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[Rimetroll Eventline] The Trolltryst


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Rimetroll Eventline:

The Trolltryst

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A Rimetroll in the Rimeveld

Spoiler

 

 


 

Oxx, Chief of the Rimetrolls, sighed.

A Trolltryst was meant to be a joyous occassion, but today certainly was not one.

 

The Rimetrolls of the Rimeveld were the last surviving clan of Trolls - for good reason - and a Trolltryst was a meeting of their entire people. The Rimetrolls had inhabited the Rimeveld for centuries, but these meetings had only ever been called four times; the first was when they had first invented the Trolltryst, and decided on the name because the then-Chief - Ugga - had heard the word 'tryst' from a human and thought it was funny; the second Trolltryst had been when they were given the gift of farming, ending their need to venture south to steal food from the Descendants; the third had been Oxx's five-hundredth birthday; and the fourth was today.

 

The fourth was indeed bleak compared to the prior three. Oxx sat hunched in his cave, staring at his distorted reflection in the ice; his age had really began to show, with his once-brown fur turned pale silver, the flesh beneath that fur wrinkled, and his curled horns brittle and frail. In the cavern just beyond his personal cave, the rest of the Rimetrolls awaited him. Oxx thought they would share his anxiety, but that hardly seemed to be the case - he could hear dull chatter, even laughter, echo from the cavern. He could even hear one of them playing the ice chimes! While, at first, he had thought it good that the Rimetrolls were not panicked, but now he knew that they did not realize the dire situation they faced. The Rimetrolls had never been an intelligent breed, but what was worse was that some Trolls - like Oxx - were not ignorant of that fact, of that crippling limitation.

 

With another deep sigh, he looked about his cave. He knew he was procrastinating, but he just wanted a few more minutes before he had to face his people, and decide what they would do. His cave was a little one, a cozy little alcove carved from ice - like all Rimetroll caves - lit by a small fire in its centre that made the rest of the cave shimmer faintly as the surface ice turned to water, though it would take a fire a thousand times as hot to actually melt the Rimeveld's thick, thick ice. He had a few personal affects scattered about the place, including a tattered human banner - so faded that Oxx could no longer make out the bear-and-bull crest emblazoned on it - from the Descendants that had given the Rimetrolls the gift of farming, the horns of his dear old friend and mentor Ugga, last chief of the Rimetrolls, and the horns of his father Tog, and then there was his carved staff, a thick white-stone club engraved with intricate spirals.

 

Slowly, he stood, his horns brushing the ceiling of the cave, and gingerly picked up the staff. As he took a few slow steps towards the mouth of his cave, he glanced back to the horns hung on the walls; Ugga and his father had lived through much harder times, when Rimetrolls had to fight, steal and kill just to feed themselves. If they could keep the Rimetrolls alive through all that, then Oxx could certainly do this. Despite that, looking at the horns only instilled him with sadness, and with mourning for his old friend and dear old father. Despite his position as Chief, at that moment as he looked at the horns of the fallen, he felt very much alone. Steeling himself as best he could, he ducked under the low-ceiling of the cave's entrance, and out into the cavern beyond.

 

The mountains that dotted the Rimeveld were hollow in parts, with giant caverns like this one having been carved out by Rimetrolls long ago. The pale light of the frozen mountains above entered the cavern through a crevasse far overhead, through which snow gently flickered down to where the rest of the Rimetrolls were gathered in anticipation. It had been over one-hundred years since the last Trolltryst, and Oxx found himself taken aback by the sight of all the Rimetrolls gathered in one place. The cavern was packed with grey-skinned males, the shortest of whom was nine-foot and the tallest fourteen, and all of them as wide as a boulder with small, stubby heads mounted with curled horns; and then there were white-furred females, who lacked horns but were taller than the males, many of whom had tiny cubs on their backs on in their arms. The Rimetrolls had never been a big clan, and they had lost hundreds of their kind in the time where they had needed to fight for their food, but it filled Oxx with pride to see nearly two hundred of his people left, and resolve to keep it that way.

 

As Oxx entered, their grunting conversations slowly died, and Mumo - who was playing the ice chimes - abruptly ceased his playing. Nearly two hundred beady trolls eyes turned to Oxx expectantly.

 

" ... Hullo," Oxx grunted after a moment, his gravelly voice echoing through the cavern, as did his footsteps and the tap of his staff as he made his way across the ice, towards the centre of the cavern where the snow filtered down from the mountain. The cavern rumbled as nearly two hundred Troll voices grunted back.

 

"Hullo, Oxx."

 

"Hi Chief."

 

"Where Rumbo?"

 

"You have any food, Chief?"

 

"Slobz still gone too."

 

Oxx slammed his staff against the ice, and signalled for them to quieten. The cavern grew hushed again, and as Oxx looked around into the clueless faces of the Rimetroll, he, despite being far older than most of them, felt just as lost. But he was the Chief and, like Ugga once told him, he had to at least pretend to know what to do. Slowly, he sat, and the Trolls all around him did likewise to signal the start of the Trolltryst.

 

" ... Everyone know why we here," Oxx began at last, his voice echoing through every nook of the cavern. "The farm gone." Centuries ago, when the Rimetrolls raided the old human realm of Balian for their food, stealing their harvest and inflicting famine. There had been fighting - for a time - but back then, the Rimetrolls had been a warrior clan, and even the masses of the human armies struggled to hold them off. Instead, however, the Balians had made a gift; they had given the Rimetrolls a Totem pole, imbued with some of their magic that was far beyond Oxx's understanding, that allowed crops to grow in the frigid Rimeveld, where no plant would ever naturally grow. That had signalled a new age for the Rimetrolls, and all of Almaris, where Oxx and his people no longer needed to steal, to fight, to kill to feed themselves. Now, they grew their own food, fed themselves, and fought no one.

 

Then, a few days ago, when humans had come into the Rimeveld exploring, that Totem had been burnt. Just like that, the Rimetroll's farm, their sole source of food - their sole source of peace - had withered up and died once it lost its magical protection from the Totem, and was instantly murdered by the cold of the Rimeveld.

 

"Lots of farms south, though!" one of the female trolls, Shog, perked up cheerily. "Me and Rumb go other day. Got lots of food." She grinned goofily, and pat the tiny Troll cub cuddled up on her shoulder. A few of the other Trolls rumbled in agreement.

 

"Lots and lots," one of the males, Skipz, added. "It further away, be more food than before."

 

Other Rimetrolls - the smarter ones - were frowning, though. "Rumbo and Slobz go to south to get food, um ..." the Rimetroll who was speaking - Hig - counted on his fingers, muttering to himself before he stuck up three sausage-sized fingers. "They been gone this many days!"

 

Uncertain grunts rippled across the crowd. "They ... they dead?"

 

"Na, na, they just lost, me think."

 

Oxx sighed again. He knew for certain that Rumbo and Slobz were not lost; they had gone south to steal food for the humans and they had been killed, just like in the old days. It had happened hundreds of years ago, before the Rimetrolls could grow their own food, and Oxx was deathly afraid that it was about to happen all over again.

 

"They dead," Oxx said, silencing the crowd and drawing surprised stares from the other Trolls. "They dead, because the food in south belong to others. Not us."

 

"But ... then what we eat?" Mumo asked meekly.

 

"If we try to take food, they try stop us," Oxx replied as calmly as he could. "It simple."

 

"But ... me take food, and no problem," Shog added, frowning as she patted her cub.

 

"Me 'n Gog, too," Skipz added.

 

"You lucky, then," Oxx grunted. "We -"

 

He was cut off by a loud growl from one of the Rimetrolls as they stood. Oxx recognized the Troll instantly; Bido was distinct with his darker, shaggier fur, which some Trolls said he had because his father had been a different breed of Troll - one of the nigh-extinct violent ogres who destroyed entire villages long ago - while others said it was because he was bad at grooming himself. Either way, he was one of the eldest Rimetrolls, almost as old as Oxx himself, and Bido was one of the only other surviving Trolls from the time where they had raided and killed for their food. "This stupid," Bido growled, narrowed eyes sweeping across the gathered Rimetrolls. "These humans destroy our farm! It was they who burn Totem! And now, when we go to take their food after they ruin ours, they kill us!"

 

Oxx watched in concern as some of the Rimetrolls nodded at Bido's words, mirroring his glare.

 

"Oxx right! It very simple!" Bido went on, balling a shaggy-furred fist. "They take our food, so we take theirs!"

 

Hig frowned, scratching his chin with a long arm. "But ... Oxx say they stop us. They kill us, like Rumbo and Slobz ..."

 

"Then we kill them first," Bido retorted, prompting gasps and surprised grunts from the crowd.

 

"No, Bido," Oxx intoned, rising to his feet with a glare of his own. "That not our way." He jabbed a finger at one of the symbols on his staff. "We no kill!" When the old humans had gifted them their Totem, gifted them food, Oxx had been the Rimetroll who promised that they would never fight, never kill, again. Rimetrolls had not even eaten meat for centuries, much less killed someone.

 

"That same symbol was on Totem," Bido shot back. "And human burn it!" A growing number of the Rimetrolls began to echo their agreement, and that infuriated Oxx; they had no idea what Bido was arguing for, and what his words really meant. "We no want to, but we have no choice, Oxx! What else can we do?"

 

Abruptly, the cavern fell dead silent. The Rimetrolls all looked to Oxx, with the same question in their eyes; what else can we do?

 

" ... We ... speak to humans," Oxx said uncertainly. That was the only other possibility that came to mind, and he had serious doubts about it. "We - we see if they can fix Totem, or give us food."

 

Bido, across the crowd, narrowed his eyes as the silence resumed. At last, he spoke, and quietly asked. "And if that no work?"

 

"If that no work ..." Oxx closed his eyes, and sighed. Once again, despite the hundreds of Rimetrolls around him, he felt all alone. " ... If that no work," he said, opening his eyes. "We do it your way."

 

 


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Aleksandra Ludovar sharpens her blade in preparation for the return of the trolls. Not once did the thought of diplomacy cross the arrogant soldier's mind. Much like her aunt and namesake, she sought for blood

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Solomon sighs, washing caked blood off his hands, his once white robe stained crimson, it’d need bleaching. Norland was a place he had always enjoyed, it was a place he had been able to call home for so long, but he had never understood the sheer aptitude for violence the folk here held. No, no. Once he had understood, but life was a delicate thing, more precious and fragile than he had used to believe
Standing, he shakes off his hands, returning to the infirmary where he worked. There had been a dead man with him the night before, head smashed in by the trolls. But why, he wonders. Why were there trolls so near? Had they been violent? Did the Norlanders attack first? Reports had reached him of trolls in other places as well. To approach human cities was folly, sheer stupidity, but the trolls seemed to barely fight back at all. 
 

Something was wrong here, very wrong, and he needed to find out what it was. No more death, no more killing, not if he could help it. 

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The High Keeper sighed in frustration as she toiled away at the ever-grim task of preparing for a funeral. "There's always something. Something to cause trouble. Something to spread some sort of problem. One day it's crime, another it's the wildlife." She complained, mumbling a prayer as she spread a few pinches of salt and ash over the body she was preparing for rites. "At least animals are easily deterred. Never heard of a beast that likes torches and the cold bite of a blade. We'll see it handled, one way or another."

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As Igor sat around the campfire of the home of Shog, one of his newly found troll friends, he sat there thinking of what to say or if he should even speak when negotiating with Oxx, the Chief of the Trolls. Although being a politician, Igor was never much of a diplomat. As they wait for a meeting with Oxx, he hopes that his companion, Prince Franz, could do most of the talking. In the meantime, he feeds the baby troll Rumb some of his potatoes.

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A simple Kharajyr, Rha'kir, was milling about the markets of Haense, searching for some groceries. He was bartering over a piece of freshly hunted boar meat in Haense when he heard of the news of the trolls. Suddenly, he remembered a time where a troll-like entity spared his life in Athera. He took his basket with groceries with him to tell the news to his fellow Kha, as well as ask a favor in Haense.

Edited by chaosgamer_
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"What a shame." Ezyl would hum out in one of their many voyages into the icy wasteland behind Haense. "I really wanted to learn what that was all about." They'd rub the side of their face idly, frowning at the strange but fascinating totem, which had, apparently, been burned since their last visit. "It were a cute farm. Can't have anything nice in these new lands I reckon." 

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Joseph Gaultier calmly admired the trollheads he hung above his fireplace one of Slobz and the other of Oggo  both these trolls killed as they tried to rob  more food of the Haensi people before the soldier turned to meet his yet still empty walls 

 

"Plenty o' fokin empty spaces left les' see if dose fokers attack again ye?"

 

he snorted to himself with a bottle of carrion black in hand taking a large gulp from

 

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4 hours ago, erictafoya said:

As Igor sat around the campfire of the home of Shog, one of his newly found troll friends, he sat there thinking of what to say or if he should even speak when negotiating with Oxx, the Chief of the Trolls. Although being a politician, Igor was never much of a diplomat. As they wait for a meeting with Oxx, he hopes that his companion, Prince Franz, could do most of the talking. In the meantime, he feeds the baby troll Rumb some of his potatoes.

Franz spent most of his time sleeplessly pacing around the fire, occasionally stopping to peer at Igor, Maeve, Lorelei, Natalia and Beatrice, the five companions that had come with him this far into the Rimeveld. He knew what he sought to achieve in these frozen wastes, but whether he could do it or not was an entirely different question. All he knew was that he would try.

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