The Storm and the Trolls

The Storm and the Trolls


As Chronicled by DoomRyder of the Clan Storm Lion Academy
Sub-Clan of the Storm Lions Elite



Chapter 1: The Meeting


It was during the ages past when men still spent the blood and treasure of their land for one thing - conquest. A time before the Storm Lions united all kingdoms under one banner and peace coated the land like a warming blanket of justice.

War had been waged for centuries and the land was still wrought with the peril of such loathsome creatures as giant wild boars, creatures of the sea, magical golems of stone, and ghosts clawing up from the depths of their shallow graves slaughtering wholesale the good people who made their homes in the violent Kingdoms at War.

This tale, however, follows a clan of kingdoms who squared off against a creatures of a different type, trolls. Tremendously foul creatures of such vile refute that the very sun refused to shine in their presence.

So evil was the race of trolls that the very Gods of the Kingdoms at War would place them in the mountainsides and threaten to release them. The Gods demanded the wanton slaughter of these beings to appease their lust for violence and gore. And it was the brave warrior kings who ruled the Kingdoms who slaked their thirst in return for massive quantities of plunder and gold.

This was the one weakness of men who lived in those times. Their lust for warfare, power, and plunder matched that of the Gods.

A gnawing mist coated the highlands and warriors of the Storm Lion Academy shook of the chill off by warming themselves in one of the many taverns, which were prominent in their lands.

Slamming down his tankard of now empty ale Doom threw his armor clad right arm up. A signal to the serving wench he was in dire need of another. It was his tenth tankard that night.

"What's eating you brother?" asked Stormy. "You've been chugging brew all night and barely a word you've said to any of us."

The apprentice Storm Lions had gathered that night to drink and plan future conquests. This typically meant more drinking and boasting than actual planning, but it was a time honored tradition that still goes on to this day.

"Yeah Doom," said Common, as he wiped his scruffy face with his sleeve. "You are usually bragging about some pigs or something your kingdom has slaughtered but tonight your only conversation is with the serving wench when you order more brew!"

Laughter roared around the table. Common was striking on the point that only the most junior of their mighty clan battled such puny creatures as boars.

"Well I built my alter, sacrificed every man under my banner, razed every building to the ground, threw my gold into the ocean, cancelled every alliance I had and gave my land back to the God's and all they gave me in return were these worthless bracers," DoomRyder retorted as he raised his tankard to his lips for a long sip, his bracers gleaming on his wrists.

Again laughter erupted around the table as all the battle tried warriors around the table also had the same bracers, now scuffed and stained by battles long past and most also had brilliant armor that the Gods had gifted them as well.

This tradition of sacrifice and destruction was created by the Gods to ensure the greedy kings and warriors would always seek out battle by destroying everything they earned in return for magical trinkets that would serve them well in battle. Some believed that the Gods would only grant four of these powerful gifts as anymore than this would allow these magnificent warriors to challenge the Gods themselves.

"Well it's taking me a long while and the blood of many men to bring the land back under my control and I'm starting to wonder if it was worth some fancy wrist guards," Doom replied to the laughter taking another long drag of his brew.

"Enough depressing talk about Doom and his troubles, we are here to talk about conquest and plunder and gold," Bood said suddenly jumping to his feet startling those to his left and right. "Our veteran brothers in the Storm Lion Elite are battling back hordes of ghosts filling their coffers with gold and we still waste our time and men on sea creatures!"

Here here's, resounded around the table and tankards of the ales spilled foam out the tops as they were slammed on the table. A collective sigh came from the serving wenches as they began mopping up the mess. Bood was talking about the ominous tentacled horrors of the deep, which sprung up from the depths to challenge the prosperity of their kingdoms. Most of the men at the table still stunk of the ocean and their boots still had the sand of the beaches in which they had laid waste to these creatures.

Standing to his feet War raised his arms and cleared his throat to speak, as he did he belched loudly and fell back into his barstool and it exploded into splinters under him. Darkness shaking his head walked over to War and offered him a hand as he regained his footing and then War stumbled outside to take leak.

This was the typical Storm Lion Academy gathering. Drunken singing, here here's, tankards slamming, and the occasional epic battle was the result.

After watching War stumble out of the tavern Darkness strode to the head of the table and spoke in a low voice,. "Brothers, warriors, friends, the time has come for us to join arms against a new threat to our kingdoms," he paused to gauge their interest and build suspense. "A mountain has sprung up like a weed in my kingdom and this can mean only one thing, trolls!"

The very mention of something so foul caused the serving wenches who were busy mopping to gasp.

Trolls were created by the Gods to appease mans love of treasure and the Gods love of watching men sacrifice their blood for it. Summoning forth their might the Gods would whisper to the land and the land in homage to their greatness would rise into a great mountains to reach out to them. To the obedient land the Gods would plant seeds on the summit of the mountain and from these would grow trolls. The trolls lorded over these mountains and protected them and in return the mountain would belch from it's depths gold and treasures, which then the trolls would eat. It was a symbiotic relationship, without the trolls the mountain would fall flat and crumble and without the mountains, the trolls would have no birthright.

Darkness continued in an even and measured tone, "The Gods have seen fit to place this challenge at our doorstep and it is our duty to leave them bloody, battered and dead. Then when we stand over their beaten bodies we will bleed them dry, cut open their bellies and empty out the contents."

It was common knowledge that troll blood was very valuable and could be sold for chests of gold if you could somehow cut through their thick wicked hide and get it, and not lose you own in the process. It was hotly debated in many a tavern in the kingdoms as to why trolls loved the taste of gold. Some believed the Gods created them this way as to ensure humans would hunt and kill them for their entertainment, others believed trolls will eat anything they can get their mouths around and they simply can't digest metals and they linger in their bellies.

Either way this promise of conquest, glory and treasure had all the warrior kings at the table in a trance. Golden lights twinkled in their power hungry eyes, as they thought about how they could use this gold to increase their kingdoms might.

"So Darkness," Doom said as he sat his tankard on the table. "You have given us an end result but no idea how we will accomplish such a feat. I would like to hear your plan, if you have one, on how we defeat such creatures without being crushed beneath their monstrous fists."

"Hah, do you doubt the might of our combined kingdoms," Damarkus asked incredulously. "I could destroy those beasts on my own and by the Gods the plunder would be all mine."

Damarkus was a powerful King indeed and his kingdom ranked highly in the Storm Lion Academy ranks. His armor and arms showed the scars of many hard fought battles and his kingdom and his clan had gained much from his dedication to warfare.

Diplomatically Doom responded with wink, "While I don't doubt you could do what you say, but how would you carry the plunder back? Even with your might you would be hard pressed to shoulder the weight of the troll blood and treasure."

"Well he would have to share the loot with me because I wouldn't stand by and allow his blade to cut troll flesh without my blade singing it's song of of death with his," piped in Spitfire.

Taking charge Bood slammed his fists on the table and screamed, "Enough! Darkness has given us the opportunity and by the Gods we will seize it. Tomorrow we march! Pack your bags, bring some potions, rally your men and eat some food to soak up the brew in your bellies. We will need our wits tomorrow!"

Each Storm Lion at the table downed his tankard and slammed it on the table in front of them. With that they walked, and some were helped, out the doors to assemble the men for the march the next day.


Chapter 2: The Approach


The chill cut through the ranks of the Storm Lion Academy as they made the long march through Darkness' lands. The ground shook around them as the thousands of men, creatures, and siege machinery crept along the roughly cut roads that led through his kingdom. The mountain at first a speck looming ahead of them was rising as they closed the distance and the temperature slowly dropped. The sky darkened as carrion birds flocked overhead screeching in the wind as if they knew a great feast would soon be at hand.

"Hold! We must leave the road here and forge our own path," cried Darkness over the shuffling hordes. A great silence shrouded the multitude as they slowed to halt.

The warrior kings rode forward to devise the best course of action. Huddled together, casting sideways glances toward the mountain, they talked amongst themselves how best to move forward.

"I say we head up the front of our assault party with guildmen and have them scout the grounds. Then once stealth is achieved and if no danger is found we will cut a road with our siege machinery," suggested Stormy.

Siege machinery, while useful for laying devastation on enemy fortifications and crushing men under their unstoppable wheels, also were commonly used to cut roads in the untamed lands of the kingdoms.

"Agreed. Let us hope the trolls are not wandering far from the mountain as they will lay asunder our spies," War pointed out. "Trolls, while dimwitted, have keen senses and will surely hear the grinding rumble of our siege weapons coming towards them."

War was respected by his peers as his kingdom had once merged with others under the Storm Lion banner and battled the troll menace before. From that battle he had cleaved a finger from one of the fallen trolls and hollowed out the bone. This held his homemade ale, which he often took swigs of during campaigns. It hung from his belt swinging to and fro as he walked towards the mountain to take a better look at the contours of the land. As he pondered a strategy he pulled it from his belt uncorked the top and took a large swill of it.

"Perhaps sending the spies to scout from both the east and west would reduce the chance of them being all killed at once. This..."

"To Hell with all this sneaking about," bellowed Damarkus, cutting him off. "I say we march right up that mountain, pull them from their holes, and cut their ***** from limb to limb!. I'll..."

Damarkus struggled to speak but could make no words escape his lips. Unfortunately his love of warfare and plundering was only matched by his love for profanity. The Gods, however, did not share his love for such wordsmithing and his voice was taken from him as was customary in the Kingdoms at War. If he was lucky the Gods would grant his voice back to him the following day.

The other rulers shook their heads and laughed at Damarkus' misfortune. This was an all too common occurrence for him but they were all glad he was there as his prowess in battle had proven to be an asset time and again.

Spitfire piped in speaking on Damarkus' behalf, "I believe my friend, before his voice was taken, was simply asserting that we should act quickly. The men grow restless and the sooner we confront this beast the sooner we can get back to the tavern."

The warrior kings all nodded agreeing with this statement. Damarkus clapped Spitfire on the back in approval and with that Bood raised the Storm Lion banner high into the wind and rhythmically moved it up and down. The blue banner whipped and cracked in the wind. Emblazoned on their cloth of arms was a lion holding a single bolt of lightning. The signal was for the spies to conduct their reconnaissance.

Thousands of spies moved forward silently creeping like ants on the warpath. Their eyes keenly looking for any signs of trouble as they stalked through the brush. When the cloaked men disappeared into the overgrowth the siege machinery creaked into motion and soon the ground begun to shake as trees and grass and rock were slowly crushed to a pulp under their unrelenting spiked wheels. Behind them the warrior kings of the Storm Lion Academy rode forth on armor-clad warhorses as a clear path opened before them as if the very land itself was bowing down to their collective power.

Soon the unnatural base of the newly grown mountain came into view. Uprooted trees and growth clung to it's sides as the mountain had just days before ripped it's way from deep in the earth and pushed it's way towards the heavens. Streams of muddy water carrying rocks and earth flowed down the sides of the unholy peak pooling at it's base.

The siege machinery had ground to a halt as they were under orders to stop short of the base as to not alert the trolls to the location of the main body of the army and the scouts had begun trickling back in giving reports to the kings as they did. A report had come back of a hole with gleaming rocks in the bottom of it about 100 meters from the base of the mountain. This had caused quiet a stir amongst the kings.

"The first treasures shall be mine," declared Common as he sent his guildmen out to scout the hole and retrieve what they could.

"Not if my men find it first," challenged Shertz who also sent his cloaked men out retrieve the possible treasures. "And whichever of you finds it first will receive double rations!" He called out to the dark men of the guilds.

With that the scouts noiselessly skulked away back towards the mountain.

Guildmen are a group of men hand-selected and specially trained to sneak, steal and kill without leaving any trace. Youth and adults alike who are caught stealing or sneaking about are not fined or lashed but are sent to the academy where they train in guilds to hone their natural ability and to pay for their crimes. Only the best hope to survive the guild training and if they fail they are never seen again. What happens in the guild halls are a secret that even most kings don't know, nor would they want to.

As the two hooded men disappeared from eyeshot Doom noticed it seemed as if the mountain was observing their every action. As if the rock itself was a living breathing thing conspiring against them. Shaking off his paranoia he rode off quickly to catch the rest of the leaders as they galloped on to lay eyes upon the presumed treasure and stake their claim.

As the group closed they saw the two scouts arguing about how best to retrieve what appeared to be gold from the hole. The hole itself was the width of small building and was nearly 30 feet deep. Shiny metal caught what little light there was and reflected it back from under the pool of muddy water that had collected at the bottom of the crater.

"It looks as if the hole was clawed out of the earth by some giant creature," one of the hooded men said shakily.

"A troll obviously. And a big one at that," Stormy stated dryly as he dismounted his steed. "Probably could smell gold deep in the earth and wanted to make a meal of it. We must be wary friends, it must be near."

Bood, Doom, Common, War, Darkness, Shertz and Spitfire all gathered around the hole with Stormy to inspect it. For most of them they had never seen anything like this before, and they imagined what manner of being could rip into the earth so deep with it's bare hands. Damarkus stayed on his warhorse as he felt his view from there was just fine.

What none of the men, save perhaps Doom, had realized is that they were being observed. The creatures eyes narrowed as he fixated on the tiny things. He pulsed with anger seeing that these scrawny pink skinned creatures had dared come this near to his home. And so many too! He raised his vile head into the air and sniffed. They smelled good, warm, delicious. But first he must tenderize them and from his position halfway up the mountain he had the advantage.

"Stoopid thingsiees can not sees me," the troll chuckled to himself. The evil thing scooped up a shiny rock in it's massive hand and threw it into it's mouth and begun to chew. "I will scares them with mother mountainsies rocks and then I tells the others."

With that the creature slowly stood up. He stretched his back and legs and rose to his full height of 15 feet. Anywhere in all the kingdoms he would have been easily spotted, but here, standing against the mountain which had bore him into existence he was almost invisible. Even the most trained eyes would not be able to spot him. His skin was the same color of the mud of the mountain and he was caked with muck. His muscular shoulders rippled under the weight of the glimmering mud covered rock he held in his hands. It was a small one - small to him at least. Lifting the rock above his head he flung it with all his might towards the men who stood next to last nights dinner hole. As soon as it left his hands he scurried away on all fours to tell his big brothers and sisters of the new bounty of food.

Only one person saw the sparkling carriage sized boulder cutting through the air like a meteor. That person was Damarkus. He pointed and opened his mouth to shout warnings to his friends but nothing came out. And they were all fixated on the hole in front of them, not on the imminent golden death hurtling down upon them.

Chapter 3: Preparations

One thing saved the Storm Lion Academies kings. It wasn't Damarkus, it wasn't poor aim by the young troll either, it was greed.

During the same moments the golden boulder whizzed though the air whistling death as it came down. Common took a step closer to the hole to get a better look. The ground could not hold his weight and his footing gave. In a last ditch effort to save himself he reached out to grab Doom who was closest to him. It was too late. Down the side of the crater they both went. Sliding, bouncing, and yelling the whole way down until they crashed into a heap at the watery bottom. Before the others could react the loose soil on the sides of the muddy hole rejected them as well. Clawing at the torn earth they tried to stop from going in but soon they found themselves swallowed up by the hole.

Damarkus watched with wide eyes as all of this unfolded in front of him. Horrorstruck, the world was moving in slow motion. No sooner did he witness his friends disappear into the hole did the hole disappear as the gleaming mass of rock impacted where it once was. The shock of the landing was so great that Damarkus' horse reared up on it's hind legs in horror and bucked the warrior off. He lay there on his back in the mud for a few seconds processing what had just happened. Within moments some of his men ran to aid him to his feet. He walked over to the boulder looking at it awestruck. Such a large hunk of gold he had never seen. Then he heard the muffled cries of his friends beneath it.

All eyes were on him as the men awaited direction and not a word could he utter. He put both hands on the side of the mud covered metal, dug his feet in, and began to push with every ounce of his energy. Those around him saw his efforts and ten wide they pushed, churning up the muddy ground under their feet. The boulder held strong, defying their every effort.

"They will suffocate, if the lot of them are not dead already," Damarkus thought to himself desperately.

An idea hit him and with no way to tell anyone he would have to do it himself, and do it quickly. He sprinted away from the boulder and grabbed some rope from one of the supply carriages. With the rope he ran in circles around the boulder lassoing it the best he could. He tied knots securing it, fumbling as his fingers worked hard to function in the cold wet weather. Once he was satisfied with his knots he signaled to the closest siege engine to make haste. It groaned and creaked and roared to life. It slowly backed towards the rock and rapidly Damarkus connected the unstoppable siege engine to the unmovable boulder.

The line began to tighten and Damarkus said a silent prayer to himself that it would hold.

Damarkus and as many men as could fit ran to the opposite side and pushed with all their strength as the siege engine roared on angrily. They felt the great weight of the precious metal begin to move, inch by inch it slid. Without warning the siege engine's spiked wheels found traction and it lurched forward with the rock and as it did Damarkus and all the men to his left and right fell face first down the hole.

Joyous shouts and laughter erupted from the hole as the kings all took in full deep breaths of fresh air.

"By the God's! And we were all wondering how we would get to this gold down here," laughed Doom. "I just didn't expect Common to dive in after it and take all of us with him! Perhaps a warning next time would be advisable!"

"Well the golds mine," Common said frustrated at their misfortune. "Anyways, what just happened? What landed on us?"

Before an answer could be offered a rope landed between them and they took turns struggling to pull themselves out of what was almost their grave. Each one was briskly led from the hole once surfacing back to the tree line away from the mountain. Once regrouped in the trees, Damarkus did his best to offer an explanation. He pointed to the giant golden boulder and then pointed up to the mountain and it all started to come together for them.

"And here we were squabbling about little specks of gold in a muddy hole and the mountain is spitting up boulders of the stuff at us," said Bood excitedly.

Damarkus shook his head when he heard Bood's explanation and did his best impression he could of a troll throwing a rock.

"Are you saying this was thrown at us," Spitfire asking incredulously. He looked at the winded men who were pushing the rock and the rope attached to the siege machine and came up with his best guess of how much the golden boulder weighed. "Impossible, nothing could throw something that size."

Damarkus shrugged his shoulders in disagreement. He obviously couldn't argue the point.

"I feel you are all underestimating what we are facing here," War stated flatly, taking a large swig of ale and wiping his mouth with a muddy sleeve. He held up the bone he was drinking from, admiring it. "This is a finger bone from a full grown troll. These aren't boars, or creatures of the deep, these are trolls. They can grow as large as the source of food allows them and judging by what this mountain is belching out from it's insides, they could be gigantic indeed."

Letting what he had said sink in, he took another drink from his trophy, put the cork back in the top, and slung it back on his belt.

"I suggest we stay back here in the tree line, out of range of their boulders, and wait for them to come to us," reasoned War.

"What makes you think they would come to us? We have thousands of men and they have the advantage of high ground," Shertz pointed out.

"Trolls are not tacticians, they don't think as men would," retorted War. "They are stupid beasts that think with one thing, their stomachs. If I didn't know better I'd say we have a rather large golden dinner bell right there," he said nodding towards the gigantic mud covered metal boulder.

Bood didn't need to hear anymore. War's reasoning was sound to him and he began directing his fellow kings to make preparations.

In the middle of a clearing between the mountain and the trees sat the massive boulder of solid gold. Once covered in mud, the rock had been washed clean by the pattering of rain and now sat nearly unblemished. Pilled around it were goblets, trinkets, scabbards, coins and other treasures. All the gold that could be found in the combined banners of the Storm Lion Academy lay there. It looked like a small dragons horde. The men were banking it would look more like a mutton pie dinner to the trolls.

A mist clung to the tree line where the men were hunkered down shivering against the cold. A few told stories they had heard as children about the beasts they would soon face. Some spoke of wanting to get on with the assault and prove their courage. Most of them said nothing, but simply stared off into nothingness. Waiting. Scout sentries had scaled trees and were watching for any movement from the mountain.

Damarkus and Spitfire, who were good friends as their kingdoms bordered each other, had been ordered to direct the siege machinery. One to the east and one to the west of the golden heap. Camouflaged with twigs, vines, and leaves the siege machines were constantly being fed coal and mysterious materials to power their dark engines. When the battle horns sounded they would press forward creating a wall of death to the left and right of the creatures pinning them in for the frontal assault by the men and creatures under the banners of the other kings. Assassin scouts, almost invisible within the thick foliage of the trees, dipped their arrows in mysterious poisons. Their precision with projectile weapons coated with poisons they fashioned themselves was unrivaled.

Stormy was the only visible man. He sat exposed for all to see on a small rickety wooden stool twenty-five feet in front of the heap of treasure, smoking a rather large ivory pipe. His eyes focused in his lap on a massive tome that was open. It glowed dimly and reflected reddish light off the treasure trove in front of him. He sat studying it, concentrating on the words. He knew he was being watched. He couldn't see it but he could hear it breathing. Deep, large, heavy breaths. His faith in his friends, his men, and in the plan was about to be tested.

Chapter 4: First Contact

Running his fingers along the contours of the runes inscribed into the glowing tome, he focused on what must be done. He would only have one chance after all. If he failed his life would be forfeit and the quest would be put in jeopardy. The rain had ceased and around him was an erie calm. Tapping the bowl of his pipe on the wooden stool where he sat he cleared it out. Reaching into his pocket he produced a worn leather pouch, which he unfastened. Reaching in he gingerly squeezed a pinch of homegrown tobacco between his index finger and thumb and pushed it into the pipe. Putting the pipe back into his mouth he muttered something under his breath and an ember rose up out of the tome. It danced about in the restless breeze for a few moments then found it's way into the bowl of his pipe. Stormy took a long draw of it, savoring the flavor. He blew out the smoke into a large ring that disappeared into the darkness. He felt the eyes of more than a hundred anxious men behind him. He was more concerned about the set of eyes now in front of him reflecting the dull reddish glow of his tome.

Collecting his courage he cleared his throat and spoke loud and clear, cutting into the silence. "Show yourself!"

The ground shook under him as the beast lumbered forward stepping into the light. There it stood towering above him. The pile of gold separating them seemed much smaller than it had minutes before. Stormy was taking a gamble based on a conversation he had with War. War had explained to them that trolls had a basic grasp of the common language of man. He had postulated if one of them could provide a diversion and perhaps even speak to the troll, even for just a minute or so, it would allow them to size up this creature and decide how best to slay it. More importantly it would lure it into their trap. Stormy had volunteered. Now looking up at the beast he wondered if he had made a wise decision.

"Whos be yous tiny thingsy," the troll asked scratching it's swollen belly with a giant clawed hand.

"Me? I'm just out here taking in this fine evening enjoying a pipe," Stormy replied calmly. "Oh, and I'm to guard this pile of gold as well," he said as an afterthought.

The troll had never heard some of the words the little pink skinned creature had said before in his short life. He did understand the creature said he was guarding the gold. The gold was a gift from his mother the mountain, not something a small stupid creature like him should have.

"Mother mountansies golds is mine to eats! Yous cants have its," the troll bellowed down to the tiny human. "Nows I eats the goldsies and I eats you toos," it laughed loudly it's jagged toothed mouth gnashing as it did.

The young troll thought himself quiet clever. He had snuck away from his sleeping big brothers and sisters to investigate this thing and get some dinner. He had told them about the tiny creatures and they had laughed at him. Claiming mother mountain would never let any creatures climb her walls. Now he would have it all the food to himself.

Stormy realized as the troll began to step forward that the conversation was over. He prayed the tome sitting in his lap was worth the fortune he had spent on it. Whispering strange incantations the book began to hover in his lap glowing brighter and brighter. The troll stopped and stared at it breathless. It had never seen anything like it before. It was horrifying and beautiful at the same time. Then the tome shot straight up into the sky disappearing into the darkness. The sky began to glow red, softly at first, then brighter. Then a thunderclap shook the earth and the clouds caught fire. The trolls mouth opened in terror and it screamed nearly knocking Stormy over.

"Now!" Commence the attack!" Stormy screamed as he sprinted back towards the tree line.

Burning hot death began falling from the sky like hailstones peppering the area behind the troll. A wall of fire rose up behind the troll sealing it off from fleeing back towards the mountain. Fight or flight took hold and it's eyes narrowed on the backside of Stormy and it charged forward grabbing the golden boulder in it's hands as it went. The first part of the plan had worked.

"Get small!" Stormy heard someone yell from the tree line. As soon as he heard those words he dove into the mud and flattened his body as small as he could. His fingers digging into the earth as he said a prayer the troll would not trample him.

From his position high in a tree Bood had been watching this all unfold nervously. He had agreed that War's battle plan was sound, but was worried it could cost him one of his finest warriors. He grit his teeth as he watched the raging troll move towards Stormy with the massive golden boulder above it's head. Nearly invisible among the trees the guildmen, faces smeared black with mud, bows at the ready, listened for the signal to release a volley of death at the beast. Their shots would be easy as the troll was silhouetted by the wall of fire raining down behind it. Bood filled his lungs with damp air, lifted the Storm Lion battle horn to his lips, and blew. The low bass roar it created reverberated off every tree and surface within a mile.

A hundred or more bowstrings twanged in succession as arrows took flight. The troll, now frenzied, screamed in horror as thirty or so arrows smashed into his thick hide. Bloodlust exploded within it and it blindly thew the rock in the direction of the stinging barbs. Covering it's face with one massive tree trunk of an arm and ripping arrows out with it's other it begun running parallel the tree line to the east. The rock impacted short the tree line and bounced into the forest ripping apart the guildsmen who were unfortunate enough to be in it's path.

Shertz saw the troll making haste east and lit his signal arrow, launching it high through the canopy of the trees he hid within. It glowed blue and slowly arced across the burning night sky. With that Damarkus on his warhorse rode swiftly out into the fray to head off the fleeing troll. Behind him the forest trembled and trees fell as the siege tanks rolled forward. Their rusty steel fronts reflected the light of the raining fire as they pushed forward. Spiked wheels tilled the earth as they formed a line three deep , their single shot ballista ready to launch.

Damarkus psyched himself up as he rode fast and hard towards the creature. "I must make this count," he reminded himself. His hand on the hilt of his sword he pulled it from it's sheath. One hand on the reins, the other holding his sword poised to strike he closed the distance. A single blow from the troll would kill him instantly, he had to rely on his speed. As he closed within striking distance the troll swung high to snatch him from his horse and instinctively he ducked low jabbing twice rapidly with his sword. As he rode on he looked down at his sword and it was glistening with blood. He turned his horse and made a beeline for the trees.

The troll clutched it's side in agony and charged into the siege tanks. Grabbing one by the front he ripped it in half and threw it to the wayside. It lifted it's gigantic foot and prepared to smash another when the siege tanks launched their payload. Giant sharpened tree trunks let lose into the troll. Falling backwards the troll rolled around on the ground. One of the ballista spikes had ripped through it's side exposing the white of it's ribs and mangled knotted flesh hung from it's ribcage. Another had went into it's foot. Reaching down it pulled the spike out with a sickening crunch as it screamed. The siege tanks groaned forward in hopes to crush the helpless creature.

Mustering it's strength and focusing it's rage it clenched the ballista spike in it's hand, planted it in the ground, and used it to come to it's feet. Turning towards the siege machinery it let out a roar and threw the sharpened poll like a spear into their ranks. It found a hole in the tanks armor and pierced deep into it's insides. Fire exploded as it's engine was unsealed by the wooden intruder. Like dry tinder the others around it quickly went ablaze as well.

The troll cried out into the burning sky. His world in chaos. Fires burned in front of him, fires rained down from the angry sky beside him, and the trees were launching painful barbs. Seeing the only way to escape and hopefully get back to the mountain the troll turned away from the oncoming siege tanks and fled. As it half ran, half limped, away heading west it was peppered by arrows from the trees. Some bounced off it's thick hide, some pierced it's flesh.

Observing the change in direction Shertz nocked another arrow. Launched skyward, it whistled through the air, glowing green against the crimson sky.

Spitfire saw the signal and stepped up into the clockwork demon. Pushing levers here and there the bizarre metal apparatus begun to move. Clockwork demons get their name from the many parts and pieces that make them up. Spinning gears and bouncing springs and all sorts of strange parts and pieces allow this metal monstrosity to move. Standing eight feet tall it is controlled from where the head would be the by driver who must learn the art of manipulating the many stubby levers. Much like a human it walks on two feet and has two arms, however, the similarities end there. The dark creatures living deep within the earth designed these not in the image of man, but in the image of destruction. Designed to chop, smash, and utterly destroy any obstacle in it's path these clockwork demons had instead of hands, a giant axe and a massive spiked ball and chain. Spitfire had fifteen under his banner that night, and leaving the shelter of the trees they walked on to meet the creature.

"We must stop it from breaking through our line," Sptifire called out to those around him. "Move to cripple it's legs! Let us pray the others can finish it off!" The excited cry of the goblins resounded around him. Goblins typically were chosen to drive all sort of mechanical contraptions, the clockwork demons in particular, as the devices tend to be rather unstable. Stomping forward the troll closed much faster than they expected. It's eyes were bloodshot and crazy. Frothy slobber ran down over it's teeth and spilled out with every giant breath of air it exhaled. It's gape was uneven as one foot was now a stump of gore from the ballista strike. Blood poured from wounds it had sustained over much of it's body. They needed to kill it quickly before it dumped more of the precious stuff onto the ground.

Metal ground and steam hissed from the joints of the metal giants as they advanced. The troll ran headstrong into the thick of them, grabbing the center clockwork demon and lifting it off the ground. The troll wrapping it's mighty hands around the mechanical creatures arms, threw it to the ground and jumped on top of it. The goblin inside, now frantic, pushed levers here and there trying to fight the strength of the beast. It was no use. Opening it's maw it leaned forward and crunched down on the goblin biting the top half of it's body cleanly off. The clockwork contraption twitched, than ceased to move. Angrily the troll began smashing it's fists into it, metal bent and crushed by it's furious might. Pouring it's rage into the metal nuisance it was oblivious to the world around it.

Sptifire moved his metal guardian quickly to the rear of unfolding onslaught. "Don't turn around, don't turn around," he thought to himself. Not feeling as confident in the protection the metal provided him after witnessing the trolls strength. The troll, now on it's knees, continued pummeling the broken demon. Spitifire raised the giant axe and brought the full weight of it down with a mechanical hiss. With a crunching sound the axe dug deep into the trolls shoulder almost separating it's arm from it's body. Screaming it turned and backhanded Spitfire, tossing him through the air. He landed many feet away, not moving, he had been knocked unconscious.

War grimaced as he watched from the tree line. The plan had unfolded as planned, but he knew if he didn't act quickly his friend Spitfire would be the next outlet for the trolls retribution. He could feel the impact of his friend being swatted like a fly from his position in the trees, far from the battle. He pulled his battle axe from his back and raised it into the sky. He strode out of the brush into the clearing. The light from the flames reflecting in his eyes. Bood, Doom, Shertz, Common, Damarkus and Stormy all stepped out as well. They were on foot, feeling that being on horseback put them too close the animals mouth. Bood, with the Storm Lion Academy banner in hand, turned towards the tree line. Waving it back and forth hundreds of armor clad warriors bellowed loud and sprinted into the fray to meet the beast.

The troll, with it's right arm hanging uselessly at it's side, turned when it heard the collective battle cry of the men. Any thought it had of self-preservation or fleeing had left, and now it operated on the primal level. It trotted towards the wall of the men building momentum as it went. It smashed headlong into the first wave of men sending them flying backwards and toppling those behind them. Grabbing one man by the arm he threw him fifty feet into the trees, stomping others under it's huge foot. As he reached to pluck another from the ground the warrior put his sword through the creatures hand as it's long powerful fingers wrapped around him, crushing the life out of him. It began swinging his body as a weapon, bodies were tossed left and right by the swooping blows. Sustained stab after stab, blow after blow, it seemed as if the creature would not fall.

In the hurry of crafting the battle plan War had failed to mention a very important aspect of troll slaying. A troll can take thousands of cuts and arrows, but removing it's head is the quickest way of dispatching such a creature. Ducking under the flying body of one of the men he closed behind the troll. His knuckles white he tightened his two handed grip on his axe. Letting out a lung full of air he swung the weapons as if he was trying to fall an oak. The axe found it's mark and bit deep into the hamstring of the beast as it came to it's knees with a scream. It let go of the lifeless man in it's clutches and reached back for War. It missed him but got ahold of the axe, which War would not surrender. The troll picked them both up and tossed them like a child throwing a toy. War impacted hard, the air knocked from his body, he struggled to breath. He would have to find his breath and his feet before he would be any more help.

Common saw the opening created by War. The troll was now immobile and he might be able to reach it's foul neck. He hoped if he could remove the head attached to it, perhaps the creature would cease to fight them. His two short swords in hand he sprinted towards the vile thing's back. Weaving left and right to dodge the frenzied men who poked and jabbed at the creature he worked up his speed. Closing within feet he launched his body, airborne for a second, he landed hard on the trolls muscle covered back. As he landed he sunk his shortswords down to the hilt. Holding on to them he swung there back and forth as the creature bucked against him. Pulling one blade out and pulling his body up with one arm he shoved the sword deep into it's flesh again. In this manner he scaled the beast. The creature bucked and reached back unable to grab hold of the tiny thing that was causing him so much agony. Common could now see the pulsing artery in it's neck. Pulling with all his might he threw his body up onto the trolls neck, which he straddled with is legs. Stabbing madly he gave himself over to his own bloodlust. Left sword in, right sword in, left sword in, right sword in. He bathed in it's blood as it gushed like a fountain. So engrossed in his handy work was he that he did not realize the beast was now laying face first on the ground. Again and again he plunged in his swords until the head gave free and rolled in the mud. All those witnessing the slaughter stopped and watched astonished. Suddenly exhausted, Commons body went limp and he fell to his knees. His blood soaked swords hanging limply in his tired hands. "Check the others, tend to the fallen...and get some buckets to collect the troll's blood." With that his world went black.

Chapter 5: Regroup

Smoke rose from many wounds in the smoldering earth. The fire in the sky had given way to a light cool drizzle as morning dawned. The evil that was the mountain, and the inhabitants there, did not allow the sun to greet them and gloom still prevailed. Many had been lost the night before and the painful process of sorting the wounded and dead had begun.

The fallen men, some whole, some in pieces, were gathered and placed on wagons. Their bodies ceremoniously draped with the Storm Lion colors. At their feet a small sack of gold was placed. This would pay for the funeral rights of the fallen warriors. The funeral train would make the long journey back to their respective kingdoms, where they would be received as fallen heroes.

The field, covered in blood, broken arms and armor, and dotted with arrows, allowed the rain to begin washing it clean. Bleary eyed men, weary from battle, wandered the muddy expanse. Occasionally stooping low to collect a piece of gear that could still be used. Many sat around small campfires, still shaking from the battle the night before, staring blankly at the dancing flames. Others, the battle hardened veterans, offered words of encouragement to lift their spirits.

Broken siege engines still burned softly in the smoky clearing. The metal glowed red, where the furnace had been pierced by a ballista spear the night before. The spear, standing upright, was lodged in the burning demolished siege tank, and flames licked up it's sides. Directly across the field lay the destroyed clockwork demon, which Spitfire had rode into battle. The contraption had saved him the night before from a crushing blow, leaving him with some scratches, a headache, and a distrust for goblin engineering. It had taken the men nearly an hour to remove him from the crushed machine, which he vowed he would never step into again.

The troll had been hoisted onto three wagons that were daisy chained. The wagons had been tilted so the giants feet were elevated and blood slowly oozed from the hacked and mangled stump where it's head once sat. Under the wagon buckets carefully caught the vile liquid. In the kingdoms the market for troll blood was high. Those who practice the dark arts, alchemists, and the like would pay or trade lavishly. As the haggard men now understood, troll blood was quiet difficult to procure.

A makeshift medical triage tent had been set up next to the tree line and the wounded were still trickling in. Some came limping in on their own accord, others were drug or carried on makeshift stretchers. Stormy and Darkness were assisting with the wounded.

"This will hurt like hell, but it must be done my friend," Stormy said to a man who's hand had been crushed under the trolls foot. Held down by those around him the wounded warrior bit down hard on a leather strap as the red hot iron sizzled on his flesh, cauterizing it. Jerking violently, the mans eyes rolled back as he fell unconscious.

"Put him with the others," Stormy ordered throwing the iron back onto the coals. "Honestly, this could have been much worst," he said to Darkness, who was busy bandaging up a man's head.

"Yeah? Well it could have been a lot better too," Darkness replied gruffly. "How could War have just forgotten to tell us to cut off the head? This big elaborate plan he has, but he leaves that out?"

Darkness' real gripe was that he was ordered to supervise the assassins, who were launching volleys of arrows during the battle. He felt he would have been more useful putting his sword arm to work instead of supervising the guildsmen. However, it was he who had stayed the assassins bows when Stormy fled the troll. And it was he who had yelled to Stormy to get down so they could initiate the first blow.

"Did I hear my name?" It was War, his face was matted with mud and blood.

"You bloody well did," Darkness replied. "Perhaps next time, master tactician War, you could tell us to cut of it's head from the get go instead of wasting our time pelting the thing with arrows."

"I didn't realize you needed to be told that to kill something cleaving it's head off would be advisable," War responded, walking over to Darkness, offering him a drink from his bone flask.

Taking the flask Darkness took a large drink and handed it back. "Well when you put it that way..." Darkness said trailing off, shaking his head, a smirk on his face. "Speaking of cleaving heads, Commons over there. He's been sleeping like a baby. Probably dreaming of fighting trolls singlehandedly."

"He almost did," Stormy said after taking a drink from the bone flask that War had passed to him as well. "All I did was smoke a pipe, read a book, and scurry off into the trees."

"Well you did rein down fire from the heavens. No big deal. Where in the kingdoms did you find such a tome," War inquired. "If I would have known books held such power, perhaps I would shove my nose in one every now and then."

War enjoyed the art of warfare and strong brew. He had never been curious enough of the magical arts to dabble in them. Stormy, on the other hand, spent much time smoking his pipe, reading through old dusty tomes and studying magical trinkets.

"That old thing? That's nothing but a parlor trick," Stormy laughed. "You should see what real magical tomes can do."

"Well I'll leave the wizardry to you, and you leave the drinking to me," War replied with smile. Taking one more drink before attaching the flask back to his belt. "Anyways, Bood wants the kings to gather by the wagon. He's got a big fire going and we are preparing to gut the beast and see what treasures are within. Leave the rest to the medics and come join us. Let Common rest, he needs it."

With that the three of them departed the tent. Men patted them on the backs and acknowledged them by saying, "sir," as they passed. Approaching the wagon they saw Doom and Bood standing on the carriage on both sides of the troll.

"Look we can't just slice it's belly open, we have to be more surgical than that," Doom said to Bood. "You cut this beast in the wrong spot and you will rupture his musk gland and the gold will stink to high heavens for years."

"Stink or no stink, it's still gold," Bood responded. "You seem to know so much about it, you make the cut then."

Doom had spoken to some his veteran brothers in the Storm Lion Elite and they had told him horror stories about the musk gland. Pulling his small antler handled hunting knife from his belt he carefully made and incision at the breastbone of the giant and began slowly cutting his way down. Innards pushed up through the cut as he stopped near it's navel.

"All right Bood you grab that side and I will grab this side and we will pull it wide as we can," instructed Doom. As they pulled a sickening ripping could be heard as flesh and skin and muscle separated. At this point there was a large crowd of curious onlookers gathered around the wagon, anxious to see what they would find within the beast.

"Common Doom, it's not a elk! Just gut the thing already," an impatient Damarkus shouted. The men around him laughed. Damarkus had been granted his voice back that morning and was happy to be able to speak his mind again. He spoke to everyone who would listen about his part in the attack on the troll the night before.

Moving intestines out of the way Doom meticulously went through the innards. A woodsman, he was familiar with field dressing all manner of beasts. This, however, was his first troll.

"Here we go," he proclaimed. Reaching in he made two precise cuts and pulled out a large bloody black sack and tossed it on the ground next to the carriage.

"Are you kidding me? The boulder that thing tossed at us is bigger than this tiny thing," Shertz said disappointedly. Poking it with his sword.

"Careful you fool! That's not it's stomach that is it's musk gland. Pierce that and you will find yourself riding home alone and downwind from us," Doom scolded. Laughter again erupted at the young kings foolishness.

With the musk gland out the way Doom stepped into the creatures monstrous belly cavity, waist deep. Seeing the bulging stomach he made a clean incision along it and chunks of gold spilled out. "You and you go get a shovel," Doom said pointing to two of the onlookers. Jumping down from the carriage and splashing in the mud he noticed the eyes of all the men were on him, their curiosity peaking. "Hell, go have a look yourself you scavengers! The beast can't get you now!"

Men crawled like ants over the carriage their eyes widening at the sight of the plunder within the beast. It's entire intestinal track was packed with the beautiful rock. And it's stomach, many times the size of a man, was packed with it as well. The two men who were instructed to get shovels jumped up and began shoveling gold out of the creatures belly like they would shovel dirt in a garden. The kings gathered together around the bonfire to talk.

"To be honest with you all, I thought there would be far more gold than this," Bood said. His voice had an undertone of disappointment.

"Agreed. From the stories of our brothers under the Storm Lion Elite banner, I imagined us coming home with mountains of the stuff," said Common.

"Well there's two things you all should be aware of brothers," War explained. "First of all, the mountain still stands. The mountain only exists if the trolls do. This is not a natural mountain, it is an evil growth created for the God's amusement. If the mountain is still standing than more trolls most assuredly do as well."

"So there are more for us to slay," Damarkus said eagerly. "Now that we've fallen one, we should have no trouble taking out more of the beasts."

"Like I said, there are two things you all should know. That was one thing. Here is the second," War unfastening his flask from his waistline and walked over to the troll. "Remember, this is the finger bone of a full grown troll." He held the flask up to the trolls hand. The flask was much larger and wider than the fallen trolls finger.

"This...this was just a baby."

Chapter 6: Back to the Drawing Board

The young troll's carcass was thrown into a pit and burned. The sweet smell of burning meat filled the clearing. While it was tempting to eat, troll flesh if eaten causes hysteria. A lesson hard learned by those warriors long past. It's teeth and claws had been removed as craftsmen would be able to fashion fine handles for weapons from the hardened bone. It's fingers had been removed as well. More than likely because many had seen War's homemade flask and desired their own. Some of the men sparred with wooden sticks honing their craft. Others sat around the fire lapping up soup, dipping chunks of bread into it, filling their hollow stomachs. The ting, ting, ting of blacksmith hammers rang as arrows and weapons were forged to replace what had been destroyed. Goblins squealed with delight as they hewed logs and assembled new siege machinery. The occasional explosion, followed be insane high pitched laughter, was common as goblins had a knack for causing mayhem. This is why under normal circumstances they worked deep within subterranean caverns creating their weapons of devastation. Less chance of lighting fields ablaze that way.

The kings had set up a rickety wooden table and in it's center a terrain model of the area had been made out of dirt. A miniature mountain stood in it's center and rocks and sticks indicated various important landmarks. Scouts had been risking their lives scaling the sides of the dark, hulking, stone peak. Bringing back information on viable trails and caves. These would be marked on the model, which the kings were using to make battle plans. No sign of the other trolls had been found leading some to doubt whether War was correct in his assumption that more remained.

"Well, where are the others then? I'm sure our battle last night drew the attention of everything within a mile," asked Shertz. "I just don't want to trudge all the way up a mountain if we aren't absolutely sure there is something be gained."

"The troll we killed last night was just a young one," War explained. "The older ones will not come down from the mountain. They draw their power from the living rock of the mountain and know leaving it will make them vulnerable. Only until we march up and destroy them, will this evil be destroyed. And only then will we receive our God given reward."

"What he says is true," Stormy chimed in. "I have spent much time studying the race of trolls, and they will live indefinitely. The more they are allowed to eat the stronger they will become, until eventually the mountain will sprout forth more summits to support their growing population. A sprawling range of these peaks will begin to form from the earth and the beasts numbers and size will increase."

"It is settled than, we must move against them," Bood said with finality. "I suggest we send a scouting party along with some men to protect them. This way we can probe the area and find where these creatures are hiding. I would like two of you to lead this party, while the rest of us prepare the men for the final assault."

No sooner were the words out of Bood's mouth did Darkness respond. "I'll go!" He was still disappointed in his role during the last skirmish with the young troll. He was eager to play a larger part, and receive a larger share of the loot.

"I will go as well," said Common. The others had not noticed him come out of the medical tent. His two vicious short swords were slung at his waist. The blades once gleaming silver were now reddish brown with dried troll blood. His face was grim looking and he rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"No, no, no," Doom said walking over to his friend. "You need to rest still. After all, if you go there will be nothing for us to do as I'm sure you will kill the brutes all on your own." Before Common could protest he produced a small wooden cube from his pocket. "Let us consult those wiser than us. If it is Stars, I go in your stead."

Doom was from a long line of kings and woodsman. The cube he had pulled from his pocket was his great, great, great grandfathers. It had been cut from the living flesh of a yew tree and old powerful magic had been cast to enchant it. The dice was never to be used for gambling in the way of gold or treasure, but was used to help aid the decisions of man. The collective wisdom of his forefathers was held within in. Three sides had constellations carved on them, and the other three had species of trees cut into it.

Squeezing it in his closed fist Doom held it above the table. "Fathers guide us," he said softly as he released it. It fell from his hand, stopping an inch before impacting the table, and there it hovered, spinning and dancing about. Slowing it descended to the table. The constellation, Spiritis, looking up at them from the cube. "My fathers have spoken, I go in your stead my friend," Doom said putting his hand on Commons shoulder. "You rest. There will be plenty more for you to plunge your deadly swords into before this is all over."

Damarkus nudged Spitfire and smiled. They had known Doom long enough to know his dice always came up on stars.

Doom gingerly placed the the magical heirloom back into his pocket, giving a wink to Darmarkus as he did, and stepped back to the table. "Now that we have decided who will go, how shall we do this?"

A hooded guildsman walked up to Bood, leaned in close and whispered into his ear. "Thank you," he said to the scout. "Another intelligence report has come in," he said getting all the kings attention. "We had found one path leading up the mountain thus far. It is impossibly muddy and steep and gives our adversary every advantage to annihilate us if we attempt to take it. Siege machinery will not be able to make the climb and we will have a limited path of retreat. Unless you consider falling down the side of a mountain to your death a retreat."

The kings all looked nervously at each other. This was not the news they were hoping to hear. Fighting the young troll, on flat ground, with every advantage in their favor had been difficult. Fighting larger ones, on their turf, with no advantage did not sound like much of a plan at all.

Looking around the table, Bood realized the toll his words were taking on the men. A good leader, with many campaigns behind him, he often stated things rather matter-of-factly. He reveled in the strategy and tactics of battle, and liked to see all the pieces on the board, not just the good ones. He sometimes forgot the impact it could have to the more junior leaders around him. The aged ruler realized perhaps he should have told them the better news first. "A good leader is always learning," he thought to himself.

"The good news is on the opposite side of the mountain scouts have found another path that leads to a cavern of some type," Bood said. "They estimate from the tracks that at least two large creatures have been through it. I believe it's fair to assume these are our foes."

The kings around the table smiled and immediately began chattering about how they should approach this problem. All except one, War.

"Yes, that's great news," War said sarcastically. "A cavern, no doubt their home, dark and deep within the core of the mountain. Let us not forget that is where they draw their power. One direction to attack, one direction to retreat, walls on both sides constricting our numbers and movement. Great news indeed."

"I suppose you would rather the creatures throw themselves down the mountain onto our blades and just surrender their gold to us War," Bood roared back at his insolence. "You of all people, given your past experience with the creatures, should know there is no ideal situation."

"I suppose you are right, but I prefer to fight in the open air. Not in some stagnant, unnatural hole," War replied. Walking over to the terrain model he rubbed his chin with his hand and pondered the best option.

Many hours passed, and heated the discourse was, on how best to approach the hole. Arriving at the same conclusion they decided there was only one way to proceed. A small party would be sent to investigate the tunnel and see if in fact it contained the brutes. No need to make vulnerable the entire army unless certain something dwelled within the hole. The leaders of the scouting party, Darkness and Doom, had already volunteered. When night fell, they would lead a small party of scouts and gather what intelligence they could. After being wished good luck by the others the two departed to prepare and brief the men. Before they could Stormy approached them.

"Here, take these," Stormy said holding a bottle of blue liquid in each hand. "If things go awry drink these. They will render you invisible to the eyes of both man and beast."

"Brilliant! How long will it last for," Darkness asked excitedly.

"Well...," Stormy trailed for a moment. "I can't tell you that to be honest. No two potions are exactly the same but it should last long enough for you to make a hasty retreat. Use them well, and do be careful." With that he shook their hands and headed to his tent for the night.

"Don't loose any sleep on our account Stormy," Doom quipped as Stormy walked away. "If you hear screaming, don't worry, that's just us being eaten alive."

Sensing the humor in his friends farewell Stormy replied, "Surely your fathers would not have chosen you to take Common's spot for no reason. Unless they were fixing to set up an early family reunion that is."

Chapter 7: Into the Darkness

Ten men stood together in the shadow of the mountain. Caked with mud it was impossible to know two of them were kings. Stripped of their cumbersome metal armors and arms they wore leather skins, which were dyed black. Each one carried a small short sword. Forged by dwarves deep within the earth from arcane ores, the blades reflected no light. Meant not to slay trolls, but to defend themselves in small skirmishes if need be. The mountain, while young, was a vortex of evil drawing all manner of dark creature towards it. They would need to be vigilant if they hoped to move unnoticed in the inhospitable environment. Discovery would mean certain death for the group and this possibility was looming in their heads.

"From here forward we shall communicate using hand signals," Darkness whispered. "We must move swiftly, but we must move carefully. This mountain is young and it's sides are loose and hazardous. One misstep and the lot of us will tumble down it's side to our death."

The men all nodded in agreement.

"Keep a good spacing men," Doom added. "Dispersing our weight along it's sheer walls will hopefully prevent a mud or rock slide. And keep your heads about you."

Slowly they began the climb. Like snakes they slithered their way around rocks and tree roots as they made their way up the mountain. The only audible sound that could be heard were sounds from the camp back at the tree line echoing off the peak's bleak walls. Darkness led the approach. Carefully he eyed the rock and probed it for weaknesses as he carefully picked each and every foot and hand hold. Scouts had marked the way earlier with sticks poking up out of the mud and he counted each one as they passed them. This was the method the scouts had used to gauge the distance. They had just passed twenty-one. Exhausted, they had arrived. The hole in the side of the mountain was unnatural looking. Stalactites hung from it's roof looking much like a ominous mouth ready to swallow them whole. Smoke rolled out of it as if the mountain itself was breathing. The drip, drip, drip of water taunted them to enter. Collecting their courage they crept inside.

Deep within the mountain, almost a mile from the entry, two adult trolls warmed themselves by a pole of bubbling magma.

"Those stoopid thingsies killed Snookie," bellowed the younger of the brutes. "Why don't we smashies them?"

The elder smacked him in the head. "That's why you's isn't the leader Phlighton," he responded sharply. "Mother mountansies protects us here, if wes leaven we end up like Snookie!"

The older troll understood the mountain protected them. He didn't know how, as trolls aren't exactly known to be philosophical in nature. He did know the mountain fed them with the rocks it created. He also knew he could talk to the mountain and it responded. He had asked for others and the mountain pushed them out for him.

"More are comings to get us," Phlighton said. "I can feels them scurryin up the walls."

The trolls were connected to their mother. It spoke to them as much as they spoke to it. And the elder troll, Ghostfang, was well aware of the intruders who had been scaling their fortress. He had gathered many tiny black gems and had been whispering to them. Pushing each one into the ground, like a farmer planting seeds, he covered them with a massive sweeping hand. Closing his bulging eyes, he whispered sick incantation into the dank air. The ground under them began to hum and shake. Phlighton jumped to his feet, smashing his head into the ceiling, as many tiny heads begun to surface. Fifty or so tiny trolls clawed their way to the surface pushing their heads through the soil. Each one, five feet in stature, stood before Ghostfang swaying on his every whisper, waiting for their father to command them. Opening his eyes, he looked them over. A toothy smile slowly growing on his face.

"Go my minions, go and greets our friends," he commanded.

With that they scurried off down the damp tunnel to feed.

On the opposite end of the tunnel the men, as dark as the walls around them, were hunkered down. A loud crash from deep within the cavern had startled them and each one had instinctively flattened himself against the walls. Forcing their bodies into the caverns cracks and crevices they held their breath, trying not to make a noise. They could hear something coming towards them. Softly at first it was growing louder. What was most disconcerting was it sounded like it was many somethings. Not just one or two creatures were approaching, it sounded as if there could be hundreds. Darkness signaled for the men to hold fast, but it was no use. Guildsmen were not soldiers. Soldiers were trained to ignore the want for self-preservation and blindly follow orders. Guildsmen were trained to fight unconventionally, and ten against what could be hundreds, were odds they did not favor. Better to run, regroup, and counterattack. With that they slunk off into the shadows, making a swift, but silent retreat. All except two, Doom and Darkness.

The two kings closed their eyes as the thundering horde approached. The ground around them shook as they pressed their bodies flat. The felt the woosh of the air blow past them as the creatures rushed by. Neither dared move a muscle. The guildsmen who had disobeyed orders would have been lashed for their crimes. They would have been, if the trolls hadn't ripped them to pieces. Doom and Darkness gritted their teeth as they heard their screams bounce off the walls as the baby trolls made quick work of the deserters. They two kings continued to hug the walls, listening for the creatures return. After what seemed like ages they peeled themselves off and came together, taking a knee.

"Well this is just coming together amazingly," Darkness said gloomily. "Our options seem to be limited. Push forward and see what massive troll death awaits us or turn back and face the wall of baby troll death."

"You are the one who wanted to see some action," mused Doom. "I say we complete our mission. We find out what we are up against here and then turn back. Even if we ran, we could not catch those creatures, if they are indeed heading for camp. And what would be do if we caught them anyways? The way is clear."

Darkness saw the logic in Doom's statement. But it didn't make the situation any more palatable to him.

"Well, at least we still have these potions Stormy gave us," Darkness reasoned patting the small potion pouch at his waist. "Should we drink it now you think?"

"Let's hold on to them incase we need them. I like having a backup plan at the ready," Doom responded.

With that the two kings moved slowly and deliberately towards the source of the creatures. Behind them sound of the battle horn rang low and long, the minions had reached the camp.

Chapter 8: Camp Defense


The minions thundered across the clearing. Mouths still bloody from the small meal they just had minutes ago, their stomachs growled for more. Running on all fours they hit the tree line at a sprint. Men were beginning to emerge, awakened from their slumber by the blast of the war horn. Most of the sleepy unaware men didn't have weapons and most wore no armor. The trolls smiled in glee as they closed the distance. Easy pickings. The two front trolls exploded from the ground, pouncing like lions on top of an unsuspecting victim. The unarmed warrior screamed as he crumpled under the onslaught. The trolls dug in with their teeth and claws ripping him into pieces, shoving what they could into their hungry mouths, crunching the bones between their gnashing teeth. Arrows began raining down from the trees as the guildsmen began launching volley after volley. The young trolls, more agile than their adult brothers, rushed up the branches tackling many of them out of their perches. Crashing to the ground they were beaten like rag dolls under the trolls mighty fists.

Men had grouped together around Bood who was pulling his greatsword out of the chest of a fallen troll. Soldiers had gathered whatever weapons they could in the chaos and none wore armor. Bood, a seasoned veteran, wore armor even when sleeping during campaigns. The blue plume of his helmet was a banner for others to see and they moved towards him. A troll punched one of the fighters next to Bood in the face with a closed fist and his head exploded into a red mist as he collapsed lifeless. Bood swung his sword wide and connected with the beast, cleaving it in two.

Standing over the creature he held his sword in the air for all to see and screamed, "Form up! If you want to live - form up!"

Damarkus heard his leader shouting. He cursed himself for setting up his tent so far away. Holding his glimmering longsword in one hand and his tower shield in the other he walked toward the sound of battle. He watched as a panicking soldier ran to join the group around the plumed king and was tackled short by a troll. The creature leaned down, taking massive bites out of the mans back as he screamed helplessly in agony.

"By the God's, where did these animals come from," he asked himself, readying his sword.

Damarkus reversed the grip on his sword, hilt in his hand and the tip towards the ground, he charged towards the minion. Jumping through the air to plunge his metal deep into the creatures back the air left his lungs as another troll intercepted him in mid flight. The beasts were everywhere. Together they crashed into the ground. Pain tore into his shoulder as the trolls long claws ripped him open. The creature was on top of him, pinning him the ground. It reared back with a monstrous fist and brought it down with all it's might. His head was it's target. Damarkus moved his shield to protect himself from the death blow and as he did the shield splintered under the blow. Pain shot up his shield arm as it received the impact. Shards of wood ripped into his face as the brutes fists almost broke through. Unable to see, Damarkus brought his sword to bear and by luck it pierced flesh. The tip entered through one ear and exploded out of the other. The creature slumped forward, it's mouth hanging open. Gore gushed from its maw showering him. Gasping to regain his breath he pushed the dead weight off of him. Adrenaline surged, but through it, his arm pulsed with pain. Searing sensations ran up and down his battered arm as he worked to free it from the broken shield. Breaking free, he stood up and wiped the blood from his eyes. Crimson fluid pumped from his torn shoulder. Putting his heel on the fallen trolls forehead, he grasped the hilt of his sword with his strong arm, pulled it free. Holding it defensively, he moved towards the gathering group of men.

"I hope the others are faring better than I am," he muttered to himself as he went to join Bood's group.

Stormy stood in the fray of battle. All around him trolls and men converged in combat. The strewn, gnawed on pieces of men lay about him. He had downed one of his blue potions just before four of the young minions were about to beat him into submission. Invisible to man and beast alike, he moved towards Bood. The old warrior king stood covered in troll blood shouting orders, rallying the men. Darmarkus had joined the assembling mass of warriors as well. His useless arm hung at one side, his bloody troll slaying longsword was in his other hand. They had formed into a large defensive circle. The injured were pulled into the center to prevent them from being drug away and eaten. The pile of bodies had grown to the point where there were getting to be more fallen men than fighting ones. Stormy frowned seeing this heap of bodies. He quickly dismissed any thought about what probably had befallen Doom and Darkness and moved to act. Running forward, unseen, he found a gap in the line of his allies and worked to climb the heap of bodies. Some groaned and screamed as he stepped on them.

"Sorry my friends," he thought to himself. "This is for your own good."

Reaching the top of the pile of men he pulled from his pocket a small green leaf. Holding it in his palm he crushed it in his fist. Opening his hand he blew the pieces and they floated softly in the wind. Bursting into burning green specks of energy the pieces began to spin forming a circle around the the group of beleaguered men. A cool rain began to come down from the sky. Stormy felt the water as it pattered down on top of his head.

"What in the Kingdoms are you doing up there," yelled Bood. "Stop fooling around and come down here and help us!"

"Strange," Stromy thought to himself. "Those invisibility potions usually last longer than that, he would have to work on his alchemical recipes."

"Sorry my friend, I was just calling in some rain," Stormy replied coming down the heap, filling a gap in the defensive circle.

"A fat lot of good that will do us," Damarkus yelled as he sliced the hand off of a troll as it swung at him. "Were you hoping to slip these little beasties up?"

Before Stormy could answer, Damarkus realized his arm was no longer throbbing and he could move his hand again. Grabbing his sword with both hands he brought it down on top of the handless troll and split it's head in two.

"From now on I'm not going to even bother asking what you are doing Stormy," Damarkus laughed looking at the scratch on his shoulder, which was healed. "Just keep doing it."

As the rain washed away their wounds, men began to untangle themselves from the pile of the fallen and pick up weapons to rejoin the fight. The healing aura had worked and the groups strength grew tenfold. Rallied by their renewed strength they let loose a wild battle cry and formed an impenetrable circle of death.

War, Spitfire, Shertz and Common still had not reached the group. They had passed out drunk next to the fire that night drinking with War. The horn had startled them awake and fortunately they still had all of their gear on. The four were making quick work of any troll that was foolish enough to advance on them. The two veterans, War and Common had paired up. War swinging his massive battle axe was complimented perfectly by Common and the jabs and thrusts of his shortswords. If the troll was fortunate enough to dodge Wars slow moving axe, Common would roll in slicing and jabbing at the brutes legs and hamstrings crippling it. War would then finish it off like an executioner beheading a prisoner.

Shertz and Spitfire also complimented each other, but in a different way. Both were young and full of fire. Their inexperience gave them a sense of invincibility, and they charged fearlessly into battle. Shertz carried a longsword in one hand and a buckler in the other that had vicious spikes all around it. Spitfire wielded a flail. The spiked ball piercing and crushing everything unfortunate enough to come into contact with it. The two anticipating each others movements, working seamlessly as one. Due to their recklessness they had sustained some injuries. Shertz walked with a limp. He had fallen one of the brutes, but carelessly did not finish it off. It had lashed his leg with it's claws before he bludgeoned it's skull in with his buckler. Spitfire had ran through a volley of arrow fire to bring his flail down on the back of one of the trolls heads. He had succeeded in killing the creature, but an arrow had smashed into his shoulder. He had broken it off and only a small piece was still visible.

The four were far from the others and the healing aura had not reached them. They fought their way towards the main body of the army.

"You two, this way," War directed at Shertz and Spitfire. "We need regroup with the main body of the army if we hope to survive."

"Aw, come on," Spitfire called back, dodging blow from one of the creatures. "There are only a few left, lets take the fight to them!"

"Don't be idiots," Common shouted. "We have been lucky this far, lets not press it. Follow us or be left behind."

"Fine, lets move," Spitfire replied. Shertz nodded as he caught the attacking troll in the throat with his sword, sending it's head nearly off.

The four advanced, falling two more of the beasts, before they reached the others. Stepping into the rain, they felt rejuvenated.

"Hail brothers," Stormy called out to them. "Nice of you to join us."

Around the circle of men were the bodies of more than thirty trolls. The few that remained had fled back to the safety of the mountain.

Stormy walked over to the four looking them over. Without a word he grabbed the broken arrow still protruding from Spitfire's shoulder and ripped it out.

"What in the Kingdoms has gotten into you," Spitfire shrieked. He calmed himself realizing he didn't feel any pain from Stormys sudden brutality.

"Don't worry, you'll heal, and rather quickly I imagine," Stormy said, tossing the broken arrow at his feet.

Spitfire rubbed his shoulder as Bood and the others gathered around.

"You're just full of tricks Stormy," said Bood, taking off his plumed helmet, now covered in blood.

"Half of everything is luck my friends," replied Stormy. "Let's hope Doom and Darkness were as lucky as we were."

Chapter 9: Two on Two

Two shadowy figures crept down the gaping cavern. They heard the mumbling and laughter of the troll duo deep within getting closer. They had been creeping for more than an hour, careful not to alert the vile occupants. The closer they stalked the warmer the temperature became. The air was humid and heavy in their lungs. Every now and then a visible vein of gold in the walls reminded them of why they were there and what was at stake. Forefront in their minds was what lay ahead of them in the cavern. Their goal was simple. They needed to find out what they were up against, gather all the intelligence they could, and leave without being noticed. With eight of their party dead already this goal was becoming more of a challenge then they thought. Turning a bend in the cavern it opened up into large stoney walled cave. It's ceiling were roughly forty feet height in some areas. Steam hissed up from cracks in the ground and tiny streams of molten magma trickled into a large bubbling pool. Two trolls sat next to the pool talking.

"Those tiny thingsies, they are terribles," Phlighton said, tossing a stone into the glowing red pool. "First they kills Snookie and nows they kills the minions."

The larger troll, Ghostfang, sighed loudly. "Yes its true. We wills have to go and kills thems nows ourselves. Mother mountansies tolds mes they wont stops until they haves our foods. Theres mores of thems in heres, sneakins abouts."

Standing to his feet he picked a giant stone spear up off the ground. It was roughly ten feet in length and stone barbs covered it. With a thunderous smash he shoved the spears tip two feet into the ground. Closing his eyes he tightened his grip.

"Theys lookins at us rights now," said Ghostfang. "Theys hidings, scared of us, watching us."

Phlighton jumped to his feet. He took his boulder sized fist and punched it into the wall of the cavern. Stalactites fell from the ceiling and thundered to the ground. The stone stirred around the troll's fist. Slowly it formed into a massive shield. Pulling his arm away the newly formed shield was adhered to his arm. It stretched from his neck to his feet, almost twenty feet in height. The stone of the shield coursed as if it were liquid.

"Wells nowsies I's gets to smashies thems," Phlighten laughed with glee. "Yous telsies mes where they is and I will smashies them!"

Phlighton began walking towards the exit of the cave as Ghostfang directed him where to look for the intruders. Spikes formed out of the living rock of the shield pointing toward the spies.

The two kings, Darkness and Doom, were watching this all unfold. Earlier they had narrowly escaped being ripped to pieces by minions. Then they had narrowly escaped being crushed by a falling stalactite during the trolls commotion. Now they were both wondering how they would escape from the two trolls. There was no way they could outrun the creatures. And fighting them was out of the question. They could drink the potions, but the creatures were still able to track them through some connection they had to the mountain around them. They needed a good distraction.

Searching for a plan Doom spouted out, "Glib hunting."

Darkness looked at Doom confused. He had never heard of such a thing. And what a random thing it was to say at a time like this. He shook his head indicating he didn't understand.

"Glib hunting," Doom repeated.

The troll with the shield was closing on their location, where they were nestled behind a boulder. The spikes on his massive shield pointing right at them, wanting desperately to tear into their flesh. The ground around them jumped with each step of the towering brute.

"Glib hunting," Doom said again, grabbing the potion pouch from Darkness' waist. "You are going to have to trust me on this one friend. Slowly back out of the cavern."

Glib hunting was a game Doom played when he was a young prince. He sired over a kingdom that raised the finest woodsman in all the lands. They were taught at a young age to shoot a bow and hunt the many creatures that lived in the forests. Glib hunting was the kind of hunt they would take visitors out on. They would instruct the hunting greenhorns to walk off into the woods and yell out glib, over and over again. "That's how you call glib's in," they would joke. Glib's obviously didn't exist, but most didn't know that fact.

Darkness instantly did not like this plan, but with no options, he began moving back into the dark safety of the cavern. He looked over his shoulder and watched Doom take the potion he had taken from him and attach it to his waist. He then produced his own potion Stormy had given him and swallowed it up. The blue liquid disappearing from the bottle, and then Doom disappeared as well.

Doom didn't like this situation eitherl. The trolls couldn't see him, but the mountain seemed to be telling them where they were. He crept in front of the huge brute with the shield. The spikes on the shield followed him like sunflowers following the arc of the sun.

"Theys movings buts I cants sees them," Phlighton yelled, changing directions to follow the unseen intruder.

Doom quickly moved to the back corner of the cave and yelled, "GLIB!"

Both the trolls eyes shot wide open with surprise. Ghostfang ripped his spear out of the ground and roared at whatever was making the noise. He thundered over to the corner where the unseen assailant had shouted something it had never heard before.

Doom flinched as the brute approached, forgetting for a second he couldn't be seen. From between the creatures legs he could see the other troll with the shield approaching.

"Do yous sees it," Phlighton cried.

Doom ran between the larger trolls legs to the magma pool. Stooping down he placed the other blue invisibility potion on the ground next to it. As soon as he lost contact with the bottle it materialized. Again he called out, "Glib!" Then he pattered off as softly as he could for the tunnel and stood to watch.

Both the creatures huge heads swung around and with piercing, bulging eyes, they scanned for the maker of the noise. Instead of a tiny thing, they saw a tiny blue thing. Phlighton approached the pool first and squatted down to see what the tiny blue thing was. It was shiny and pretty in his big ugly eyes.

"Its a gifty from mother," he said gleefully. With that he plucked it up off the ground, like a child picking up a marble, and tossed it in his mouth.

"It doesnt tasty very goods," Phlighton said, rubbing his stomach.

"Phlighton wheres ares you, yous fool," Ghostfang bellowed. "Yous shouldnts have eatens thats!"

"I ams rights heres," Phlighton responded. "Are yous blind or stupids or something?"

Doom saw his chance. He sprinted from where he was to a spot in-between where he thought Phlighton still was and where Ghostfang stood fuming.

Standing between them he cleared his throat and shouted, "GLIB!"

"Kills its," Phlighton shouted. "I thinks it's in front of yous!"

Ghostfang now furious, grabbed his massive spear in both hands, leveling it in front of him. He exploded forward charging at the unseen intruder.

The spears stone tip was a good five feet above Doom's head as is whizzed over him. He wasn't worried about the spear, he was worried about being trampled. He watched it's clawed feet stomp towards him and rolled forward between the hulking beasts legs as it thundered past him. A blood curdling scream from behind him echoed off the caves walls, deafening him.

"I gots its," Ghostfang laughed at his luck. He couldn't see the little thingsie, but he saw it's blood on the tip of his giant spear. And he heard it scream. He stabbed at the invisible creature with the spear ten more times, each time he was greeted by a the sound of his spear crunching through flesh and each time his spear came out bloodier.

"Phlighton I kills it," he said again. "Where are yous?"

Doom couldn't believe his luck, and what a story he'd have for the tavern halls. Then he remembered he was standing in the middle of the cavern still. "Better get out of here before this potion wears off," he thought to himself. As quietly as he could he took off towards the tunnel. From behind him he heard the beast continue calling for Phlighton. As he put some distance between him and the elder troll a hand shot out of the blackness of the tunnel, scaring him half to death.

"Shesh Darkness, way to scare a man half to death," Doom said shakily. "Wait, you can see me?"

"No it was just dumb luck, I grabbed an invisible mans arm in an almost pitch black tunnel," Darkness said sarcastically. "What was that scream? I thought you had been killed."

"Stormy's potions don't last nearly long enough," Doom replied. "We need to get out of here fast. Someone's about to find a surprise that won't be well received."

"What do you mean," Darkness asked.

"No time to explain," Doom replied quickly. "We have to move, and move quickly."

The two kings ran down the tunnel. No time to be sneaky. A thirty foot tall time bomb, wielding a giant stone spear, was about to explode. They saw dim light ahead. Fresh air greeted their burning lungs. Coming out of the tunnel they began their descent down the mountains walls. Breathless they pushed on. Standing at the base they looked up at the hole. A loud scream funneled out of it, blasting into the cold damp air. The troll had realized his mistake.

"We have to warn the others," Doom said to Darkness. "A very large and angry troll is coming, and it's looking for vengeance."

 

Re: The Storm Lion Academy Battle Royal

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this little walk with the Storm Lions. I plan to have Chapter 2 up tomorrow. It will follow our heroes and their journey to the newborn mountain and the trolls who inhabit it.

And granny, your insight into the race of trolls is frightening but insightful...thanks!

 

Re: The Storm Lion Academy Battle Royal

And the profits will have to be split between everyone in the clan as you all have contributed in the way of intellectual property I suppose :lol:

 

Re: The Storm Lion Academy Battle Royale

Chapter 3 is up. Hope you all enjoy it. Look forward to a bloody battle in the next chapter.

 

Re: The Storm Lion Academy Battle Royale

Bump for Chapter 4.

This was the hardest chapter I've written so far. I need to work on my story telling when it comes to actual conflict and battle. I hope you all enjoy it though.