The rage built inside the young boy. His father had abandoned his mother before he was even born and he had born that shame his whole life, to hear it now at his most vulnerable”¦
Seething, the young little forest troll didn’t hear the other jabs directed at or about him. His vision was but a narrow tunnel that led to the elder boy who broke his jaw. His chest huffing with furious breaths, he let out a high pitched yell before charging at the object of his hate, his fist raised with every ounce of fury he held. Before the fist could find its intended target, the larger boy grabbed it from the air, twisting it away from him.
The young troll’s eyes bulged with disappointment. Then shut. His middle finger was twisted back painfully; so very painfully. He cried out in agony until the digit cracked, broken. Useless.
He slumped to his knees and before he could finally run off, was kicked to the dirt, his green hair masked with greyish brown soil. The voice spoke out above him again, “Who do ya think ya are, ‘ey? Ju can’t stand up ta me! I’m Jumwa!” Laughter and some cheers broke out around him, but the boy saw none of it except through blurred, watery glimpses before blacking out.
It was near an hour later or more before he awoke with his head in the lap of his mother. He knew it was her before he even opened his eyes and then promptly shut them again. Shifting onto his back, he muttered angrily, his jaw already beginning to heal, “Who does he t’ink he is? De Chieftain’s son?!” His mother, a tall and strong woman with carefully braided long green hair, gave him a soft shush and caressed back his green hair, no longer in a ponytail.
“He’ll nevah be a Chieftain! It’s all crap ‘e says!” The boy cried out before breaking into sobs. His life was pain.
The broad and mighty Jumwa’jin holds the orc by his leather vest, the material clenched between thick blue fingers as another brutal punch to the tusked face nearly tears the massive man from the Chieftain’s grasp. Drawing back for another punch, Jumwa snarls and lets the orc have it, shattering the jaw of Gor’log, the informant.
A giggle erupts from a dark corner of the room in Jumwa’jin’s home. Sliding down from atop a pedestal, the tanned and dark haired elf, Anjasa, struts over towards the pair. She wears an assortment of beautifully sinister leather armour that couldn’t hide the curvaceous body beneath, especially with her every move seeming to draw attention to her assets. She snakes an arm over the bare shoulders of her troll lover, his body hunched as he interrogates the orc, still clutching onto him. “I don’t t’ink ju gonna get anymore outta him, lovah.”
Jumwa draws back and punches the orc again, grunting slightly with the effort. Dropping him to the hard floor with a crack as skull impacted stone, “Dat isn’t de point anymore.” Standing up straight, Jumwa dwarfs the elf Anjasa. He raises one of his broad, bare feet and brings it down on the orc’s neck, stomping it once, twice; three times brings a loud snap and a sickening gurgle, signifying the last shreds of life escaping.
Eying the dead orc, Anjasa bites her bottom lip before grinning, twirling about on a tiptoe, until she stands before Jumwa, her eyes peering up over his bare, hulking chest to his creepy, black and white tattooed face. “So dat’s his punishment for bringin’ us useless information, hm?” She rests a hand just above his dark mail kilt at his steely lower stomach.
Jumwa shakes his head slowly, bending down slightly so he was not towering over the seductive elf so high, “No, not useless.” He removes Anjasa’s hands from him, and turns, walking over to a large chair and seating himself in it, slumping down. He stares across at her and the body, hands draped over the edge of the seats armrests.
Quirking a brow and sauntering over to him, she smirks and seats herself across his large lap, “What’chu mean, not useless? Not like we could assault Garadar. And we’d need a’ army o’ thieves ta steal it.”
Jumwa shuts his eyes and smirks, “An army. Jes.”
Anjasa almost snorts with laughter and slaps the troll’s chest, “Oh come on! You can’t use the Tribe for that! We’d be all hunted down an’ killed!”
Grinning, he shakes his head and opens his eyes into narrow slits, “Not de Tribe. No. We will need outside contractahs, hmm?”
The elf rolls her eyes, “Dat would empty any treasury to contract dat many.”
Bringing both his hands to Anjasa’s shoulders, he grasps her firmly and swivels her towards him, leaning in so that his pointed nose touches her tiny one, “Den we bettah get to deciding which treasury to empty den, hmm?”
Anjasa stares blankly for a while, intimidated a little as always, before her eyes light up and she licks her lips, “Ju an’ me?” He responds with a nod. She grins widely, “Damn baby, I got just de right idea den!”
Their lips meet in the dim light of the room and Anjasa kicks up her legs before wrapping them about the thick midsection of her Chieftain.
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 mother’s 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.
The young man Jumwa had quickly grown into a heart throb of the community. Troll women all struggled to grab his attention, for a well-providing mate he’d make, and security he’d bring to their lives. He was the foremost topic of the girls talks, and the fact that the vile young boy had to hear much of it through his best friend cut into him deeply. Even his strong, boyish friend Chu’la couldn’t help but mention him, and not always in a degrading way.
But he admired his friend; saw in her the strength and potential that the brutes like Jumwa couldn’t begin to fathom in a woman. When allowed she still beat most of the boys at many games, though more and more she was being torn away to become a proper woman.
He hadn’t ceased growing in the meantime either, but the boy was still just barely reaching his friend Chu’la’s height, and though she was tall for a girl, it was still a matter of embarrassment for him. By the time he claimed her as his mate, he thought, he’d be the bigger though. He was certain of it.
Since they were children they had grown closer. Their games had gone beyond just sports and competitions. He had even kissed and played other games with the budding girl, and noticed her growing womanly appeal long before others. As he walked into town with his catch over his back, a young deer, he hid a proud smile. He would tell Chu’la he caught it for her, and they would eat and celebrate after she cooked it for them.
His hidden smile became a frown however, as he passed the broad Jumwa, standing eating from the dish of some young tart eager for his affections. He sneered and kept walking as he called out behind him, “Dere gonna be anyt’ing left when ju skin dat, ju huntah so vile?” He laughed and kissed the girl before him who still gazed up at him, starry eyed.
He clenched his teeth and carried on, trying to push the venom from his mind.
So entwined in his rage was he, that he didn’t notice the time as it flew by, and before he knew it, he was walking up behind his friend at her favourite pond, their meeting spot.
She heard him coming from quite a distance away, but held back until he got close enough to hear him, “Ju don’t mind keepin’ a gal waitin’.”
“Only when de wait is wort’ it.” He said as he flung down the deer near her, crouching over it and smirking a little self-confidently.
She quickly turned her gaze to the deer, then paused before smiling slightly, “Not bad.”
He gestured to it with his hand, “For us. To eat. Togeddah!”
She raised a brow, “Not for jour muddah and fadda?”
He scowled, “‘e aint my faddah. An’ no. I said it’s fer us! Open jour ears!”
As evening approached, he sat watching her prepare it. He admired her physique, muscular than all the other women in the Tribe he’d seen. She was filling out in all the right places, slowly, but surely. She didn’t seem to notice his gaze until the food was cooked and nearly eaten however, “What’chu lookin’ at?”
He looked down, chewing, “not’in'” he muttered.
She smirked back, “Oh ja.” She spoke in a deep, mocking tone, “Not’in’.”
He grimaced and tore some more meat off the bone he gnawed at. Staring down at the dirt he marvelled at how his plans never ended up how he conceived them. He couldn’t be charming wit her. In his mind before, by this point he had swept her off her feet and the two were embraced in the throws of mating, well on his way to impregnating her and thereby marking her as his own in their people’s way.
Finally he snapped out of his stupor when he realized she was standing up. No more of the meat he caught in her hand. His shoulders slumped, he had wasted the night. Not just the night but the entire day. With another glance up though, he saw her, faced away from him, undo the front of her skirt. The garment, made of animal hide, parted and slipped away so her slender lower body stood bare before him. She grinned over her shoulder, “Come on den.” But his eyes were glued to the round green cheeks of her ass.
Pausing for a moment, he quickly dropped the leg of the deer he held and with one leg pulled himself over the cooked deer. Sheepishly his hands reached out for her hips, hesitating before she took them and placed them upon her. “Don’t be a wimp.”
He scowled but was too caught up in desire to do more than that. After tonight he’d be the first of the boys his age to claim a mate. Even Jumwa. Before he could begin the worrisome thought of how he’d provide for three or more trolls though, she undid her top and he gazed at the silhouette of her firm, bulging breasts, capped with hard dark green nipples.
He slid a hand up to one of them, feeling the smooth surface of her breast before brushing over the hard nipple. She turned, facing him and grasping his hand, pulling him along. “Before I change me mind,” she smirked devilishly and lowered herself down, laying back on the grass.
Undoing the leather hunting pants he wore, he quickly fell to his knees between her eagerly parted legs. She rubbed her thighs enticingly, eager to start, which caused her arms to press her budding breasts together in an appetizing manner. Though his eyes were glued to glistening lips of her sex, his shaft throbbing as it hovered over it.
His breathing was fast due to his nervousness, but he slid down over her quickly, not wanting to risk her irritation. His cock slid along her opening and he pushed in, his eagerness at his first time overcoming his hesitations. Though his inexperience led him to repeated failure. Push after push failed to penetrate Chu’la until, out of frustration, she grasped the base of his member and pointed him”¦ there. He slipped inside her warm folds to a feeling unlike any other he’d experienced.
Moaning, he quickly thrust in and out of her, supporting himself on his palms. His mind seemed on fire with the sensations and he could barely give it his usual degree of contemplation. Were he able he would’ve relished the thought of many more nights like these ahead, but before he could pull his mind out of the ecstasy, it was over. To her irritation, Chu’la’s friend came inside her after but a few thrusts.
She laughed as his eyes rolled back in pleasure, “Ju bettah have more in ju den dat.”
The next day he awoke to Chu’la dressing, “I have ta get back “˜ome. See ja latah.”
Before he could think up something else she took the remainder of the last night’s meal and bounded off. He lay back in the grass and smiled up at the dawn sky.
It was some time before he composed himself and gathered the energy to dress and walk back to his home. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts as he neared the hut his mother built, but as it came in sight, the one at the foremost of his mind was his desire to never return here.
Before his legs could carry him to the entrance, out poked Jril’s head, followed by his now plump body. The large troll bore an awful expression of rage and before the young man could reach the entrance he shouted, “Where de fel were ju?!” He eyed him up and placed his hands on his hips, sniffing as he neared, “I smell meat from ju, but I don’t see any!”
Blocking his entrance, the younger couldn’t ignore his older “˜father’ any longer and he glared up at him wordless. “Well?! What’d ju do?! E’t it all up on us, did ju? Ju lil’ brat!”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve swore he saw the hide covering the entrance to the hut move, his mother likely watching until then. Jril glared down at him, furious and building to another outburst when his mates son exploded before hand.
“Don’t ju dare evah talk ta me like dat again, ju fat leach!” The two were of about the same height, though Jril of a larger build, both around his bulbous stomach and his chest. “I wont take anodah second o’ jour shit! Ju hear me?!” Neither one moving as the face off ground to a standstill, Jril responded with his own yell, but before it could get out he was cut off “Shut up! Nobody wants to hear jour shit, worm!”
Clenching his fists, Jril seemed ready to pounce on the younger troll, while the youngers’ hand crept closer to the hunting dagger at his side. As the tension built between the two Jril’s mate burst out from the hut and ran between the two of them and she plead for her son, “Please, don’t!”
As if being plucked from a dream, the younger troll stared, dumbfounded for a moment. Neither of the males could move for the other while the woman cried and desperately kept the two apart.
Moving his hand from his hunting knife, the young troll simply turned and walked away. When he reached the turn in the forest taking him out of sight he began to run, ignoring the shouts and cries behind him. Racing off in no particular direction, his mind was already partitioning off that part of his life and trying to leave it behind. His mother hadn’t the strength to leave that vulture and he was about to start his new life with Chu’la.
The elvish hotel room is dark, but for a few candles. Resting his arm next to Anjasa above his head on the pillow, Jumwa shuts his eyes and shifts slightly, looking pleased. His body glistens slightly in the dark room from light perspiration over his pale blue muscles. Anjasa smiles broadly, rolling on to her side and resting an arm over her chest, playing her fingers across him.
“Mmm.” He groans softly, smiling. “So few women can leave me satisfied before dey go useless.” She laughs softly and nods in agreement. “Jes… women are… borin’. D’ey don’t understand what d’ey do right an’ what d’ey do wrong. I’d like to think I’ve adapted, hm”¦” she speaks breathily, her voice hoarse and scratchy.
His one arm still over his head, he reaches the other across his stomach over to Anjasa, his large fingers touching at her. “Hmm, adapted… jes. No odah elf could take de kind of punishment I give ju for my pleasure, let alone enjoy it.” He shifts slightly, pressing his head back into the pillow as he stretches a little.
Anjasa smiles softly, leaning in and kissing his chest “Jes, well, I learned to adapt or I would have died, hm. Not a hard choice for me… an’ after a while, well…” she grins “Sometimes de bad starts to feel very, very good.”
Jumwa’s fingers slide up the elfs side slightly, the softness of his touch broken by the rough and hard feeling of his digits. He continues on, as if she never spoke up, in a low almost muttering voice, as if to himself more than her. “I can even tolerate ju and jour voice in de aftahmath… so curious… no urge to have ju rid of or out of my presence.”
She lets out a tiny sound that resembles a contented purr, listening to him as she continues to curl up around him, still stroking her chest. “I’m glad for d’at.” Jumwa smiles wider, his eyes still shut, head inclined back into the pillow, his fingers brushing up and down her side, from her hip up to her armpit. “So… strange. Hmm. I don’t need to fake it and yet… it happens. Ju are de most devilish seductress… Evil… Pure evil…” He grins a little to himself, running his hand above his head through his white hair.
She lets out a low, rusty laugh, sighing contentedly. “It would have been funny for ju to have met me before de jail incident… I’m sure ju would have been bored with me within two seconds. So… young an’… inexperienced.”
His broad sculpted chest heaves with low laughter. “Mmm, talent, beauty and charm like jours aren’t born… dey are crafted.” He shakes his fingers in his hair a bit, rubbing his scalp. “If I knew ju were out to betray me… I’d want to risk it just to have ju for a while at least. Insidiously evil jour existence is… I love it.”
Smiles and continues to kiss his chest, sighing happily. “I’d have to get a fel of a deal to even flicker with de thought of betrayin’ ju, hm. If ju betrayed me…” she laughs coldly. “Jes, well, d’at would be de way I’d go, hm.”
He lowers his hand from his hair down around the elfs naked body, embracing her against his side. Speaking in a low gruff voice. “Ju wont betray me.” His face seems serene for the hulking troll as he relaxes there. “As beautiful and cunning as ju are… I am de best crafted, most fulfilling man ju could evah hope to find. And ju love me madly.”
She lets out a tiny, contented sigh, looking up at him. “I t’ink ju see right through me ’cause we’re so alike, hm…” she sighs again, squeezing him. “Ju are vile… dispicable… ju t’ink of t’ings in de most twisted manner. Ju have nothin’ on jour mind but ju an’ how to dominate further.” She smiles, her voice dripping with love and affection.
His eyelids crack open for a moment, before shutting again, his smile widening as he listens. “If I would… I would love ju and breed ju for what ju are and mean to me. But I would t’ink lessah of ju t’rough it.” He groans happily. “Mmm… I will settle for tying ju up and bringing ju great pain again sometime soon… and watch jour crimson life drip… wit’ so much affection.”
Anjasa groans and laughs softly, shivering slightly against his cool body. “If ju are so desperate fer spawn, I can find ju a carrier, hm. See if we can’t get de most of ju.” Chuckling with a rumble and heaving from his chest, he mashes her against his side harder. “Just de primal desires stirred by ju.” He pushes her with his strong arms almost on top of him.
She laughs, enjoying being mashed against him, a wide grin on her face. “Besides, who wants a pink troll baby? Pretty much need ta find ju a troll woman. D’at I will promptly kill after she gives birth, of course, hm,” grins, smirking. “Anyone ju’d wanna knock up, hm? Think they got what ju want?”
His chest rumbles again with the relaxed, deep laughter. One of his hands moves down cupping her bottom, the other stretched across his stomach up to the back of her head. “I only have a desire for one… de only one who is wort’y… but I am in no rush for any potentially troublesome heirs, hm?”
She nods. “Give it a few years, an’ d’ey’ll start t’inkin’ d’ey can kill ju an’ take what’s jours, hm? I mean, d’ey wouldn’t succeed, but would be sad fer me ta have ta kill somethin’ d’at can from ju, hey.” Smiles softly and hugs him. “‘sides, we’d need to hire a nanny, an’ we’d probably go through d’at faster d’en I go through panties, hm.”
He breaks into a loud, bellowing laughter again, hefting her up atop of his heaving chest and kisses her deeply, only opening his eyes slightly after. “I enjoy jour company, hmmm…” His eyelids slam shut again. “I’d ravage ju again if I weren’t spent. Delightful little vixen.”
Anjasa laughs and grips on to him, quite at home atop his body, yawning softly. “Mmm, what a good night.” He covers much of her back and behind with his thick forearms like a makeshift blanket atop her new bed, him. “It’ll help keep us at ease for de job, hm?”
She sighs softly, smiling sleepily. “We should get breakfast,” she yawns. “I’m starvin’ after that” she giggles “an’ more d’en a li’l crippled, possibly.”
He rotates his shoulders and stretches his neck, groaning in a semi-yawn. “Too crippled to fetch me breakfast and bring it back here, hmm?” He swats at her ass with a playful, but loud and obviously stinging, slap.
She yalps, laughing. “Ju know I can’t cook” she winces at the sting, bursting into another fit of giggles as the morning sun creeps in through a gap in the curtains.
Jumwa was used to this. Being the most desired man of his age in the Tribe, he had his pick of women. And his choice was: all of them. The women had something else on their mind, however. So it was, that when he lay with them, they all, in some way, tried to entice or entrap him into fathering their child and thereby binding him to them forever.
So it came as no surprise when Chu’la wrapped her legs about him as she felt his thrusts nearing their finale. The former boyish girl without any friends worth speaking of had become a ravishing and curvaceous woman, and so Jumwa had to have her, like he had tried all the rest.
Grunting he pulled away, his stiff member slipping from her as he orgasmed. But her strong, tight legs tugged him back and the tip of his cock nearly slipped back inside her. Surprised, but resisting her strong pull, his seed flowed over her moist cunt as he sighed with some irritation, slapping Chu’la across the face.
He was done with her.
The past couple years hadn’t gone well for him, but he lived on his own at least. No more Jril breathing down his neck. In fact, he hadn’t even caught sight of him since he left. His new hut, originally built for Chu’la and himself, was further from the village than even his mothers, and he rarely set foot in except when needed.
When Chu’la had failed to bare his child after that first night, he had been tormented with thoughts of what could have been. They remained friends and he watched on in agony as she continued to blossom into one of the most ravishing women of his Tribe.
Over the past two years they had still had their little flings, but it was with the clear intent that Chu’la didn’t want it to end with his child. With her strong arms and legs she had forced him out of her the time he tried to cum inside her despite her command, and the long absence of sex after that reinforced her lesson.
So when she appeared to him, dressed in somewhat ruffled, but sexy clothes, he was relieved. She had never before dressed up like this to impress him and it seemed that she had even gotten a little sweaty from her race to see him again. He smiled and thought to himself how she must have finally realized that he was the only one for her.
Their sex happened fast. She was like their first night, eager to get to it, if somewhat less enticing about it; he chalked it up to her anxiousness. When the time came for him to finish, she didn’t urge him away or show any sign of displeasure. She wrapped her legs about him and turned her head to the side, urging him on.
When their copulation ended, he turned onto his back and smiled up at the stars, satisfied. She was quiet beside him, but his life seemed to have promise again.
Turning to her, he propped up his head on his palm and smiled, “I love ju Chu’la.”
No response came, but his long time best friend sitting herself up, fixing her skirt and walking away from his encampment. She was done with him.
Jumwa rests his head back into place, eyes shut, groaning softly atop the hotel bed, fully dressed in his battle gear. “One t’ing first…”
Anjasa replies, “Anyt’in’.”
He moistens his lips. “Meet me at eye level, and more sincerely den ju have said anyt’ing in jour life, say dat ju love me.”
Slowly she squirms up his body, staring him straight in the eyes, lovingly stroking his face. “Jumwa’jin… my boss, my lover, my Chieftain, my” she pauses, smirking a little “friend… my lover… my mate, if ju’d go so far. Ju are de only one I could love with such passion. Even more so now.”
Gazing up at her, watching her with intense intrigue, he rests his hands on her leather-clad hip and thigh. “Again.”
She continues to stare down at him, her face dead serious. “Ju are my god. I couldn’t do anythin’ but fall hopelessly in love with ju, and if ju brought a blade to my throat right now, my last thought would be how much I respect and admire ju. An’ how lucky I was to have a bit of ju.”
He continues through her speech to gaze up at her, showing no signs of his own thoughts besides interest. His hands however, twitch and squeeze her hip and thigh for a moment, a silent sign he was pleased. He wets his lips again. “Kiss me lovingly.”
Anjasa smiles down at him, slowly leaning in, whispering against his wet lips. “If d’ere was any more of a way to prove my words, I’d do it without a flinch” , she smiles before tenderly pressing her lips to his bottom one, kissing and licking at it softly.
Shutting his eyes he smiles contently, kissing her back only slightly as he takes the time to experience her tender affections, the weight of her small body atop his chest. “Ju could tempt any, lovah. Ju could seduce de sun into giving ju all its light. De moon from de sky.” He mutters very softly.
She smiles, talking between kisses. “But to d’em I lie. To ju I expose my inner most demons an’.. whatever else I have in here.” Smiling wider, his hands slide around to her backside, embracing her. “Once more… say it again, simply.” His pointed nose brushes across her own tiny pink one as he moves his head from side to side between kisses, several times.
“I love ju, Jumwa’jin.”
She sighs and rests her head down on his, her nose balancing on his. “I love ju Jumwa’jin. Believe me?”
He shuts his eyes, “I do. Jes.”
He hadn’t seen her since their last night together when she came and went without hardly a word. He went to visit her several times, but was refused a meeting by her parents.
Some months had passed and now here he stood, in the centre of town, eyes glued to her again. Her belly was swollen and large, obviously pregnant. Even out in his hermitage word spread that Chu’la was bragging of carrying Jumwa’s son. Nobody, as of yet, had commented on Jumwa’s reaction. As of yet, he had given none.
He never imagined his heart could sink so low as this. He had lost it all, and he had so little in the first place. Every day from then on passed in agony unlike he had ever experienced, until he could take it no longer. He thought of killing himself and ending it all. He swore he could never do that on the lonely dark nights he was forbidden from sleeping inside the hut his own mother made. Now… it was all he could think of. Except one last thing.
When he crept towards her hut that night, he knew her parents were gone to the celebration, leaving her behind because of her pregnant condition. So it didn’t surprise him when he heard a sound from inside, though when it was followed by a louder thud he grew concerned and lunged at the opening, pulling aside the hide that hid the inside.
His eyes first expressed pain, and then anger, to new startling heights. Over top of Chu’la knelt him. Jumwa. But it took a mere second more to realize it was a bloody stone he held in his hand above her prostrate body.
Beyond that, there was no delay. He sprung upon the body of Jumwa, and unleashed upon him all the strength and fury of a lifetime. He knocked the stone from the larger trolls grasp immediately, and then pressed him into the dirt.
Though Jumwa had the strength and skill to outdo him easily, the surprised and fury of his opponent overwhelmed him, and before any time to twist and push the attacker off of him could be had, the wimp lifted the stone up and brought it to bare against the back of Jumwa’s head with a dull thud.
Stunned, Jumwa could do little more than flail before another blow hit the back of his head. Before he could finish the job however, Chu’la opened her eyes and screamed “Ju vile beast! Get off’a Jumwa!”
After everything, how could she?
The job had gone wrong. So wrong. Jumwa had just killed a guard who came by their rendezvous and that act would not be forgiven if they were caught.
Anjasa comes racing out of the tunnel into the ruined half of Silvermoon, a bundle wrapped beneath her arm. “Let’s get de fel out of here!”
Pretty soon the entire Silvermoon city guard would be on the look out for them, and escape would be near impossible, and their days of setting food near any elven lands would be at an end, to say the least. If their identities were found out, the Tribe would be in a great deal of hurt, and their leadership of it in jeopardy.
Mounting their raptors together, the pair take off as fast the beasts could carry them. However the trumpets sounding behind them indicated that they only had so much time and it ticked away regardless of their speed.
Anjasa looks behind them and furrows her brow. Quickly she called out to Jumwa, “Go on! Take de gold and run!” As soon as he turns and seems to register his understanding, she tosses the small chest from beneath her arm to him, her raptor slowing.
A look of consternation sweeps over Jumwa’s face as he looks back at the shrinking Anjasa. She calls out, “I’ll slow dem down!”
He slows down with her and their raptors turned to the side. As he eyes her over his mind naturally turns to the prospect that she’d turn him in; sacrifice him for herself. Before he could think over the situation any further, the decision was made for him. It was too late. She was dismounting and the pursuers were close behind. He either killed her there or ran.
He runs. And if he had looked back he might’ve caught a brief glimpse of the red and gold armoured guards striking her to the ground. With the death of the guard by the robber evident, they would take no pity on a suspect.
Startled by Chu’la’s scream, he paused in abject horror that she would think it was him, not Jumwa, who had tried to kill her. Before his heart could hurt anymore though, Jumwa twisted and punched him across the jaw, knocking him back. Chu’la struggled to raise her pregnant body up on her palms, but wobbled from the concussion and loss of blood that still dripped from the back of her head.
The large forest troll moved over top of him, his movements were slow and sloppy due to the blows to the back of his head and the younger troll took the chance to strike Jumwa on the side of the head again, knocking him to the hut’s earthen floor, unconscious.
Chu’la cried out again, screaming and crying in terror as the man she had conspired to ensnare into matrimony was presumed, in her mind, dead.
There were no tears in his eyes now. The smaller troll raised the rock above himself and brought it down on Chu’la’s head. With a sickening sound, her skull gave way and she slumped to the ground as he rained blow after blow upon; the only witness to the horrific sight being the blurry eyed Jumwa, as he struggled to see and rise to his feet.
It gnaws at him. Anjasa had been apprehended some days ago by the Silvermoon security and it had taken him a while to track down where she was held. A particularly shady and nasty officer had taken her into custody and it took a great deal of gold to even bribe his way into a visit with her; much of what they stole, in fact.
That took time, however. At first it was all he could do to bribe his way into getting a glimpse of her, and he could tell she had been tortured, beaten and worse. If she had resisted their questioning, which it seems she had, it seemed unlikely anyone could for much longer.
When they open the door to the interrogation room, Anjasa cringes, scooting into the corner, terrified of what was to come. She sees little more than a dark silhouette at the doorway.
Jumwa looks upon a bruised and broken version of the lover he had only a few days ago spent glorious moments of bliss with. He doubts she could even make him out through her swollen eyes, but he was wrong.
“J…Jumwa?” she murmurs, her jaw making terrible noises in her effort to speak, her voice harder and raspier than usual.
He clenches his fist and grinds his teeth, bracing himself for what he was about to do.
Chu’la was more than killed. Her head had been ground into something unrecognisable, and even Jumwa was terrified.
Turning to him, the smaller troll huffed and heaves with the exertion. Only after he had finished Chu’la did it occur to him the child was likely his, and she had used him to fool Jumwa all along. The sadness he felt from that thought was almost crippling, and he nearly fumbled and dropped the rock.
Jumwa took this as his moment of opportunity, reaching for his hunting knife in the hopes of doing away with the wimpy killer and going ahead with his plan of blaming it all on him, as he had intended from the beginning.
But his grasp was slow, awkward and incapable of wielding the knife with strength had he been able to take it out anyways. The other troll took it from his weak hands instead and shoved him over onto his back.
Looking down on the other troll, he noticed Jumwa didn’t cower, didn’t beg. He raised the knife, and still nothing. The last tear he would ever cry rolled down his cheek before he plunged the knife into Jumwa’s chest. With little sign of hesitation he carved from that broad stony chest the heart of his opponent that had haunted him his entire life and ripped the still beating organ out of his steamy body.
In the cool night air, the flesh of that organ felt glorious and yet still sickening. He bit into it time and again, until he had devoured the essence of his former enemy. He bore a grim and gruesome visage. The blood of two marked his hands, chest, face and mouth in particular. In that dark hut he narrowed his eyes and looked down at the dead troll before him, plucking the feathered necklace from his neck.
Witch doctor? Not anymore.
What was his, is mine, he thought to himself and placed the intricate witch doctors insignia about his neck.
Lifting the stone one more time he brought it down on the former Jumwa’s face, a loud crunch the last remnant of that “˜handsome’ face that so many women ogled.
A dark sneer marked his face, devoid of compassion or feeling as he licked his upper lip. I have to leave, he thought. His thoughts now only of himself, he stole into the night to leave and never return, to start again with a new name and the title he was deprived of unfairly.
Jumwa carries the dark haired mercenary in his arms, dropping the battered and disfigured body in a corner of the cell, his fist weapons bloodied from the fight with the guards. There could be no witnesses to what he had to do.
His chest heaving from the taxing battle to wipe out both the guards and then his female accomplice, but there was no way he could allow himself to chance this. Any could turn him in and the careless heist would cost him dearly.
Turning away from the body, he strides over and stoops down next to Anjasa, scooping her up in his arms, “It’s all in place now.” He kisses her forehead, “we can go.”
She looks up at him through swollen, black eyes; her head turning like it was on a rusty hinge. Through pouted, puffy lips she speaks in a muffled voice, “I love ju.”
Nodding to her, he hesitates before carrying his lover into the back alley of Silvermoon; none about at that late hour as he whisks her away to safety. He left behind a scene that would leave any to think that the thief’s accomplice had returned to cover his trail and eliminate her.