Chapter Two – The Voice of a Troll
The snow was thick outside the village, but the fall had stopped and left a thick, powdery layer covering the ground.
It almost reached the top of the leather boots worn by Mikhail, but he did not complain, the Creator had given the people such hardships as the almost unending khadoran winter to strenghten their resolve and faith.
He shrugged the loose snow left on his cloak away and sighed. One thing was the winter, another was the grisly murder left by an animal no doubt possessed by the spirit of the Devourer.
The other people wishing to kill the beast assembled, and he left out a loud sigh. Almost none of his faithfull villagers had dared show up, they knew the madness of a hunt of a dangerous prey this time of winter. So did he, but unlike them he had to participate and help removing the taint of the Devourer from the village. Instead of the villagers most of the outsiders visiting the village had shown up.
The cygnaran braggert who knew neither common sense nor shame when telling lies and definitely not refrain when it came to drinking ale or trying to womanize, an area where he failed miserably the father thought with a smirk. It would do well for the faith of the villagers if such a sinner were to be killed by the spawn of the Devourer.
Beside the braggert the trollkin stood, an odd couple if he had ever seen one. The priest tolerated the Dhunia-worshipper as he kept quiet about his heathen ways and seemed to help the villagers where needed, and such muscle as his always found a use.
The obnoxious gobber had also shown up, brandishing a strange firearm that looked like it was cobbled together from several pistols, a rifle and a lot of scrap metal and screws. It might either blow a big hole in whatever was targeted the first time it was fired or send the gobber to Urcaen. He wouldn’t miss her noisy ways, that was for sure.
He let out a loud whistle, getting the attention of the assembled group. To his mind there was no question that he was the de facto leader of the group, he was after all the eldest and definitely most experienced among them.
Before he had a chance to speak the troll stepped away from Karl and let out a cough in a such a low, sonorous tone that a cannon would have been proud of the volume. The attention shifted to the troll and he decided to let the heathen speak, no way he could compete with the voice of a troll.
We have a savage beast threatening the lives of every son and daughter of the Earthmother here in the North, the troll began. Mikhail began doubting it had been such a good idea to let the troll speak, although he knew the troll was a blasphemer he had hoped he would refrain from propaganzing his heathen ways.
We need to deal with this threat, the troll continued. We, the strongest of this makeshift tribe, need to fulfil our duty and make sure our sisters and brothers once again can huddle around the fire and feel safe. At the mention of sisters Karl got a wide grin on his face and he licked his lips, he seeemed to enjoy the thought of some of the local girls feeling thankful to him.
The assembled group split up into smaller search parties, each with a strong horn so they could contact the others if they needed help when engaging the beast.
The braggert had teamed with the troll, their former arguements seemingly forgotten, or maybe it was just easier to settle them out in the wilderness.
The remaining members of the local militia and strong villagepeople like the blacksmith teamed among themselves leaving the gobber and the priest together, and arrangement that most certainly did not please Mikhail. He definitely didn’t look forward to her gibbering and whatever usefull contraptions she might bring it would definitely be loud, which in turn would alert the beast and make his skills needed.