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The long sleep ((Zeengo disappearence))
The distant sound of Sen'jin village was all one could hear over the lapping of the cold waves. The jagged, spiked skiff hardly made a sound in itself as its dark occupant slowly dipped his paddle in and out of the brine. Many years he had done this ritual, but only this year would he be alone in it. Always before the end of long winters were the best times to contact his patron, but this time he would not be the apprentice. As he came slowly to the secluded island of the Echo's the chill wind caught up. It reminded him of his purpose in this world, the duty that hardly any Darkspear's took up anymore. He feared he may be the last Death Speaker in the tribe.

Not long after he made landfall was he encountered by one of Zalazane's bewitched servants. The poor saggy shape of that troll coming at him was enough to drive him mad. One so close to death and near mindless only deserved to join the rest of his slaves in the nether. As the bedraggled whelp began to channel her dark magiks Zeengo could do naught but sigh in dismay. They were not even properly trained in spirit calling anymore, how could one fool allow them to drift so far. It only took him a few moments to travel the steps toward the brainwashed sap. She had not even moved an inch as he approached, just merely began channeling another spell. That next spell would never reach its completion. In a single chilling move he drew his sacrifical kriss and buried it in her lungs with a sickening crunch. He slowly twisted and drug the blade along the line of the two broken ribs, bursts of bloody bubbles spewed out from the gash. Withdrawing the blood drenched blade, he plunged it at her feet and turned back to his business of preparing the site. The troll woman would find her peace finally several horrifying gasping minutes later as she slowly bleed and suffocated to death.

The moon was getting high as he had finished preparing his ritual circle. The area was now strewn with the dozens of skulls he had accumulated over his many ascensions. Several of them were aranged along the outskirts of his drawn out circle along with his totems, the blood from his fresh kill used to mark it. Scattered on the four edges of the island were dark braziers, inside burned a single skull marked with a zulian rune. In the middle of the circle a black wrought iron cauldron that obviously had seen much use. The fire that burned beneath it was not one of natural forms, the dark flame attested to it. Plunged inside that cauldron was a putrid mix of alchohols blood and the remainder of the trolls corpse. The flesh had slowly boiled off its bone's leaving a fresh skull floating in the mix. Zeengo danced and howled visciously around the outside of his circle, his scepter of rites in one hand the heart of his sacrifice in the other. Three times he completed his raucous prayer before stopping infront of his cauldron

"Mueh'zala! Lord a'de Sleep, keepah a'de dead! He'ah ya speakah's prayah and ans'ah!" he called out into the darkness. The fire beneath and the cauldron and in each of the braziers flare up in a patterned sequence as the spirits of the dead cryed out at once. From the cauldron rose a thick blue smoke writhing and contorting with the faces of the souls he had taken. The heart in his hand began to wither and shrivel as the smoke continued to billow out over the lip of the cauldron. Slowly and softly he began chanting and dancing as he made his way closer to the brew. With every planed step he would stop and wave his the impliments in his arms out toward the rising smoke. The closer he approached the more frenzied and violent his chanting became, till finally it was all but a yell as he stood infront of cauldron. The sound seemed to echo through the nether as it resonated with an unworldly power. Finally, he looked over the pot and dropped the now sickly black heart into the brew. The smoke immediatly poured out in a violent burst, now no longer the blue but a thick oily black. The circle around him blazed up in a single brilliant flash.

He gazed down through the choking smoke with a simple phrase on his lips. "Mueh'zala ya servahnt be callin' to ya." For just that instant, the smoke cleared long enough for him to see the skull of the dead troll writhe in the thick liquid and turn over itself in what look a silent scream. This was the sign he had been waiting for, the omen he had been looking for. Immediatly he grasped for the bowl stashed beneath his robes. "Loa, I be wit ya dis night, show me yah powah!" he exclaimed as he plunged the bowl into what should have been a boiling hot fluid. Withdrawing it, lines of frost etched around the rim filling the zulian rune work. Looking down at the thick black soup in the bowl, he gave not a second thought and immediatly consumed it. The small chunks of the dead troll remained and collected at the rim as he drank the fluid. After it was consumed he tilted the bowl on its edge and poured the chunks over his tusks into his mouth. His swallowing was the last action he could perform as his vision quickly blackened. His body ran chill and his breath stopped. With a sickening grin on his face he plummeted backwards onto the still glowing blood ring.

"Fathah, I see de truth...de legahcy will be ours!"

((Just to let everyone know, I will not be around for some time. Believe me its not of my choosing, my account ran out and I just simple can not afford to reup it at the time. Unemployment is teh suck Sad Figured I would give an RP story on why he was no longer around, will try to get back ASAP ))

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