The Keep

Series includes violence and sex and is not recommended for young readers

At the head of the small group, the young but broad troll sat confidently. The old witch doctor sprinkled dust into the fire with amazing and entertaining, if not practical, results, and he took it all in. Young Jumwa had proven himself one of the best at hunting on his first few outings, and now he was committed to mastering the arts of the witch doctor as well. He knew his ruthless cunning would serve him well inside the teachers’ tent just as it had in the wild.

Outside the tent, straining to her, sat two young trolls, a boy and a girl. The girl was not allowed to follow in the path of the witch doctor. She would grow to become another diligent house wife and breeder; that was her lot. The boy… he was a failure at the hunt with no man willing to give him the training necessary, and his own frailty led to him being excluded from most normal training boys underwent.

He whispered to the red haired girl, her long hair swishing as she looked to him, her own little tusks dipping above her lips. “Chu’la…” he grinned to her slightly, “Chu’la… I might not have made a good huntah, but ju wait an’ see…”

She rolled her eyes back at the tiny boy beside her, “Ja ja… ju t’ink aftah so many beatin’s ju woulda done real good wit’ huntin’, Vile.”

The boy cringed at the name, “Don’t call me dat!” It was a nickname of derision he had bore for many years. He was the vile one. The ugly little failure that was hard to even look at. Worst of all, it was given to him by that jerk Jumwa.

Chu’la shrugged and whispered, “Dat’s jour name, aint it?” He trembled with anger for a moment, but it subsided. The girl beside him was the closest thing he had to a friend, and despite her deficiencies as a member the lesser sex, could whoop him faster and better than he could her. “Now shush, tryin’ ta learn ‘ere!”

Straining to hear through the tent again, he bent forward before hearing the voice of that most hated of bullies who made his life miserable. Jumwa was asking for the right to try imitating the witch doctors last spell, and received permission.

Clenching his fists, the vile young boy turned away from the tent, “Hey, Chu’la… I gotta go home ‘fore I get in trouble. Ju wanna race?” She looked over at him and glared. It was the one game they played together he always won. The only one he was any good at. Running. And she never let go an opportunity to try and take that from him, so she stood champion over everything. She nodded abruptly and the two tore away, running.

The two green coloured trolls dashed. She was taller than him by a nice bit, but some force within him carried him faster. His slender legs pumping hard the entire way back. His stems burnt with the exertion, but as Chu’la fell behind, the boy only sped up. The pain fell into the background and as they reached the fork where their paths diverged he turned and smirked to Chu’la, “I win again!”

She called back, “See how far ju can run when ju got elves chasin’!” That was a low blow, and harkened back to the days earlier events where the ‘great’ and ‘mighty’ Jumwa told the story of how his father had fought and killed some elf scum while out on patrol. The boy was no good at fighting, they all knew that, and she wouldn’t let him forget while he still had something over her.

He carried on towards his home, his running gradually coming to a halt as he approached his own hut on the outskirts of their village. From the chimney he saw smoke and he smelt… meat? Having grown without a father, meat was a rare delicacy. His diet was just the fruits, berries and vegetation his mother gathered or grew. Something else he never ended heard the end of from the other children, who grew big and strong while he was but a malnourished wimp.

His resentment rose, but only for a moment. His legs picked up their speed again and carried him to the entranceway of his home, a wide grin on his face, eager for delicious meal scented with meat of all things! But his happiness was quickly replaced with shock when he looked at the large troll holding his mother on his lap and plucking food from his mothers cooking pot.

The boys mother squirmed to sit up straight a bit better and smiled nervously towards him, “Come in. Jril stopped by wit’ some meat for us!” She exclaimed excitedly, but a quick glance to the pot showed Jril had already eaten most of the meat he brought, along with much of their usual meal.

“’ey boy.” Jril exclaimed, only acknowledging him as a nuisance, but somehow forcing a smile for the mothers’ sake.

The vile young boy felt ill.

~~

With Anjasa by his side, Jumwa’jin rides through the streets of Silvermoon atop their war raptors. Cautious eyes go back and forth as they speak to each other carefully, “So where is dis place, hm?”

Anjasa grins, “Nowhere near dis part o’ town, lovah. Can’t be seen talkin’ bout it dere, aftahall, huh?”

He smirks, acquiescing and nodding, “So ju say we can get to it from de ruined part of de city, hm?” She nods quickly, “Good. Dat will make t’ings… easiah.”

She laughs, “Not much, but ja. Formah underground tunnel leads right up undah de bazaar!”

The bulky trolls large, mail armour, from the massive pauldrons down to his boots, clink and create a lot of noise, despite his sitting stationary atop the seemingly agitated raptor. “Den we will get a room for de night and discuss t’ings dere, hmm?” He nods to himself without waiting or looking for a response from her, “In de morning… we will get it ovah wit’.”

The full lips of his elvish companion contort into a smirk.