#Vaprak

[oldschoolfrp]

Vaprak the Destroyer, demigod, is an exceedingly horrid mottled brown and green humanoid. Ogres and trolls worship him for his strength, ferocity, and ability to destroy and devour whatever lies in his path, rending all with his bare claws. He sometimes grants his followers berserk rage in battle. (Erol Otus, AD&D Deities & Demigods, TSR, 1980)

[adndmonsteraday]

Ogres were a race of giant-kin.

Ogres appeared as giant humanoids with very muscular bodies and large heads. They stood between 9 and 10 feet tall and could weigh 600 to 650 lbs. Ogres had black blood.

Ogres were a lazy, brutish, avaricious race with notoriously quick tempers. Their avaricious nature would often lead them distrust one another and incite squabbling over treasure.

Ogres generally preferred to rely on ambushing their foes and overwhelming them through sheer numbers.

In terms of weapons, ogres were typically seen to use uprooted trees and stone-tipped javelins.

Much like hill giants, ogres were gluttonous creatures willing to eat almost anything. They enjoyed the taste of raw dwarf flesh, but would also eat halfling or elf flesh when they could get it. They would often use the skin and bones of their prey to fashion crude loincloths and necklaces.

Ogres were known to typically associate with goblinoids, orcs, and their fellow giant-kin trolls. In the social structure of the giants, the Ordning, ogres were considered the lowest-ranked of all giant-kin. Because of this, they were typically found to be willing servants of giants. The giant races they were most often seen working alongside were hill giants and verbeeg, the former of which they often traded with for trinkets or food.

Many ogres worked as mercenaries, hoping for easy plunder, and in that line of work they were often seen alongside verbeeg. Lone hags, as well as covens, were known to employ ogres as guards, while others polymorphed ogres and sent them out to work as spies.

Language Ogres spoke Jogishk, a patois of the Giant or Jotun tongue.

Religion Ogres typically worshiped Vaprak the Destroyer as their patron god. Though many also practically worshiped the true giants.

Half-ogre Half-ogres were a crossbreed of ogre that was somewhat smarter and weaker than the standard ogre race. They could sometimes pass as unusually large, albeit ugly, humans.

Merrow Merrows were ogres adapted to the water.

Ice Spire ogre An ogre subrace found in the Ice Spires region.

Ogrillon The result of ogre-orc crossbreeding.

Zakharan ogre Civilized ogres that were common in the southern continent of Zakhara.

History According to legend, the ogre race was formed when Othea, wife of the titan Annam All-Father, had an affair with Vaprak.

Ogres overwhelm Priam Agrivar, Vajra Valmeyjar, Onyx the Invincible, and Timoth Eyesbright.

In 1357 DR, a small army of ogres served the monstrous extraplanar being Imgig Zu. He gathered them in the caverns beneath his tower to witness the Great Awakening of his people from Selûne's Eye, and to provide defense during the deed. The heroes Priam Agrivar, Vajra Valmeyjar, Timoth Eyesbright, and Onyx the Invincible fought through the ogres to confront Imgig and free Cybriana. Though the ogres clubbed them down and caught them, the roof of the cavern miraculously tore open and the brilliant light of the full moon shone through, blinding the ogres long enough for Priam to slay Imgig. As the ritual was undone, the surviving ogres fled.

Notable Ogres

Bonegnasher took over the Tomb of Damara in search of the orb of dragonkind in the mid-14th century DR.

Guruk Bonesnap led a tribe of ogres after crushing the skull of its previous leader Kolgok Skullcrush. The tribe feuded with a neighboring gnoll pack led by Rattlefang in Wild Hills, the vicinity of Daggerdale circa 1370 DR.

Source: https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Ogre

[shera-dnd]

It's here! The first fic from the Weasel Den Emergency Fundraiser!

I know my trolls aren't exactly super popular, but I hope that the few people who do enjoy them appreciate the little extra content

This time we're back on Vrede's story, catching her as she tries to find shelter in the last safe haven she might find in the Troll Lands

(also the Mountain King is a lady in this, because women who use the title of king are absolutely fucking amazing)

The mountain range stretched as far as the eye could see, like a grand wall built by the gods themselves. It curled around the southern borders of the Giant Lands, though some groups of frost and storm giants still lived even further south, in the frozen lands beyond.

Built into this natural wonder were many gates, each leading into the many cities of the mountain and fire giants. Though the grandest of all gates - built to fit even the divine father of giantkind - was made by a troll.

Lyral, the Mountain King. The leader who brought all giants, trolls, and ogres together under the same banner. The architect who built their people a grand fortress to keep them safe from the small folk invaders, and inside it a capital worthy of only the greatest of kings.

The woman who would bring them a brighter future.

That was centuries ago. 

Now the Halls of the Mountain King - as the city had become known - was a home to giants and small folk alike, a celebrated beacon of their peace and unity.

Some saw this as simply letting the small folk steal their lands after all this time, but for others - others like Vrede - it was a safe haven for those who could not find their home among either people. 

Perhaps among fire giants, tieflings, and other horned trolls like her, perhaps there Vrede would find acceptance, maybe even a home. 

So she now walked those halls, climbing the grand staircase that led into the capital, in the blind hope that maybe here she won’t have to run, or hide. 

Even still she dared not show her face, her features hidden under a hood that only allowed her horns to show, and her body covered in a ragged cloak.

Her left arm - the arm that had destroyed her master - was left bandaged. A dozen blistering burns had emerged in the weeks she had spent traversing the lands. Even as she refused to let her fire free again, it just continued to spread, starting at the palm until her entire arm was nothing but seared skin.

And no one needed to see that.

So she pulled her cloak a little closer as she continued to march towards the halls. The sounds of the crowd above echoing through the long entrance tunnel as she went.

Above her a massive mural decorated the walls and ceiling. Retelling tales of the grand ancestors. The thunder slayer, the fae friend, the undying, the bridge builder, and of course, Vaprak and their seven daughters. 

Vrede’s eyes singled out the middle daughter, the girl who dove into hell itself to find her father a cure, and returned changed.

She was the reason she had the horns, the red skin, the fire. All thanks to this one girl who traveled to hell and back. Though she wondered if maybe it would be best if her ancestor had stayed behind with her little sister all those millenia ago.

The murals ceased as she reached the main gate, two massive stone doors spread open before her, and beyond them a market square that could easily fit her entire village twice over.

Around her hill giants and frost giants set up their food stalls, trolls and mountain giants peddled their goods, and ogres and elves played their instruments for the crowd. People of all kinds gathered in one place, no one batting an eye at the other’s strangeness, even her own large horns and red skin barely standing out in the crowd.

As she walked further into the great hall that contained this entire section her eyes were drawn to the great statue at its center.

It stood taller than any troll or giant, a great stone pillar seeming to hold the ceiling aloft. Sculpted from the mountain itself with incredible precision and care, there stood Lyral, greater than all, still watching over her people.

Soon Vrede found herself walking towards the statue. 

It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Sure, the stone workers of her old village were skilled, but none of them could have built something this massive, this detailed. Whoever was responsible for this deserved to be celebrated just as much as Lyral herself.

She reached the base of the statue, the richness of detail now perfectly clear to her. From the waviness of cloth, to the expression on her face, to the detailing of her crown and horns.

Horns.

The great Mountain King was a horned troll. A bearer of the flames of hell. A descendant of the middle daughter.

She was just like Vrede.

Then why did she get to become a king? Why did she get to be accepted and loved?

Why did Lyral get to be a hero?

Vrede was never given the chance. 

She was always the villain, always the monster. She spent her whole life being told time and again that she was a danger to everyone. But this entire time their King, their greatest hero, had been just like her!

The sting returned to her arm, worse than before, so much worse. She could feel her skin boiling from the inside out.

She fell to her knees, the pain growing stronger and stronger by the second. She tried to cling to her burning arm, just to feel her bandages burn to ashes around it.

“Hey, are you okay?” Someone called, but she couldn’t see who it was.

Oh no. 

No, no, no. Ancestors, please spare her. 

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

Suppress it. Keep it under control. Pull the flame into yourself and don’t let go.

The burning had reached her chest now. Her lungs full of smoke and her blood boiling in her heart. 

But it wasn’t hurting anyone else. She wasn’t killing anyone else.

“She needs help!” That voice called again, more loudly this time.

Vrede hadn’t even noticed when she had collapsed to the floor, the stone under her threatening to melt.

���Somebody help!”

She couldn’t see anymore.

Vrede closed her eyes, and prayed silently to every god to please let this be over soon.

And then there was silence.

[paragonrobits]

Find it kinda ironic that even the evil gods won't help the nameless one considering some of the things they themselves have done. I mean just look at Vecna, Lolth and Vaprak alone. Can one become a mage right away, or would it take a bit of time first? Also was it a smart or dumb choice to max out int and wis at the character creation screen, with the last bits going to cha?

I think that the takeaway from this is perhaps less a case of hypocrisy, and more that this gives some truly horrific implications of what the Nameless One's previous incarnations have done!

As you play through the game, you get HINTS of the previous incarnations, and suffice to say; this game has some of the most genuinely horrifying implicit actions in the vast majority of games. The Nameless One can be a paragon of perfect righteousness and honor... and it doesn't really help him because the weight of what his other incarnations did is so horrifying heinous, it doesn't balance the scales at all.

Consider that this all means that the Nameless One's past lives have done things so horrific, the likes of Vecna, Lolth and all the others are DISGUSTED and HORRIFIED by what he's done! Really puts it into context.

Okay so gameplay wise:

You can become a mage as soon as you exit the Mortuary, if you know where to go! In a northern area called Ragpicker's Square, in Sigil, there is a medicine woman in a hut named Old Mebbeth. By talking to her, you can open up the option to begin a chain of quests to become a mage, by asking her to teach you magic. Having high intelligence and Wisdom is HIGHLY recommended for the most optimal outcomes in this.

As for your stat allowment, let me tell you: in my opinion, you made the SMARTEST POSISBLE CHOICES. Intelligence and Wisdom, along with Charisma, are some of the most USEFUL stats in the entire game, opening up dialogue and solutions you otherwise can't get. Combat in this game is not all that important, and your other party members can assist you in doing those, so you can rely on them while speccing into talky stuff exclusively.

from what i remember, the general consensus was that the purely physical stats are largely useless, since they don't generally contribute that much. About the only thing they do is make you a better fighter or thief, and the general vibe seems to be that a mage is both more generally useful, and has better story stuff going on.

if you like, I can also let you know all the party members you can recruit, if you don't mind spoilers on their locations and general character?

[desertdruidcrafts]

Ogre Occultist

When an ogre’s giant heritage manifests as a sorcerous origin, that ogre takes on the role of a shaman or occultist for a band of ogres. This ogre, known as an ogrima, wields deeply rooted spiritual powers, leading a band of ogres to accomplish more than they could if left to their own devices.

Mark of the Ordning. Ogre occultists have the blood of more powerful giants flowing in them, granting them their magical abilities. Though ogres are normally below true giants in the Ordning, the giant’s complex social structure, the unveiling of an ogre’s latent heritage gives it a leg up in the Ordning. Ogre occultists are often regarded as more respectable and honorable, a concept that giants know as maat, than most hill giants.

Force of Blood. The value of an ogre occultist in a band of ogres is immeasurable in taking an ogre band to a larger complicated tribe. Ogres rarely form communities, preferring to either bully lesser creatures into submission or serve groups of giants or orcs, but under the guidance of an ogre occultist, ogres can create a unified tribe of their own, centered on a strong ogre leader. An ogre occultist may not be the most intuitive or temperamental commander, but its force of personality and influence makes it a monster to be reckoned with.

A Giant’s Soul: Dwelling within an ogre occultist is a legacy of giants, spanning back to the creation of Ogres themselves. When Othea, chief goddess of the giant pantheon and wife of Annam All-Father, had an affair with Vaprak, the ogre race was created. At this point, a shard of the strength of true giants was passed into Ogres from Othea, lying dormant except in the extraordinary circumstances that embolden ogre occultists. Wielding a core of a true giant’s power, an ogre occultist can temporarily grow in size, empower other ogres, and imbue its arcane focus with otherworldly power.

PDF STATBLOCK

[michaeljpatrick]

Mister Gruumsh

(It’s the holidays and I’m dusting off this #dnd themed #holiday carol with a few fixes to the lyrics)

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Gruumsh

You're a mean one, Mr. Gruumsh

You’re the Orcish Big Wheel

You lost your eye to Correlon Larethian, how does that feel, Mr. Gruumsh?

You're gonna make the whole Elvish pantheon kneell!

You're a monster, Mr. Gruumsh

Your eye’s an empty hole

Worse than the Queen of Spiders, you’ll devour all our souls, Mr. Gruumsh

You’re even worse than Vaprak, the deity of the Trolls!

You're a foul one, Mr. Gruumsh

You should prob’ly wear a mask.

You have all the tender sweetness of the rampaging Tarrasque, Mr. Gruumsh

Given a choice between the two of you I'd take the rampaging Tarrasque!

You're a vile one, Mr. Gruumsh

You're a fiendish, dire skunk

You killed my whole dang party. You even ate the monk, Mr. Gruumsh

The greatest threat in dungeoneering is you say those who like to spelunk.

You're a rotter, Mr. Gruumsh

You're the king of evil Orcs.

Your have an Iron Fortress on the Plane of Nishrek, Mr. Gruumsh

Your fortress is guarded with the most fearsome

Assortment of monsters imaginable like Orogs and Tanarukks!

You nauseate me, Mr. Gruumsh

You think that Elves are dross!

You hold an ancient grudge because they caused your vision loss, Mr. Gruumsh

You once threw an entire plane of existence at Bane just to show him who’s boss!

[mahddyboy]

[Gaming News] Cult shooter Jim Power lines up on PS4/Switch/cartridges

Cult shooter Jim Power lines up on PS4/Switch/cartridges Check out more from @qubytegames & @RealStrictlyLTD

Vaprak is back in the limited release of Jim Power: The Lost Dimension The shoot ‘em up cult classic is coming in a limited release  to Nintendo Switch / PS4 and retro consoles The evil Vaprak is back and once again it is up to Jim Power to travel to the virtual world and slay the evil monster. Strictly Limited Games is happy to announce the next physical limited release in partnership with…

[creativerogues]

Smash & Smite Thee!: The Giant Deities...

The deities of the giants are the offspring of Annam.

Annam

Annam is neutral. 

He is known as the Prime, the Progenitor of Worlds, and the Great Creator. 

He is both an all-knowing god of learning, philosophy, and deep meditation, and at the same time, a lustful, brash deity of fertility. 

The domains he is associated with are Knowledge, Magic, Plants, and Sun. 

His favored weapon is an unarmed strike.

Grolantor

The chaotic evil deity of hill giants, Grolantor, also has a ragtag following among ogres and ettins. 

He refuses any title but his given name. 

He is a god of hunting and combat whose willful stupidity gets him and his followers into more confrontations than they can handle. 

The domains he is associated with are Chaos, Death, Earth, and Evil. 

His favored weapon is the club.

Hiatea

The main goddess among the giant deities, Hiatea is neutral good. 

She is goddess of nature, agriculture, hunting, and childbirth, and is revered by many female giants, regardless of their alignment, for her heroism and prowess. 

The domains she is associated with are Animal, Good, Plants, and Sun. 

Her favored weapon is the spear.

Iallanis

Like her older sister Hiatea, Iallanis is neutral good. 

She is the goddess of love, forgiveness, mercy, and beauty, and seeks always to reunite the disparate giant races in harmony. 

The domains she is associated with are Good, Healing, Strength, and Sun. 

Her favored weapon is an unarmed strike.

Memnor

Memnor is subtle, charming, intelligent, cultured— and deeply, intensely (neutral) evil. 

He is a god of pride, mental prowess, and control, and his favored instruments in his schemes to usurp Annam are evil cloud giants. 

The domains he is associated with are Death, Evil, Knowledge, and Trickery. 

His favored weapon is the morningstar.

Skoraeus Stonebones

The god of the stone giants, Skoraeus is neutral. 

Called King of the Rock, he is a withdrawn deity who cares only for the affairs of stone giants. 

The domains he is associated with are Earth, Healing, Knowledge, and Protection. 

His favored weapon is the warhammer.

Stronmaus

Mighty Stronmaus is neutral good. 

He is called the Storm Lord, the Smiling God, and the Thunderhead. 

He rules over the sun, the sky, weather, and joy. 

The domains he is associated with are Chaos, Good, Protection, and War. 

His favored weapon is the warhammer. He is a sworn enemy of Memnor.

Surtr

Flame-haired Surtr is lawful evil. 

The Lord of the Fire Giants is concerned primarily with his people’s fortune in the world. 

The domains he is associated with are Evil, Fire, Trickery, and War. 

His favored weapon is the greatsword.

Thrym

Thrym, god of frost giants, is chaotic evil. 

He is ruler of cold and ice, as well as a deity of magic. 

The domains he is associated with are Destruction, Evil, Magic, and War. 

His favored weapon is the greataxe.

Vaprak

The rapacious god of the ogres, Vaprak, is chaotic evil. 

He is known as the Destroyer. 

He is a god of combat, destruction, aggression, frenzy, and greed. 

The domains he is associated with are Chaos, Destruction, Evil, and War. 

His favored weapon is the greatclub.

[proficiency-in-brewers-supplies]

Ogres, Oni and their kin

[shera-dnd]

Lori’s New Troll Lore

So me and my friend took very different approaches to rewriting the lore of these fantasy races. While Sal had the approach of making all the canon lore be born from in universe racism and misunderstandings, while creating the real lore of what these people really are instead of how they’re perceived by external groups (which is a fucking amazing btw)

I decided to go with a simpler approach of taking the very basic of what is canon to the universe and then reworking it so that it becomes its own unique thing, free of the usual yikes.

So what do we know for sure about troll canon. Well they can regenerate like crazy and can only be killed by fire or acid. They have amazing dark vision, at the price of being sensitive to bright lights (apparently that’s not in their stat sheet, but it’s referenced in lore). They’re a matriarchal society (weird how only evil cultures are matriarchal in D&D. I wonder why that would be the case), lead by shamans. And they’re sorta kinda giants, because they were born of the demigod Vaprak, who was born from... well when The All Father pulled a Zeus with a sorceress (Yes, depicting a child born from this kind of shit as inherently monstrous and evil is profoundly fucked up)

As you can see this shit is just full of yikes, but there are still a lot that can be salvaged here and put to good use creating an interesting story, so let’s see what I managed to make with all this

(I added a keep reading link, because this shit got loooooooooong)

~~~

Fire is the greatest enemy of Troll kind. It blinds them, it burns their flesh and it reminds them all of their own mortality, to this terrifying force of nature they show equal parts fear and respect. For in the hands of the old and wise, fire can still be used to make grand things.

Of course most troll children aren’t born with this inherent knowledge, so little they’re exposed to anything that could ever do them real harm. Young trolls have this sense that they’re immortal, invincible. When two trolls fight they could suffer terrible wounds that would kill even the mightiest of human warriors a dozen times over, and still get up and laugh it off.

From this two things can be gathered about troll kind. First that their disdain for armor and fancy clothes, comes entirely from practical reasons. What point is there in wasting resources in equipment that will get completely destroyed in a quick scuffle.

Second, that when it comes to real conflict, who wins is not the strongest troll, but the smartest. In the absence of fire or acid, the only real way to best a troll is by outsmarting them or outrunning them. This is one of the many reasons why it is wisdom, and not strength, that makes for a great leader. 

It is also wisdom that allows for some trolls to work terrifying force of fire. Those who can treat that force with respect and who have fully understood what it means to hold in their hands the only thing that can kill their own people.

Still fire is very rarely used. They do not need it as a light source, they do not need it to cook their food or to heat their bodies, and they have very little use for metal tools. Fire in troll culture serves only one use, as a funeral pyre.

In the rare occasion when a troll truly dies, their body is burned and their ashes returned to the world. To many young trolls this is the first time they’re shown the destructive force of fire and learn of their own mortality. But in a way this ritual is less about how a troll dies, but more about how a troll lives on.

From those pyres banquets are prepared, their ashes are spread and seeds are planted where they were scattered. In this way a troll’s death is simply a means for them to truly become immortal.

In recent years metal tools have also been forged from these pyres, as more and more other cultures push into troll land, the more they must protect themselves from those who so carelessly brandish flame and magic.

Of course there are always grand tales about these tools, both of the people who brandished them and the people who became them. There are legends of an old troll queen whose corpse refused to burn away, keeping her pyre burning from 7 days and from that fire many grand weapons are forged - some hich are said to still carry her will.

Or perhaps the tale of the old wise woman who used a shield and a hammer to create an avalanche, thwarting a conquering army and humbling their warlord. It’s said that the shield forged from her pyre could stop even the acid breath of a black dragon.

Those are the story of the great troll people, of their strength and their wisdom, carried on in the world around us and in the many stories of their children.

~~~

Okay so that was a lot. One last bit that I wanted to write down is how they relate to the 13 classes of D&D. Gonna keep these quick and simple, because jesus christ I’ve been writing this shit for over an hour

Artificer: One wouldn’t expect them to have many artificers, but you’d be surprised with how much they can achieve without the use of metal. Ingenuity and cleverness goes a long way for Artificers and trolls have plenty of that. Though they do tend to prefer Alchemy as their field of study.

Barbarian: Rarer than most people think. Unyielding rage will only ever get you so far when fighting other trolls and their rage can’t do much to protect them from magical fire. Those that do exist lean towards the Path of the Ancestral Guardian

Bard: The living memory of the troll people. They retell the grand tales of their ancestors and share their wisdom with new generations. Many who follow this tradition lean towards the College of Lore

Cleric: Trolls prefer to worship their ancestors more than they worship gods. The one exception being Vaprak themself, as they’re the oldest of troll ancestors. Clerics do not have a particular preference towards any domain, as there’s certainly at least one great troll out there with a tale relating to each of them.

Druid: The most common of spell casters and wise leaders in troll communities. Though they may join any circle, the Circle of the Moon seems to attract particularly few of them, as their bodies far outmatch those of most natural beasts.

Fighter: Where there’s a fight to be had, there are fighters to fight it, troll culture is no exception. 

Monk: Troll martial arts tend to center around grappling and pinning their foe, a victory by submission is often the best one can hope to achieve when dueling another of their kind. Still there are some who learn the ways of the Monk and how to channel their Ki to make their bodies even deadlier

Paladin: There are no classic paladin orders to be found among trolls, but as rare as they might be, there are still individuals who would dedicate so much of themselves to a cause that something out there - ancestor or god - is compelled to land them their aid.

Ranger: No society would have ever gone that far without rangers, hunters and guides, to lead them through the natural world. Trolls are no different.

Rogue: It may seem silly to think of something as large as a troll sneaking around, but it’s this sort of thinking that makes such clever people the deadliest and fiercest among their kind.

Sorcerer: Sometimes magic simply manifests itself to a person. Elves, humans, orcs and trolls alike, magic flows through them all and can awaken just as easily in any of them.

Warlock: Most trolls who seek this path are too young to understand the consequences of they’re doing. Perhaps they have never seen a funeral pyre being lit and are confident of their own immortality, or perhaps they have and are doing everything within their power to avoid such fate

Wizard: Only the old and wizened are ever allowed to take such a path, for such terrifying power cannot be taught to one who would use it carelessly, and far too many tales were ended far too soon by a single stray spell.

AND WE ARE FINALLY DONE. Hope you enjoyed this absurdly long read and please feel free to offer me feed back and your own unique takes on other fantasy races. Please do keep your advice constructive. I know I probably fucked up some bits back there, but nothing here is set in stone and a lot can be rewriten and changed as necessary

[shera-dnd]

Mourn Me Not

Oh one last thing before that comic! I can’t forget to post the sole winner of this month’s raffle, and just one of my favorite topics to write about

MORE TROLLS!

This time we follow the priest Torem as he teaches young trolls about what life and death means to their people, through the tale of the first troll funeral

Here is the AO3 link for those who prefer to read it there and let’s get this shit going

A fire burned in the small town on the border of the Giant Lands. This one wasn’t a torch carried in by some small folk who didn’t know not to, nor was it a spark created by a child of fiendish blood. This was a proper pyre, purposefully made to burn from sundown to sunrise.

But inside that pyre burned more than wood. Inside it burned the body of an old troll woman by the name of Salka. She was a stonemason who had worked tirelessly to help this town grow to what it is now. And this was her funeral.

To many young children this was the first time they saw fire, the first time they were introduced to the one thing that could ever truly harm them. It was an important lesson, a way of teaching them that they’re still mortal.

But that wasn’t what the funeral was about. At least not to Torem, the priest in charge of the ceremony. To him a troll’s funeral should always be about celebrating their memory, about retelling their stories and adding them to the great tapestry of their people’s history.

So he sat with the townsfolk and, as the pyre burned, began weaving the tale of Salka, of her works, of her family, of her loved ones. Many who knew her added to the story, many who missed her cried as it was told, many who never met her now wish they did.

The night went on and with time the fire died down. By then the stories of Salka were over and different tales were being told. Of ancestors long gone, of great heroes of their people, of the honored dead who Torem dedicated his life to remembering. By that point most of the adults had left to go spread her ashes, leaving Torem in charge of their little trollings.

“Tell Kol’s story,” called a young green skinned girl, “did he really fight all those fire giants on his own?”

“No no,” interrupted a little boy with a pair of horns on his head, “I wanna hear about Cora. I heard she took down a whole fortress with a pickaxe.”

“What about Lyral?” Asked a different girl, raising a clawed hand, “she was the first troll to rule the Giant Lands, right?”

Like that more and more kids jumped up with their suggestions and requests. Torem knew all these stories by heart, of course, and was happy to retell them all again and again, but he felt they didn’t quite suit what the day was about.

“Great warriors and queens are all well and good,” Torem declared, silencing the commotion around him, “but I believe you kids haven’t heard many stories of the people who stay behind while they’re off on their great adventures.”

Many of the kids groaned, one of them even pretended to snore. He couldn’t exactly claim he didn’t expect that response.

“Now now, this may not be your usual tale of heroism and daring, but I assure you there’s plenty here to interest you,” he said, calmly. The kids didn’t exactly look any more interested, but he knew this next part would catch their attention, “for this is the last tale of Vaprak.”

The mention of their creator deity seemed to quiet them down. Surely they expected their final story to be one of grand mythological scale. They weren’t wrong, but they weren’t quite right either.

“Vaprak had travelled the planes, tricked gods and fiends, fought dragons and giants, and befriended people of every walk of life. They were invincible,” he began, and the kids were already enthralled, “so it came as a surprise to all, when what finally brought him down was not a mighty beast, but terrible sickness.”

“Can gods get sick?” Asked a younger boy.

“Not frequently,” Torem answered, always happy when people asked about his stories. It meant they wanted to know more, “but when they do it’s very serious. Enough to threaten the life of even someone as mighty as Vaprak and no cure in the mortal world could save them.”

Some of the kids seemed disappointed, probably wanting more than just a story of how their favorite hero got sick and died. Thankfully that wasn’t quite what happened in this story.

“Now Vaprak was a good parent who raised seven wonderful daughters, and they would not let him fall ill so easily,” he continued, “so the seven sisters decided that it was up to them to save their parent.”

“One by one they set out to scour the planes for a cure,” Torem paused and then began listing, “first was the eldest daughter who climbed up the steps to Mount Celestia to beseech the angels for help.”

“Then was the second eldest, who cast upon herself a spell of flight, and rode the wind to the planes of air.”

“Afterwards left the third, who donned a magical cloak, and swam deep into the planes of water.”

“Then left the middle daughter, who risked her life most of all by venturing forth into the planes of fire.”

“Together they left the third and second youngest, digging together into the bowels of the world, one to end in the plane of earth, and one to end in Baator itself.”

“Finally was the youngest of the seven sisters. The one about which we’ll tell this tale. The one who stayed home.”

And so the kids began groaning again.

“What about the sister who went to hell?”

“But I wanna hear about the angels!”

“Can you actually swim to the plane of water?”

“Slow down, slow down,” called Torem, “I’ll tell you all about those stories after I’m done. Just stick with this one until it’s over, okay?”

“Fine,” sighed a few, willing to power through ‘the boring one’ to get to the actual fun stories.

“So the youngest daughter stayed, and while her sisters were gone on their adventures she cared for Vaprak alone,” he continued, “she kept them company, she protected them, she made sure they didn’t miss their beloved daughters.”

“And every day she worried that Vaprak would die before the others could return, with only her to keep them company,” as he narrated the children fell quiet again, “one by one her sisters came back, each changed by their journey and each bringing with them a cure.”

Torem took a pause here, this part was always rough for thim.

“But not one could save poor Vaprak,” he declared, “and as each of them arrived, and failed, the youngest sister welcomed them with open arms, and offered them the same love and comfort that she had offered Vaprak while they were gone. And with each returning sister she worried less, and less about her parent’s death.”

“Was she just okay with losing them?”

“Of course not,” Torem answered, “but she had accepted that death would come, and feared only that Vaprak wouldn’t get to see their daughters one last time before leaving them forever.”

“Eventually they had all returned home, and one by one said their goodbyes,” he paused and braced once more, “then one morning they woke up and Vaprak was gone. The six cried and cried, cursing themselves for their failure, but the youngest assured them that there was nothing to be done. She had already mourned their parent and was simply happy to have her sisters with her once more.”

“So she lit a great pyre for their parent and asked her sisters to come close as she retold their stories, of all the happy moments they shared, of all the sweet memories, of all that Vaprak had given them,” another pause as he let the kids realize what this story was actually about, “and once the pyre had died down, she spread Vaprak’s ashes over their garden and declared that from their ashes life would grow, and so their parent would always live on around them.”

The children fell silent, this was a hard story to hear and even harder to tell. Torem's eyes stung with tears.

“She was like you,” one of the kids said.

“I’d say I try to be like her,” Torem corrected, “she was our first priest. She held our first funeral. She taught us the importance of staying behind, so we may protect one another and keep alive the memories of those who left, so that they may live on through us.”

“But Vaprak still died, and so did auntie Salka,” one of them argued, hurt weighing heavy in their voice.

“Child,” Torem replied, his voice full of the certainty that came only with the decades he spent doing his job, “as long as there’s someone to remember them, no troll ever truly dies.”

[michaeljpatrick]

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Gruumsh

You're a mean one, Mr. Gruumsh

You’re the Orcish Big Wheel

You lost your eye to Correlon Larethian, how does that feel, Mr. Gruumsh?

You're gonna make the whole Elvish pantheon kneell!

You're a monster, Mr. Gruumsh

Your eye’s an empty hole

You’ve dealt with Queen of Spiders, you’ll devour all our souls, Mr. Gruumsh

I think you’re worse than Vaprak, the deity of the Trolls!

You're a foul one, Mr. Gruumsh

You should prob’ly wear a mask.

You have all the tender sweetness of the rampaging Tarrasque, Mr. Gruumsh

Given a choice between the two of you I'd take the rampaging Tarrasque!

You're a vile one, Mr. Gruumsh

You're a fiendish, dire skunk

You killed my whole dang party. You even ate the monk, Mr. Gruumsh

The greatest threat in dungeoneering is you say those who like to spelunk.

You're a rotter, Mr. Gruumsh

You're the king of evil Orcs.

Your have an Iron Fortress on the Plane of Nishrek, Mr. Gruumsh

Your fortress is guarded with the most fearsome

Assortment of monsters imaginable including Orogs and Tanarukks!

You nauseate me, Mr. Gruumsh

You think that Elves are dross!

You hold an ancient grudge because they caused your vision loss, Mr. Gruumsh

You once threw an entire plane of existence at Bane just to show him who’s boss!