Conquest of the Horde

You don't mean not'ing to me, boy...

Those words stuck with Thraze. No matter how hard he might try to shake them out of his mind, the troll had them embedded deep into his mind. The only person he had ever truly cared for had decided to spend her last living moments demonstrating just how much she hated him once again. He would show her though... When he had enough power to drop the world to it's knees and pull her back from the spirit world, his grandmother would eat those words.

In the meantime however, the Witch Doctor had a more important problem at hand; He was dead, and that just wouldn't do. Thraze wandered the twisting abyss that was the afterlife, communing with long lost friends, relatives, and other allies. More importantly however, he was trying to come in contact with a minor Loa. It was said that the Spirit of the Draw held the essence of life in his grasp. All a soul had to do was beat him in a game of cards, dice, or the like; the bet being their eternal slavery for one more go at living. Thankfully, Thraze had prepared a few items in the past months.

That was what brought Thraze to the massive mansion in front of him. The troll didn't see the point in it honestly. Why waste all that time building something when you don't need to sleep, protect yourself from the cold, or keep animals away? Maybe it was to keep visitors like him out so he could gamble in peace.

The Witch Doctor rapped his knuckles across the wooden door, where he was forced to wait. Time didn't have much meaning to him now though, so he didn't know whether or not the wait was long. Waiting in general bothered Thraze however, so when a troll answered the door dressed in some ridiculous tuxedo, the Doctor snarled.

“What can ah do fo' you..?” The butler sighed, obviously not approving of the masked man in front of him.

“Ah come lookin' fo' da Loa Petro, he live here, don't he?” Thraze shoved a hand down into an ethereal pocket, before pulling a vial out. Filled with blood, the Doctor handed it to the Butler.

The other troll nodded, pocketing the item, before opening the door wide enough for Thraze to enter, “Welcome to de Mansion, Sir...”

“Call me Baron.” The Butler escorted Thraze through the deceptively massive mansion. In each room he passed a massive number of slaves filled each room, tending to different assorted menial tasks. The myth about being able to gamble your soul became more and more likely with every step. The Butler stopped in front of one of the rooms, motioning for Thraze to enter.

An elegant velvet couch, likely an offering to the Loa, sat pressed against the far side of the room. The walls were wrapped in a floral wallpaper, each blossom different from the next. Gaudy furniture reminiscent of a Goblin port town covered the majority of the paper however. Thraze took a seat on the couch, taking another look around. As he took in the sights of the grand chandelier, and the phallic-shaped candles humorously placed around the room, a translucent troll entered the room. Acting as if he was mopping up the hardwood floors, he cast several glances at Thraze.

As the man approached, the Doctor noted the ancient wrinkles under his fur, and his hunched back; The look of pain and sorrow deep set into his entire being made Thraze, well... Sick. The old man almost opened his mouth to urge the younger spirit to make haste out of the Loa's realm, but his mouth quickly shut as the Baron Ja'Thraze spat a massive green blob onto the floor, “You missed a spot.”

With a snarl the janitor continued to mop the floor, before leaving the room. As he exited the doorway, the butler came back, now motioning for Thraze to follow him. The trolls moved further into the mansion, down corridors and up flights of stairs, until they came to a massive doorway. Two slaves on either side of it opened their halves of the door, to reveal an amazing spectacle. A ballroom as big as the Gurubashi Arena opened up in front of Thraze; Hundreds of couples danced, and in the center of them all, sat a dozen tables, covered in green felt.

On each, a different game was being played. Thraze pushed through the crowd, not noting the distressed faces on each dancer; unbeknownst to Thraze, some of them had been forced to waltz to the same tune for over three hundred years. In any case, as the Baron reached the tables, he instantly noticed Papa Petro.

The man wore a red velvet top hat, accompanied by a suit of the same material. A white undershirt popped out from beneath his outfit. A bleach white grin spread across his face as Thraze stepped up to his table, only broken by a golden tooth towards the right of his mouth. “Welcome to de Ballroom, Mo'tal... Ready fo' da time of yo' unlife?”

---

Thraze approached the man warily; His whole life he had been taught about beings like Papa Petro... Always manipulative, sly, out for their own gain; Much like Thraze himself. The Baron took a seat, straightening his ritualistic robe. A dealer strode up to the U shaped table, with Petro in the center, and Thraze on the Loa's right side. Petro looked Thraze over, “Rules of de game be simple. Black Jack like normal, tryin' ta get close ta twenty one as possible. Dealer don't play, just us two. As you soon gonna find, chu got an amount o' coins equal ta how many years you was gonna live if ya din't die; One coin is one year.

“Ta cross back over, ya need to give de toll o' half yo' years. Anytin' left over, is gonna go ta show how many years chu got ‘till ya die. You can't live longer than however long you was gonna live befo' though... You place de bets though, ‘dat's my lil' gift ta you. So, you know da stakes, and you know da rules... We gon' be playin' fo' two decks. At de end o' that, we gon' tally up yo' coin and see how chu do. End up wit' out da amount needed ta pass inta de realm of de livin', and you gon' be stayin' wit' me fo' de rest ah eternity.”

Thraze nodded, shoving a hand into his pocket. Along with the thirty-six coins in his pocket, his fingers brushed against the gris-gris from Manman Brigitte that he managed to snatch up from an offering. The little red pouch contained the tooth of a shark, and enough luck to get him through at least one round of cards...

* *

The game had gone smoothy thus far. Thraze's pile of coins grew and grew, while Petro's dwindled. The Loa grimaced more and more after each round. After halfway through the second deck of cards however, Thraze's luck began to take a turn for the worse. His pile of coins dwindled, until he only had forty-two sitting in front of him. Thraze cursed under his breath... Six years of life? That's it? Dat ain't gon' fly wit' me. Gonna step dis shit up.

As the last round of cards came around, Thraze was in possession of forty-eight coins. He sighed inwardly, until the final hand of the game was dealt. Thraze moaned, looking down at his cards. Petro perked a brow at his competitor, but before the Loa could clearly see his expression, the Baron's face painstakingly contorted back into the semi-grin he had for the whole game. The troll pushed the whole of his coins toward the center of the table.

“What, eleven years not good ‘nuff for chuu? Selfish basta'd, knew it soon as ah saw you. All or nothin', I guess I respect dat. But ah know chu got a shit hand, ah can see it in yo' eyes even now. How chu feel ‘bout scrubbin' mah laundry for da next millennia?” Petro laughed, pushing his forty-eight coins forward, as well as laying his cards down.

A Jack of spades and a Queen of clubs.

Thraze put his own hand down with a distressed look.

A Queen and Ace of hearts. His frown contorted into a massive grin, the troll pulling the whole of the lot towards his side of the table, shoveling the coins into his pockets, “AHAHahahaha! Ah got yo' dumb ass! Ah gotchu! What a fockin' dumb shit! AHHHAHAhhahaha!”

Thraze nearly jumped for joy as the Loa Petro's jaw dropped. He pulled his hat off, slamming it down on the table, growling under his breath, “Stop.” But Thraze kept going, laughing at the spirit, ecstatic beyond belief that he had won a deal with the devil, “I SAID STOP!” Thraze halted in mid gallop as he hopped around in circles, “Chu lil' fockin' cheat! Ah'mma make sure you ain't never gon' win no'tin' evah again! Makin' a fool outta me like dat, in front o' mah own dealer! Arrghh!”

Thraze almost cried out as the Papa Petro contorted, his arms lengthening, and his body growing black. Thraze began to reel backwards through the dancers, his vision darkening from the outside in. The Loa let out a roar, and Thraze fell to his knees.

* *

Thraze came to in the center of a road, an ancient man looming over him. In a shaky voice, the man nearly whispered to Thraze from several feet above, “Do you... Have de' fee?” Thraze scrambled to his knees, bowing to one of the Loa of the Crossroads. With his head still down, Thraze began to pull the coins from his pocket, tossing them at the old man's feet. The Loa collected his toll, nodding as he set each coin individually into his pocket. He tapped the head of his staff on Thraze's head, “Chu are... Free, ta pass into de realm o' dah livin' once more, chil'. Feel free ta leave at any time...”

Thraze stood, averting his eyes from the venerable troll. He set down the cobbled path at a quick pace, finding his body at the end of the trail. He kneeled next to himself, before staring into his own eyes. It could have been days that he sat and stared into his own corporeal form, but eventually the two melded back into one.

Thraze's eyes flashed open, his body deep in the jungles of Strangelthorn, high on a lone hilltop. He wretched as soon as he recognized where he was; The mortal plane. he stood, his body shaking. He looked down at his missing left hand, letting out a yelp of dismay. When did THAT happen? Thraze groaned once more, before stumbling forward, hoping that he would make it out of the vale alive this time.

Character: Thraze

Resurrector: Thraze

Being a Witch Doctor, he has access to the Reincarnation spell; It was through this spell that he managed to make a deal with one of the minor loa. I put a Witch Doctor's twist on the spell, seeing as how he wouldn't achieve a second life the same way an orcish shaman would via reincarnation.

Temporary Drawbacks:

Thraze will be in a constant state of sickness, due to the unholy Death Knight which killed him.

If he loses even one fight for the next several weeks, the weak ties between his body and soul will be severed.

Long Term Drawbacks:

It will take several months for him to grow a new hand back.

A certain Jab'tok used Thraze's skull as a pipe; As such, he will receive all the negative effects of real world marijuana, as well as become deathly allergic to the substance.

Permanent:

Thraze will never be able to gamble; The Loa he used to worship prior to a game now has a vendetta for the Witch Doctor, meaning he'll never have a good hand. Ever.

He can never reincarnate again.

Even though he got through the Crossroads fair and square, he has been aged five years.

Considered a drawback for Thraze, he will know how old he will be when he dies.