Book 11: Chapter 35: The Troll Tribe

Troll Claw, located northeast of Baldur’s Gate, alongside the Troll Mountains to the west and the Howling Troll Forest, were the three known breeding grounds for major troll tribes.

Of these three, Troll Claw was the smallest in area and possessed the most perilous terrain. Because troll tribes from these areas never emerged en masse to harass human cities along the Sword Coast, neighboring human realms tolerated them. They didn’t raise armies to purge the mountains. At most, when stray, unruly trolls appeared, they hired adventurer teams to eliminate them.

Unlike other alien dimensions, the Toril World, whether in Eastern Kara-Tur or the Western Faerûn, had humans holding a dominant position, but never true dominion. For countless ages, hundreds of sapient races had coexisted here. Even at the height of the Elven Race’s power, other intelligent peoples retained their place.

This wasn’t due to a weak human civilization. Compared to Qin Lun’s former human Federation, Toril’s magical civilization was arguably stronger. Consider the first great human empire of the ancient era: Netheril!

Netheril, built upon the Nether Scrolls discovered by humans, even developed floating cities high above the clouds. Each Nether Scroll contained a massive, composite Forbidden Spell. Through deciphering these, the Netheril Empire developed an entire human magical system distinct from Elven magic and Draconic Magic.

What scale of destruction could such a Forbidden Spell unleash? Two disastrous events in Faerûn offered glimpses.

First was the border war between the Qiongda’er Elves and the Qiongdus Kingdom. Qiongdus lay at the heart of southern Faerûn during its own ascendant imperial phase. It fiercely suppressed the Xia Ya Kingdom to the south and pressured Tethyr to the west, nearly choking both powerful militaries.

Needing vast natural resources to expand, Qiongdus recklessly deforested the Qiongda’er Forest, sparking conflict with its Elven Court.

At that time, Faerûn’s elves were largely isolationist. No human kingdom paid much heed to elves seemed content simply “playing in the woods”.

No one expected the furious Qiongda’er Elven Court to ultimately sacrifice its entire High Council of elders to unleash a colossal composite Forbidden Spell in the war’s closing stages.

In moments, surging floodwaters engulfed Qiongdus’s richest northern territories, creating what is now the Vihong Sea, which drains directly into the Sea of Fallen Stars.

The other Forbidden Spell disaster occurred much earlier, a classic case of elven self-destruction during the late stages of the First Crown War. This was the civil war between the great Elven Courts of Aryvandaar and Maiyelita.

Aryvandaar was ruled by the Gold Elves (now Sun Elves), while Maiyelita was the stronghold of the Green Elves. Maiyelita represented the Green Elves, historically the most prestigious and well-preserved lineage among the four main elven branches.

Though Aryvandaar possessed superior might, Maiyelita was Faerûn’s center for elven art and high magic. When a realm’s strength cannot safeguard its wealth, predators inevitably circle.

Maiyelita’s prosperity invited its doom. Aryvandaar launched the First Crown War and occupied it completely. Early on, Maiyelita could have resisted, but their Elven Court recklessly attempted to obliterate the Aryvandaar army outright with a single, massive composite Forbidden Spell.

They failed to control the volatile Magic Elements. The unleashed Forbidden Spell instantly transformed their entire nation, millions of square kilometers of forest, into barren wastes—the infamous catastrophe known as the Dark Disaster.

Maiyelita was utterly annihilated. Its lands remain the High Moor to this day, never recovering. The Green Elves lost their ancestral home. Effectively, the four main elven branches shrank to three. The Green Elves became vassals to the Moon Elves.

Even in later eras, when some Moon Elven Courts crumbled and Green Elves took charge, they still lacked the deep-rooted inheritance. When the World Tree renewed itself, their courts declined, resembling the current Qiongda’er Court.

These events starkly reveal the terrifying scale of large composite Forbidden Spells—far exceeding the destructive power of nuclear weapons known to Qin Lun’s Federation before he entered the Shattered Starry Sky; they hadn’t developed devices capable of wiping out millions of square kilometers.

Originally, the Netherese human empire possessed eighteen distinct varieties of these composite Forbidden Spells on the Nether Scrolls! It’s staggering to imagine the heights their magical civilization reached.

Compared to modern human nations on Faerûn, magical progress hasn’t advanced; rather, with most Nether Scrolls lost, power levels have declined.

Yet even mighty Netheril never ruled all of Faerûn. Their territory roughly matched today’s Northlands Silver Marches, plus northern Anauroch.

Creature levels on Faerûn are simply too high. While human city-states dominate the landscape, the wilds beyond remain home to ancient, legendary beasts. Faerûn’s humans learned a harsh lesson: without mortal peril, they won’t provoke other intelligent races again.

This applies not only to powerful surface Elven Courts, the well-equipped Dwarves of the Northlands mountains, or subterranean Drow cities, but also to smaller tribes—like the trolls holding Troll Claw.

Troll tribe leaders—shamans and chieftains—understood this too. They carefully restrained their people for generations, forbidding large-scale raids into human territory. Following ancient ways, they lived in remote, forbidding mountains suited to them. Only during the annual rites requiring plentiful sacrifices would they venture outside their domain, otherwise staying put.

In a troll tribe situated mere tens of li from Qin Lun and his companions, preparations for a major sacrificial festival were underway.

The tribe’s chieftain and shaman were deeply pleased. Before the rites, they’d not only secured ample sacrificial beasts from southern marshes, but had also captured human offerings—unimaginably fortunate!

Troublesome, dangerous raids on merchant caravans deep in human lands were unnecessary this time. Such attacks often saw brave young trolls slain by human adventurers. Humans were terrifying!

This troll tribe occupied a small valley on the mountain range’s southwestern flank. Its population numbered between two and three hundred. Contrary to human assumptions, they had developed a rudimentary culture. A few intelligent trolls even spoke the Common Tongue of Faerûn.

Troll blood traced back to ancient Giants, purer than their ogre kin. Adult trolls typically stood over five meters tall. Their coarse green skin resisted both physical blows and magical assaults.

Low fertility meant trolls didn’t practice monogamy. Both males and females had multiple mates. They coupled freely whenever the urge struck, with little concept of taboo.

A tall fence surrounded the settlement. Enclosures near the village held captive Jurassic beasts—the trolls’ staple food source.

Inside stood hundreds of sturdy stilt-homes, built with thick trunks of needleleaf trees. These structures easily bore a troll’s weight and were very durable.

The stilt-homes spread uniformly around the village. At its center lay an open space dominated by a semi-permanent roasting spit, used for ceremonies or feasts.

On the northwest corner of this clearing, a row of large bamboo cages, resembling oversized chicken coops, hung from a horizontal beam between two poles. A closer look revealed a hunched figure inside each cage.

Not all these captives, tiny compared to the trolls, were humanoid. Among them were monsters Qin Lun had seen before in the Death Lands.

To the left of these cages hung a few humanoid figures. Their tattered clothing suggested humans, or perhaps elves. Prolonged imprisonment left them listless. Lying curled in their cages, it was hard to tell if they lived.

“Iristin, how are you?” A faint female voice whispered from the cage furthest left.

“Surviving,” an utterly exhausted voice drifted back from the cage beside hers. A huddled form sat within, wrapped in coarse cloth. Tangled silver hair hid her face. Her gaunt appearance made it difficult to believe this was once the beautiful Elven Druid, Iristin.

“Has your magic recovered?” The human woman who called out didn’t look much better. Her leather armor barely covered her, revealing thick, dried blood scabs. Once-vibrant red hair was dull, her bare feet covered in painful blisters and foul pustules. Without the trolls smearing some herbal paste on her days prior, she’d likely be dead. Though they hardly cared – they needed these living sacrifices alive for the festival.

“Only a fifth of what it was,” Iristin kept her seated posture still. Her voice was soft. “Most effort goes simply to keeping my body functioning. Harnessing the moonlight sustained me; without it, I’d have died a week ago. I never imagined trolls possessed such intelligence.”

“Me neither,” Idria whispered back, her voice strained. “Faith in Lady Loviatar alone kept me from fading entirely. But Mason… he took healing from the shaman, yet his age is too great. He has collapsed utterly, unconscious since last night.”

“We hold until nightfall!” Iristin murmured, almost to herself. “For these past two nights, a most peculiar sensation filled me. Its source eludes me, yet it brings deep comfort… as if an empty corner deep inside was… filled.”