Trolls raiding a human village

Figures moved in the waning light, pointed ears and gruesome mouths barely visible. They carried stone axes and hammers, long spears and all manner of clubs. Under the dark, twisted canopy of the Vindeld Forest they moved, on secret paths only the First Children know. Some ran and others rode on wolves; one figure even rode a giant forest spider. Their eyes gleamed with a malicious light and their mouths slavered like their wolves’. Most wore animal hides; some even wore animal masks, though their own faces were fearsome enough. The leader sat astride a monstrous wolf, his eyes red in the gloom, skin black. He was Knar’Toose and a Bergen troll, the greatest race of all the Clans. His raiders were not Bergen though; no, these were forest and hill trolls who had emerged from their wood nests and underneath colonies to join him.He would give them tender flesh and shiny metals for their loyalty once he sat the Throne in Drykandore as Trollking. For now all he could give them was man-killing, though the trolken liked that well enough.
Goblins joined them, and soon thirteen drowwlin emerged from the forest, the small dark skinned creatures carrying their wicked poisonous bows and daggers in silence. Their hate for men was near equal with the trolken. The goblinorie had brought many and were armed well, he saw. Their chieftain would receive many horses and cows for his goblins to eat. Knar’Toose would have to considering adding goblins to his personal guard, made up of only the twelve-foot tall Moguir, strong enough as they were.
The sun had died and the creatures of the night began to grow excited for the upcoming manslaughter. They had waited for this moment through the long, miserable months of spring and summer, aching for the long darkness and destruction it brought. Knar’Toose raised his crescent axe, Mancleaver to the darkness above and urged his wolf forward, troll horns sounding wildly behind him. The pace of the midnight people grew to a run, the banner of the Horned One was raised and the wolves howled in bloodlust shared by their masters.
To the edge of the forest they came, and spilled through, axes, spears and hammers raised. Into the hated firelight of the small town they spilled, the tall, lumbering Moguir at the fore with their huge stone hammers. The first man to stumble out of his house with a longsword was crushed under by one of the huge hammers, and a second man had his head bitten off by another of the Moguir. Knar’Toose urged his wolf ahead faster and crashed through the door of a small house. His beast dove in snarling, smelling out the humans still lying in their beds and tearing into them with fang and claw. Knar’Toose dismounted, planting his axe into the back of a fleeing woman, stooping to bite her flesh. Outside the men of the town had assembled, fighting bravely overwhelmed as they were by the raiders. The drowwlin climbed houses to pick off those fleeing, and trolls joined them to hurl their long spears. The Moguir tore apart houses, and the wolves sniffed out those who tried to hide. Knar’Toose found the town’s blacksmith, where the smithy had just wandered outside sleepily. The man saw the troll and froze for a second before he grabbed a nearby sword. The troll chief snarled and swept the weapon from the light lover’s hand, hauling the man away. He would need slaves to make weapons for his horde, and this one would serve.
The trolken hated fire, and set nothing alight, but took every thing of worth from the town. Livestock were herded back by the wolves, and much was given to the goblins as promised, who did not enjoy eating men like the trolls did. There would be many more nights like this, Knar-Toose knew, but he craved greater things. He must gain the notice of the Bergen trolls in Drykandore, and go there. Then he would reveal himself as Vhool’Rael, the Prophesied One, who would lead the trolken to retake the lands stolen from them by Man.

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