Poem for Chabat

((The tatty and worn note has the scent of sandal wood incense and smoke. The writing is very neat and it seems a lot of thought and careful steady writing went into it. The paper is also covered with red wax drops and doodles along the bottom of the page))

To Chabat..

Blood Thistle be red.
Mage Royal be blue.

Just like de Voodoo hex.
I see me all over you..

Jimar.

(( Awww, that's so cute! ))

Oh...um, dat be...er...


*blushes furiously and tucks the note into her glove*


um...wow...

(( Isn't mageroyal Red? Cute anyway ))

Has the crazy mojo priest (the one I unfortunately haven't met yet) gone romantic? Lovely.

((After the ritual that took Jimar’s life a day ago - The Realm of Leviaus the Accursed, reaper of souls))

The spirit played with Jimar as it wisped up and over the low rocky path up to the gates of the castle, she turned back and giggled an ethereal sound before whipping around again, her hair flicking across her back as she went.
Jimar was giving chase, his body felt lighter as he ran, the wailing sounds around him seemed to be drowned out by his current fixation on the spiritual being, he was not out of breath and felt no fatigue at all as he pranced over the rocks and through the dark stone entrance.
Jimar stopped and looked around the courtyard of dark grey stone, it’s inhabitance had long gone, it had clearly been abandoned for years, as he noticed the bones of a small animal lying under an empty cart, it’s wheels old and broken. He heard the ethereal giggles again and spun round toward them, the spectral form of the woman sat on the stair case into the castle. Jimar grinned his usual smile and ran over to her. She laughed once more and disappeared up the stairwell. Jimar followed.

The stairs spiralled up the middle of the castle and branched off into different rooms along the way. Each door seemed to have a steel lock in place, a different cry or wail emitting from within. Jimar, used to the wailing of spirits, ignored them and continued up the stairs.
The spirit stopped at the top of the stair, turned round once more and gave Jimar a sad look. He stopped suddenly and stared back into her lifeless eyes confused at the sudden change in reaction. It slowly turned round and disappeared around the corner. Jimar made his way into the room, he noticed he made no footsteps as he walked along the stone floor and was not breathing heavily after running up a dozen flights of stairs. In fact he wasn’t breathing at all.
Jimar stepped into the throne room, it’s cold dark walls covered in black tapestries, high arched windows displaying the dark night sky. No natural light came from them only the black light from the flames lit on the torches on the wall. High dark grey pillars ran along the sides up to the throne itself…
Jimar lost his stomach instantly as he lay eyes on one of the shadow spirits himself. He sat on his chair, the black shadow flames licked up from his body engulfing his entire being, his body barely visible under the dark black and silver robe he wore.
Jimar gathered his courage and moved up the stone floor toward him.
“Leviaus..” Jimar started opening his arms in greeting.
“Silence!” The shadow form commanded, its voice echoed like thunder, vibrating through the hall it seemed to tremor everything it touched as it forced Jimar to his knees.
There was a slight period of complete silence, the type where nothing can be heard but the ringing in ones ears. Even the wailing of the distant spirits had stopped.
The black figure lent forward, resting his arm on his knee, the dark flames flicked up from it revealing a small patch of white flesh.
“How dare you summon me to your world!” the voiced boomed again.
“I..” Jimar started, but he battled with the bump in his throat. For the first time in his life, Jimar felt genuine fear towards something spiritual. He felt completely inferior and naïve as he suddenly realised how little he actually knew.
“I… was trying to speak with… someone.” Jimar said in trollish, he cast his eyes down.
Leviaus lent back in his chair, both his hands came to rest on the arm rests, his long undead white fingers supported long black nails which curved downward like claws.
The bottom of his face could be seen from under his hood, but it showed no emotion. Instead he just listened.
“Dey.. ‘er be askin’ me te… te be speakin’ wif one who has past.”
The black hood of Leviaus nodded slowly for a second and then his powerful voice spoke once more.
“And you found it fit to once again channel to the realm of the dead through me?”
Jimar shuddered as he nodded sadly.
“Have I not warned you of this before?”
Jimar continued his nod, if his eyes had allowed it, tears of fear would be streaming down his cheeks.
“cha…”
“Yes... please do explain.” The black figure said. Tapping his long fingernails impatiently on the stone arm rests.
“I be ‘aving no excuse, Leviaus”
“Address me by my title.” The figure pointed a black nail at Jimar.
Jimar swallowed again angry at himself for being so scared.
“I be donin’ it for.. love. Lord.”
The lord of the accursed laughed, a deep mocking sound that thundered louder than his voice, the sound seemed to shake the very heavens. The black shadow flames seemed to enlarge as his amusement fanned them.
“Love.” He mocked.
Jimar stayed silent.
“And what does a creature of death know of love? Little witchdoctor?” Leviaus did not wait for an answer.
“You have abused every pleasure of your world your entire life, you are a selfish…”
The black nail pointed once more at Jimar.
“… Disgusting, pitiful excuse of a mortal that deserves what you have already got and what is coming. Your kind does not know the side of the pure, little troll… Including… love.” He said the word like he was spitting it.
His voice growing deeper and deeper.
Jimar looked up at the hooded figure.
“I did!” he said regaining a little of his courage through rage.
“I be c’annelling t’rou ya te speak te de dead ex-memba of da guild! Dey ‘ad a message for ‘im. Maybe den Lyranne and Ryleen be likin’ me enoug’ te stop pushin’ ‘er away from me.”

The Shadow lord raised his hand and slowly scratched his chin, a small wicked smile curved in the corner of his mouth.
“Ryleen… yes. The one who summoned me.”
Jimar’s eyes turned desperate.
“No! I be summonin’ ya!”
“You do not have to protect your friends, little one. I am unable to touch them in your world.”
His smile vanished and he lent forward, peering at Jimar though the dark hood. His voice became angry and harsh.
“You were all fools to force me to cross over!”
Jimar looked up in surprise.
“What if the dark forces of your world were to feel the imbalance? If they were to notice the heavy transfer of a spirit into their world?”
“Know this… Jimar. If the Banchee Queen has noticed my crossing and finds out who is responsible. Her agents will be searching for you… and your friends… right now. Even now I can hear my name being spoken in the high elf city. It will not take long for the wrong person to hear it. I have been banished from countless planes, little one, but none like your world had the power I felt with Sylvanas.”
The black flames seemed to lick more intensely now.
“You will go back and you will walk your world again…”
Jimar’s face lit up..
“Oh t’ank ya Lord! I…”
“BUT! …you will not feel the sun or wind on your skin…”
Jimar’s face dropped.
“…You will eat but you will not taste… you will drink, but you will never quench your thirst. You will feel pain but no pleasure will ever come to you.”
Leviaus lent back into his chair and smiled a wicked grin.
“..and you will still love… but will never be allowed to be loved.”
“but… why… Leviaus!”
“Your body and soul now belongs to me and my realm. You are a whelp, little troll, you have no power. Just a understanding of the Light and dark, like I once had as a human. You will be like this until my tasks are completed, or you die.”
The towering frame of leviaus rose from his throne as Jimar quivered. His hands reached up to his hood and pulled it back revealing his face.
Jimar quickly looked away.
“Look!” The voice boomed.
“Look well… for if you do not change your ways.. you will become as I!”
Jimar’s gaze slowly drifted up to the empty undead face, dark black flames licked from his eyes and nose his entire face was twisted like that of a demon.
“You will go back.. and you will stop my name from drawing attention.”
Jimar nodded sadly.
Leviaus pointed at Jimar’s chest.
“Welcome, Jimar… Welcome to the ranks of thee accursed.”
A pain shot though Jimar’s chest like hot steel.. his body burst with pain like be had been set alight.. He screamed but nothing happened. His vision blurred and finaly he passed out.

Jimar awoke in the sand, the entire village was silent as the moon light fell down onto the huts even the raging fire had died down to shallow embers. He could feel his heart beating and drew a breath. He was alive!
But something was different… He had no will to be.
He crawled over to the pond and cupped a handful of water, he splashed it onto his face and wiped the red and white tribal paint away lost in thought, wondering how long he had been away. Had be been dreaming?
His question was suddenly answered as the ripples in the water faded.. a creature loomed over him. It was not one of fur or scale.. it had no face or teeth. It was complete darkness in living form, crouching over him. A minion of Leviaus.
Jimar looked round, but nothing was behind him. He turned his gaze back into the water, but the creature had not moved, a tear fell from his eye as he realised that he did not care. He hit the water out of anger sending a splash over the pond and stood up.
He ripped off the red robe covering his body and cleaned the remainder of the paint off his face and made his way over to a washing line. Pulling a dark black travelling cloak over himself. He hid is face within it and started his journey out of Sen'Jin village on his way to Orgrimmar, the cloak blowing tightly around his body and into the gentle breeze.
A little troll girl sat by the window of her hut watching him go, her mother comes into the room and sits down next to her.
“What are you looking at dear?”
The little girl points at the figure of Jimar walking off up the road.
“It be a evil loa!”
“No my dear.” The mother stared after the figure suspiciously. “It just be a homeless one, with no where to live and no one to love.”
The little girl seemed disappointed that she had not seen what she thought she did. How right.. and wrong they both were.

((Priests will be able to identify his curse immediatley, but will have to do a bit of research to find the source. Paladins/shamans/druids will notice something is wrong but can't quite put their fingers on it. Warlocks will notice the curse but not its source and will more than likely peak their interest.

Warriors/hunters/mages and the rest should be completely ignorant of it. (Nothing arcane about it) ))

((oh my, quite some consequences.. I guess Ry was very lucky that Leviaus decided not to care about her offer to pay whatever price he asked to save Jimar's life. ^_^ ))

((Just out of interest.. what happened with Leviaus after i left? and what Did Ry and Grando do?

As far as you guys are concerned, Jimar is dead i suppose I know one guild member that will be happy to hear that ))

Oh, bad news. It means that I will never have the chance to meet the crazy and cheerful witchdoctor Jimar once was.

(( there aren't any Guild members that want Jimar dead. Lyranne just doesn't trust trolls that approach her and her friends offering them bloodthistle and insisting it's "da go' stuff... gre' for de' mojo". Naturally, if she finds out he's dead, she'll feel guilty all over again ( she has her reasons for feeling guilty with little reason, but it's going to be tricky to bring it forward ingame without someone confronting her about it ). Regardless, I don't think you need to worry about being hated; merely distrusted a fair amount *smiles*. Personally, I think Jimar's a great character: I know little bits here and there, and although Lyranne doesn't know it, he's more rounded than first appearences lead one to believe ))

Ryleen made a grimace as the first thing that greeted her once she teleported was the smell. She would never get used to it. But those that actually lived here most likely had lost their sense of smell a long time ago.
Outside, the first rays of dawn would be hitting the ruins by now. But down here it was as dark as always. Once her eyes adjusted, she starts walking through Undercity.

As she crosses one of the bridges, above what passes for water down here, she stops momentarily and thinks back to what happened a few days ago.

By the fire in Sen'Jin.
The ritual.
How everything suddenly went wrong. Jimar collapsed, suddenly unconcious and pale as death.
The overwhelming feeling of helplessness as she knew there was nothing she could do to help him.
But she had found Gando, knowing he would be able to help, he would know what to do.
When they came back, Jimar was concious again, but only barely. He gave her instructions on how to call for help.
She followed them, and the one called Leviaus showed up.

Here she stops, tries even harder to remember. How did he look? She had been to upset, to afraid Jimar would die. She never really looked at him. All she recall is a shape shrouded in the aura of a shadow follower. I was a forsaken. Surely no orc or troll. He had arrived on a mount. A skeleton horse.

She sighs, leaning her elbows on the railing and looking down at the bubbling green slime below, no longer minding the smell very much.
That description would get her nowhere. But she did have a name. Leviaus. Sooner or later she must find someone who knows it, she just haven't had any luck yet.

Leviaus seemed to know Jimar since before. It wasn't the first time Jimar had callled for his aid.
She couldn't recall exactly what he had said, but he had seemed unwilling to help at first. He had said Jimar's soul had been separated from his body, or something like that.
It needed to be called back, or reattached to the body.
And they way to do it was to kill Jimar, take the soul and then resurrect him.
She had asked if there was no other way, but Leviaus already acted, taking Jimar's life.
When she had asked him what the next step to bring him back was, all he had sad was "His soul is mine now... I answer to no one.", then he mounted and disappeared towards Orgrimmar.
She had quickly explained to Gando what had happened, since he hadn't been able to do much but stand confused and watch what was happening.
Then she followed.
First Orgrimmar, riding around and asking people if they had seen the undead ride by.
Then she realized he was more likely to have taken the zeppelin to Undercity and she went there.
But no luck, no one had seen or heard anything.
And that way the past few days had been. Asking everyone she could think of if they knew the name or could help her, but with no luck.
She didn't tell the whole story though.
She said Leviaus was a thief, that he had stolen something belonging to one of her friends.
Technically, it was true. Only, the stolen thing was a soul.

She sighs again and then continues walking.
It was beginning to feel hopeless, but she had to keep trying. She would have to tell the others too.
She had hoped to solve things on her own, but it was getting obvious that that wouldn't be happening.

Over by the book dealer she spotted a man looking through the shelves.
He must have been an old man when he died.
What remained of his hair is silvery grey and thin, and on his nose is a pair of worn glasses that probably were expensive once.
The very air around him said scholar, from the ink stained sleeves of his robe to the way he carefully handled an old tome he picked down from the shelf to examine.

She walked up to him, preparing to say the same things she had be repeating over and over the past few days.
"Excuse me, I was wondering if perhaps you could help me?"
He carefully returned the tome to the shelf and then turned around to look at her.
"That is possible. What kind of aid is it you seek, troll?"
His eyes had the usual unnatural yellow glow of the forsaken, but still felt very much alive as he curiously peered at her.
"I am looking for someone. A thief, who stole something very important from a friend of mine. But I only have his name, Leviaus. Is he someone you know?"
The man flinched a little at the mention of the name and looked around to see if anyone was listening. Then he spoke to her in a hushed voice.
"That is not a name that should be spoken in such careless way. Yes, I know him. But it seems you do not. Follow me."
The forsaken picked up a cane that had been leaning against the shelf and supporting himself on it he started to walk away.

She followed him, happy that she at last had found something, but confused about his reaction. Soon they arrived at what seemed to be his home. The place was littered with books, scrolls and parchments. It looked like a complete mess, but he quickly moved to a specifik pile and produced a scroll wich he hands over to her.
"This should tell you what you need to know about your 'thief'."

((I've read these posts after watching a Discworld cartoon, so it was a bit hard to take them seriously... I've portrayed Leviaus as Death, sitting on his loyal horse Binky and talking in his booming voice represented in small capitals... I'm sorry.))

Jimar, could you please post your part of the story? I feel that I can't play Ry until I know what the scroll contains, since she most likely will need to react on it somehow.

((The scroll is written in an almost ancient common, but someone seems to have written notes in red ink down the side of the pages, roughly translating it. Perhaps a student or novice scholar from times past. It seems to be a sort of magicker’s guide to summoning lesser beings. (Think of a cook book, ingredients/method etc)
You scroll through it, skipping out the dribble and notes that have been written down until you come across a section that has a huge Circle round the title.))

Elomonio et Louotea ((“The Nirvana and Accrued combined” is scribbled in brackets next to it. The rest of the scribbled notes read…))

…Such is the mixed Realm of the one they call Leviaus, the lord of many names and titles some of which include.
The bliss God
Exultant one
Lord of the Jovial
Lord of the accursed
The reaper of souls
((The translation stops and rest of the list is in common, the translator obviously couldn’t be bothered with translating all of his titles.

It continues…))

…Sometimes black sometimes light, his realm is ever changing, as no mortal, except for the one they call marron has returned from this ‘flashing world’, as the high magi like to call it.

…It is suggested that this miraculous event is caused by the mood if the lord himself, his servants’ attitude, and more importantly, competence towards their master affects their existence more than they, or any other outsider could possibly know.

((alot more common floods the scroll with little or no translation.))

The history of the accursed is a sad tale that should ONLY be told in the…

…Only to be exiled from that dark world by a much lesser power than himself, from there it would seem that he happened upon a small realm called Azeroth, our world seemed to take his liking as he…

.. It didn’t take them long to notice and the very council that welcomed him and his servants turned against him, using a great deal of power from what they had learned from it, they opened a portal which now leads to his domain where he has been banished forever.

((a few more lines of untranslated text and then a small scribbled drawing of a scorpion and a symbol, almost like a voodoo tribal sign.))

..The symbol represents the spiritual path taken to channel any energy through his realm. The realm of the accursed neighbours the realm of the dead, like two books on a shelf, thus making it an easier target to channel through, if the correct ritual is used. A few such methods include…

..But be warned, if Leviaus wishes it, he can peer through into our world and reach out to pluck the souls of the gathered like ripe fruit if they are as weak hearted as marron…


Ulladura yuwarro ueerates: ((Summoning methods))

((There are three sections to this, and only a little has been translated, as if the student had lost interest in the subject. It is then followed by complete gibberish and a male name with a heart drawn around it.))

… It is important to note that this ritual could backfire if Leviaus’s realm is under the dark…
Think of two carts racing towards each other, and only one (and not yours) is carrying a heavy load. Thus is what happens to spiritual energy.
IF HE IS SUMMONED TO THIS WORLD AS A MORTAL, HE REQURES THE TAKING OF A SOUL TO RETURN!!! ((in big red letters))
That sort of thing cannot be allowed to happen or the magi shall sense the rift and investigate and the poor sacrifice is dead.

..any soul taken by the reaper is considered lost, neither of this realm or the land of the dead, doomed to float within his world...
…forever basking in his paradise… or suffering in his world of anguish.
It has been written in Mandrake’s Tomes of relentless Nirvanas ((obviously referring to a different book)) that any soul that crosses over cannot return…
Please be warned that trying to contact anything from…

((The scroll ends as the bottom half seems to be ripped off, this scroll is obviously a copy of the original that you guess must be thousands of years old.))

Ryleen slowly read through the scroll, both once and twice. This was bad. Even worse than she had first imagined. Since the man didn't want to give her the scroll, she sat down and carefully copied all the translated notes into her notebook.

Later, on the floating island in Nagrand where she went when she needed to think, she read the notes again. At first, it had seemed like all was lost. But when she read it more carefully she realised that there was a few sentences that inspired a flicker of hope.
There was no reason to give up yet.
Only, she would have to find someone who had knowledge about such things and was willing to help her. And she would have to tell the guild that Jimar, for the time being, was dead...

((same night as the 2 june guild meeting))

The grunt sat at his fire cooking what seemed to be a bit of pork on a stick. The fire was flicking across the street in Orgrimmar as he spotted the silhouette moving through the darkness. He grunted and squinted as he peered at the object moving up the street towards him. He picked up his axe, it was too late for any of the traders to still be walking the streets.
The dark robed shape slowly stepped into the light and without even paying any attention to the guard it carried on down the road towards the Spirit lodge.
The Grunt barked.
“You! Come back here.”
The shadowy figure stopped, but did not turn.
“What you do out so late dressed like that? If Ruggar didn’t know better, he’d think you were up to something.”
Still the robed figure did not turn, a faint and almost chilling voice came from inside.
“I just be goin’ ‘ome, mon.” it said.
Unconvinced, the grunt started to make his way towards him. The figure slowly turned and as the Orc came within an acceptable distance, he pulled back his hood.
The Orc stopped and hesitated. The troll’s eyes were distant and his face was covered in a strange black paste… but there was something else... something darker that send a slight shiver up the Orc’s back as he stared back at the troll.
The grunt nodded.
“Okay, you go” He pointed down the street, his finger quivered slightly.
The troll said nothing and slowly pulled his hood back up, turning round, he continued his journey down the street until he disappeared into the darkness.


Jimar arrived at his hut, it looked much the same as he had left it, the outside still had the two large Voodoo masks on either side of the entrance and the inside was still a mess of fur, broken bottles, skulls and various other objects scattered around the floor.
He stepped up to the doorway and stuck out his now skinny and pale hand to brush aside the bead threads in the doorway.
There was someone inside, a female.
“Jimar! Where have you been?” She asked in troll. “I have been coming around nearly everyday for a week.”
Jimar ignored her question as he walked over to the mess of fur he called a bed.
“Get out.” He simply said.
“Excuse me?” She was shocked.
Jimar said nothing as he pulled the heavy robe from around his shoulders and lay it down on the bed. The Troll lady’s mouth dropped.
“What happened to you?!” she exclaimed as she noticed his skinny and pale body, his tattoos almost the complete opposite colour of his skin.
“Get out.” He said again more faintly this time.
“I told you that stuff would effect you! You couldn’t be smoking and drinking and eating strange things forever, without consequence you know!” She was almost screaming, obviously upset.
Jimar flinched slightly in pain as the shadowy creature moved around the room, It left long dark trails as it moved, which seemed to wrap around everything it touched. The temperature dropped slightly in the room as the small candles were smothered out one by one.
The troll lady obviously couldn’t see it as she shivered and moved to relight the flames. Again they slowly faded and died.
“Something is not right here Jimar.” She said.
Jimar twitched in pain and a slow wicked smile spread across his face, his words were almost hissed.
“Get out you whore…”
The timing was impeccable as all the lights in the tiny hut were extinguished at once, the creature let out a sharp shriek and the female troll jumped at the sound looking around desperately.
Without grabbing her coat, she made for the door and screamed as she ran down the road, Jimar stood on the spot, not moving, staring at the shadow creature as it seemed to stare right back at him.
“Ya won’ be der foreva.” He said with a wicked grin.
The creature with no features did nothing for a few moments, then it slowly moved toward Jimar, fading as it approached him. It walked straight into him and moved through his body. Again, he could feel it inside him.
Jimar moved to his collection of vials and liquids, he picked up a few and threw them on the ground, they shattered spilling their contents all over the floor. He turned, and picking up his coat, he made his way to the entrance. On more time he looked back at his home, his expression blank. He lit a match and threw it on the ground, it ignited quickly spread throughout the hut. Jimar pulled up his hood and left, walking off into the darkness. The tiny hut burst into flames and the valley of spirits suddenly woke as peons ran for buckets of water to stop the flames from spreading.
By the time the flames were out, the hut was completely destroyed and Jimar was long gone.