Whispering in the background. A hefty slap that connects. Another argument which ends with-
[-so we’re going to take it in turns. Now be quiet!]
Three deep breaths. A smile the reader can’t appreciate. Another slap for good measure. The sound of moaning, as it drifts through a location infinite in its size.
[I am sorry about that. And once again, I would like to welcome you to the lifeforms of Caradesance. Where we are on a journey of discovery through the intelligent kingdom. Using the most backwards planet in the whole multi-verse, as our point of reference.]
[Today’s reading pleasure brings us into the enormous wet valleys that form the nation known as Mist. Known for its deep cavasses that remain the same as they did upon forming. This is a location where waking each morning, you’d be met with what the mountains are named after. As the mist clings around all day anyway. And it is nothing special. The mist has no deep hidden magical properties. It leaves no blessing upon the ground. It’s simply moisture which hangs in the air, dimming the light which strives to reach the ground.]
[In this immense, muddy, inhospitable location, nothing much grows at all. Or, at least, nothing you could survive on permanently. Most of the local food is brought in from the outside, or is grown within the dwarven subterranean glow caverns. And due to this, hidden deep within the once snow-covered, continent spanning, mountain range; lives no one, but the harshest of all types of people. And it is in this damp, rocky, rugged terrain that the trollist-rocanaia is said to have evolved. Or more commonly known as, a troll.]
[Most scientists will say that the evolution of the troll could only have happened by magic. Their silicon body is a mystery to all who attempt to study the being. None attempt to study them anymore. Not even the trolls themselves. And as the chair won’t look back far enough in time. I can only guess at the truth of their birth. Although, I do not like speculating. Because magic and science are areas, where only the verifiable facts must be examined. And I am, most definitely, a goblin of magical scientific study.]
[Each troll born is built not unlike a tiny geode in the beginning. It forms under pressure, and with an act of sexual reproduction, which we will not talk about. That is a conversation about the birds and the bees. And this is a conversation you should’ve had by now ladies and gentlemen with your parents. This is not troll porn. That is a different frequency.]
[Ahem! Do not look for that book, disgusting.]
[Now, an egg-ta-de is formed on the mother’s left shoulder within hours of conception. For the first five days it begins to grow slowly. As it does so, it forms a large shoulder pebble. Which will then fall off when everything is just right. As it detaches from the female it so without causing a single ounce of pain.]
[From that moment, we watch the pebble grow tiny arms and legs. But it’s still unable to move from the countertop where it will mature.]
[The miracle of silicon life, at this point, is forming a brain and mouth. Once finished, the pebble will need to eat. Which it cannot manage until it moves for the first time. Internal stored energy in silicon cells will have to drive its growth forward. Once it moves, the immature stomach needs feeding almost immediately. And as the mother knows this, she constructs a bed of rocks. With leaves used as edible blankets for the next few days.]
[Once the pebble has eaten its countertop bed, they should have become roughly about the size of an adult human hand. The small stone must then find a way off the counter. And find a spot outside to continue its transformation to adulthood. Or in a few hours, it will simply be a rock thrown to the side of the road. Like all the other failed troll children that are scattered across Caradesance.]
With three wobbly rolls. The troll toddler is upright. Legs shaking unsteadily under him.
As it glances around itself. Its eyes open fully for the first time. Gaining its first shred of confidence from gaining its sight. The future mammoth begins to explore the countertop. Each bit of raw organic it finds is eaten quickly, adding to the energy reserve it needs for its transformation into adulthood. The moments add up though, and now, the toddler must get off the countertop.
Deep within the troll; a drive, a need, or a calling from a primitive location, is surfacing.
[Few know what this drive is called, but we will call it a desire.]
And this driving desire is now screaming within. It is advising the toddler to plant its legs into the soil outside. Telling its brain that it will need to stay there with its rocky skull touching the air. The internal-primitive-desire is simultaneously praying for rain. Telling the silicon pathways, that it will grow strong like a fierce storm, if it rains.
So at the counter’s edge it examines the floor. Surveying the cobblestone slabs only once. The toddler dives off of the counter. Simply hoping for the best. It rolls across the floor, as it lands. The youngster giggles from the sheer excitement. Whilst it begins wishing it could do it again. The baby troll stands upright knowing it must now search for a way outside.
But help is at hand. Its mother has come to check on its baby.
The kitchen door opens. The small rock can now perceive the outside world. It can feel the wind on its skin. It can smell the scent of mud. Thusly, its desire to begin growing. The desire, which begins to burn within, is brighter than before. And the young troll knows what it must do.
The toddler proceeds to rapidly move forward. At first, it stumbles over its own feet. But, it continues until its standing in soil. As nothing can stop the troll now from trying to grow up.
[Nature, after all, has taken over.]
So it plants itself into mud. Forcing itself deep into the ground. Until only its head is visible. Instantly the mud-coma takes over, and the toddler will now lay in wait until the first full moon.
[Or maybe even the second full moon. That depends on when it planted itself.]
[At the correct full moon. The troll child will begin to move at midnight. Climbing out of the ground on their own is the final test. And failure means they will become like many of the rocks lying around the mountain. Stuck in the ground, unable to move, unable to talk, and worst of all, they’re still partly alive. Once free though, the child’s grandparents name them by placing an item onto their chest, and the whole tribe dances until sunup, chanting the new name to all the gods for a blessing.]
[Those without grandparents, are named Rock. And there are a great many Rocks in the world.]
[If the child is fed well, cared for, and raised correctly, they can grow to become an impressive seven-foot-tall wrecking cart. In Nippa-kanta, in this modern age, well-fed trolls have caused the reinforcing flooring sector to thrive. Whilst in the countryside, most troll houses are still built like bungalows, low to the ground, and shaped like domes. Although, nearly all the mountain troll towns are now improvised areas where they fight each other, for the right to work.]
[In the valley town of Piptron. Our young pebble has grown into a troll. Where he now spends the days, as the village lookout.]
[Piptron is like most of the mountain villages and towns. Troll migration to the capital of the Royal Kingdom has left it nothing more than a ghost town. Round plaster buildings with thatched dome shape roofs which are left empty. Only to be ruined by the elements over the passing seasons.]
[If I was to describe this location in a simple phase. It would be as an excrement-hole. Which for the local trolls who stayed is preferable, as no one visits a toilet. Unless they need too, of course.]
‘Billflower?’ The skinner shorter troll said glancing at his colleague,
‘What is it Mandrake?’ Billflower asked still watching the worm climb over his foot,
‘Well, no one comes here right?’
‘Well, I was just wondering.’ The worm fell off his foot as Billflower felt the need to ask,
‘Because that’s a cart, isn’t it?’ Billflower begins to stare off from atop of the tall pillar of stone they were both sitting on,
‘Eh. You’re right. Go call Rock, could be the Dwarven Mounties. And get ready, we might have to burn the crop.’
[Normally no one dares come this far into the mountains. But riding along the road from the nearest town down, is indeed a cart being dragged by two enormous mountain donkeys.]
[Sitting behind the reins, checking out the scenery, is a vampire. A well-dressed bloodsucker, who is far from his native land.]
The cart which pulls up alongside the pillar has only one occupant. Whilst the mountain donkeys begin stamping their hoofs at being forced to stop. Billflower is not worried as he looks down at the vampire. Watching him with a smile on his face, the vampire says nothing to the troll. As two natural enemies now stare at each other, one looks like he is trying to be friendly. Whereas the other rocky face is blank, showing no emotion externally, but is bewildered on the inside,
‘You’re a long way from home,’ the vampire agrees with Billflower and smiles once again before he replies,
‘I am looking for slat.’
‘You a Mountie. You must tell me you’re a Mountie, if you are a Mountie. It’s the law you know.’ Billflower said with a look of apprehension on his face,
‘I am not a guard of any sort. I, my worthy troll, am money wandering around. I want to pipe your substance to the big city.’ Billflower doesn’t reply to the vampire, and suddenly he’s waiting for the law enforcement dwarfs to jump out from under the cart.
[Vampires and trolls are not only natural enemies. But these two are, in fact, ancient predators and prey. No one knows when the hunting of vampires stopped. But most historians would agree the trolls did so, roughly, before the end to the age of conflict.]
[In the time when hunting vampires was someone’s day job, only the troll race evolved to better hunt their prey. Due to this, a single bite from a troll is not widely known to be, but is deadly. They also became stronger than their prey, although this was at the cost of speed. And no one knows when they lost their coloured yellow outer layer. But troll evolution replaced it with an worn grey that allowed the hunter to better blend into their surroundings. Leaving only picture writings in the caverns across the mountains, which told all trolls their history.]
‘Who you?’ Billflower turns towards the voice and spots Rock, who is now marching through the broken-down village. The vampire smiling in his fine fur robes replies with,
‘I am looking for a slat supply.’
‘You didn’t answer my question. What’s your name?’
‘You a Mountie? You’re to tell me by law if you are.’
‘That’s not true, and I’m not.’
‘Well, I don’t know. What if I said I don’t have any?’
‘Your neighbours said you do. They sent me up here after I asked them,’ the vampire looks around himself, ‘and this is the last town on this mountain road.’
Rock nods. He thinks about it for a minute before asking,
‘What do you want with it?’
‘I want to coordinate shipments to the capital.’ Billflower didn’t like the vampire, or the way he spoke. His mind is focusing on how all posh people in the big city sounded like the bloodsucker. Whilst it is also ignoring the fact that the vampire isn’t wearing clothing from Nippa-kanta. Billflower, who did the current drop every two years to the Capital of the Royal Kingdom. Not only got to meet his sister (who had moved away ten years ago), but also learnt early-on that they all spoke differently.
[If he was paying attention though, then he might have also noticed, that the vampire wasn’t wearing a single piece of flax. Which is the number one material for all clothing of the kingdom.]
Even though the vampire didn’t sound Nippa-kantian. Billflower didn’t like the situation based on a gut feeling. Although his brain put the all the natural hatred and doubt to one side for the bag of gold which almost appears in the vampire’s hand.
‘We have a pipeline to the capital.’ Rock, glancing at Billflower, (who they all knew didn’t know when to shut up), shakes his head at his lookout. Whilst the vampire smiles softly before saying,
‘I was on about Edenborough.’ Rock, nodding in reply, says with an expression of apprehension,
‘How much you after?’
‘Well, I only have four hundred gold to start off with. I was hoping that would fill this cart.’ The troll, obviously the boss to anyone watching. Begins smiling, whilst showing a full mouth of black-tarnished silver teeth,
‘We can do that.’ The vampire smiling gave a cursory curt nod asking,
‘So, you can fill this whole cart with slat, for four hundred gold?’
‘I just said yes. Didn’t I?’ Rock said looking around at the trolls who were with him.
Seven dwarfs begin to scream out of nowhere. Their fake breads flap in the wind as they move,
‘Mountie Drug Law Enforcement, down on the ground! Down on the ground!’ Whilst they are jumping off the back of the cart, their moving around, and watching for more enemies. The dwarfs scream at the trolls once again. Whilst Billflower is following the scene with a growing confusion. The back of the cart was empty, his mind kept on saying.
Crossbows are suddenly pointing at the residents. [The magical variety which could kill me, or you.] But they aren’t going to kill a troll, much less deeply penetrate their rocky shell to cause actual damage.
[Guards after all aren’t allowed to kill anyone.]
Brevino pulls out a sword from his expensive fur coat. The dull iron appears harmless to the trolls, until they realize there is a gem in the handle. A purple ruby, charged with air magic using the gold enchantment method of magical transference,
‘If I touch you with this, your body will fall to pieces. So, lay down on the floor, with your hands on your head. Now!’ The trolls take a step forward, glancing around as they do so. After all, seven dwarfs in chain mail had just appeared out of thin air, who knew what could happen next,
‘Turn around, return to your burrows.’ Rock said with a deadly glare.
[No one, and I mean, no one, is moving. In the past, the troll numbers would have kept the dwarfs in their underground mines. Now, though, the dwarfs have claimed inside and outside of the mountains. This latest drug enforcement operation, is yet another attempt in their extensive list of pushes, where the Mounties struggle to even flex their sword hand.]
Billflower jumps off the pillar without thinking. He only knows he must attack. Surprise his prey, and use his prey’s confusion against itself.
As he is falling towards the vampire, the blade in the bloodsucker’s hands slashes towards him. The sword though barely misses our troll. Whilst the lookout lands on the vampire with a full body slam.
The massive weight landing on the cart causes one of the wheels to snap in a shower of splinters. The two donkeys bolt inwards free of their reins. And as far away from the noise, as they could go. The distraction, though, is enough to cause not only cause hearing damage. But this is also enough to cause a panic to rise in the dwarven ranks.
[This is not the first time the MDLE had turned up to clean up the improvised location. And these dwarfs have heard the troll sagas, like every other person on Britstana. We’ll tell you them at a later date.]
The sword sent flying through the air is of little use to the vampire, who is now struggling with the troll trying to bite him. Whilst one of his legs showers the grass with blood. Its natural healing ability is reluctant to stop the flow immediately. Although the blood begins to slow down after a few moments. But the vampire is now weak.
Billflower suddenly attempts to grab the bloodsucker’s paler face, who is still trying to wriggle out from under two tons of weight.
Whereas two of the dwarfs decide to fire their bolts into the troll. Although this has little effect, and the two bolts certainly don’t stop Billflower from wrestling with Brevino.
The other five dwarfs are standing their ground, watching as nine advancing trolls continue to move slowly forward. None of them open fire though, as their arms are shaking. And suddenly, they have to make a choice. Four of the five dwarfs begin to leg-it, as fast as they can. Which for a race that is on average four-foot-tall is extremely fast. The lone shaking dwarf lets his only bolt loose, as the other two also decide to run away from the wrestling match.
Rock pulls the iron bolt out of his arm. Smiles. Looks around himself, and then looks down at the dwarf who is now crying,
‘I’m just doing my job, please, please don’t hurt me.’ The troll laughs at him. With one stabbing motion, he plants the bolt into the dwarf’s forehead. The leader of the town does so again, and again. In what can only be described, as an extremely violent crime. Rock stabs the member of the mountain law enforcement until there is nothing left of the guard’s face. The surrounding trolls are laughing, as the tiny body is now, little more than a bag of broken, well everything.
Billflower, who is still wrestling with the vampire, begins to chuckle. His arms are now holding down the victim. Billflower applies pressure. And they all hear a loud- SNAP!
The sound travels across the mountains, echoing off of the hills. Causing everyone to hear the sound. Even the dwarfs, as they ran off down the road. Billflower titters, and starts to drag the vampire across the floor, as blood splutters from his chest. The trolls all laugh together, as the vampire whispers,
‘Tell my brother Trevino-’ Although his words are cut short, as the troll has his massive mouth over the vampire’s shoulder. There is no helping the officer of the law, as one quick bite is all the predator needs. The troll drug cultivators stand there watching, as the vampire begins to convulse on the floor. Shaking, as the silver toxin travels to the brain. The vampire dies in mere seconds, exploding into a pile of ash at the end of his life. Once the body goes limp, Rock studies Billflower and says,
‘Well done BF, you’re now in charge of defence measures. Dwarf-Pebble, go find that sword. And the rest of you, clean this waste of space up. We’re going to have more trouble sooner or later.’
[In the mountain troll town, dominance of the alpha’s land has been settled for the moment. A new semi-alpha has been promoted up the chain. And the war on dangerous narcotics has two more casualties to add to the growing list.]
[Next time. We will be going to the enchanted forests, in the north of the Royal Kingdom. Where the tree homes of the elves, give birth to five sub-races. Until I narrate, at you again, live for the moment, but remember to stay safe.]