Character Highlight: Jazabu

General Information

Full Name: Jazabu

Associated Titles and Alias: Jaza, Jaz, Mama Gumbo, The Loa's Wrath

Character Alignment: Neutral Good

Sexual Orientation: Straight 

Philosophy: "If it can bleed, it can die."

Alliance or Horde: Horde

Physical Appearance

Race: Zandalari (Formally Darkspear)

Age: Mature

Height: 8'5

Hair color: Pink

Eye color: Amber with shades of blue

Body shape: Bodybuilder, but not to the extreme

General description: For the old troll mon's out there, there may be the faintest memory of a Darkspear witch doctor renowned for elixirs and hexes of the same name that lived in the Echo Isles before starting a self-exilement to Eversong Woods after some unknown tragedy. Assuming you get a glimpse of her without her terror-inducing mask, you would see an old troll in a new troll's body. Youthful eyes with the experienced pain of a long-lived life in them. Jazabu is dressed in furs, bones, leathers, and cloth from both Kalimdor and Zandalar. The Horde insignia is neatly embroidered on her tabard (if she's wearing it). Striking out in contrast to the tribal look is all the gold Jazabu wears on her person. Her mask is decorated with gold earrings, her hair is braided along the sides and pulled back in a gold pin. In addition, she has two large golden 9/16" gauges in her ears, a gold pericing in the center of her lip, an ornate gold high-neck collar, and her arms and chest are covered in gold tattoos of Zandalari origin.

Face Claim: N/A

Distinguishing Marks

• Rumor has it the mask that the Loa's Wrath wears into battle was made from the skull of some manner of humanoid creature that looked… vaguely orc-like. No one knows where the skull came from, or how Jaz acquired it, but when the troll retouches the paint she does so with paint like red blood, so it was easy to see how some of the rumors got started. It is called a rush'kah, a ceremonial mask special to shadow-hunters and witch doctors. It carries powerful mojo and oozes with the essences of the many Loa she has encounter in her time.

• Jaza is armed to the tiger claws; She carries two daggers made from raptor bone, ancient script etched into the porcelain surface and reinforced with iron and red glass. These would be holstered along her lower back at all times. Then there is the multi-bladed scythe, her primary weapon. It looks like it was pulled from the Emerald Nightmare; a thing of sickly, deceased black swamp muck and teeth of a large predator, secured to itself with vines and treated rope, and enchanted with magic that leaves it with an eerie red glow.

• Druidic Forms: 
• Cat - A apex predator of the jungle, here before you is a massive tigress, with the fur of flame and coal hue and black, sharp thorn shaped claws. A subtle crown of striking green feathers protruded from the head and flowed along with a lush, thick mane. The upper canine fangs are long and nearly the size of an entire goblin.

• Bear - A she-bear who you best not take your eyes off of if you face her in combat. Her fur is a deep, burnt auburn fur with a black, scraggly, mangey strip that runs down her spine. Black, tar-like substance is used as war paint; a handprint here, a rune there. Instead of melding into wherever they go, the bone on her armor transitions into armor on her body, the rib-cages of large animals protecting her neck and back. The upper canines are large, but unlike the feline form, they are only the size of a human forearm.

• Travel - The chosen form of Gonk, Loa of the Hunt, and patron of druids with trollish blood. The raptor’s gold-decorated tusks extend before dropping around the maw of a horned raptor. Sharp, beady eyes with split pupils follow every movement, and the small, three-fingered claw constantly moves. Talons consistently tap against the ground. The leathery skin is smooth and besides the usual molting is without blemish. Ceremonial bangles and armor keep the druid safe and distinguish them apart from Gonk’s other children, the raptors native to Zandalar.

• Flight - A brilliant large plumage of pink and purple, with hints of starlight-like glitter that falls from the luscious soft feathers, only interrupted by a softer white underbelly with swaths of amber-grain feathers and blue talons. Dark antlers rise with a curve from the top of the head into a natural halo-like formation. Armour protects the fragile parts of the wings, the top of her feet, and the vulnerable neck. An owl-like face with kind eyes that watch the world with a vivid curiosity. 

A weapon pulled from Nightmares...

Personality and Demeanor

At heart, Jazabu is a mother, first and foremost, who takes in those in her "circle" and nurtures them, helping her "children" to reach their full potential as people. A lifetime of experience has left her extremely sagacious and wise, perfectly capable of holding a long-lasting grudge, and energetic in spite of her age. She tends to fall into fits of hysterical laughter when something amuses her, "The Loa say some interesting things 'bout you..." being the go-to reason behind this. 

However, the wisdom she shares with her children comes at a price; She is brutally honest, more than willing to point of mistakes and errors of judgment at the drop of a hat. She prefers teaching her students with cryptic metaphors, and always in a way that purposely annoys them.

Despite this, Jaza does have a formal side. She takes her role as a follower of the Loa seriously and performs the rituals with pride. She is also deeply connected to the spiritual world, able to communicate to those on the Other Side freely, and hold many conversations with her Loa at all hours, day or night. She loves her children dearly and becomes very depressed when she loses one, whether by death or they're simply moving on from her care. 

Other Information

Favorite Trade Skill: Cooking - How do you think she got the nickname "Mama Gumbo"?

Main Character Hobby: Meditating

Favorite Drink: Jungle River Water or Spirit Spirits

Favorite Food: Mon'Dazi on her cheat day.

Favorite IC Activity: Playing with nearby children, letting them climb all over her in her various animal forms.

Favorite OOC Activity: Admiring Bwonsamdi's voice actor Alex Désert for his incredible talent in bringing my most favorite Warcraft character to life in-between arena/battleground ques.

Background

Good kitty-kitty...

Jazabu is an old troll, let’s not beat around the bush. To hear her tell it, she was old when Sen'jin was young and had just been named Darkspear Chieftain. While trolls are known to live extraordinarily long lives with the aid of any one Loa, it is not the case here. The truth is that while she is old, she is not much older than Vol’jin, and she still carried the scars from the Alliance swords and Murloc spears long after the Darkspear relocated to the Echo Islands. Despite her real age, she’s still considered quite old and grew into her own as a witch doctor and healer, which put her at odds with the Loa of Graves, Bwonsamdi. Many souls that should have gone to him and the Other Side stayed just a while longer because of her healing herbs and bolstering secret concoctions Jaza only described as ‘Gumbo’. In an incident that would live on in her memory, Jazabu had made a batch of her secret concoction as an offering to the Loa of the Darkspear, when an old troll stumbled into her hut complaining about his inability to keep any food down. He became enamored with the smell of the gumbo and asked if she could spare any of the brew in her cauldron, insisting that it was the only thing that his body could ingest. She agreed, though reluctantly, and told him that he could have some, but only as much as could fit in one bowl - Jaza knew better than to skim on a Loa’s offering, but her kindness overrode her wisdom. When she went to fetch him a bowl, the old troll, who was Bwonsamdi in disguise, drank the whole cauldron before she could turn back around. Jaza was a smart witch doctor though and had spiced the gumbo in such a way that not a moment later, the Loa of Graves clever smirk twisted into a grimace before he regurgitated the brew back up into the cauldron. From then on, the two had a kind of respect for the other, and the Bwonsamdi waited for his fill like the rest, rather than try and trick his way to more gumbo.

This was one of the few good memories she had of the Echo Isles, for shortly after the foul Zalazane began using his dark magic to cut Jaza and the other witch doctor off from the loa. The process was slow and subtle, and they did not realize the deception until it was far too late. Jaza wept as her people were driven from their home once again, and she joined the other witch doctors in exile in shame. She sought redemption with Zen'tabra and the Loa of the Hunt, Gonk, agreeing to follow the Loa into the Emerald Dream to learn the ways of druidism.

Jazabu did not remain long with her fellow witch doctors, traveling and living within other tribes' lands as she continued to learn from the Gonk. As the others began to fight back against Zalazane's pollution of nature on the Echo Isles, Jaza found herself among the forests of gold and silver, a land that she would later learn was named Eversong Forest by the Sin'dorei. She did her best to not incur the ire of either the Amani or the Sin'dorei but eventually did come to the attention of a Farstrider by the name of Lyanna Ravenwing. Their relationship was tense at first, old rivalries being ingrained into both of them, but over time they began to respect one another, and later saw each other as the mother-daughter they never had. 

As if the tigress wasn't bad enough...

Eventually, the primal rhythm of beating drums and strange clouds of acrid smoke drift called the troll druid home, to the troll village of Sen'jin embedded on the coast of Durotar. From the outside she watched the scattered Darkspear tribe gather at the once-sleepy location, listened to Vol'jin rally her tribesmen, and protected other members of the Horde from the shadows of the jungle as they helped with the preparation. The Reclamation of the Echo Isles was a bloody affair, with a few of her fellow witch doctors turned druid slain by Zalazane's mind servants, but together, with the boon of Bwonsamdi, Zalazane fell, and the Darkspear Tribe reclaimed their full might and glory once more.

Once the Darkspear home was secured, Jazabu returned to the backwoods of Eversong and continued using her magic and knowledge of the Amani’s movements to help Lyanna and her peers multiple times, increasing the size of her pack one by one. They were an odd pack to be sure, one Darkspear troll surrounded by a bunch of blood elves and one goblin, but Jaza did not mind one bit. After all, it was good to be using her healing craft again, and entertaining to watch them play out their lives in the dramatic fashion that the Court of Sun in Silvermoon often requires. These were the good days before things in the world around them devolved into darkness.

Jazabu never truly liked Garrosh Hellscream. It was part of the reason she returned to the Eastern Kingdoms - there was darkness around him that set the druid on edge, a pride in a heritage that would become twisted if he was not careful to learn from the past. It was Garrosh's ego that led to his downfall long before Theramore, but such wanton destruction was certainly among the straws that broke the camel's back. (You can imagine how she felt about Teldrassil years later). No, the final straw was the attempted assassination of  Vol'jin by Kor'kron murderers, the occupation of the Echo Isles, the enslavement of her people, and the destruction of the land. She never truly believed that the son of Sen'jin had perished, but she was careful who she shared this opinion until the rumors of his survival were too many to deny outright. As soon as the murmur of the rebellion reached her ears, however, Jazabu was out, searching for her Cheiften and bringing pain to the Kor'kron oil rigs and supply caravans in the Barrens until she was reunited with her tribesmen. The troll children still like to tell tales of the screaming, dying orcs in the savanna, bleeding out after being gutted by a massive, great cat with fur like fire and teeth as big as they were, whose amber eyes could be seen in the torchlight one minute... and be gone in the same flicker...

Jaza's tigress form is not quite that big, but with a child's imagination, you can understand where they'd get such ideas.

Oh good god, those teeth!...

Although ties between the Horde and Alliance members of the Circle were strained to the point of breaking by this time, Jazabu still answered the call from the Dreamweavers of Val'sharah when the Legion launched their final invasion on Azeroth and her wilds. From their stronghold, they battled the forces of the Burning Legion across the Broken Isles, but most predominately Xavius and the Emerald Nightmare. She gained first-hand experience of the unending darkness that seized her mind in its claws and tore her psyche to shreds. Often she awoke in a cold sweat. The only good thing that came out of this time was mended relationships and her chosen weapon; the scythe. Pulled from the still-warm hands of a dying satyr, it radiated with dark energy and took many cleansing rituals to seal away the evil, to keep it from seeping out into the dreams of those around her. Even now, Jaza performs a similar ritual each night, when the moon is right, to keep the power satisfied and under her control. The curse this weapons bite leaves behind would make even the vilest warlock cry for mercy, given enough time. Even in your dreams, you would not be safe...

It was a curious thing when Jazabu was chosen to be among the group of envoys traveling to Zandalar to improve relations between the two people - When she met Pixisticks on the barge sent from the Golden City to collect them, she had rightly assumed that this calling was no accident. Whatever the Banshee Queen planned for the Horde after further dishonoring them at Teldrassil, she did not want those who had helped dispose of the last Warcheif running lose, outside of her gaze and influence. She enjoyed mingling with the fishmongers and the children. It was still up for debate in the troll matron's mind just how much Sylvanas had truly orchestrated the minutiae of the Fourth War; Did she plan for the Alliance to come siege Dazar'alor? To wipe out the great navy of the empire? To murder King Rastakhan? For her enemies within the Horde to die? For her to die?

When the final Alliance blade pierced her heart, Jazabu was ready to accept her just place among the other fallen dead. She was ready to embrace her ancestors again. What met her was not a reunion, but pure and simple damnation.  A soul-chilling cold and cruel presence had grabbed her and tried to drag her down to a place of darkness and the bondage of a thousand and one chains. No hope could exist in such a place, and in her attempts to fight the presence only pushed to crush her spirit further. Worse, she was not alone in this place. An unimaginable number of souls swirled around her, wailing in their all-consuming, never-ending suffering as they all were dragged down to name-less, terrible evil below. Her salvation felt like she was falling asleep; Slowly, then all at once. The wailing softened in Jazabu's ear. A hand grabbed hers and started to pull her up and away from what awaited her below. The dark presence that held her down did not give up at first. She felt herself being pulled in two directions, her soul being ripped between an unstoppable force and an immovable will. Then, the darkness began to slip. The hand started to gain ground. She reached for her savior, grabbing onto the forearm. An extra hand reached out and took her other hand. Together, they climbed up the other's arms, strengthening their grips on the other until, like a rope snap, the darkness's hold broke on her. Her soul was rushed upward, and the further she was hurtled, the clearer she could hear a voice, strong and clear, talking to her. 

See, that's better! Pretty birdie...

It was Bwonsamdi talking to her, who had saved her from the Maw and brought her back to the land of the living. It was with him that the deal was made, to provide him with the souls of her killers in exchange for a new body and renewed life, and it is in his name, among the other Loa, that Jazabu know makes her fame (or infamy) as The Loa's Wrath, the arena fighter known for her brutal displacement of her foes in fights to the death with those of Alliance alignment. Jaza's not wholly a massacring machine - She still takes time to visit the children, telling them tales from her life and the lives of the Darkspear, though her outward form is now no longer recognizable to her tribesmen. She forces Pixi to donate the proceeds from the betting rings and merchandise sales to help the craftsmen get back on their feet, and those Zandalari who seek adventure, or just a better life, find a better life off of the island to the mainland Kalimdor. Now, with the Shadowlands in peril, and by extension Bwonsamdi's realm of the Other Side, Jaza has turned her attention to protecting the cycle and ensuring her bargain with the Loa of Graves does not end prematurely.