Trolls

If several thousand human warriors and several thousand trolls lined up for battle on a flat, open plain, the odds might be even—or the scales might even tip in humanity's favor, thanks to the soldiers' formations, regular training, and complex coordination between different troop types. But in a forest with limited visibility and trees everywhere, human scouts were no match for trolls who had grown up in the mountains and woods, treating the forest like their own backyard.

Any warrior with even a little knowledge of military affairs knew that in a battle fought in the mountains or woods, the clash between scouts would largely determine the outcome. The soldiers of Lordaeron, accustomed to fighting on open ground, were clearly no match for trolls who could cross dense forests and treacherous terrain as easily as level ground.

On a battlefield stretching several kilometers in every direction, an all-seeing view was an impossible luxury. Everyone in the ranks could see only people on every side, and blindly followed the orders of their junior officers. When visibility was poor, the side that couldn't coordinate with its allies or adapt to the terrain could easily be run in circles by its more advantaged opponent, or even split into countless small groups and picked off one by one.

It was fair to say that bringing in local Gnolls as scouts was a major advantage for the coming battle at Zul'Aman. Perhaps that was why Archbishop Faol had tacitly approved the terms Alvin had offered the Gnoll Shaman—

A parcel of land recognized by the Kingdom of Lordaeron. Even if it lay outside the continent of Lordaeron, and was currently no more than a promise of something they couldn't see or touch, it was still the limit of what the kingdom could accept. After all, it represented the kingdom's acceptance and recognition of the other party.

The Mossflayer Trolls living in Darrowmere Forest were similar in size to most trolls, averaging seven feet tall and two hundred pounds. Talented trolls could use mysterious rites to contact the animal spirits of the Twisting Nether and become the corresponding priests. These powerful trolls, who wielded mysterious forces, were honored with the title of priest.

Among troll clans that prized violence and savagery, the chief was usually the strongest warrior, while the priests who could communicate with their respective "spirits" held power just below him. The two sides checked and balanced each other, forming the ruling class of a troll clan.

The wooden house was crude. From the outside, it looked like a few logs had been assembled into a frame and covered with dry grass. The enormous building—or, more accurately, pavilion—had no tables or chairs. The towering troll chief sat cross-legged in the middle, quietly watching as an old man slowly approached from outside.

Unlike the buildings of every other race, troll structures usually had raised floors to keep out the forest's poisonous insects and dampness. Zulsh, high priest of the Mossflayer Clan, used a staff as gnarled as a dead branch to support his aging body as he slowly climbed several wooden steps.

At last, the old troll made his way to the center of the house and let out a long breath. He bowed to the warrior before him and said, "Great Kalekin, for the past half month, our people living near Zul'Aman have been constantly harassed by those damned Blackpaw Gnolls. Yesterday, Hamia took five squads to pursue them but came back empty-handed. I suspect those audacious Gnolls are hiding some unspeakable secret."

Though Zul'Aman was hidden in the forest and naturally easy to defend, the small valley could not possibly hold all the Mossflayer Clan's nearly fifty thousand people. Fewer than twenty thousand lived permanently in the central valley. The rest were scattered throughout the surrounding forest in small settlements.

For the past month, Tagg had sent large numbers of Blackpaw Clan Gnoll warriors into the area around Zul'Aman to scout and harass its inhabitants. The Gnolls hadn't dared venture into the heavily guarded central valley, but the troll settlements nearby had suffered.

With the human army backing them, these Gnolls had abandoned their former reluctance to challenge the trolls. Taking advantage of their numbers while on scouting missions, they had swept through several small settlements. Hundreds of trolls had already fallen beneath their blades.

"Gnolls, you say? The Blackpaw Clan?"

The troll warrior sitting cross-legged on the floor raised his head slightly and sneered. A thin cord threaded through several animal skulls hung around his neck, the gruesome necklace accentuating his ferocious face.

The troll chief gave a scornful look. "Those cowards only dare pick fights with humans hiding behind stone walls, and now they think they can challenge the mighty Mossflayer Clan in the forest? Aren't they afraid we'll add those wolf's cousins to our menu?"

"I fear something has happened that we don't know about. According to Hamia's report, those Blackpaw Gnolls are no longer armed with sticks and stones. They have iron swords, axes, and hammers. They look worn, but they certainly couldn't have made them themselves. They're human craftsmanship."

As he spoke, Zulsh used his staff to lower himself slowly to the floor. The high priest looked calmly into the other troll's bloodshot eyes and stated his theory. "If those Gnolls have human support, the situation will be very unfavorable for us."

"Hamia?"

The troll chief shrugged helplessly. "He can't even catch a pack of Gnolls. How do I know he isn't just making excuses for his failure?"

"My clan is invincible, whether against Gnolls or humans! If those vermin dare come to Zul'Aman and cause trouble again, I'll make them taste fear and pain!"

With that, he clenched his fist and slammed it against the floorboards, making the whole house shake.

"See? Just like that!"

Kalekin sprang to his feet and moved right up to the high priest, his protruding snout nearly touching the old troll's deeply creased face. He bared his sharp teeth in a sneer and stared into the old man's clouded eyes, speaking slowly and emphatically. "Old man, you're no longer the warrior I once knew. Now you're nothing but a coward, full of fear and anxiety."

"Open those nearly blind eyes of yours and use what little time you have left to watch me throw every last vermin who dares invade Zul'Aman into a boiling iron pot. I'll make you hear their wails and screams. The clan will rise under my rule."