Post by Rhabuka on Aug 30, 2004 11:15:12 GMT -5
This old story of mine was inspired by some of the topics on the main board, namely the lack of troll racial CMs and the apparent demise of the shadowknight as a true tank (at least those SKs who can’t compensate through their racial CMs, i.e., the trolls). Since I wrote this, and having seen Zugarok surpass my poor Targa and KNOWING he could make mincemeat of her, I fear these words are quite true. The end of the trolls may be nigh...
The Return
It was the smell that gave it away. The sweet, sickening scent of decay that hung heavily in the air. My horse whinnied softly as it plodded through the swamplands. I heard the occasional sounds of frogloks chirruping as they bounded out of my path and hid themselves in the reeds. A slow smile spread across my weary face as I remembered the battles I had once had with them, long ago. I was home.
Turning the corner, I saw Coachman Zuggug standing ever watchful by his tattered tent. He seemed startled at the sight of me. Then his mouth split open into a grin full of rotted teeth, “Ah, yous come back! Good to see, good to see!”<br>
I nodded in return, stepping down to leave my horse in his care. Zuggug was a fool but had an affinity with creatures. I took the large sword from the horse’s pack and held it at my side. Zuggug frowned suddenly, distressed that I would not stay longer to chat with him.
“We will talk when I return,” I assured him, smirking as his grin resurfaced. “I have someone I need to speak to.”<br>
I left Zuggug behind and began the walk into Grobb. It is amazing how much smaller a place can seem when you revisit it after exploring the world for many years. It was much quieter as well, quite deserted except for the usual cast of characters.
I stopped for a drink with Barkeep Uta, as much to build up my confidence as to slake my thirst after the long ride. How long had it been since I had last seen him? Over 20 turns of the seasons? Where had that time gone?
Underlord Solthe. The one I had been sent to for my training in the dark arts when I was just a young one. A mentor, a taskmaster… never a friend. I cannot say what brought me back to Grobb, nor what I had hoped to accomplish by seeing Solthe again. I was curious to see what had happened to the old troll but overlaying that emotion was a lingering doubt. What would Solthe think about what I had become?
After the sixth tankard of Grobbian swill, I felt as ready as I could be. Adjusting the sword at my side, I made my way into Solthe’s dark lair. My path was sure and true as if I had walked this way just yesterday. I felt the heat of the chamber as I turned the corner and stepped before the Underlord.
He had not changed. In fact, it seemed as if he had been rooted to the same spot since I had left. He turned to look at me as I approached, his eyes narrowing.
“I would have thought you’d be a bit more scarred by now. Maybe even have put on some muscle. Why, even your sword is unsoiled! What have you been doing since I last saw you, playing with Bogscraper in the swamps?!?”<br>
This was not going as I had expected.
I felt my anger begin to swell inside me. Solthe had beaten respect into me at a young age but I had been through too much to be spoken to in that way.
“My Underlord”, I began slowly, careful to keep my voice even. “I have accomplished great deeds and have slain many terrible foes. I have slaughtered the dwarves guarding the mountain town of Moradhim. I spent many long years in the deserts, honing my skills by butchering Deathfists. I have crossed into the coldest reaches of this land to smite the cruel hexbones. I have even traveled far to the hill country to bring down the mighty Cyclopes. Their blood has stained my sword, Underlord, as I pursue the ways of the Shadow.” I inclined my head slightly. “You have taught me well.”<br>
He scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh indeed! Targa the Mighty, making her way across Tunaria, bringing honor to her dark lord!” His eyes darkened. “You are a fool if you think you can make a difference here. Our race, it is not what it once was. You will soon fall aside as have the others.”<br>
I frowned at him, “What do you mean? Our kind is ancient and proud. We are strong and the other races fear us.”<br>
“You must have seen it in your many exotic ‘travels’,” he remarked snidely, throwing the word at me like a challenge. “The time of the troll is ending. I have fewer young ones to train with the passing of each season. Of the handful that is here, more and more are choosing the way of the Warrior or the Shaman. And then there are the ogres… You can find them everywhere. They are even starting to take over Kerplunk! I fear that their strength is increasing, that they will come to take what we have lost and crush us like a juggernaut...”<br>
A coldness squeezed itself around my heart as I tried to deny the truth in his words. Solthe looked up at me as if hoping that I would deliver some kind of retort. He sighed then, and for the first time I noticed the weariness weighing him down.
“Do not return here, Targa. Your so-called accomplishments mean nothing.” His sneer returned, as he hissed, “Go find some idiotic bard to write a song about you, if approval is what you are seeking.”<br>
Solthe crossed his burly arms at his chest and turned his back to me. I could think of nothing more to say to him.
Zuggug muttered incoherently as I snatched the horse’s reigns from his hands. The animal protested at first, obviously wanting to stay and rest a while longer, but I persisted until he turned to leave the town.
Solthe’s words rang like a death knell in my mind but I refused to give in to them. My old master had given up on his kin and weakness clung to him like a disease. If I ever made it back this way again, I would kill him.
The Return
It was the smell that gave it away. The sweet, sickening scent of decay that hung heavily in the air. My horse whinnied softly as it plodded through the swamplands. I heard the occasional sounds of frogloks chirruping as they bounded out of my path and hid themselves in the reeds. A slow smile spread across my weary face as I remembered the battles I had once had with them, long ago. I was home.
Turning the corner, I saw Coachman Zuggug standing ever watchful by his tattered tent. He seemed startled at the sight of me. Then his mouth split open into a grin full of rotted teeth, “Ah, yous come back! Good to see, good to see!”<br>
I nodded in return, stepping down to leave my horse in his care. Zuggug was a fool but had an affinity with creatures. I took the large sword from the horse’s pack and held it at my side. Zuggug frowned suddenly, distressed that I would not stay longer to chat with him.
“We will talk when I return,” I assured him, smirking as his grin resurfaced. “I have someone I need to speak to.”<br>
I left Zuggug behind and began the walk into Grobb. It is amazing how much smaller a place can seem when you revisit it after exploring the world for many years. It was much quieter as well, quite deserted except for the usual cast of characters.
I stopped for a drink with Barkeep Uta, as much to build up my confidence as to slake my thirst after the long ride. How long had it been since I had last seen him? Over 20 turns of the seasons? Where had that time gone?
Underlord Solthe. The one I had been sent to for my training in the dark arts when I was just a young one. A mentor, a taskmaster… never a friend. I cannot say what brought me back to Grobb, nor what I had hoped to accomplish by seeing Solthe again. I was curious to see what had happened to the old troll but overlaying that emotion was a lingering doubt. What would Solthe think about what I had become?
After the sixth tankard of Grobbian swill, I felt as ready as I could be. Adjusting the sword at my side, I made my way into Solthe’s dark lair. My path was sure and true as if I had walked this way just yesterday. I felt the heat of the chamber as I turned the corner and stepped before the Underlord.
He had not changed. In fact, it seemed as if he had been rooted to the same spot since I had left. He turned to look at me as I approached, his eyes narrowing.
“I would have thought you’d be a bit more scarred by now. Maybe even have put on some muscle. Why, even your sword is unsoiled! What have you been doing since I last saw you, playing with Bogscraper in the swamps?!?”<br>
This was not going as I had expected.
I felt my anger begin to swell inside me. Solthe had beaten respect into me at a young age but I had been through too much to be spoken to in that way.
“My Underlord”, I began slowly, careful to keep my voice even. “I have accomplished great deeds and have slain many terrible foes. I have slaughtered the dwarves guarding the mountain town of Moradhim. I spent many long years in the deserts, honing my skills by butchering Deathfists. I have crossed into the coldest reaches of this land to smite the cruel hexbones. I have even traveled far to the hill country to bring down the mighty Cyclopes. Their blood has stained my sword, Underlord, as I pursue the ways of the Shadow.” I inclined my head slightly. “You have taught me well.”<br>
He scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh indeed! Targa the Mighty, making her way across Tunaria, bringing honor to her dark lord!” His eyes darkened. “You are a fool if you think you can make a difference here. Our race, it is not what it once was. You will soon fall aside as have the others.”<br>
I frowned at him, “What do you mean? Our kind is ancient and proud. We are strong and the other races fear us.”<br>
“You must have seen it in your many exotic ‘travels’,” he remarked snidely, throwing the word at me like a challenge. “The time of the troll is ending. I have fewer young ones to train with the passing of each season. Of the handful that is here, more and more are choosing the way of the Warrior or the Shaman. And then there are the ogres… You can find them everywhere. They are even starting to take over Kerplunk! I fear that their strength is increasing, that they will come to take what we have lost and crush us like a juggernaut...”<br>
A coldness squeezed itself around my heart as I tried to deny the truth in his words. Solthe looked up at me as if hoping that I would deliver some kind of retort. He sighed then, and for the first time I noticed the weariness weighing him down.
“Do not return here, Targa. Your so-called accomplishments mean nothing.” His sneer returned, as he hissed, “Go find some idiotic bard to write a song about you, if approval is what you are seeking.”<br>
Solthe crossed his burly arms at his chest and turned his back to me. I could think of nothing more to say to him.
Zuggug muttered incoherently as I snatched the horse’s reigns from his hands. The animal protested at first, obviously wanting to stay and rest a while longer, but I persisted until he turned to leave the town.
Solthe’s words rang like a death knell in my mind but I refused to give in to them. My old master had given up on his kin and weakness clung to him like a disease. If I ever made it back this way again, I would kill him.