“What is this situation, Captain Metus?” Vek asked.
“A troll, sir. We answered the front door to find a troll standing there. I’m proud to say I killed it before it could hurt anyone. It keeps trying to regenerate, though, so we’ve got it out back. I’ve got one of the men continually cutting its head off, so that we could wait for your word on what to do.”
“That’s odd. What did it want?”
Metus blinked. “Want?”
“Yes. What did it want.”
“Uh, begging your pardons, my lord, but it was a troll.”
“Trolls can and sometimes do possess the ability to speak and act in a civil manner. Did it attack you before you attacked it?”
Metus turned red. “N… no. I didn’t think that trolls could…”
“You’re an experienced fighter, Captain Metus. You don’t know about trolls?”
“All my fighting experience is military and training-based, sir. I don’t have much field work under my belt.”
Vek walked to the rear of the castle. “Well, we’d best go see if this thing wants to talk or to eat. By the way, Metus, you kill these things with either acid or fire. They do not recover from that.” They rounded Spellforge Keep and called to the man with his blade poised over the body. “Hold. Step back from the troll.”
The man backed off, and the troll’s head slowly grew tendrils that seeped into the neck wound. The tendrils knotted together and the neck turned solid once more. The troll blinked and sat up. He rubbed his neck and glared at the Knight of Wee Jas who’d been continuously cutting his head off for the last five hours. “OW,” he said pointedly.
“State your business,” Kizz said. “Friend or foe?”
The troll stood. “I don’t KNOW! I normally don’t make friends with people whose lackeys attack me without reason.”
“You’re a troll,” Metus said, bewildered.
“And you’re a speciesist fool who attacks guests without warning, just because they happen to be monsters. I have feelings, you know.”
Vek said “Captain Metus here was only acting in what he believed were our best interests. We are sorry for the misunderstanding. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Still sore, though. Regeneration always leaves me feeling a bit tender.”
“What can we do for you?”
“Oh, yes. My name is Broldek. I wish to join you.”
“Why?”
“I heard from a half-orc that you were after a dragon. I want in. I kill dragons, and I do it well.”
Kizzlorn sighed. “Grumbar told you, eh… so… you heard we’re going to fight a dragon, and that’s your reason for wanting to join.”
“Pretty much, yes.”
Edge said “That’s how I came to the group.”
Kizz threw up her hands and walked to the castle. “Adventurers these days. They don’t even try anymore. Alright, you look like you can handle yourself. Grab your things and come in.”
The group and their new troll companion gathered in the Keep, readying for the next leg of the quest. They ate and introduced themselves. Broldek, by all indications, was an earnest and eager fighter ready to sink his sword into the next dragon he came across.
Edge made polite conversation with Kizzlorn, asking about her history with the group. It was unclear as to whether the halfling was attracted to her or merely avoiding the uncomfortable topic of slaying dragons as a living… Edge was conspicuously keeping his head turned from the troll, and rumors had begun to circulate about a half-dragon heritage. He hid his fangs and did his best to keep the scaled patches on the back of his neck from showing.
Grumbar emerged from the kitchen with a new recipe he’d created. He’d learned not long ago to make bread. Now, he had his new masterpiece: bread soup.
GRUMBAR’S BREAD SOUP
Bread
Water
Combine ingredients in bowl, mix till it gets all mushy
Serves six
He placed the bowls of flavorless paste in front of the Knights and watched eagerly as they tasted it graciously. “Ummmm,” Kizzlorn said. “That sure is something, Grumbar. How do you do it?”
“The secret ingredient is bread,” the half-orc giggled. He was quite pleased with his new recipe.
Captain Metus stepped into the dining hall. “My lord,” he said. “There’s something you should see.” He walked over and gave a small tattered piece of parchment to Vek.
On the front, in a childish scawl were the words: KNIHTS OF SILVORGE KEEP
Inside, it read: BEWARE SOON YOU DIE!!!
Below this was drawn a crude skull and crossbones.
“Toddler pirates?” Dartan ventured.
Metus said “This was tied to a rock, found laying on the grass outside. We suspect someone meant to throw it through and… uh… failed.”
Vek sighed and stood up with the note. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said. “I’m going to find out who did this. Metus, prepare a squad of men and ready for an expedition.”
“Yes, my lord.”
In the woods, just beyond the treeline, a group of kobolds were dancing about and cheering. “The first part of our master plan is complete,” one said. “We have sullied their freedom. Soon, we will crush their spirits… and then, we shall TAKE THEIR LIVES!!!” The four other kobolds cheered. “Before they die, I will make myself known. I want them to know who did this to them.”
“We know,” a voice said right behind him. The kobolds screamed and scattered. Edge ran around their camp, kicking them towards Broldek, who caught them in a large burlap sack.
The last kobold, the one who’d been giving the speech, was picked up by the scruff of the neck. He whined and kicked and scratched, but he was held fast. He opened one eye and looked into the glaring, cold eyes of Dartan the Godless.
“Meepo.”
Meepo grinned nervously and lifted his shoddy, gold-painted wooden crown in a gesture of greeting. “Oh, hello!”
MORE TO COME...
