Category Archives: Troll

Words to Remember – by Mother Deasie

This book is titled “More Words to Remember – by Mother Deasie”. It is a collection of proverbs told by the halflings long ago.

Cooperation is the flower of philanthropy. The love of evil is the root of all money.

When forced to make a choice between a greater evil and a lesser evil, choose to look for the greater good instead.

Always count the cost, for if you don’t, you may wind up paying more than you expected.

Sometimes is it better to wait for the rain to stop before bailing the water out of your boat. Just always make sure you’re close to shore.

Don’t throw away the old bucket until you know whether the new one holds water.

Beware of all things that require a new set of clothes. When you change a person’s clothes, you’ve changed what the person appears to be.

You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him.

To understand your parents’ love you must raise children yourself. That’s when you’ll finally know.

You can only learn to love something once you understand it. It’s easy enough to look at a rose and comment on how pretty it is, but it takes a true heart to say the same about a troll.

Before you can go adventuring on a grand and noble quest to find the solution, you should first seek out the problem.

Through the Rathe Mountains

In this book, we follow the adventures of Gerren from his outpost on Lake Rathetear through the Rathe Mountains which have been taken by the Rallosian Army.
Gerren dressed simply. His task would require stealth and speed, for the aviaks reported bands of ogres patrolling the familiar paths through the Rathe Mountains. If Gerren were to break through their lines, he would need to blaze his own trail. And Gerren definitely needed to make his way through — he and fellow Guardsman Ilkalla had been at the Qeynos’ outpost on Lake Rathetear for several months while the Rallosian Army crept closer. Now, the Rallosians were building an enormous barge to carry them across the water.

Ilkalla pressed a dried gnoll’s foot into Gerren’s hand. “For luck,” she said. “I don’t know why, but we’ve always had that in our family; I want you to carry it with you on this journey.” Neither of them said it, but they both knew it was true: the likelihood of his making it through was the equivalent of the aviaks and centaurs holding the Rallosians off. They did not expect to see each other again. After a quick meal, Gerren took a little-traveled way up the face of the slope along the edge of the Lake.

“I can see now why this is travelled so infrequently,” Gerren muttered, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. The rocky mountain face was so steep that in some points, Gerren would need to retrace his steps to consider the options from several angles. Once, a slice of rock upon which he was perched gave way and he slid down quite a distance before being able to stop himself.

Three-quarters of the way up was a cleft in the rocks through which this path passed. The splintered boulders forming the opening folded over on the side facing the Lake, making it impossible to peer around. Gerren knew that if the Rallosians were already on the pathway beyond the rocks, he was doomed. There was no quick escape route. He unsheathed his knife and the gnoll’s foot Ilkalla had given him tumbled out, bouncing off the rocks down the face of the mountain.

“There goes the lucky gnoll’s foot,” Gerren thought, with a smile. Somehow, the idea that the foot of a dead creature could be lucky was amusing. He slipped through the cleft and found the way clear. Tension released in his neck, although he was still wary as he felt his way to another cluster of granite boulders marking another turn in the path.

Hill giants! Gerren leaned back into the boulders, blending himself into the rocks. The Rallosian Army was not the only thing in the Rathe Mountains, but hill giants were not usually found near this forlorn area. Perhaps they, too, had been displaced by the invading ogres. Gerren watched them as they milled around for several minutes before striding off down the narrow, featureless road.

Gerren waited until the sun was directly overhead before moving. There was a stretch of the passage with no easy alternative route — not that the ways he had been traveling had been easy at all. Still, with the sun above he would cast no shadows and might be able to slip undetected across the roadway. Even covered by his superior camouflage, Gerren knew that there were things he could do to make himself even less visible to his enemies.

The roadway was clear and Gerren slipped into the shadows of another clutch of boulders. He paused there to listen for the sounds of pursuit, but there was only silence. That in itself was worrisome, as there were usually birds trilling or insects buzzing. Gerren would even welcome the wuffing sounds of the great bears. “Everything must be hiding from the Rallosians,” he thought, “Perhaps I should get lower to the ground myself.”

Calming himself, Gerren spent a moment recalling the spells of transformation. He remembered amusing Ilkalla on their watches by changing himself into a wolf and padding around, sniffing things. He said a quick prayer for her and the small force by Lake Rathetear, then cast his spell. Energy rippled within him and he shook himself to spread it through to the very tips of his dark fur.

Gerren set off through the rocks, keeping always to the shaded side of the paths. The club that hit him in the back of his head was so quick and brutal that he did not feel a thing as he slumped lifeless to the ground. “Found something for dinner!” yelled the troll that had killed him. The gleeful yelps greeting this cry echoed through the otherwise watchful Rathe Mountains.

The Three Keys – The First Key

This book is titled “The Three Keys – the First”. It is the story of a small girl by the name of Aiven and what when she is given three separate keys.
As Aiven woke up that morning, she felt the day would bring her all manner of exciting surprises. But this was a common feeling, her being a girl of only ten years. She had already learned that discoveries could be found anywhere if you just went looking. What she didn’t know was that that today, those discoveries would come looking for her.

After she helped her mother around the farm for most of the morning, Aiven asked if she could go play. She listened patiently to all the warnings her mother recited to her, for she had heard them all before. With a final “I will, Mom”, she sprinted off to explore, with not a second thought to what her mother said. After all, how dangerous could a troll actually be?

As Aiven engrossed herself in a rousing game of “What’s Under This Rock?”, she lost all track of time. Even though her mother had told her to be home well before sunset on penalty of the switch, she paid little attention to the lengthening shadows. Not until one stole over her rather quickly did she finally look up, only to see what – or who – was casting the shadow.

Standing in front of her was an old woman wearing odd robes. She asked Aiven, “What is it, little girl, that you are looking for?” Aiven instantly remembered all the warnings her mother gave her, especially the ones about little girls being sold to the dark elves. “Interesting things,” she replied, at which time the old woman smiled.

“If you are seeking things of interest, then these will help you open the way to finding them,” the old woman said, and handed Aiven a small pouch. Inside were three keys, one copper, one silver, and one gold. “But what doors do they unlock?” she asked. “Many exciting discoveries,” the old woman said warmly. Aiven looked up to ask what the old woman meant, but she saw that she had vanished without a trace.

Aiven decided it was now a good time to go home. As she turned around, she was surprised to see a door standing right behind her. Not pausing to question how that was even possible, she quickly tried the keys, knowing this was no mere coincidence. The first one she tried opened the door right away. Looking inside, she saw the most interesting sights she had ever witnessed.

Entranced by what she saw, Aiven stepped inside the door. Floating all around her were oddly shaped rocks, straw-stuffed poppets, and bowls of flavored iced creams. Inside this enormous room was everything she could ever want! Just as she was about to start eating some of the iced creams, she noticed an adjoining room connected to this one. She thought, “If this room contains so many wonders, what does the next room hold?”

In the next room, she saw someone who looked like her older sister. If she had one, that is. The young maiden was locked in an embrace with a young man wearing a suit of shining armor. As they were about to kiss each other, Aiven exclaimed, “Ewww! Boys are icky!” At that moment, Aiven noticed that behind the couple was even another room. She sidestepped the two, let out another “ewww”, and walked into the next room

In this room, she saw a smiling woman who looked a lot like her mother. Standing around the woman were several girls of different ages. The more she looked, the more she thought the girls looked a little like her. And though she couldn’t exactly explain why, Aiven thought the room felt like “Happy”. Aiven, feeling she was interrupting something, turned around to leave – at which point she smacked her face into a tree trunk.

As Aiven rubbed her bruised nose, she gave the tree a good pound with her fist. The tree then said, “No need to be rude.” Aiven looked up and saw that is was not a tree after all, but rather a gigantic one-eyed man. He peered down at her with his one eye and said, “You unlocked the door to your heart. People usually never leave the first room they enter. Do you want to unlock the next door?”

The Stone Frum Pazt Vol. II

A war horde from the Ykesha Clan recovered the Gromzek Stone from the ruins of an Ogre Stronghold. Recognizing the hieroglyphs of the ancestor clans but not being able to decipher them, the stone was given the name “Stone of Frum Pazt” and presented to the Warlord Ykesha, ruler of their clan. Ykesha’s shamans recognized the blessings of the Gods of Fear and Hate upon the hieroglyphs, and calling upon them for divine assistance deciphered the meaning of the words scrawled in blood across the surface of the stone.
Ykesha believed he was, or desired to be The Wun, and his accomplishments coupled with the prophesies of the stone frum Pazt rallied even more trolls to the Ykesha Clan.

As Ykeshas’ might and renown grew, so did his paranoia until he hid himself depe within his fortress in the Innothule Swamp. The forces of the rival clans, all seeking possession of the stone frum Patz beset the Ykesha Clan. It was Clan Brokenskull that won possession of the stone, the Ykesha clan was destroyed, the survivors joining their one-time rivals for fleeing into the swamps, clanless and disgraced.

The clanless trolls endured in the Innothule swamp despite their disgrace, and a new Warlord by the name of Jurglash rose and united the remnants of the Ykeshan Clan. This new clan became known as the Grobb Clan, and its might would quickly grow to become the prominent troll clan on the Antonican mainland.

Eventually Warlord Redak, a powerful shadowknight of the Brokenskull Clan, rose to power and claiming the mantle of The Wun led the Brokenskulls to victory over several smaller clans residing on the mainland of Antonica. The Shaman had heard of a place of great evil called Befallen, and sent Redak alone to this place to recover powerful artifacts, and fulfill his destiny. Redak did as the shaman instructed and was never seen nor heard from again. The stone remained in the possession of the Brokenskull Clan, hidden and guarded in the tomb of the legendary Brokenskull Shaman, Nadox.

For decades the Grobb Clan prospered under the leadership of warlord Jurglash, their shaman dedicated themselves to the Gods of both Fear and Hate. The Shadowknights of Grobb built the Nightkeep in the Innothule swamp, on the edge of the clan’s village, and Da Bashers had become a force to be feared. Only the Brokenskulls remained as a threatening rival clan.

The Shaman of Grobb learned the whereabouts of the stone frum Pazt and an invasion horde was sent to recover it from the rival clan. The invasion was successful and the stone was brought to Grobb where it remains, awaiting the arrival of The Wun.

The Stone Frum Pazt Vol. I

The stone frum Pazt by Gomresh, Shaman of the Dark Ones

Long ago the shamans of our ancestor trolls prophesied the rise of The Grozmok, referred to more commonly as The Wun, a Troll of great might that shall possess powerful artifacts and secrets. According to the prophecies, The Wun shall subjugate all clans under one rule.

The might of The Wun and the united clans under his rule shall be unstoppable, all of Norrath shall be ours to plunder, all its inhabitants ours to torture and feast upon.

The shaman of the old clans recorded the prophecies of The Gromzok on the strongest slab of stone, the hieroglyphs drawn with their own blood and blessed by the Gods of Fear and Hate. For ages our ancestor shaman guarded the stone, while our ancestor warriors sought to subjugate their rival clans, each hoping to become the legendary Gromzok. Then, a great war tore across the face of Norrath. The minions of Warlord Rallos Zek slaughtered and enslaved all who crossed their path. The rivers that fed the swamps of the ancestor clans were filled with the blood of the slaughtered. Many of the ancestor clans were destroyed in the chaos, the survivors becoming scavengers, feeding on the carnage of the battlefield, or slaves, fighting along side the very armies that led to their clans demise. During this time the Gromzok Stone was lost, pillaged and hidden within one of the strongholds of the Rallosian Empire. The Empire of the Ogres fell abruptly, cursed by the Gods to be reduced lower than the state peoples they had conquered. The remnants of the ancestor clans once again began to flourish, new clans rose to replace those that had been lost to the slaughter of the Rallosian Empire. Two tribes in particular gained dominance of the ancestor Trolls, the Brokenskull Clan who inhabit an Island in the Gulf of Gunthak, and the Ykesha Clan residing in the Innothule Swamps. The two clans warred against each other for supreme dominance of souther Tunaria, raiding the others territories and the mountainous lands of the Ogres that had survived the destruction of their empire. It was in these mountainous lands that the Gromzok Stone once again came into the possession of the Troll Clans.

The Rise of Ykesha

The Rise of Warlord Ykesha
The True Grozmok
In the darkness of night, secluded from the eyes of many of his fellow trolls, a troll shaman named Zraxth had a vision. The trolls of Guk were no match for the Rallosian Empire, and the trolls believed it was a matter of time before the mighty ogres would march into the troll city of Guk. Zraxth was among the first of the trolls to turn from the teachings of Cazic-Thule and follow the doctrine of Hate, becoming a follower of Innoruuk. He beseeched his new lord for guidance, looking for a way to defeat the ogres, to protect the city of Gulc from the Rallosian war machine. The Prince of Hate came to him in a dream, and said he would provide the information, but to perform the necessary ritual Zraxth would need the blood of the high priests of Cazic-Thule. Zraxth gathered his followers and carried out the grim deed, slaughtering the high priests as they slept. The followers of Zraxth set up the ritual as Innoruuk

For days, Zraxth simply sat, neither sleeping nor eating. His acolytes watched over him, waiting for him to awaken and deliver the message from Innoruuk on their salvation. Finally, on the eighth day, the shaman’s eyes snapped open, sunken and glaring in their sockets. Without flinching or looking away, the shaman began to speak in slow, resounding tones. The disciples began to feverishly copy the words of Zraxth, but found that the ink simply ran like blood off any parchment on which they attempted to write the words the shaman spoke. Exasperated, the disciples tried to have Zraxth repeat his statements to them, but he would not acknowledge their presence at all, and simply continued speaking. When all seemed lost, the shaman rose to his feet, and turned to the large stone they had set in the center of their camp. Even as he continued to speak, he gathered a bowl of the blood of the elders the disciples had used days ago in preparation
Zraxth then took to chiseling out the vision he had seen on the surface of the stone itself. This he did with precision and meticulousness, in sharp contract to his apparent unresponsive state. No movement was wasted, and even the smallest chip in the stone was done with the utmost care and purpose. Each of the symbols he crafted would flare with a purplish flame, leaving the carving glowing with radiant heat. Burns were apparent on Zraxth’s hands and arms, but he did not appear to notice — he continued to speak and chisel at the stone, pausing neither as he worked tirelessly. When the carving was completed, the shaman, bloodied and burned over his body, spoke his last words, and fell lifeless to the ground. The disciples burned the body of the prophetic shaman, and scattered the ashes throughout the area of the ritual. The disciples then deciphered the inscription left behind by their spiritual leader.

Over the course of many years after the Stone’s creation, strong warriors began to contend that they were, in fact, the hero mentioned in the Grozmok Stone’s prophecy. Many bloody battles were fought over the claim, as each strove to prove that they were the true hero of the Grozmok. The clans began to rally behind their strongest warriors, and minor skirmishes began to collapse into full scale blood feuds, as each group looked to be the ruling clan of the Innothule trolls. Nothing seemed able to stem the tide of violence, and none seemed interested in stopping it the rule of Grobb was all that mattered. For years, chaos reigned unchecked. During this time, the Rallosian Empire began to hear rumors of the existence of the Grozmok Stone and the prophecy of the legendary troll hero. Although the trolls themselves were organized and not likely to prove a threat on their own, the ogres began to fear

It was during this time of strife and war that Warlord Ykesha rose to power. He was unmatched among his people in skill, cunning, and ferocity, and he quickly earned the respect of all who fought with him. He quickly rose to lead his clan, ruthlessly dispatching any who tried to challenge his rule. His clan, which he renamed Clan Ykesha in his own honor, had taken to raiding the swamps outside the city of Guk, looking for new artifacts and treasures that might give them an advantage over their rival clans. The scouts of Ykesha came upon a lost Rallosian stronghold, which sat undisturbed and hidden by the overgrowth in the swamp. As they gathered what items of worth they could find, they happened upon the Grozmok Stone deep within the stronghold’s lower chambers. They hauled it back to their clan, where it was recognized as an artifact from the troll’s past. Warlord Ykesha ordered his shaman

Once word of the prophecy of the Grozmok Stone began to circulate among the clans, the cycle of war began to change. At first, jealous clans viciously attacked Clan Ykesha, looking to topple the Warlord and claim the Stone for their own. Clan Ykesha easily withstood all opposition, handily defeating the other clans who sought to claim the Grozmok stone for themselves. As one clan after another fell, whispers of Warlord Ykesha’s claim – that he was the Grozmok that was prophesied – began to appear more and more legitimate. Rival clans began to offer themselves as thralls, joining Clan Ykesha to follow the legendary Grozmok. For a time at least, the trolls looked like they would become a terrible new empire with the mythical hero of the troll race in command. Although some clans continued to fight against Clan Ykesha, the size and strength of the ruling clan was more than any rival could hope to overcome.

The Case of the Lost Lute

The Case of the Ayonic Lute
I have begun to develop a fascination with a magical lute called the Ayonic Lute. While passing through the Thundering Steppes I happened upon a curious bard by the name of Maestra Orlita. She was a ruling member of a miniscule quintet of bards that call themselves the Chaos Orchestra. Having piqued my interest in eccentric quintets, I decided to seek out the four remaining bards of this orchestra. What I found were two lyricists in Qeynos Harbor and two within East Freeport. Offering little save ancient songs, the lyricists went on to ignore me and force their out of tune melody upon the citizens of the great empires of man. If I were to find out anything more about the Chaos Orchestra, it would be in city records.

These words have yet to reveal themselves to you.

These words have yet to reveal themselves to you.

These words have yet to reveal themselves to you.

I found the “belly of a giggling fish.” To be more precise, I found the theater of the Laughing Trout, a tavern in Rivervale. I found a peculiar xylophone made from bones, the hagralaphone. This curious musical device emanated with arcane power. I discovered that the hagralaphone was made by woodworkers from Bogbottom Mills. Tracking down the halfling shop was an easy enough task, but it was overrun with goblins. I did find the descendant and current owner of Bogbottom Mills, Camfred. He told me that his ancestors created the hagralaphone out of the bones of an evil troll witch named Hagralazoo. They did this by order of the legendary bard, Vhalen.

I journeyed to Antonica to find the Bell Tower of Vhalen. It is there that Vhalen fell to a great horde of undead. It is in the ancient tower that I spoke to the vision of Vhalen, a projection of the bard that now is bound to Ethernere. He said that Hagralazoo, the troll witch and arch nemesis of Rivervale, had taken the cursed Ayonic Axe from the Chaos Orchestra as they fled Katta Grove. She tricked them into destroying themselves in a final concert. She then used the axe and its bardic powers to begin a series of secret concerts in which she would collect the valuables from the deceased audience and the unwitting bard whom she tricked into wielding the melodic axe.

The vision of Vhalen said, Hagralazoo lost the axe to an unwitting accomplice, Kelkarn. She had hoped the bard could assist her in completing an arcane composition that she had stolen from the mysterious sage, the Drafling. The composition could remove the curse from the axe, allowing the witch to use it. However, the composition was incomplete. Kelkarn was a well known bard and the troll witch came to him on a misty road during his many travels. In the guise of an old crone, Hagralazoo persuaded the bard to display his talents. She then gave him the Drafling composition and asked him to complete it. If he did, the Ayonic Axe could be his- a lie!

These words have yet to reveal themselves to you.

Hagralazoo never made it back in time to recover the Ayonic Axe thanks to the Drafling. When she did, she found the axe was removed. It vanished via the black market auctions of Freeport. Vhalen was able to find the Ayonic Axe and hide it. As luck would have it, the Drafling was an asssociate of his! Vhalen requested the remains of Hagralazoo be used to create the Hagralaphone. The unique xylophone could summon the troll witch back so that she could reveal the composition that Kelkarn completed. Many years living in the land between life and death may persuade the troll witch to reveal the location to Vhalen or another bard such as myself.

Legacy of Guk

Legacy of Guk
What History Remains
Kruuk Glugop

Our people are a strong people. With Mithaniel Marr behind us, we have endured many catastrophes in our history, and have always managed to come back stronger than before. Recently, we were able to rise against the vile trolls, and took the city for our own, as Gukta, the Outpost of Marr. The trolls have been unsuccessful in reclaiming the city, and Mithaniel willing, they never shall.The ancient home of our people, Guk, was not so lucky. It was consumed by a curse unleashed by Innoruuk and the troll villain known as Ykesha. Many of our brave warriors were trapped there, either taken by surprise due to the attacks, or they stayed behind to fend off the undead hordes long enough to allow the rest of our people to escape. Now, in a dark twist that makes me shudder, they have joined the ranks of the walking dead.

Many of us have wondered if there is a chance to study who from our history might be still wandering the depths of Lower Guk, and what might be learned by discovering this information. I am to accompany a group of adventurers who are currently resting here within Gukta, and I will see if I can learn this information. We leave at dawn.It took some time, but we were able to make it to a small chamber near a few precarious walkways. It was here that we found the first interesting member of the cursed frogloks. As we rested, we began to hear a sound off in the distance. It first sounded as if it came from above us, then it seemed to circle around to the sides of our small camp. It seemed like it was looking for a weakness in our defense. Then, suddenly, it was silent – we heard nothing more. When we were ready to leave, we began to look for the source of the sound, but could not locate it. Just when we had given up, a black-colored froglok ghoul leapt at us from the shadows, and directly at our warrior. He was just fast enough to deflect the attack and together we were able to beat the creature back. However, I always had the feeling it was there… watching us, just out of sight.

Further in, we found another strange room, where it seemed like the ghouls themselves would not even enter. We could hear a strange sound coming from it – something like a breathing, but more like a constant hiss, and the sound of rushing wind, almost as if something inside could not remain still, and moved incredibly fast. We approached cautiously, but it became evident that whatever we had heard, had heard us as well. We were instantly set upon by a creature of tremendous speed. It was a ghoul like the others, but was blindingly fast. It seemed chaotic in its attacks as well – one of us would be hit, then suddenly another would feel the sting of the creature’s unrelenting attacks. We were able to land a magical shackle on the beast, which caused it to howl in anger. Immediately we fled the area – this creature proved to be too mighty for our group, and we hoped to leave it behind us.Finally, we came upon the throne room. Fighting our way through, we spied the dais and throne on the far side of the room. We dispatched the guards, and before us we could see what appeared to be the ruler of Lower Guk – the Ghoul Lord. Once a noble paladin of Marr, this creature is now twisted and corrupt, only a shell of what it once used to be. We engaged the beast at my urging, as I thought it would be best to end the eternal suffering of this once noble froglok and hopefully return his spirit to Marr. We were not ready for the strength of this opponent in darkness, he had grown stronger. He felled our warrior nearly immediately, and it was all we could do to parry off his strikes, and carry our comrade to safety. We escaped with our lives, but truly, the curse of Ykesha is still strong within the depths of Lower Guk.

Even More Adventures of Jorbo and Mappy

This book is titled “Even More Adventures of Jorbo and Mappy “. It is the story of two halfling boys and how they happened upon some exciting adventures.
Jorbo and Mappy had many exciting adventures ever since the moment they left their mothers behind and left the kitchen. Having narrowly escaped an orc, an old witch, and seeing a dragon-like halfling, they knew there was so much more out there to find. With a little help from the Drafling, they intended to do just that – find more adventure.

Following the directions given to them by the Drafling, they trekked through many hills and valleys, through farms and past homes until they found what the mysterious man had mentioned. Hidden away, they stood before a mighty troll, frozen in time. With large spindly legs and gangly arms outstretched, the troll was made entirely of wood.

Having never seen a troll before, the halfling friends didn’t know what it would do. They were assured by the Drafling that it was perfectly safe, however, so they began to climb up to his head to get a better look. It took a long time, for the troll was as tall as a tree, but they eventually made it to the top. That’s when the troll’s eyes opened and it began to move.

Slowly moving across the land, the troll took very steady and deliberate steps. The two boys, rather than being scared, had a great time seeing the world in motion! That was until the passed an orc who spotted them riding atop the troll’s head. The orc called out its other fellows and began grunting at the troll to give them the children.

The troll at first didn’t seem to pay any attention to the orcs, but when a number of them had gathered around the wooden troll, it stopped in place. One of the orcs stepped forward and started speaking in a strange tongue. Having spoken to the goblin with three tongues, they paid attention to what the orc was saying, but to the boys it only sounded a tree bending with the wind.

The wooden troll then began to move its arms and quickly plucked the boys from the top of its head. Lowering it to the ground, the boys came to the conclusion that the Drafling had lied to them, for they were now in the clutches of the orcs. With nowhere to escape this time, the two boys knew that their adventure was finally over.

Paraded through the orc town as prisoners, the two boys knew they were in store for a cruel fate at the hands of these evil villains. Looking around, they realized that the orcs had not just captured the boys, but all of RIVERVALE! Just when everything looked hopeless, they were given a glimmer of hope. It seemed that the orcs were taking the kids straight to their houses.

As the orcs approached the houses, Jorbo and Mappy could see their mothers waiting on the front doorsteps, tapping their feet impatiently, arms crossed. That was when the two boys knew that all hope was indeed lost. They could tell at once that their mother had been taken over by the wicked witch they encountered earlier. For you see, the crone was standing right beside them.

The mothers started off by asking why they pushed Deputy Dopkin into the pond? Not knowing what they were talking about, the kids remained silent. That’s when one of the orcs called out and said that he saw Deputy Dopkin drinking jum-jum by the bridge that day. By saying nothing more than those words, the magic spell wore off of all the orcs and they were turned back into halflings again!

The children then began to tell their mothers and everyone else about the great adventure they had that day around Rivervale. When the boys asked what was for dinner, they realized that their mothers were still under the control of the wicked witch. For you see, when they asked about dessert, they were told that there would be none … since they already ate some strawberry cake earlier that day. THE END

Ardathium, Volume V

After much consideration and prayer, Grenic conceded to Elwyean’s advice and asked for his aid, for the swamplands were immune to fired kindled by human hands. The ancient, stoic elf understood and advised further that Grenic station his troops for defensive purposes, and to destroy the trolls that dared to flee toward the forest’s borders. Hesitantly, Grenic agreed, knowing that the act would undoubtedly leave a mark on his soul for judgment in the hereafter. However, his heart and convictions were steely upon his promise to the late Countess and the protection of the great city and everything it stood for.
Elwyean briefly returned to his people to inform them of the coming destruction of the swamp. The elves were on guard for any trolls that penetrated Grenic’s forces, though none left the Elddar to directly aid the human citadel. Elwyean’s return was heralded in a massive azure, gold, and red maelstrom of arcane fires that erupted across the swamplands. The magical fire could be seen for miles beyond the forest and its glittering flames raged on for days. Grenic’s forces destroyed hundreds of troll warriors and civilians that fled for their lives.

After twelve long days, the swamp of Innothule had been obliterated – the waters evaporated by the searing heat of the blaze and even the most robust of foliage reduced to pillars of ash. Elwyean never again returned to Ardathium or consorted with Grenic after the battle. Grenic’s fortress was safe, though the cost of this victory would weigh heavily upon the knight’s conscience and soul for the next several decades.

Summons were sent back to the pilgrims that had previously been sent away. Most returned, though a few opted to remain in the new settlements that had begun to establish upon the eastern coast of the continent. All were welcome back, though Grenic denied a celebration in the wake of a time of mourning for what had been done.