Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.12T)
Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.
It is a grim tale, so be warned.
Here is the first post from this series.
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Crude cleaver in hand the troll began to advance on them.
“Brother Troll, wait–” began Retaak, before he was interrupted by the twang-thwack of Uyage’s crossbow firing and a bolt slapping into the Troll’s thigh.
Of all the Fellspawn creations of the Dread Lord, Trolls were the toughest. They could regenerate all but the worst of wounds swiftly, and Retaak knew well that it took a lot of work to kill one. Pain was almost meaningless to them.
“Oi!” Said the Troll. “I was just tryin’ to scares yas. No need to get rude.”
Uyage said nothing, continuing to swiftly reload her crossbow, leaving Retaak to do the talking.
“Uh… we are looking for Ashoktyaar, can you direct us to him?” Asked Retaak.
“I don’t know any…” began the Troll.
“The next bolt is an incendiary,” said Uyage flatly.
The Troll’s eyes went wide. “I can’t tell yas, he’ll kill me.”
“So will she,” said Retaak, nodding to Uyage, who was looking down her sights at the Troll. “Be at ease though, brother Troll, Ashoktyaar will want to see me. We are old friends.”
The Troll snorted, but kept his eyes on Uyage’s crossbow. “That one has no friends. But if yas are fool enough to seek him, I can tell yas where he might be.”
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They found Ashoktyaar in a deeper cave, one that smelled of smoke and brimstone rather than the damp, cold caves favoured by the rest of the trolls. He did not notice them as they approached, as he stood gazing into a blazing fire. As Retaak watched the Troll took a burning branch from the fire and, with little hesitation, raked it across his arm. The flames left a blackened line on his skin. His body was covered in hundreds of such fire-scars, forming patterns and pictures like the tattoos favoured by some of the spawn.
“Still at it, I see,” said Retaak.
Ashoktyaar looked up and recognizing the pair of them, his expression softened and he offered a toothy smile. Most Trolls were emaciated and skinny, but Ashoktyaar was muscular and robust. He also had a mane of green hair unlike anything Retaak had ever seen on a troll.
“Retaak!” said the Trollwalking over to them and offering his hand in greeting. It was warm and surprisingly dry. “I had almost given you up for dead this time.”
“He’s still very much alive,” said Uyage,
“It is good to see you sharp-eye,” said Ashoktyaar to Uyage. “What brings you both to my place in the warrens.”
“I have need of your might, Ashoktyaar,” said Retaak. “Ushochhushi has tasked me with infiltrating Greyrock and stealing a prisoner for him during the next attack on the elven town of Oystkivat.”
Ashoktyaar laughed, throwing his head back. “And they call me the mad one. Retaak, you seem to find ways of tangling yourself in the games of the Dread Lord’s favourites. How odd for someone who hates being told what to do.”
“My usefulness to them is what keeps me alive,” said Retaak with a shrug. “One day I will be free, Troll.”
“Only death can free us from the Dread Lord,” said Ashoktyaar. “But Ushochhushi seems to be on the rise. He is a clever one. I do not mind gaining his favour.”
“Good,” said Retaak and the two of them clasped hands again. “Our first visit will be to the moneylender Wechegak, who has placed a bounty on me.”
Ashoktyaar laughed as Uyage started to protest.
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