There is no way in hell I am this lucky. The ranger I’ve been chasing dangles from a rope tied to a large pine. His dark silhouette swings back and forth several feet off the ground as he struggles to free himself.
I walk towards him and incoherent babbling flows from his mouth like a waterfall.
“I can’t understand you,” I say. I don’t know if he understands the words or not, but he quits talking. He’s a lot smarter than his partner.
Underneath him, I spot the wooden stake that was attached to the noose that is now cinched tightly around his boots. The ranger must not have been paying attention, because he somehow got himself snared. The ultimate irony would be if he’d laid the trap himself. But seeing as I can’t speak anything but fucking troll, I’ll never know how he got into this predicament.
His bow and sword both lay scattered on the ground next to his pack and a few other items. The cloak he wears dangles past his head, nearly touching the ground.
The ranger continuously tries to bend up and grab his feet, but time and again, he fails. Blood rushes to his head, making him look like a tomato.
I step closer and he stops struggling. There’s fear in his eyes, but not the uncontrollable fear of Blondie. No, this is a fear built out of respect for what I can do. This ranger doesn’t fear trolls simply because they are trolls. He fears us because we are predators. Because he is at my mercy.
Killing him would be so easy right now. He’s practically served on a platter, dangling in front of me completely defenseless. One hit and my reputation remains the same.
Yet something stays my hand. I have a negative one thousand reputation. With the way things are, I’ll never have a chance to better it. Trolls are hated and any humans I run into will try to kill me on sight. This could be an opportunity to change that.
I pick the ranger’s sword up off the ground. It’s light in my hand, almost like holding a paper sword. The ranger doesn’t flinch, but his eyes follow my every movement. He knows I hold all the power in this situation.
Reaching up, I take the rope in my hand just above his boots. Using his sword, I make a swift slash and the ranger’s full weight pulls against my hand. I gently let him to the ground and step back. He looks at me with wide eyes, like he doesn’t understand what just happened. I point at his feet and he begins frantically untying the rope.
When he stands up, I don’t move. I want him to know that I mean him no harm. He begins gathering his belongings, but never takes his eyes off me for more than a second. His hands shake as he gathers his bow, evidence that he doesn’t truly believe I will let him live.
He tosses his satchel over his shoulder and stares at me for a moment. I imagine he is questioning if he is allowed to leave. I point a calloused green finger in the direction of the nearest town. He nods at me and turns to go.
“Wait,” I say.
The ranger freezes in place and turns his head over his shoulder.
“You might need this.” I take the blade of the sword in my hand and offer the hilt to the ranger. He doesn’t have to speak my language to understand the gesture. He takes the sword and says something in return.
Then, he is gone.
Alert! You have spared the life of a human NPC. The ranger knows you acted in self-defense and will no longer report you to the authorities. Instead, he will sing your praises for releasing him from a snare trap without harm. However, no one will believe him. Your reputation has increased by 1. Current reputation with humans: -999. (-1000 Racial Penalty)
My jaw hangs open once I finish reading the prompt. Are you kidding me? I spare the guy’s life and get one measly point of reputation. Why would I ever want to be a good guy if that’s the reward? I should have just killed him and taken his weapons.
I’m about ready to punch something when I hear movement behind me. I turn and see a giant green head towering over me. Two yellowed tusks jut into the air, one broken at the tip. A metal nose-ring gleams in the sun, and two dark black eyes bore into me. It opens its mouth and a deep, cavernous roar assaults my face.
“What have you done?” it asks.
8. The Well Runs Dry
The troll standing before me has skin darker and more scarred than my own, but there is no doubt he is a forest troll. He’s at least a foot taller than I am with thick corded muscle running down his entire body. When I focus on him, the gamertag tells me he is level ten. Several furs are sewn into a vest and the tails of the dead creatures swish in the breeze against his massive tree trunk legs.
“What did you do?” he asks again.
His deep voice reverberates in my chest. His eyes don’t blink as he waits for me to respond.
He’s level ten, so I know better than to antagonize him.
“Uhm, I set him free.”
The troll rubs his massive fingers over his eyes and lets out a sigh.
“You know the rules forbidding contact with humans, and the punishment for humans who wander into our tribal grounds. Come with me and the chief will decide your punishment. Try to resist, and I will take you by force.” The nose ring that hangs from his septum moves with each word. I know better than to try and escape, so I follow the troll through the forest.
It seems that the fuck-up fairy has visited me once again.
This guy is no-nonsense as he leads me through the woods. He marches with purpose, intent on delivering me to some troll chief where I will undoubtedly be punished for breaking a rule I didn’t know exists.
“What’s your name, big guy?” I ask. I am thankful to actually speak to someone and have them understand what I am saying, even if he is a bit of an asshole.
“I am Gord, son of Guilda.”
“Nice to meet you, Gord. What is it that you do out here? Besides bringing guys like me to the chief.” Maybe a little sweetness will unsour his disposition.
“I am a guardian. One of many who watch the boundaries of our tribe and keep the humans away.”
“So you placed the snare that caught the ranger?”
He grunts and nods in affirmation.
“Humans know the rules. The heart of the forest belongs to us. It is all we have and the penalty for trespassing is death.”
Shit. I am so going to be in trouble. All for one sliver of reputation.
“Why do the humans hate us so much?” I ask.
Valery said that trolls were hated like no other and that in time, I would find out why. Maybe now is the time.
“Hmpf.” Gord snorts. “Why does the sun rise in the east and set in the west? It is the way of life.”
Really helpful. The first person I meet who speaks my language, and he talks like Confucius. What have I gotten myself into?
“What will my punishment be?” Maybe I can at least squeeze that much information out of him.
“That is for the chief to decide.”
“Good talk.” It’s clear Gord isn’t much of a talker. Hopefully, the chief will cut me some slack since I am new here and maybe I can be on my way to adventuring and not getting attacked by humans every time I turn my back.
I almost don’t notice when we enter the troll village. It’s rustic and earthy in a way that I have never seen. Almost elemental. It’s like the village was formed out of the forest itself. Surrounding a large firepit are several wooden huts made out of living trees that seem almost like they were bent into the shape of the structures. The roofs of the huts are covered in vines and tree leaves still growing from the oddly-shaped trees. A large female troll sits on a throne constructed in the same way. A young troll nestles in her lap, no more than two feet tall, suckling at her teat. A half-dozen other female trolls sit in lesser chairs to her left and right. They seem to be discussing something and stop abruptly at our approach.
The woman on the throne is the same forest green as the other trolls I have seen, but her body type is starkly different from myself and Gord. Her arms are more lithe, less bulky, but still defined. A long, dark braid runs down her left shoulder. Where Gord and I have massive t
usks, hers are smaller. Her chin is more pointed while ours are broad and square. Despite her slender physique, I am certain she is far more powerful than the rangers I met earlier. All of the female trolls that surround her are built in the same way. It’s very sexy, in a barbaric sort of way.
Gord steps in front of the throne and bends a knee. The woman on the throne stares at him for a moment, and then her eyes fall upon me. They widen for a split-second before she resumes her stoic pose.
“Gord, what brings you into the tribal center?” she asks, her eyes still piercing into me.
“I found this one in the forest. He is not a member of our tribe. I witnessed him letting a human escape our lands. He helped him, even.”
The child finishes feeding and unlatches. I find it hard to look away as the woman hides her breast beneath the fur shawl that covers her shoulders and chest. Those are some giant troll titties. Like watermelons. I don’t mean it in a sexual way, just, wow.
“Is this true?” she asks.
“Technically, yes. But to be fair, I didn’t know any better.” It’s not like I was dropped in the forest with a book of tribal laws at my disposal.
“Where do you come from?” She looks at me quizzically. “We are the last tribe of forest trolls on the island, and I know all who come and go within our land. You are not a member of our tribe, but there is no doubt that you are one of us.” All eyes are upon me, except for Gord, who still kneels before her.
“I’m new to the area.” That sounds better than saying, “I was sent here because I am a criminal.”
“I see.” She leans over and whispers something to the woman sitting next to her. The woman is much older, but the only things that give away her age are the gray braid she wears draped over her shoulder and the crow’s feet around her eyes. She nods and then their eyes are on me once again.
“There are stories, ancient stories, of those sent here from other realms. They look and talk like us, but they are not us. Sometimes they have special powers, often they are gifted in some way, and when they die, they do not pass on like the rest of us. There is word that these beings have begun appearing in the human settlements. Many of our guardians claim they have killed the same man on several occasions and that he continues to reappear. It seems the trolls may finally have found our own hero.”
“I’m no hero, miss. I’m just trying to find my way.”
There is a sudden gasp by the other women, and I know immediately I have violated some custom.
The troll on the far end stands and extends a long pointy finger in my direction. Her red braid seems to almost hiss at me when she shouts.
“Show respect when addressing the chief!”
“Easy, Tormara,” says the chief. “It is clear he does not know our ways. Do not reprimand him for his ignorance, instead, educate him.” Tormara is fuming, steam practically flowing out of her nostrils. “Now, you, what is your name?” she asks me.
“I am Chod.” The eyes of all the women but the chief bore into me, telling me without words that I am not welcome here.
“Now, Chod, it is custom in our village to address those in power by their title. I am Chief Rizza. This is my council, and together we decide the fate of the forest trolls. We were discussing urgent business just as you arrived. However, it can wait, because if you truly are a hero, then we have great need of your assistance.”
Whatever they need help with must be pretty bad if they’re turning to me, someone who violated their customs and they know absolutely nothing about. Since I’m here to go on quests and hopefully better myself, I guess I owe it to them to help if I can. Judging by Gord, though, it looks like they have warriors much stronger than me already.
“What is it you would have me do?” I’m game for anything as long as it gets me the hell out of here.
“Gord, you are dismissed. Thank you for your service. We will handle it from here.” Her eyes flicker to Gord before returning to me.
This feels like I’m in court all over again.
“Yes, Chief.” Gord cuts his eyes at me as he disappears into the forest.
“Before I tell you of our needs, first you must understand the predicament that our people, your people, are in.” The troll child has fallen asleep in her lap and snores softly. He’s kind of cute to be so ugly. “Forest trolls are fading from this world. We have been for some time now. We do not have the luxury of inaccessible mountain passes like the mountain trolls or harsh environments like our desert or arctic sisters to keep our enemies at bay. Or the ocean’s depths like the seaside trolls.
“We have the forest. It is a source of life, accessible to everyone, and the only protection it offers are its depths and our own fortifications.” Her eyes don’t break from mine while she speaks. I’m certain she is taking in my reaction to every word she says. “For thousands of years, we have been able to craft the magic that enters this forest and mold it to offer us protection. We have used it to hide our presence within its depths. To live our lives unmolested by the humans that spread out through the world like a parasite. For several years now, the magic that feeds the forest has been failing. Little by little, our presence had been discovered, the magic that hid us no longer working.
“To fight this, we reduced our borders, we made the magic cover less ground, we split into smaller tribes, but still it faltered.” She turns to her council with a look of defeat. “Humans discovered us, they hunted us, until now we barely remain. The well that fed magic into the forest has been obstructed. We are no longer hidden from prying eyes. The guardians, like Gord, are the only defenses between us and the outside world that would have us dead.”
“I’m sorry, Chief, but I thought trolls were unable to use magic.” That’s what the creation screen told me.
“For most, that is true. Very few of us have actual magical ability, only one in our village, but all trolls are gifted with the ability to craft magic if it is already there. Raw magic is powerful enough to burn most races if they touch it, but our tough skin allows us to craft it as we will. That is why we need your help, young Chod. Our well is dry.”
“Why entrust this to me, though? Why haven’t you tried to fix it already?” From what I’ve seen so far, I’m the runt of the litter.
“The journey is far and dangerous. We do not have the bodies to spare as it is. If we send our men away and they do not return, it will certainly spell our doom. It is no coincidence that you arrived when you did.”
Great. I’m just an expendable piece of meat to these people.
“And why should I help you…Chief?” I add the last part when I see Tormara’s nails digging into the bark of her chair. “What’s in it for me?”
She smiles at me. It takes me by surprise how beautiful she looks when her face isn’t stern and chiefly. Just as quickly, the smile is gone.
“As chief, it is my responsibility to look out for my people. My council guides me, they provide me with insight to help me make the tough choices, but at the end of the day, the decision is mine. Something must be done or my people will not survive. We need the magic returned to the forest. Take a day or two and explore our village, explore our tribal lands. If you bring magic back to the forest, you may have whichever reward you wish.”
For the second time since I’ve been here, the women all gasp. They chatter in a dull roar at the chief. Tormara stands to her feet again and extends a hand in my direction.
“How could you? What if he would have your throne? You have offered too much, sister.”
Chief Rizza responds calmly. “If my throne is the price of saving our people, then he shall have it. Nothing more will be said on the matter. Chod, do you accept my offer?”
Quest Alert. You have been offered the quest ‘Restore the Magical Well.’ Something has blocked the magical stream that feeds into the forest. Find a way to clear the obstruction and return magic to the forest and tribal lands.
Reward: Variable
It doesn’t take me long to decide to help them. The fact th
at I can pick my own reward is amazing, and I’ll make sure to do my due diligence before heading out. Becoming a troll chief right out of the gate wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I need to complete the quest, but first, I want to know what I’m fighting for.
9. Party Hard
Chief Rizza instructs me to walk around the village while they finish up their council meeting. Honestly, there’s not that much going on. Though the architecture is some of the most beautiful I have ever seen, their village doesn’t offer much more than the most basic necessities. This is indeed a tribal village, not a town or city. Was it always this way or were they forced to live like this once their magic ran out? Most of the huts appear to be living quarters.
I pass a pergola where a woman boils leather and has an assortment of hides hanging from several branches. Underneath another one, a giant stew boils and several wild hogs roast over an open flame. A female troll slices meat off the roasting hogs with her sharp claws and stores it on a bed of waxy leaves in a wicker basket. She watches me warily as I pass.
I do my best to smile, but it comes off as a snarl.
The smell of the meat has my mouth watering. Based on my own experience with the rabbit, I would have expected a slew of uncooked red meat. Apparently just because we can eat raw meat doesn’t mean that all trolls do.
Behind the huts, a troll sits fishing on the bank of a small lake. A line of large purple fish is displayed beside her.
One thing I notice as I walk the paths through their village is that aside from children, there are no male trolls around.
In the heart of the village, there is some kind of temple. It is constructed in the same way as the huts, with living trees forming the walls and roof, but smoke seeps out of a hole in the roof. A strong whiff of incense hits me as I come closer. The musky aroma reminds me of the cologne Taryn would wear anytime I saw him. I’ve told him a million times that it’s not a good smell. And yet he wonders why girls don’t sit near him. Next time I see him, I’ll be sure to let him know it’s reminiscent of a troll village.
Sentenced to Troll Page 5