Zul'fan peers at you over the flittering flames of the campfire. Casually reaching out for more wood for the fire, he looks inquisitively at you, and asks...

"Yah' good an' comfortable? Ready fa' me ta' tell yah' about de' legend of de' Bonespear Tribe?"

Pulling your cloak closer about you for warmth, you nod wordlessly.

Nodding to himself, Zul'fan takes out a small dagger, and draws idly in the ground next to the fire while talking...

"It be told that after de' fall of de' Twin Empires - de' Amani empire an' de' Gurubashi empire- all was chaos for de' Trolls of de' time.

De' Empires had finally been toppled, a task which de' ancient enemy of dem Trolls never succeeded in doin'..

All tribes, but one, degenerated inta' savages..All a' dem, but one. De' Bonespear Tribe. Dey be ruled by de' vicious Wazimbo Bonespear...

Wazimbo Bonespear, sometimes also known as Wazimbo the Cruel, sat on the makeshift throne he had had crafted. From this higher point, he held court over the rest of his Tribe. He had made sure that no Troll of his Tribe would do anything he had not approven of. His throne was a terrible thing to behold; Made from the bones of those of his Tribe that had tried to challenge his rule, or his ways of ruling the Tribe.

Wazimbo the Cruel, although a savage Troll himself, was far from stupid. He had long sensed a change coming, and only through savage might had he managed to keep just a bit of his Tribe together. Just earlier today he had had to execute two of his followers. This had shaken Wazimbo badly; The two had formerly been some of his most loving subjects.

In the middle of the jungle, his Tribe was a beacon of light in the darkness; He had had his subjects fell great trees, and made a veritable fortress of their humble camp. Days and nights, he had his most cunning scouts patrolling the perimeter close to his fortress, and his most savage beserkers ready to unleash on any of the pitiful wretches that tried to attack him and his.

Wazimbo, not being a fool, knew why they, the Bonespear Tribe were under constant attack. He knew that all the other Trolls looked upon his Tribe with great hatred. And why not? Of all the Tribes, only HIS tribe still denied chaos; Only they still had a grasp on their glorious past (tenuos though it was).

Wazimbo let out a sharp whistle. Soon after, his beloved mate Kiz'ranagi entered. She was his mate, as well as his most trusted Witch Doctor.

It was her, who had confirmed his suspicions; If not for her, his Tribe too would be either degenerated in to war with other Trolls, or mad. No matter what else might've been, his Tribe would have been shattered.

Where Wazimbo was a fearsome Beserker Troll to behold, his mate Kiz'ranagi was equally terrible to behold in her beauty; Her fierce wit matched Wazimbo's every step of the way.

After some conversation - that which takes place between lovers in hard times- Kiz'ranagi led Wazimbo to their shared hut. Kiz'ranagi had lulled Wazimbo into a false sense of security...Thus, he did not notice the draft coming into his hut, that which was caused by the hole made in the back of it.

Different tellers tell different tales about what happened, then. Some say that Wazimbo fell asleep almost instantly, some say that they made vicious love one last time.

All agree, however, that no matter what happened before, the end was the same. Suddenly, Wazimbo's hut was filled with Trolls.

Even though it was far into the night, and Wazimbo - either with senses dulled after his tete-a-tete with Kiz'ranagi, or already asleep- was off his guard, he knew right away that he had been betrayed. He lunged at Kiz'ranagi, who deftly buried a dagger in his thigh. Howling with rage and pain, he halted for a second.

A second was all it took. The other Trolls were upon him...

"An' thus, Wazimbo Bonespear's rule came to an end...Even though he had fought fiercely, he was outnumbered. While he fought -and killed- many of the ambushing Trolls, others still were setting fires all over his village.

The following day, there was precious little left of Wazimbo's proud rule. Where his throne had been, there was now only one of his famed Bonespears, with his own head resting on its end...

Enthralled in Zul'fan's story, held by his voice telling of a story so ancient as to be lost mostly in myth, you do not notice Zul'fan telling the last words as he gets slowly up. The embers of the fire he had started are burning down, and he slowly moves back into the shadows, moving away...

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