Troll

Overview of Grobb

This trollish village sits on the edge of the Innothule Swamp and is home to the trolls of Norrath. Grobb is made almost entirely from mud, rock and rotting wood harvested from the swampland the village was built upon. Large, moss-covered walls are scattered throughout and line the murky waterways. Some small wood bridges can be found in the city, although most trolls are accustomed to swimming and typically do not expend the effort to build unnecessary pathways.

All of the buildings in this city are uniform in design – ornaments and decoration, beyond severed animal heads and hides, are completely out of the question for these dull brutes of the swamp. Simple signs painted with reptilian blood in poor, broken common tongue detail the name of each shop and guildhall.

At the center of town, near the bank, stands a gruesome sight - a mangled, dismembered dwarven corpse, suspended from meat hooks. The cannibalistic trolls often feast upon the flesh of other Norrathian races, finding dwarves to be the finest of delicacies. This display is not one of warding, or torture for the sheer delight of torture. Trolls are too submerged in instinct to develop the thought to torment another intentionally. Rather, this is a communal feeding trough for the strongest members of Grobb society who are able to survive the brutal fights over choice parts.

A few years ago, Grobb was the midst of a battle involving the Grozmok Stone.

The Fall of Grobb ( Lore from the Legacy of Ykesha )

Only days before, they had walked from the murky comfort of Innothule, bringing with them a message from their god. The elders waited for them in the glow of Guk's stony mouth, anxious yet unaware of the dramatic change they were about to discover. The firepots' aura met the first of Mithaniel's chosen as they stepped out of the water's dark grasp and made their way ashore.

Through my own experiences, I have gained knowledge and insight into the troll. Each part of this history tome can only be completed in its own time.

Story 1

Trolls first lived in Innothule Swamp where they fished in the murky waters. Trolls were very handsome, with long black hair and long limbs. One day, the goblin king saw the troll princess and kidnapped her. She refused to marry him. He was old and ugly and green. "You must marry me at dawn," said the goblin king. "You are prettier than goblin women!" The troll princess covered her face with her long thin hands and cried.

In the middle of the night, a shadow entered the high tower. The troll princess demanded to know who had entered her room. "It is I, your creator, Cazic-Thule!" said the voice. The princess bowed down to worship him and he said, "If you do not want to marry the goblin, I will stop it." Cazic-Thule told her that when the king came back for her, she must run as fast as she could and jump into the swamp. The princess thought this was a good plan.

The moment the princess' feet touched the soft muck of the swamp, her skin changed from grey to green and her thick hair fell out in clumps. She touched the sides of her head and felt her ears growing larger, with bumps and hair protruding from them. The princess screamed, knowing she had been tricked and she heard Cazic-Thule laughing at her. "I did not say how I would stop the wedding," he said, snapping his fingers. The princess looked around her and saw all the other trolls had also changed.

That is how the trolls turned from grey to green and their hair fell out. The princess was so angry that she cursed the name of Cazic-Thule, saying he had tricked her. Cursing the gods is not good. Cazic-Thule roared at the trolls, filling their ears with such noise that they to this day hear it.

When the goblin king caught up to the troll princess and saw how ugly she had become he turned to run, but then she reached out her long green hands and grabbed him. The trolls, not the goblins, had a merry feast that night.

Long ago, the elves say, before even they walked this land, all of Faydwer was a single great forest that stretched from shore to shore, covering all the land. The trees were great and fair, their trunks smooth as silk and leaves golden.

This was the Suntouched Forest, so named because the sun’s light suffused every inch, turning the bark to gold and the leaves to fire, and covering the spaces between the trees with a thick carpet of golden-green grass. Animals lived here peacefully, and trees and bushes provided fruit and nuts enough for all.

Though the elves had not yet arrived in the Suntouched, the forest was not devoid of intelligent life, for here dwelt the Woodkine, an ancient race. Tall as giants, they were not cast in flesh — instead the Woodkine were great plants, their skin like that of the trees and their hair and beards like leaves and vines. The Suntouched was their home and their charge, and the Woodkine wandered it freely, tending to plants and animals alike and ensuring that the forest prospered. These gentle creatures were one with the land, and could move swiftly through even the densest thicket — some say they swung from tree branches rather than setting foot on the ground, and others that they leapt from bough to bough.

Certainly the Woodkine possessed powerful magic, yet it was magic of the land, a power focused on healing, growth, and assistance. These creatures, to hear the elves speak of them, were akin to gods, but without any arrogance — their lives belonged to the Suntouched, and all their actions were intended to aid the forest and its inhabitants. Then the Dark came to Faydwer.

No one knows how or why the darkness arrived, but suddenly the sun vanished from the sky, hidden behind heavy clouds for weeks on end. With the shadows came creatures the Suntouched had never known, ogres and orcs and trolls, dark creatures full of hate and malice and greed.

To them the Suntouched was a rich land waiting to be plundered, and they tore into it, chopping down trees to build forts and slaughtering animals for both food and amusement. They landed first in the south, and soon much of the southern portion of the forest had been cut down, leaving only stumps and grass where once had stood ancient groves.

The Woodkine were initially horrified, then angered. The land was under their protection, and for the first time these gentle creatures deliberately sought to do harm. First they struck against the intruders, knocking them aside with powerful limbs and crushing them under splayed feet. To their enemies, it seemed as if the trees themselves were attacking, and they fled to the areas they had already cut down, seeking safety amid the stumps and the darkened sky. But the Woodkine’s terrible anger, slow to build, was equally slow to abate. Yes, they had driven the intruders out, but their precious forest had been violated, and large portions of it destroyed. This could not be allowed to happen again.