This was originally just a handful of notes for a tabletop army that never got built, but the story wouldn’t leave me alone. It’s a quiet little tale about trolls, cities, and adapting to a world that changed while you were asleep.
The Trolls of Thirty-Second and Vine
Once upon a time, along the shores of a sea in Ghyran, a small band of trolls wandered inland and found a series of caverns in the bedrock above the water.
They were led by a Dankhold Troggoth of slightly above-average intelligence, whose original name has since been lost to history. When they reached the caverns, the trolls did what trolls do best.
They went to sleep.
While their leader slept deeply, the lesser trolls slowly made homes for themselves in the stone around him. They dug, settled, and dreamed. And while they slept, something unexpected happened above them.
A city grew.
Brick by brick, road by road, the city of Greywater Fastness rose up around the hillside that hid their caverns. Streets appeared. Gardens were planted. Statues were erected. Life went on, loud and busy, while the trolls slept on.
When the Troggoth Boss finally woke, the band emerged from their caves and stepped directly into the city streets.
Something most unusual happened then.
Instead of smashing buildings and terrifying the local population—as trolls are generally expected to do—their natural inclination for adaptation took hold. Faced with this new environment, they began to learn.
They learned when to move and when to stand still.
They learned how to blend in among statues and stonework.
They learned that people didn’t always scream if you stood very, very quietly.
Over time, they even adopted mannerisms from the city folk. And, seeing how important names seemed to be, they chose new ones for themselves—names that reflected who they had become.
The leader often stood motionless among the statues in a small garden at the corner of Thirty-Second and Vine, so that is what he came to be called.
Thirty-Second and Vine.
Another Dankhold Troggoth, older and slower, became known as Olde Johann, a name that suited him well.
One night, while wandering near the docks, the group encountered a new troll. This unfortunate soul suffered from a parasitic infestation of goblins living on his back—loud, unruly creatures who refused to leave and were constantly shouting suggestions.
Rather than turning him away, the others decided to help him learn how to live properly in the city.
They named him Steve.
Among the Rockgut Troggoths were many characters, including:
• Bad Bob
• Medium Dave
• Thom By the Way, a cheerful rascal who was never seen without a goat slung over his shoulder
The goat’s name was Gladis, and she tolerated Thom very patiently.
Another group included:
• Mickey the Drink
• Jimmy the Fence
• Serious Orange, who was rarely serious at all
They were occasionally accompanied by a Fungoid Cave Shaman, known simply as Parasite—the thing that followed them around, gave them questionable ideas, and provided a bit of a laugh when things got too quiet.
And so the trolls lived among the city, learning, changing, and finding their place without ever quite becoming something else.
They were still trolls.
Just trolls who had learned how to live with change.