Decades prior, Jumwa would have sat atop a throne of skulls at the centre of his secluded forest village. Nestled in the woods of Lordaeron, Jumwa’s enclave did not command great armies or respect from the other Trolls. In fact, its existence hinged much upon remaining hidden.

The vile witch doctors reign was cruel and often irrational. His quest for eternal life spared none. Children of the village disappeared in the dungeons below his manor-fortress and all were too afraid to confront or question him on it.

The reign of Jumwa was a reign of dark terror. The people he was charged with serving were but tools and test subjects to him. Though power he did command, and within his village none rivaled him and those with the possible drive to lead a revolt against him had been purged long ago.

Even within his home, beneath the dark trees of the forest, no one cared for or failed to fear him. Servants worked in constant terror that one day they might make some slight slip-up and they would be the next to go. Even his concubines, when he felt the need to visit them, were terrified and hated him. Eternal life, he thought, had its prices.

Now, the once-mighty witch doctor reborn, sat naked above the waist on the edge of a crude bed in Orgrimmar. A small orcish girl on his lap, legs on each side of his stomach while the two of them kissed. Strumming her fingers on his bare chest the girl grinned happily as the pale skinned, black-tattooed Jumwa showered her with gentle affections.

Jumwa’s arms were wrapped about her warmly, cradling her form in the thin white top and pants she had worn to bed the night before. “Renkka,” he said, still kissing her lips.

“Yes Master?” She responded between heated breaths.

“Come with me today. I’ve something to show ju.” He pulled her to him tighter, her back arching further as her stomach pressed against his bare, muscular chest.

“Of course, Master.” She sighed happily as they continued kissing and pawing at each other. The two sat there for some time before finally mustering the drive to get up and leave.

Standing in the forests of Ashenvale, Jumwa stood watching as Renkka sucked the soul of her dying opponent. The body of the dead elf slumped to the ground and Jumwa walked forward, placing a hand upon Renkka’s shoulder, “Ju have much experience with extracting de souls of your victims our and putting dem to much bettah uses. However, long ago I found a way to capitalize on something similar.”

Renkka fondled the newly formed soulstone in her hand and looked up to Jumwa, “Hmm? Really, Master? What?”

Jumwa set his foot upon the chest of the dead elf and smiled to Renkka, “Long ago, I found a way to cheat death. Not entirely, however.” He leaned onto his knee and brushed at his shimmering mail, polished and cleaned earlier that morning.

Renkka smirked slightly and pocketed the stone, “Master, you always talk about aging and being old, but you look so young! And, you certainly don’t act old.” She grinned and giggled softly.

Jumwa let out a brief chuckle and stroked Renkka’s arm, “De key to my story. You see, Renkka, I could not find a way to make de flesh indestructible. Dat kind of power is beyond even me. My best attempts led to rotted flesh that usually still impacted the mind, and was never indestructible.” He stood up straight and peered through the darkened forest, “But, de spirit, our essence, could be saved. Not unlike what ju do with your souls.”

She furrowed her brow slightly, listening to her towering master as he peered into the darkness suspiciously.

“Dis body, is mine. I claimed it. I won it through a battle of wills and my powah won out. However, it was not always my body.” He narrowed his eyes and stared ahead sternly, “Once I inhabited de body of a mighty Amani Troll. I ruled ovah a Tribe of my own. But, in de end I was undone by traitors, and an army sent against me.”

He grinned and looked down to Renkka, “But I could not be undone.” He reached out and stroked Renkka’s cheek, “Not too long ago I put de final step of my plan into motion, and returned to continue my work. Dat was several months before I met ju, my favoured.” He leaned forward and kissed Renkka’s forehead tenderly.

Clasping his hands behind his back he turned away from her briefly, “When I first met ju, I could see ju had powah. Ju had potential. Now dat ju are mine, my favoured, I need ju to be with me, serve me on my rise to powah.”

Before she could open her mouth, he spun around, grasping her by her arm and her hip, kissing her deeply, “My favoured, stand beside me on my rise to powah again. Love me. Nevah betray or doubt me. Togedder we shall have much. Dis Tribe we serve? Someday, it could be ours. Or greater still.” He smiled down at her and held her close, “I need ju to be with me, be more den just a servant. I know ju wish dat too, but ju might not know all dere is dat is involved in it.”

Renkka, half-smiling, bit her lower lip and nodded to him, “I will do what I can Master.”

Jumwa nodded as the darkness of the forest seemed to envelope them. Time wearing on as he held her tightly in his arms, kissing the pretty little orc, “We will serve dis Tribe, at least for now, but my favoured, Renkka, I need ju to be loyal to me above all else. Loyal to each other, if we are to ever go beyond our relationship as mastah and servant.” He closed his eyes and paused, “Someday, I might even lift ju up as a Chieftess by my side.” He smiled widely at her, opening his eyes and resting her down in the grass, the night fully set in upon them.

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