"When he opened his eyes, the was something in the bed of dead flowers. He blinked. It seemed to be a cross of white-painted wood; some had fitted the sleeves of an ancient naval tunic over the arms, a kind of mold-spotted tailcoat with heavy fringed epaulets of tarnished gold braid, rusting buttons, more fringe at the cuffs ... A rusted cutlass was propped, hilt up, against the white upright, and beside it was a bottle half filled with clear liquid.
"'My name,' said a voice, and Bobby wanted to scream when he realized it was coming from his own mouth, 'is Samedi, and you have slain my cousin's horse...'
"And Virek was running, the big coat flapping out behind him, down the curving path with its serpentine benches, and Bobby saw that another of the white crosses waited there, just where the path curved to vanish. Then Virek must have seen it too; he screamed, and Baron Samedi, Lord of Graveyards, the loa whose kingdom was death, leaned in across Barcelona like a cold dark rain."
My name is Ratshag, and today I will introduce the Warsong Clan of Draenor to Baron Fluggernuggin' Samedi.