by Matt Rogers
Chapter 20: Troll Logic
The Siege (Blight’s Encampment)
The Troll Toodrake was anything but pleased. They had decided on a plan of action, something to shake things up; a full frontal assault on Castle Nirvana.
“Attack!”
It did not go well.
“Retreat!”
They had overlooked a rather obvious problem.
“This is embarrassing.”
The idea was simple for while Toodrake was an intellectual among his own kind he was somewhat lacking compared to others.
“Can’t they see they’re blocking the Orcs?”
All sieges occurred because a fortification could not be breached. One part of a siege which had shown success was scaling the walls thus rendering the siege over. Once the walls were breached the war ended for a siege was only implemented when the army outside was either more numerous or better equipped than those inside.
The attack began with full expectation of success.
“Tell them to bash the walls.”
The Ogres, happy to bash anything, readily complied.
“Okay, um, tell them to stop.”
The defenders, knowing bashing walls with clubs involved getting within reach to swing the weapons, were ready.
“All right, I’ve got to admit, I didn’t think they had oil.”
Oil was a useful tool because it contained properties which were unique. It could be stored indefinitely in barrels, was harmless when doing so but became rather painful to others if heated and poured from above.
“Me bash!”
“Hey, stupid!”
“Huh?”
“Bash this!”
“Yaaghh!”
It was poured onto the creatures below after being brought to a boil which was unpleasant to the touch.
“It hurt! It hurt! It hurt!”
It also had another aspect which made it desirable to defenders during a siege.
Thunk! Poof! Whoosh!
It was highly flammable.
“It burn! It burn! It burn!”
The defenders were having a grand time for they had a target which was both exceptionally large and wearing a chemical coating allowing for a whole new set of scoring opportunities.
“You see that one?”
“Which one?”
Thunk! Poof! Whoosh!
“That one.”
“Oh yeah! I can definitely see him now!”
Toodrake was witnessing the end of his plan, one which should’ve worked if the Ogres had complied. He had the Orcs bring ladders from the rear and sent the Ogres to attack as a diversion. The diversion worked, only not against those it was intended.
“They’re running into the Orcs! Tell them to stop running into the Orcs!”
Combustion was not a pleasant process. It started from the outside where nerves ended. As it moved inside further pain followed.
“Are the…? Are the ladders on fire?”
Pain did many things. One of which was to render rational thought pointless. When the Ogres caught fire they fled from the walls and ran through the Orcs. When on fire the only thought was to stop the pain. Since they were incapable of stopping it themselves, unable to learn the concept of stop-drop-roll, they went for help.
“What Ogre doing?” an Orc grunted.
“He running to us” another grunted back.
The Ogres, not intelligent creatures to begin with, went in search of aid and found the first creatures they encountered.
“No! Go back!”
The Orcs, clustered in groups carrying enormous wooden ladders were thus besieged by huge flaming Ogres looking for assistance.
“Stay away!”
“No, Ogre, no!”
Whoosh!
And so the siege of Nirvana continued.
“Toodrake!”
He knew what was coming and prepared himself accordingly.
“You dim-witted, rat-brained, mush-colored fool! You slow-minded, slobber-drooling, wart-skinned tool! You feeble-thinking…!”
It wasn’t so hard, he was a Troll after all and led the life of one committed to the service of his kind. A service which included the subjugation of all others, without exception, even other Trolls. His childhood, like all Troll childhoods, was not a pleasant one.
“Toodrake!” she hissed.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Your teacher came by. He said you beat up the Trendyl Troll. Is this true?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good boy.”
Troll society had always been cruel, harsh and mischievous. With the arrival of Humans it became institutionalized. Troll children were sent to school and taught Troll ideology.
“What is the most effective way of solving a houseguest problem?”
All claws went up.
“Yes, Toodrake.”
He was ever pleased to be called upon when he knew the answer.
“Poison.”
“Correct.”
They had always been the secondary creatures. Smarter than all save the Elfelvin. When the Humans arrived they saw to their chagrin they were third-rate. They were intelligent enough to know they needed to invest some time in their youths if they were to destroy the other creatures and rule supreme so they set up an education system.
“What is the best way to attack your enemy?”
“From behind.”
“Correct.”
As time progressed, evaluation began and those deemed more worthy were sent away for further instruction.
“What do you do if your side is losing a battle?”
“Change sides.”
“Correct.”
Toodrake excelled over most and was sent out to promote Troll values.
“What are you doing?”
“Preparing to eat him.”
“No, no, no. You torture him first then you eat him.”
He was given command of a squadron, sent out on Troll patrol and won acclaim in the process.
“We have killed all the males. The women and children are hiding inside the barn.”
“Burn it. We’ll eat our meat well-done tonight.”
As his reputation grew the squadron became a small army and he signed on to Prince Blight’s campaign with the intention of ridding the land of Humans. Having the ability to communicate with the Ogres and Orcs, he became a valued commodity.
“What are they doing, Toodrake?”
“Attacking the Humans, Your Highness.”
“Those are our Humans! Tell them to attack the other Humans!”
With King Rot’s desire to rule all the realms and Prince Blight’s dream of complete conquest the Troll Toodrake found himself in the unique position as both leader of the Troll forces and intermediary between the designers of war and the creatures necessary to implement their plans.
“Okay, we have the castle completely surrounded. Tell them to stop eating each other.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Everything had gone according to plan and Toodrake was pleased until one event occurred which caused his insides to boil.
“Sergeant Savage shall be in charge of the forces.”
“Yes, Your Highness” he hissed through gritted teeth.
Savage had been a thorn in his side from the beginning. Toodrake couldn’t understand the man. He didn’t lead like the others. He didn’t demand loyalty through force. Worse yet, he didn’t fight according to Troll principles.
“Tell the beasts to stop. They have agreed to surrender.”
“But there are more people to kill.”
“No, Toad, there aren’t. Tell the beasts to stop or lose your head.”
Savage fought for victory and coin not blood and carnage. To Toodrake it was an abomination, a flagrant violation of everything he held dear. If killing were not the reason for war then what was the point? Why someone would want to rule over Humans instead of eating them was impossible for him to grasp. He was reminiscing when the Prince decided he’d insu
lted the Troll enough.
“Now get out of my tent!”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
He turned to leave.
“Oh, and one other thing.”
He paused, turned back around and saw a wicked grin on Blight’s face.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“You are no longer in charge of the forces. I have brought in a new leader.”
He knew it couldn’t last forever but he rather enjoyed the power he held while the Prince was looking for Savage’s replacement.
“Yes, Your Highness. May I ask who it is?”
The Prince’s eyes gleamed and the Troll Toodrake stiffened for at that precise moment a dagger was placed against his throat. A dagger held by someone who snuck up behind him. A dagger which was incredibly sharp.
“You can but then I’d have to kill you” he heard a man’s voice say with strange Human humor.
He felt the blade removed and turned to face the fool who would dare touch his skin with metal.
“Toodrake, I believe you’ve already met your new commander” the Prince humorously said.
The Troll looked down upon one he could understand, one who killed for the thrill alone, one he could work with if only to further his needs.
“Yes, I have, Your Highness. Hello Commander Cutter” he hissed, awaiting the sarcastic reply he knew was coming.
“Hello, Toad.”