#trollmagics

[pawnshopsouls]

“  i think i’m dying—  fuck i’m gonna die…  ” -Eden for Bonely

The mage was talking. Eden was talking. Usually, that was a really good thing! Something special since talking was hard for them! But it only made Bonely feel worse as he stood by the fur-covered slab they'd been laid on. He knew Cimerrian fruit was awful to taste and even worse in wine. But with their garden being so plentiful, he never thought that Eden's plants and Gunmar's cimmerian vineyard would get a chance to cross-pollinate.

"Ah jeez," he rumbled and grabbed a round pitcher, Salem's glowing solstone glowing softly at the bottom. "Here, this'll help yeh get that stuff outa yer system."

He poured a glass for Eden and offered it to the mage. The Solstone was full of Salem's healing Clerci magic, and he had no doubt it would help heal up whatever the Cimmerian hybrid fruit was doing to Eden's stomach. Granted, he'd only been able to get it on loan with the specific condition of NOT letting Gunmar consume it. A trial in an of itself right there.

The caster reached over and grabbed a wide, empty bowl. "Here, if yer feelin' like yer gonna puke, go ahead 'n' puke. This here water will help yeh."

The poor mage. Bonely had a bucket for them if the rotten stuff needed to go out the other way. Thankfully, Walburga was more than prepared for stuff like this - one of the many reasons he'd brought Eden to the healing den for Changelings instead of the regular army. Grike would grump about it but he knew the trickster-quagawump wouldn't grump too much with their partner being safe.

[gentleeclipsey]

Any headcanons for the trolls in Trollhunters?

I do actually!

I know canonically trolls make more trolls via a sliver of heartstone and an egg but I come from the Transformers fandom so I say they have a more traditional way, and most trolls have both male and female reproductive organs. Some only have one or the other but these cases are rare. That's just personal preference though.

Troll gender is wildly diverse, there's no names for a lot of them but terms like doe, buck, dame, sire, alpha, apex, all correlate to various types of trolls and their wildly unique bodies. Trolls generally don't care for terms, but some may use them affectionately.

Most trolls are barbaric, yes, but there are master craftsmen among them! Someone has to make those gorgeous kilts, the belts, the sheaths, the straps, someone has to know stone masonry, someone has to know how to bind books! I fully believe there's just an underground trade of artisans who communicate and share skills the general population doesn't always care for.

There's three kinds of magic, human, troll, and primordial. Human magic is some of the safest (sometimes) and trollmagic is more offensive and violent. Primordial magic is the root of it all, the strangest and most volatile and violent but can be the most powerful, and the rare few trolls who can harness primordial magics are some of the greatest there are!

I fully believe that red hair is a very rare trait among trolls, the bright orange hair humans can sprout is a surprisingly rare color for trolls and its believed those who have it are far more skilled in things like magic and magic working. It's a myth but the statistics for this are weird.

I believe troll families are wildly complex, like members can simply be adopted in, some just exist in the general space of a family and become part of it, some families get absorbed into other larger families, it's why most trolls just don't have last names, even humans and animals can he absorbed into families. I believe this is why Changelings are very far removed from trolls socially, they're stolen from families and changed and aren't recognized by their old families anymore.

[ldame]

When you are adorable and understand that a #hotpink #trollnecklace can define a lewk for the day you go for it @livingontheedj knows how to do it #gogurl #stylefordays #sassy #startacoversation #jewelrywithasenseofhumor #trollmagic #keepyouraccessoriesgamestrong✌🏻 https://www.instagram.com/p/Bqab8yWDt_3/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=18mew6dufy65d

[pawnshopsouls]

Kat cleared her throat, She'd found bonely, aaand it seemed she wasn't alone. A sack on her back that looked suspiciously salem like. if salem were a sack. "So uh... Heard some scary things and went to find someone to help... buti forgot pact trolls are eatables down here... soooooooo...." She dumped out the dazed troll in front of his brother "I brought him here. for now."

Bonely had been busier than goblins on the war path. Quarantine dens had been made, makeshift vats added and warded for the beach-ball sized heartstones he'd managed to grow and safely bring from the Brewery. Bolstered health was the way to beat most plagues and if there was one coming, he was going to bolster his tribe as best he could--especially the youngins.

Hearing Kat's approach, the Caster turned, a tablet and parchment in his hand. "Kat! Great timin', I could use yer help. I need yeh teh head over teh the herdswoman, Sotsona, and..." he stopped and canted his head at the bag suspiciously. "Kat. What've yeh got there?"

As if in answer to his question, out tumbled the blue stoned clerical troll, looking as dazed and confused as anyone bagged in the middle of the night.

Bonely dropped his clip board and stared. "Salem!?"

Unfolding his limbs, Salem looked up, his blue eyes wide beneath his brown curls. "Bonely?" he asked, staring before a broad grin split his face. "BONELY!!!!"

"SALEM!!!!"

With a whoop and a laugh the two brothers launched themselves at each other, crashing into each other like mountain goats in a great spinning hug.

Bonely laughed and hollered as Salem spun him around. "YER HERE! YER HERE! I CAN'T BELIEVE YER HERE!"

"ME NEITHER!" Salem cried excitedly. "Honestly I didn't think I'd get kidnapped inteh the darklands but Yeah! I'm here!"

The two slowed to a stop, still laughing as they parted. "Holy smokes! Oh it's good teh have yeh back!"

"Yeah! It's great!" Salem said and then threw out his hands. "But what am I doin' here!?"

With a huff and gentle shake of his head, Bonely looked up at his brother and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Yer here teh help me stop a plague, 'n' now with yer clerci magic on board, there ain't NO WAY somethin' like that is gonna take out my tribe here!"

Salem grinned and gave a cheer. "Yeah! Wait, what?"

Bonely pat his brother's shoulder and gave a chuckle. "Oh boy, do I have some updates fer you."

[pawnshopsouls]

//*WAVES AT ALL MY TOA PEEPS*

//GUYS - WE HAVE A STRICKLANDER PLAYER!!! @lncarnon is a multimuse with lots of muses, so if Strickler isn't your cup of tea, they have a lot of options, so be sure to come and say hi!!!

[pawnshopsouls]

kat is going to scratch her face and chin on bonely's ridged back. he's gonna wind up just as hairy as she is in the process. no he doesn't get any say in this. Shedding is itchy. [for trollish Bonely]

The Caster is going to give his adopted eldest a look before turning and pushing her head off his back.

“A’right, a’right already! I know it’s sheddin’ season but yeh don’t gotta be dramatic about it!” He huffed and tried to turn as he stepped out from under her.

“Here, how ‘bout this. You lay down ‘n’ I’ll see how much a’ this I can scritch off with the flat a’ my claws. Get some a this fur ‘n’ scale stuff off without turnin’ me inteh the next yeti!”

[pawnshopsouls]

Kat has stolen all the heirs. It's cold. she's cold. they're cold. they're all piled up in the smoke cellar. No she's not gonna return them anytime soon.

The Darklands has been quiet. Too quiet. Looking up from his work in the Heartstone Brewery, Bonely squinted as he looked over to the exit. The heirs should be running around with the furious howls of thralls denoting the quintet's mischief.

"Somethin' ain't right," he murmured, an armored thrall pausing to look at him curiously. "Keep an eye on this, will yeh? I need teh go check somethin'." The caster moved to go look for his heirs and stopped abruptly to point at the thrall. "And I don't mean literally! Just--keep workin', a'right? I'll be back soon."

A sigh of relief escaped the thrall as they nodded and continued their work while Bonely went out in search of the youngins.

Meanwhile, Velda, Venga, Braxas, Bronte', and Sturgeous had all snuggled in with the draconic game keeper. It was cold out in the darklands and a chance to get into the warm, yummy-smelling smoke cellar was never to be passed up!

[pawnshopsouls]

❛ do you think the moon is jealous of how handsome you are?' -Gunmar

Bonely’s ears perked up as his stony indigo skin warmed to a healthy purple. Dang, he forgot how flattery made him shine. Bashful at first, the caster let a broad grin fill his features.

‘Well, it ain’t flattery if it’s true,’ he thought and gave a soft cackle. But he wasn’t going to admit it—after all, Gunmar might end up using that weakness of his fire more than just flirting. Part of him hoped he would.

“The moon jealous a’ me? Heh! Only ‘cause it don’t have a partner that can shake the stars like I do,” he says with a grin and bumped his head against Gunmar’s chin.

[pawnshopsouls]

How would bonely react to someone pulling a gun on Gunmar?

It only took one question to jolt Bonely's attention from his work.

"WHO'S PULLIN' A GUN ON GUNMAR?" he demanded, his voice bellowing through the Heartstone Brewery. He looked over at the thralls helping him and snarled. "BOOTS TEH THE CRUCIBLE! WE'VE GOT A SECURITY BREACH THAT NEEDS DEALIN' WITH."

With that, the indigo troll left his brewery, his hide alight with the swirls of his indigo magic as he charged down toward the Crucible.

[pawnshopsouls]

It seems as if the Trollhunter has also set his sights on the youngest of the Hellhound sisters... Best hope that he does not slay them with his Butcher's Blade when he discovers their association to your King.

Hearing the Greylim, Bonely threw his head back with a cackle.

“Ha! Oh Greylim! If this TrollHunter is messin’ with Yuki we won’t have teh worry about ‘em fer long!”

[pawnshopsouls]

A message finds its way into the caster's desk from some unknown source. Delivered by goblin hands, when opened it will present Bonely with scratchy runes, as if drawn by an ink dipped claw.

The newest Trollhunter has been revealed as a human boy. He learns and grows stronger by the day, and in turn is drawing closer to unraveling everything the Gumm-Gumms hold dear. I fear your heirs may be included. Be cautious, and vigilant. - M

The caster had been hard at work reorganizing his work den when the letter was dropped off. His ear flicked back as he waited for the goblins to leave. He wasn’t fond of goblins, especially how squishy they were and how violent they became when one accidentally got under foot.

Once sure the living slime balloons were off the ground, Bonely made his way to the work bench and cracked open the lettter. The scrawl was only vaguely familiar but he couldn’t put a name to it. M? Who did he know that went by “M”?

He frowned and read over the letter.

As he read, his hackles rose, his ears pinned back, and the runes along his stony hide began to glow. “Got time teh take a return letter?” He asked, looking up at the blood goblins. He didn’t bother to wait for an answer before scrawling a response.

“Keep me updated and keep a close watch. I’ll keep in touch. — B.”

With that, he folded the letter, sealed it with a bit of candle wax he’d bartered for, and sent it off.

That TrollHunter wasn’t getting his kids. Not now, not ever. He was going to make sure of that.

[pawnshopsouls]

//Thinking about Bonely as he’s readjusting to human life after so long as a troll and how much he’d have to readjust to his own pawnery.

//I think with what funds he might have, he might open up a metal/leather workshop for himself just to keep himself busy but also ease the cultural transition and culture shock so it doesn’t hit him so hard.

[pawnshopsouls]

Bonely, would you kill Gunmar if it meant being free of Schyce forever?

The caster's lip curled, the stone above his nose rumpling as he let out a low snarl. His hackles were up, chest inflated, his curly mane bristling as his runes began to glow.

"No," he growled, his claws flexing as he spoke. "Gunmar means more teh me than anythin' from Shyce ever will. If I had teh, I'd live a thousand lifetimes with that bone-gnashin' shapeshifter if it meant I'd get one more life-time with my chief."

Letting out a breath, Bonely attempted to deflate himself, a tongue of purple flame brushing through his teeth. "I mean, I've already faced almost 12 human lifetimes with Shyce, why wouldn't I be able teh handle him even longer if it meant stayin' with my beau?"

[pawnshopsouls]

A conversation will be had without words. Gunmar grunts as he passed Bonely, pauses, then growls quietly. His horns dip, and he presses his armored brow to Bonely's forehead, applying gently pressure. He rumbles, once, then continues on his way, returning to the patrol.

@daylightisminetoconsume

There’s something strange about being Gunmar’s bond. Like being married to a caveman, a chieftain, a warlord king. He’s a primal force of nature, a landslide and an earthquake all in one. He’s restless too, a whirlwind with nowhere to go. He needs motion. Work. So he keeps himself moving with patrols and spars, marches to keep himself fit and his momentum going.

Bonly was just getting back in, feeling like he’d just come out of an industrial work house, when Gunmar approached. The caster glanced up as Gunmar passed, a stone eyebrow cocked. It was getting late, wasn’t it? Why was he going out on patrol?

A rumbling query escaped him as Gunmar pressed his brow to Bonely’s. The weight was welcome and Bonely couldn’t help but frown as the warlord pulled away to go and finish the patrol. With a concerned huff, Bonely watched as he left and returned to their shared chambers, sitting on their bedfurs to wait.

[pawnshopsouls]

"Bonechard, is my mane greasy?" -Gunmar

Bonely looked up from his leather work and cocked his head. He'd been making training armor for the whelps out of the leathered hides of Sotsona's last herd tribute.

"Greasy?" he asked, setting down his tools. "Lemme see."

The indigo troll trundled over and pulled Gunmar lower so he could run his claws through his mate's mane. "Eh, not too much," he said, combing Gunmar's mane approvingly. "Got a healthy sheen, a bristle but not brittle. I'd say it's as healthy as yeh can get down here. However," he lowered his claw and met Gunmar's eye with his own. "If it's botherin' yeh, I'll get this here finished up 'n' I can tend teh it."

He gave a grin and nuzzled the warlord's chin. Sure, it was sappy, but this was HIS work station, and if anyone had a problem with him taking the opportunity to flirt with his bond, well, that's what thralls were for, weren't they?

"C'mon, help me with these. I wanna make sure these fit Bronte 'n' Velda with their horns comin' in."

[pawnshopsouls]

Bonely can’t help but bust into a fit of cackles. “HAHA! Well, if that ain’t the most creative threat I’ve seen thrown Gunmar’s way!”

Don’t mind the caster, it’s been a while since he’s had a good laugh!