Good questions. I should have written more here.
Actually, I think I gave the wrong impression with the "corpse rising" stuff. I meant that the body of Lyuk Bowen survived the battle (though he lost consciousness there for a while literally and figuratively) and lives on as a normal looking man (not a literal zombie nor undead in any way, his flesh is not slowly rotting or anything ). But he is brainless. That is to say his brain is the equivalent of a wooden bow. Lol.
So he's a bag of flesh the bow controls with its thoughts, but not literally, since the flesh bag is brainless. The bow meanwhile, possessing Lyuk's memories and thoughts merely nudges the living husk along through unexplained magic, and perhaps some sort of latent muscle memory on the husk's part.
If the husk is killed the bow would be rather screwed as it can't move around on its own. I'm guessing the bow would eventually go mad too, and I don't mean the angry variety of mad.
Which brings us to what would happen when the the inevitable occurs and a PC gets her hands on the bow. I would imagine the dynamic would be similar to an intelligent weapon and its owner with the bow having its own thoughts, goals, and desires. But not having an overly large "Ego" the bows influence wouldn't be of the corrupting variety on its wielder. After that, who knows. One thing it would definitely do is try to talk its new wielder into getting revenge against a certain Long Lord. Another thing it could do that just came to me, is actually teach it's new wielder archery and improve their ability with a bow.
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Oh boy, I've typed too much and reading this back it doesn't quite make perfect sense to me lol
Warp'raa the Great Slayer, the Troll-King
The Troll-King is a king in name only. In reality, he is simply the toughest of the four trolls in his pack, leading their raids across the boundless expanses of the Murgh. He is known as being completely indestructible, and owes this impregnability to an erstwhile warlock-hermit of the swamp, who ensorcelled the troll's very flesh with powerful wards of protection against all fire and acid. In return, the troll-king slew the warlock, to ensure that the man would not "enhance" any other trolls. Trolls are nothing if not treacherous.
None of this have I witnessed for myself, but rather this is hear-say and local legend. The queer black runes branded in Warp'raa's greenish flesh suggest that these rumors may be true.
Warp'raa takes the well-known fearlessness of the trollish race to new heights. He just keeps coming at foes, and even if eventually chopped to pieces, each individual piece will continue the good fight. Dousing him in acid or setting him aflame does nothing to his magicked meat. And since not much else can kill a troll, the troll-king thrives. Or so they say.
Physically, Warp'raa is truly imposing. Ten feet in height though stooped and hunchbacked, his strength and ferocity left me in awe. I've witnessed him uproot sturdy willows, effortlessly throw an unfortunate elven ranger at least sixty feet into the air, and crack a charging water-buffalo's skull with a single strike.
Warp'raa also challenges the old rule of never defecating where one eats. He is constantly emptying his bowels and rarely walks off to do so. The troll lair is awash in troll guano, waist-deep to a dwarf, and Warp'raa seems to enjoy the mess.
On rare occasions I have spied Warp'raa mating with Gozh'ga, being one of the few members of T.H.I.S to have witnessed troll mating in the wild! Watching their love-making changed me forever and I will say no more of this. I will never unsee it. The gestation cycle for trolls I've learned at least, is surprisingly short.
Many times over Gozh'ga has spewed forth newborn trolls, only to have Warp'raa swallow them whole, minutes after their birth. Perhaps this is why the trolls are not fecund. They could easily make armies if only they stopped all that cannibalism!
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Whenever Warp'raa eats a newborn, the clan gathers around, gesticulating toward the skies wildly, then proceed to dig great holes, for no apparent reason. After this, Warp'raa will roll himself around in a bed of moss and howl. What these trolls are trying to accomplish is beyond me.
Umook the Sculptor
Though the trolls of the Murgh have no word for sculptor in their primal tongue, I call this specimen by that name, due to his singularly peculiar and gruesome hobby. Umook will tear, rip, rearrange, and forcibly reattach the limbs, heads, and extremities and build mongrel statues and constructs, from the flesh and bones of the troll pack's victims. No one can guess why he does this, least of all Umook I imagine, but I have observed on several occasions Umook practicing his macabre art-work with his bloody raw materials. The grotesque mockeries he constructs do not stand vigil long, as the trolls quickly devour the sculptures, while Umook gibbers and drools, clawing at the earth, either bemoaning his fate, calling out to some loathsome troll deity, or both.
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Umook is fond of flowers. He can often be observed inhaling the vapors and pollen, face-down in a patch of poppies or ten-step pansies. I have yet to ascertain why he does this. Nor can I begin to guess why once every half-moon, a small swarm of rhinocerous beetles approaches the troll, lingers about him, then goes off again into the swamp, as if with instructions from Umook in tow.