Trulkin

in the forest of gallowswood, stands a village of trollkin tribe. being exiled during the first thornwood war, the tribe seeks refugee here

as the village is in constant danger of sudden animal attacks, a trollkin known as Gerlak stands at the border of the village to counter such threat. bearing a shield as tall as he is, wielding  he is among the mightiest of the kin, protecting the tribe, both by shielding them and by shackling them with laws, which he follows strictly.

his son, Ghadtax, on the other hand, is haunted by his father's name. his friend would talk about his father's prowess. his friends would talk about his father's fame. his friends would talk about his father's bravery. as a child, the young trollkin would puff his chest in pride, unfortunately, the case was not so during his teenage years.

Ghadtax, begins to doubt his own worth as his achievements were often overlooked as the tribe's already expects the impossible out of him. as time passed, the diligent child slowly giving up and grows mischievous

***

the tribesmen would simply look at his pranks with pity, as they know the burden he is under. but evantually they forgot all their pity and began to look at him with contempt. but as he gains the elder's contempt, he also attracts the younger trollkins who envies his rebelious spirit and freedom. without realizing it, Ghadtax became the leader of a nameless group among the tribe. one with infamy of pulling pranks and breaking laws just to spite them.

the group thrives at its early years, creating chaos and vibrant colors around the tribe. however, as time passed, the tribesmen began to ignore them. once drunk with attention, Ghadtax now could not live without them. pulling pranks are no longer fun without the victims' shout of anger, all he get is his father's long lecture at home. seeking to mitigate his boredom, he goes into the forests near the village with his peers.

it was supposed to be a simple stroll, yet as they head north they could hear whimpers of a weakened animal. driven by curiousity, they checked out the source of the voice, finding a lone, limping burrow-warg

the group returned to the village with the burrow-warg on their back. and they were taken by surprise as they reached the tribe. none of the tribesmen were angry at them. appearantly, the burrow-warg they took down was in his prime, and he was of considerable size, at that. Expecting such reaction his father, the young trollkin returned home with great expectations, there, however, he found neither surprise nor pride. his father was red with nothing but anger. he closed the door behind him without even shouting at his son. understandable, as 'not venturing outside the village' has always been the rule the father enforced religiously.

But the young trollkin failed to notice it. blinded by disappointment, he storms out of the village. 'perhaps another burrow-warg would calm me down' he thought, as he ventures north into the forest.

***

night fell, he has walked so much that he could not keep track of the time, yet he has yet to find a single burrow-warg. not worried that he would be lost, he travelled further into the forest. and just as he about to give up, just as he turns around, he finally hear a rustle in a nearby bush. Of course, it could have been a wind. it could have been a critter. but it won't hurt to check one last time, the trollkin thought. what he saw, however, surprised him. it was a group of human, dressed in all red, holding rifles

and one of them is aiming it at him.

before he could react, a mass of metal flew at him, scratching his arms and lodged in a nearby tree. involuntarily, he shouted, and so did the humans. as more of them are gathering their weapons, the young orc escapes into the forest. and as he ran, he could hear his pursuers closing in. For every ten steps he took, a metal flew passed by him. some scratched him, some lodged in him, some are blocked by trees. the trollkin ran while holding his voice. with every bullet he took, he got slower, with bullet he took, he grows tempted to cry, easing his pain. but he could not. as the moment he did so is the moment his pursuer could pinpoint him.

so he ran

he ran while holding his tear, wishing that he had just apologized. wishing that he never disobeyed his father. wishing that he was born to another father.

and a mass of metal hit him. tears well in his eyes. he fell. he cried in pain.

his cry was so loud that it was no longer possible for him to hide from anything in the forest.

seconds passed. he saw a man closing in to him, aiming his rifle at a range where he couldn't miss. the troll closed his eyes, his mind filled with nothing but regret, his mind numbed with a loud bang.

it took him seconds to realize that he was still alive. Ghadtax opens his eyes, in front of him is a sihlouette of his kin - a sihlouette he knew too well. the shilouette took a second to glance at him, as if to analyze his condition. he then ran into the forest, towards Ghadtax's pursuer. not long after, a call unique to their kin is released in the middle of the forest, followed by the rustling of the forest as the young trollkin's pursuers ran toward the call.

the young trollkin could not help but to grin. after all, there is no way that his father would be defeated by those skinny men and their puny rifles.

as his adrenaline drops, he begins to realize the condition he was in. drenched in blood, barely able to limp, aching all over. should one of the men strayed and found him, his father's effort would be wasted. thinking so, he limped into the darkness of the forest.

it was already morning when he reached the village. upon his arrival, he is greeted by his peers, they laughed at him, treat his wounds, and finally asked about his adventures. and so he told them about the humans, about how he managed to defeat one, no, three of them. and that he managed to come back without anyone's help

as they chat, the young trollkin began to feel that something is amiss. it has been two hours, yet there were no sign of his father. he wondered if there were more skinny men than he expected.

it seems that the tribe believed that his father is still searching for him. asking around would be the same as annulling his stories. so he decided to wait for another hour, and then perhaps asking his mother?

no, he couldn't wait, he has an unbearable urge to venture once again into the forest

anxiety? curiousity? a certain emotion begin to well up, encouraging him to check the forests. though, how far into the forest should he look? what would he gain from his search? why even bother? he begins questioning himself as he walks. the forest is as silent as it should be, though for the young trollkin, it was unbearably silent in comparison to the loud banging he heard a few hours ago. he does not know why, but he needs noises. distractions. anything to force his mind to stop asking questions.

and as he walks deeper, he found the body of his father's first victim. using it as a landmark, he walks towards where his father cried. there he found a forest, riddled with metals, there he found numerous bodies of skinny men, yet he could not found his father. on the ground, there are a mass of blood. most of them are pooling under the humans' body, yet there are traces of blood scattered around the ground. creating trails from one body to another, Ghadtax immidiately realized that the traces are his father's.

it was then that he realized. did his father brought his armour? he couldn't hear him approaching, so its unlikely. did he brought his shield? he could not see the humongous shield when he saw his shilouette.

the emotion grew stronger. he began to frantically search the end of the trail, yet he could not. he began to frantically search around the forest, yet his father is nowhere to be found. he tried to call for him.

no answer.

the forest were as silent as it should.

he began to lose his vigour. he tried to trace the blood again, to no success. he tried to search around the area. no results.

he begins to rake his mind, thinking of possible explanation of his father's disappearance. perhaps he did wore his armor and shield, he thought. and the blood scattered around were the blood of the skinny men, sticking to his club, dripping as he move from one victim to another. he tried to accept his theory. yet he can't. tears welled up as his subconcious pointing out the obvious hints of the truth. the young trollkin tried his best to believe in theory so he could end his search, returning home.

upon reaching the tribe, all he wanted was to sleep the day off and meet his father the day after. perhaps a few lecture wouldn't hurt.

yet he can't. upon reaching his home, he could not hold the urge to see if his father's armor and shield were still there. he stormed into his father's armory, and he could see that the whole collection is still there. armors, shields, and even weapons. his father fought against the metal sticks with nothing but clothes on his back. the young trollkin lost all of his energy. his leg gave out, the tears he held floods, and his emotion burst out.

Gerlak Mountshield died that day.

***

ever since the day Gerlak Mountshield killed the men, the tribe has been a target of local malice. ever so often, khadoran men would come and attack the village. Ghadtax and his group would stand between them and the tribe, allowing the tribe to survive another day. however, the trollkin warriors' numbers is limited in comparison to the human's seemingly endless reinforcements.

as the conflict goes on, the tribe found that their foods grows scarce, and their men keeps decreasing. the trolls has accepted it; gallowswood is no longer habitable. of course, the talk about leaving for ord has been a hot topic for a while. however, should they turn their back at their foes, they will surely be wiped out. at least until Ghadtax proposed a way to escape the gallowswood.

as the tribe packing their inventories and preparing their departure, a small number of warriors stood far from the village. they weren't there to defend the village, nor to defeat the men.

they stood there with no expectation of survival, hoping that they could stall enough time for the tribe to leave without the humans noticing. there were neither a deal nor time limit. every troll would fight until either their courage or body gave out

in the battle that would last for 3 days, the trolls were at their fiercest. jumping around the battlefield with little to no regard of their lives, taking as many men as they can. in that battle, Ghadtax fought in all three days, with barely time to rest. when he can rest, he would treat his allies' wounds. yet he is among the most feared of the trolls. wearing his father's armor and shield, bullets could only hope to scratch him.

but of course, he wasn't invincible. finally, on the third day, he fell. he took one bullet too many, his wound and fatigue finally takes toll. he could not lift his armor, he could not move a single limb, yet his heart is still beating. he could still breathe, he could still hear his comerades as they are struck down by the humans. yet he could do nothing. the day felt like the longest day he had ever experienced.

and after a long battle, the final troll is finally struck down. Ghadtax can finally close his eyes for the last time... or so he wished.

rain fell, seeping through Ghadtax's armor and into his wounds. the pain woke Ghadtax up from the sleep that should have been his last. his slumber had replenished his energy, he can now lift his armour.

Ghadtax stood up, he took a second to look at his surrounding. the aftermath of the battle was brutal. trees are riddled with holes, and the grounds are drenched with blood. bodies of his comerades and enemies piling up on another as their bodies are being washed by the rain

it was the perfect place to die, yet Ghadtax survived the battle. he ran away from the battle.

***

601 AR
a lone troll roams the khador-ord border.

just beyond this wall, his tribe is venturing an unknown land. should he managed to get past this wall, he could go back to his daily life. no, he could go back to the life of his tribe before the war. and all it would take was to cross this one wall

yet he can't. he alone survived the battle to death. he alone betrayed the pact they made that day.

Ghadtax Mountshield picked up his worn-out shield and set out to khador. now without friends, family, nor anywhere to go, Ghadtax decided to lend his shield to anyone needs it. perhaps dying somewhere fitting.


***


Ghadtax is now working as a freelance mercenary in khador. he specializes in escorts. protecting his clients against threats such as bandits and animals and at the sametime, protecting those threats from the weapons of other mercenaries. he made a point of not letting his face and skin be seen. wearing his helmet and armour when he meets his client. wearing a cloak and a mask when he visit town. the only man who ever seen his face is a doctor he visit now and then. a man of ord, he often talks about how life was in ord, perhaps even teaching him a word or two, easing Ghadtax's longing for his tribe.

operating from the hut on the edge of great zerutsk, his service is known for its cheap cost.

but his unique style of work was not cost efficient, and it was worse during its early stages. his wage could barely cover his daily needs and what was left goes to his medical expenses. equipment maintenance becomes luxury, and as his shield took beating, scratches grows deep and dents accumulate. the once glorious shield is now nothing more than a worn-out board, kept well in his hut as a reminder of his home.

as he had just began to enjoy his new life, two men knocks on his door

the men dressed in all-red, signifying their identity as khadoran army. they talked about planning an assault on Llael and their need of men to do so. Ghadtax took no time and declined immidiately. as he see the home of opponents as a place unfitting for a shield. he would not partake on such assault, yet he might agree to guard the borders.

but the men won't accept no as an answer. as the negotiation goes on, the men becomes more and more agressive. resorting from prizes to threats. Ghadtax kept his decision the whole time. unexpectedly, the negotiation ends rather quickly, and the men left without obtaining the troll's cooperation. Ghadtax had a feeling they would be back, perhaps with worse threats next time. but he'll be ready when they come.

it was a month later that Ghadtax's fear came true

the small hut where he now lives, the small hut that Ghadtax left for a mission of a little more than two weeks, is now a burnt rubble with insults written all over the walls and pictures of trolls, burnt and/or ripped, scattered around. upon arriving at the scene, Ghadtax quickly rushed into his hut, kicking the door without second thoughts, digging through the rubble with his bare hand, breaking everything he touched. all to reach what he's looking for a second faster. it was after an hour that he found it. a board, with dents and scratches all over, his final bond with his kin. now split in two.

his legs gave up, his tears floods out, and the troll laughed. was this supposed to be a threat? they took away everything, now the troll has nothing to lose, nor anything to gain. he picked up his weapon, and began his indulge in madness and anger.

***

a lone troll is walking in the forests just south of Korsk.

carrying a humongous shield on his back, wearing an armor that covers his whole body, holding a piece of worn out board

he left his friend without even saying goodbye
he left without even looking at his face for the last time.
but it was for his good, after all, knowing a troll is not good for your business.

he had no more place to go in the empire. mingling with humans is no longer possible. and he is still too ashamed to return to the kriels

and so, he left for ord. hoping to find anything that would be saved by his shield, perhaps even finding a fitting end.