went. He didn't even care his master's imp was rolling over the ground, laughing its little head off.
"Did you do what you had to do, my young friend?" he asked.
Sen'jin nodded." I don't think I want to be Warchief anymore…"
"Someone will have to be." Drak'thul rasped as he nudged the young troll. Sen'jin saw the orc pointed his long boney finger to the outside window. Sen'jin followed the finger and now knew where everyone went.

The stars outside were falling as they give a green hue. In the distance, he heard the war drums sound as he felt a sickening, warm glow inside him. He sensed fel magic, the demon magic. The Burning Legion had come….the reason why he had to kill his father. To unite the Horde and make them fight fire with fire.