Troll

If a battle were to be fought on a flat, open plain, a few thousand human warriors facing off against a few thousand Trolls might result in an even split; the humans' formations, daily drills, and complex coordination between unit types might even tip the scales of victory in their favor. However, in a forest with narrow sightlines and dense vegetation, human scouts could never compare to Trolls who grew up in the mountains and woods, treating the forest as their own backyard.

Any warrior with a shred of military common sense knows that in a forest battlefield, the skirmishes between scouts largely determine the success or failure of the engagement. The soldiers of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, accustomed to fighting on flat ground, were clearly inferior in this regard to Trolls who navigated the woods and treacherous terrain as if it were level earth.

On a battlefield several kilometers wide and long, a god's-eye view is an unattainable fantasy. Every individual within the ranks can only see people to their front, back, and sides, blindly following the orders of junior officers. With vision obstructed, unable to coordinate, the side lacking environmental adaptability is highly likely to be toyed with by the side holding the advantage, or even carved into countless small pockets and devoured piece by piece.

It can be said that introducing local Gnolls as scouts for the army was a major boon for the upcoming Battle of Zul'Aman. Perhaps this was why Archbishop Faol tacitly approved the terms Alvin offered to the Gnoll shaman—

A piece of land recognized by the Kingdom of Lordaeron, even if that land was not on the Lordaeron continent and was currently nothing more than a pie in the sky, was the limit of what the kingdom could afford. After all, it represented the kingdom's acceptance and recognition of the other party.

The Mossflayer Trolls living in Darrowmere Forest share a similar build to most Trolls, averaging seven feet tall and weighing two hundred pounds. Talented individuals among the Trolls use mysterious sacrificial rites to contact animal spirits in the Twisting Nether, becoming priests; these powerful Trolls who master mysterious forces are revered as witch doctors.

In Troll clans that prize violence and savagery, the chieftain is often the strongest warrior, while those priests capable of communicating with their respective "spirits" are the real power-brokers beneath the chieftain. The two check and balance each other, forming the ruling class of the Troll clan.

The house built of wood was extremely crude; from the outside, it looked like a frame made of a few logs with some hay spread on top. In the large room—or more accurately, a pavilion—there were no tools like tables or chairs. The tall Troll chieftain sat cross-legged in the center, quietly watching the old fellow slowly walking in from outside.

Unlike all other races, the first floor of a Troll building is often elevated to isolate it from the poisonous insects and humidity of the forest. Zulsh, the high priest of the Mossflayer Clan, used a staff that looked like a withered tree to support his aged body, climbing the wooden steps one by one with frequent pauses.

Having finally moved to the center of the room, the old Troll let out a long sigh, bowed to the warrior before him, and said, "Great Kalekin, for the past half-month, our tribesmen living near Zul'Aman have been constantly harassed by the damned Blackpaw Gnolls. Yesterday, Hamia took five squads to pursue them but found nothing. I suspect there is an ulterior secret hidden behind these audacious Gnolls."

Although Zul'Aman, hidden in the forest, is easy to defend and hard to attack due to its innate geographical advantages, this small valley could not fully accommodate the Mossflayer Clan's population of nearly fifty thousand. The permanent population in the central valley was less than twenty thousand; the rest of the Trolls were scattered in the forests around the valley, forming small settlements.

Starting a month ago, a large number of Blackpaw clan Gnoll warriors had been dispatched by Tagg to the areas near Zul'Aman for reconnaissance and harassment. Although these Gnolls dared not penetrate deep into the heavily guarded valley at the heart of Zul'Aman, the Troll settlements surrounding it suffered greatly.

With the human army as their backing, these Gnolls abandoned their previous weakness of not daring to confront Trolls. While performing scout missions, they utilized their numerical advantage to sweep through several small settlements, and to this day, hundreds of Trolls have fallen under their blades.

"Gnolls, the Blackpaw clan?"

The Troll warrior sitting cross-legged on the floor raised his head slightly and let out a cold laugh. A thin rope strung with several animal skulls hung around his neck, the terrifying necklace accentuating his ferocious face.

The Troll chieftain wore a look of contempt. "Those cowards who only dare to clash with humans hiding behind stone walls also dare to challenge the powerful Mossflayer Clan in the forest? Are they not afraid that we will add these cousins of the jackals to our menu?"

"I fear some change has occurred that we are unaware of. According to Hamia's report, the weapons in the hands of those Blackpaw Gnolls are no longer wooden sticks and stones, but iron blades, axes, and hammers. Although they look very worn, they are definitely not something they could manufacture themselves; that is human craftsmanship."

Having said this, Zulsh used his staff to support his body and slowly sat down. The high priest calmly stared into the other's blood-flecked eyes and stated his speculation: "If those Gnolls have gained the support of the humans, then the situation will be very unfavorable for us."

"Hamia?"

The Troll chieftain shrugged, putting on a helpless expression. "A piece of trash who can't even catch a Gnoll—how do I know he isn't just looking for an excuse for his own failure?"

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

After speaking, he clenched his fist and slammed it hard against the wooden floor beneath him, causing the entire house to shake.

"See? Just like this!"

Kalekin suddenly stood up and leaned toward the high priest, his protruding long nose almost touching the other's furrowed face. He grinned, revealing sharp teeth, and stared intently at the other's somewhat cloudy eyes, saying word by word: "Old thing, you are no longer the Champion I once knew. Now, you are nothing but a coward filled with fear and anxiety."

"Open those eyes of yours that are about to go blind, and use your final moments to watch how I throw those scumbags who dare to invade Zul'Aman into a boiling iron pot, one by one. I will make you hear their wails and screams, and the clan will rise under my hand."