#zulrajas

[bonespeaker]

◖ Ideal Partner

◖◖Zan’Zaji“Mah ideal partner? Ya know ah nevea thought about that too much. Wasn’t neva lookin’ fa one.” She tilted her head aside and raised her brows in a half shrug sort of way. “But ta ya questions. Hum ah strong mon, confident…but one dat gonna gime mah own runna t'ings. I know w'at most dah guys t'ink ah dah women but mah brot'er him spoilme and now ah not gonna hve it no other way. If ah got somet'in ya say ah gonna be heard. Dat said someone who can provide. But ah t'ink mostly ah want somenoe dat got ah bit of a wanderin’ spirit in dem. I miss dat. Travelin’ around even if it not be far or fa long. I do always like ta come back home, but mah work with dah spirits and dah loa, ya can’t just tie ah animal down.”

“Ah guess ah don’t mind dah tribe too much, but ah probably be lookin at jungle and ice trolls more dan any otha. Forest trolls ah alright, ah dun know w'at ah t'ink ah them havin stuff growin in dey fur though. Just dun like dat. Not ta say dah dem sandfury’s ain’t interestin just wouldn’t be mah first thought upon meetin’ one.” She smirked and chuckled a little, “Oh ya and ah like a mon wid big tusks.”

◖◖Zul’Rajas

Rajas meets the question with a dead stare. “Partner? Ain’t be thinkin’ a that too much. Ain’t got time,” he answers, a single brow perking just slightly. He shifts soon afterwards, and his gaze lifts upward as he thinks on the matter. “Guess someone I can be trustin’. Who ain’t gonna be weighin’ down on me, who can be makin’ me hafta try ta keep up. Don’t want no woman ta be makin’ me comfortable or ta be seein’ ta my whims,” he answers, his lips curling into a toothy grin. “I like a girl who can be intimidatin’.”

“Otha than that? Ain’t too picky. Whateva tribe, whateva hair, whateva eyes… Fit, tho, fa sure. Wit’ a nice pair’a legs to ‘em,” he appends, decidedly certain about his last requirement, seemingly moreso than any other given the beaming smile that suddenly took over his face.

[bonespeaker]

☢ Personality Flaw(s)

☢ Zan'Zaji is very brazen. She can be too forward, and over confident, sometimes lacking in proper modesty or restraint, and has no qualms about rude if that’s the tone being set. She can be especially over confident when it comes to her skinwalking and her force of will verses the creatures who’s power she moves under.

☢ Zan’Zaji can impatient and while she tries not to be she does not have the calm resolve her brother did. Not to mention she has more than one guiding force moving her at times.

☢ Zan’Zaji also has no trouble being a liar. She doesn’t do it all the time and it’s not really compulsive, but if she feel the information shes being asked for is innocuous or of no business to the person asking she’s likely to lie. She and her brother both did this often often when asked about First Home. That given if she’s called on a lie she’ll generally shrug it off rather than try to make up an excuse. That or make up an entirely new lie.

☢ Zul’Rajas is first and foremost self-serving. Whether through his profession as a ‘Witch Doctor’ or indeed any other aspect of his life, Rajas is primarily out for number one. This can cause him to be branded as selfish by others, accurately so, which can make it difficult to form any sort of interpersonal bonds.

☢ Zul’Rajas is also a liar. Rajas has a tendency to weave webs of complicated lies to hide the simplest of truths. For example, though he is visibly a frost troll–having thick blue fur–he sometimes claims the Gurubashi Loa Hir’eek to be his patron, when he in fact serves Sseratus. 

☢ Zul’Rajas often refuses to take the blame of most outcomes upon himself. Even when events transpire singularly because of his actions, he is quick to shift the weight from himself to something or someone else. When this doesn’t lead to vocal arguments, it leads to Rajas simply not learning from his mistakes. His hard-headed nature can cause him to tackle the same problem with the same incorrect solution multiple times.

[bonespeaker]

Favor Trinket

Zan’Zaji closed the door of her small hut in Stranglethorn and walked over to a round table set in the center. The table was already set with various items, a mortar and pestle, a small cup with a sweet smelling liquid, a cluster of lit candles, and a large trolls skull painted with fresh blood. She leaned over the table, unclasped a necklace from behind her neck and laid it before her. Her gaze read over the old necklace, it was adorned with feathers and bones tethered with plant fibers woven into a tight cord. She looked up from the necklace to the troll skull before her. “So dis be dah fava of Rajas…Let us find ‘im den, ya?” She rubbed her hands together and rolled her shoulders to loosen up. With a deep exhale she leaned over the table and stroked her fingers across the necklace, it was an item that sealed a favor, one given to her brother in payment. In turn he’d given it to her and told her that were she ever in need of help this favor would cover it. What kind of troll was this Rajas, she wondered, what kind of troll was he that her brother was so sure he would be able to help her with whatever she might need. Curling her fingers around the necklace she lifted it and placed it into a mortar and took the pestle in hand to begin crushing and grinding the bones. The cord held strong, not giving under the twisting pressure of the heavy pestle the as the feathers had; bent, broken, and crumpled. Once finished the bones were but dust, the feathers broken and torn apart, and the strong twine was frayed and tattered in places. She set the bowl between herself and the blood painted skull. “It be ya time Rajas, ta fulfill dat w’ich ya owe. Now w’ere ya be…” She took the small cup and dribbled some of the viscous liquid into the stone bowl, it ran thick like tree sap and was speckled with crushed incense. She narrowed her eyes and used a thin candle from the cluster to her left to light the contents; the smell of the incense mingled with the smoke and burning twine while the sap kept the fire burning, consuming the contents of the mortar. “Now show Zaji w’ere be dah troll Rajas.” She leaned over the bowl and inhaled deeply. Her eyes closed and she continued to breathe deep the smoke of the burning favor, an image slowly forming and moving in her mind. As the last of the sap burned away she leaned back from the table. Her eyes opened wide and a smile gathered on her lips as she exhaled the troll’s name, this time adding a new prefix, “Zul’Rajas…”

[bonespeaker]

▣ Relatives

▣▣Zan’ZajiZan'Zaji sat at a low table in her cluttered hut looking at the pandaren sitting across from her. Her elbows were propped on the table and she leaned forward one cheek against her clasped hands. “Mah relatives? Why ya wantin ta know ‘bout dem little bear?” Her smile was coy, it wasn’t often someone asked questions that weren’t about themselves.

Zaji leaned back this customer had been polite, uncommon with far too many that visited this witch doctor’s hut. Her brother might have been the witch doctor but who was she to turn someone away. “Ya know wat, Zan'Zaji gonna answer ya,” she started using third person in this instance. “Normally w'en someone ask about ya relatives dey just wanna know about dah ones you be related to by blood. Sos Zanji’s parents and any siblin’s she’s got, ya? Well neva knew dah troll dat woulda been ‘er papa, but not sad ‘bout dat, was some Gurubashi warrior. An ‘er mother, she was ah good un. Devoted ta dah tribe’s ancestas, spiritual woman, ah good t'ing ta be ya know? dah dead be a powaful bunch dey is. Tejah'Zea were her name.” She smiled as she spoke the name. “But her didn’t make it offa deh Darkspear’s Island when dah trolls come ‘ere.” She said nothing else on the subject of her parents but the smile she continued to wear held no remorse or hatred.

“And Zaji’s siblin’s ya? Her have one brot'er, ah real piece ah work him was. Papa Don Sowdi,” the grin she offered when she spoke this name was different than the one she’d shared when she gave her mother’s name. It was obvious she felt a deeper fondness and love for him than she seemed to either of her parents. “Him nothin’ but a trouble maker…him and her both, but Papa no longer wit’ us,” she motioned to the bleached skull sitting nearby. “Ya know w'at dey say…stay away from dah voodoo mon.”

▣▣Zul’Rajas

“Relatives,” Rajas repeated in a dull tone. His gaze shifted to the side, as though it was a burden to think on them. He straightens up his back for a moment, stretching his shoulders and arms as he settles himself on his seat before hunching forward again, forearms propped against his knees.

“Fatha were a hunta. I knew ‘im, ‘e was a good enough man. I ain’t eva see eye-ta-eye wit’ ‘im, but I respected ‘im. Were a hard-workin’ type. Stuck up fa us when tha Drakkari cause trouble. I know at least one time ‘e took a foul beatin’ for us.”

Leaving that memory behind abruptly, Rajas cocks his head. “Me motha be tha only reason I be ‘ere. She were tha drivin’ force behind me kin leavin’ Zul’Drak. Ain’t none-a them thick-skulled brutes wanted us ta be goin, neither. Did they best ta keep us around. She managed ta stow me an me brotha away, got us far away from tha north as she could manage.”

With somewhat of a grin, Rajas takes his wondering gaze and directs it toward his single-person audience. “Which be leadin’ us neatly to me brotha, Thakra. A hunta, like ma fatha. Ego bigga than tha twin empires. Skill ta match it, tho. Settled down somewhere, I hear. Ain’t seen ‘im since… years ago. I ain’t been countin’.”

Rolling his shoulder, Rajas sits up straight once more and peers down his crook nose. “That be it. Now, you buyin’ somethin, or you jus’ gonna keep bein’ nosy?”

[bonespeaker]

¡ Pet Peeves - for Zaji / ☰ Occupation for Rajas

¡¡  Zan’Zaji“Oh t'ings ah dun like. Dat probably ah list longa dan troll history,” she chuckled at the joke and squinted her eyes a little. “Ah just gonna assume ya mean t'ings dat otha people do mostly. Usta deal wid ah lotta customers mostly come ta see mah brot'er, though when him was busy I’d take ta seein’ em. One real common t'ing be when people t'ink dey know what ya tryin’ ta do, and dey start tellin’ ya how ya be doin’ it wrong. Or dey start askin about stuff dat don’t matta. Why dat lil knobby bone layin’ like dat, don’t dat be important. Why ya not listenin’ ta me,” she mocked some of the more minor annoyances. “Den dey start tellin ya how ta do ya job, how dey t'ink ya should be buildin’ dah gris-gris, dah juju.” She shook her head. “Dat why ya come ta ah proppa witchdoctain dah first place ‘cause ya dun know how ta do it ya self, so just sit der and sush.” She restrained herself from rolling her eyes and continued with other annoyances from customers.

“Ah dun know if ya’d call dis ah, w'at was it, ah Peeve? ah peeve ah not, cause it down right makes me mad. Dem what t'ink dey not needin’ ta pay. Dey t'ink all dis work be free. Nah nah, dat not how it is, and even worse dem dat be told dey be called on when dah time ta pay come, dey agree, den ya call on em and dey want ta back outta it!” She wasn’t smiling anymore like she had been when she was mocking customers. “It not even be gold we be chargin’ all dah time mon, some times it just little services, dat why ya favors be called upon at ah later time. Ya aut not try an’ cross ah witch docta.” She exhaled and glanced away relaxing the undirected anger.

“Ifn ya mean more small t'ings ah dun know hard ta saw outside dah moment…burrs between mah toes, not bein’ able ta repair dah hut as well as me brot'er.  Oh dah way mosta dem goblin got dat high voice, cant stand talkin’ ta dem kind too long. It also hard to explain ta dem usin t'ings dat ain’t gold as payment.” She paused another moment then answered quickly as she hit on something narrowing her eyes slightly. “An ah hate when ya ask ah mon ah yes ah no question and ya not get ah yes ah no ans'a. Dat one really get unda mah fur. Ah just want ta know, dah answ’a ta my question, not all dah litle crap ya t’ink influenced dah answer.”

☰ ☰ Zul’Rajas

“My occupation?” Rajas asks, leaning over the table with his bony elbows settled against the wood. His expression is one of mild confusion; he couldn’t figure out why someone would be inquiring about what he considered his job. His brow knit tightly over his nose and his eyes narrowed. “Why ya gotta be askin’ ‘bout that?”

With a brief assurance that the question came from nothing but intrigue, the troll carries on. Someone was interested in him, and he happened to be the foremost expert on the subject

“I’m whateva people be needin’. A guidin’ hand, a watchin’ eye, a shieldin’ embrace. Through me, tha Loa be givin’ they solution to ya problem. Sometimes, people don’t like tha Loa’s solution. Ain’t my job to make ya like it,” he mentions, almost as though it was a line rehearsed due to a slew of unsatisfied visitors.

“Otha than that, I can’t be narrowin’ down on ya question. Ya welcome ta come ‘ere an’ ask me ta help ya anytime,” Rajas offers, whilst motioning an open palm towards the hut around himself and the inquirer. “Jus’ don’t be expectin’ it ta be free.”

[bonespeaker]

Zul’Rajas MRP

Name: Rajas Gender: Male Race:  Winterfang Troll Age: 31

Eyes: Red Hair: White Height: 7'3” Weight: 250 lbs

Home: Stranglethorn Born: Zul’Drak Loa: Hir’eek

Rajas stands tall and lithe, a few inches over seven feet, typical for his tribe. He is covered in a thick blue fur, which makes him quickly identifiable as an Ice Troll. His stature is enough to separate him from the more prominent tribes, and those savvy enough to know of the Winterfang trolls can easily place him as such. His face is somewhat thin, with shallow cheeks and a relatively short crook nose that’s unevenly set between two bright red eyes. Otherwise, his face is lacking much else of note. He has no major scars, and his ears and tusks are wholly intact. When painted, Rajas’ wears a white stripe across his eyes, though he has a tendency to make minor alterations to this from time to time. His hair is a stark white that’s kept pulled out of his face in a series of braids, adorned with a few trinkets and strings.

[bonespeaker]

Waiting

The final hours of daylight in the Barrens covered Rajas’ hut in a soft, orange light. It had been a week since the incident with Gaji, and the young troll still felt the weight of guilt upon his shoulders. Incapable of shedding the memory, Rajas lived through the moment time and time again, wishing he could’ve simply waited and listened. He similarly wished he could tell himself that what was done was done.

It was the least he could do to have a meal ready for when Thakra’jin came back from his hunt. He set some dyed cloth out on the floor, arranging it squarely in the middle of the room. Near the back of the dwelling, Rajas had brought a pot to the boil over a rudimentary fire. He had spent the last hour of so preparing a stew, as he’d done every day this past week. With the final addition of some spice leaves, the troll left the food to sit at a rolling boil in order to tend to the rest of the evening’s preparations; a few pillows--admittedly somewhat ragged--set out at each side of the cloth, bowls and spoons.

Rajas had even taken the time to furnish the room with a central decoration. A tribute of sorts, consisting of large black plumes, arranged stones and some colored, crushed powders. It served as an apology of sorts, both to his brother and to Gaji. It looked fantastic, he thought, even as he started to lose track of how many times he’d cobbled it together. He knew Thakra’jin would probably like it too, though Rajas didn’t think his brother would admit as much.

More than an hour passed before the last dredges of sunlight escaped from the hut. Rajas had been sitting mostly still at his side of the cloth for most of the evening, accompanied by naught but his thoughts. The soup had gotten cold, but Rajas had at least helped himself to a serving beforehand. Resting his chin in an upturned palm, elbow braced at his knee, Rajas let out a quiet sigh. He stood from his cushion before packing up his tribute, the dinner’s setting, and kicking some dust up onto the already-dying flame under the soup pot.

The night had mirrored the previous seven almost identically. Quietly making his way to his bedroll, Rajas curled up in his blanket, and closed his eyes.

Eventually, he had to come home.

[bonespeaker]

Gaji

Thakra’jin drew back on his bowstring, two of his thick digits fighting against the draw weight of the weapon. He inhaled deeply, his body crouched down low beneath a low hanging branch, the winding limbs of the nearby tree allowing him a considerable amount of cover under the dry heat of the midday Barrens sun. All of the foliage on Kalimdor couldn’t provide enough cover for the hunter, though, as the sound of Rajas stepping on a twig spurred the creature into a sprint.

"Ya gotta keep quiet, bruddah," the older of the two trolls murmured under his breath, watching as the doe he'd been tracking disappeared into the shimmering distance.

"I... Didn't say anythin'?" Rajas offered as a rebuttal, furrowing his brow as he shuffled in place, trying to get comfortable.

"Ya didn't need ta. Ya be makin' enough of a racket wit'out movin' ya lips. I imagine tha Farraki can hear ya from ‘ere.”

Rajas huffed, and kept himself crouched down low, forearms resting on his thighs as he kept nearby his brother. The younger of the two was far thinner overall compared to his brother; he’d matured--physically--rather quickly. He was tall and gangly, with limbs that seemed too long for his body. His brother, on the other hand, was well-toned and weathered by his experiences. He wore various trappings and trophies from his hunts; his shoulders covered with plumes from a great buzzard, black pelt hanging along his back and the top half of a cervine skull settled over the top of his head, the eye sockets carved out to align with his own.

With a quick hand gesture, Thakra’jin instructed his brother to follow. Each stride was careful and deliberate, landing against the dry dirt and brittle brush with a meticulous nature. It wasn’t long before a stag came into sight, wandering through the outskirts of one of the oases as it tried to find something to drink. Rajas raised a spear, a simple weapon that Thakra’jin had crafted for the day’s hunt, readying himself to take down the first creature of his first hunt.

“Wait,” came the orders from his older brother in a tone quiet enough to blend with the rustle of leaves, while thick blue digits gripped the weapon, keeping it still. It was apparent why he’d done so just a moment later. A black blur ripped past the creature, tackling it into the wild foliage with the accompanying crash of feathers and fur. The corner of Thakra’jin’s lips curled into a grin as Rajas watched, wide-eyed.

“Dat be why I keep Gaji around,” the older of the two chuckled quietly, pushing himself up to his feet before making his way over to the carcass of the creature, its neck twisted as it lie almost motionless in the talons of Gaji, his dire crow.

Rajas flinched as one of the hind legs twitched, the last few flickers of life leaving the beast. The older troll draped his arm over Rajas’ shoulders, chuckling quietly to himself. “Ya gonna have ta calm ya nerves if ya wanna be a’ any use ta anyone,” he jested, rustling his hand over the tufts of white hair on top of his younger brother’s head.

The two were almost finished with their expedition by the time the sun hung low in the sky. The dry landscape shimmered in an orangered glow, sunshafts peered through the canopies of the oasis trees and crept over the summits of the mountains. Thakra’jin had encouraged his little brother to try out hunting with Gaji, to perhaps spur his interest in kinship with beasts. The two hunters kept hunched down low to the ground in the tall brush as the older of the two trolls muttered quiet guidance to his brother. Somewhere in the skies above, the great black

“Jus’ be keepin an eye on where ya prey be goin’. Stay quiet, stay low, and let Gaji know when you be wantin’ ‘im ta take ‘em down. He’ll be at tha throat before ya see ‘im dive,” Thakra’jin instructed with pride, watching as Rajas encroached on a plainstrider.

Rajas slowed to a stop when the creature seemed still. He lifted the borrowed spear, hoisted it over his right shoulder, and wound back to throw it.

“No!” came the cry of the older troll as Rajas threw all of his weight into launching the spear. Outstretched arms weren’t enough to grasp the shaft as it cut through the air. The plainstrider took off in a wild scurry as both the raven and the spear flew along their inexorable paths. The spearhead struck the great black streak, a pained caw escaping Gaji’s beak as he tumbled to the ground and began to thrash about wildly.

Thakra’jin sprinted out from behind his younger brother, quickly hunching over the creature, pinning the unscathed wing and restraining the bird as he hastily looked to soothe the injured creature. He was frantic, but clarity often came to him in such situations.  He yelled out toward his younger brother, the distress in his voice becoming gradually more apparent.  “Don’ be standin’ there! Get ovah ‘ere!” he barked,  forcing the injured wing still as the crow fought with lessening vigor. By the time Rajas made it over, the beast had been almost completely calmed.

“Do… Do ah pull it?” Rajas asked, grabbing the shaft before he’d received any instructions.

“No! Let go!” Thakra’jin snapped, nodding his head toward a few strewn rocks. “Ya gonna mess this up more than ya already did. Take one a’ them sharp rocks an’ cut tha bindin’ at tha top a’ tha spear. Get it loose, take it off, -then- take tha whole thing out.”

Rajas stood motionless for yet another few seconds, his heart pounding away in his chest. He caught the sight of his brother’s fury in those deep-set eyes, and almost tripped over himself retrieving one of the rocks, starting to saw away at the dried bindings desperately. With great effort, the sharpened head came free of the wooden spear’s shaft, and the whole weapon was freed from the distressed creature.

The last few moments of usable sunlight were spent with Thakra trying to bind the wing’s wound in near silence, makeshift bandages finally attached to the appendage before Gaji was scooped up in the troll’s arms. With his hunting partner cradled against his chest, Thakra'jin and his brother made their way back home. He didn't initiate any conversation with Rajas, though the younger troll did pipe up a handful of times in a feeble few attempts at apologies.

"Is... Is he gonna be alright?" Rajas' inquiry was met with silence. "Can ya fix it?"

Time marched on and miles of dry sand passed underfoot. Rajas could barely stand the quiet. "Ah... Didn't mean ta--"

"If ya gonna say ya sorry, jus' say it. Otherwise ya can keep y’loud mouth a'yas shut. I be tired a’ ya bein' a pain in mah side. Mutha be tired a' it too. She told me ta be makin' somethin' useful outta ya. If ya can't manage ta spear a plainstrida..." The whole admonishment came as a biting surprise that beat down the already guilted younger Troll.

For the rest of the evening, and indeed for some time after that, the two didn't speak. It wasn’t until years later, at Zul’Drak, that the two exchanged words again.