Some field notes on Trolls, courtesy of T.H.I.S.
A big flock can suck a cow bloodless in a few minutes, yet your doctor shows up carrying one around a small birdcage in the tip of his staff. Maybe you're better off just learning to live with the kidney stones. . .
You hear a loud electronic buzzing, almost as if a runaway lawn mower mated to a taser gun is rampaging through the slimy cattails and weeds towards you before a swarm of huge flies erupt from the low scrub in front of you, electricity dancing between their mandibles.
Mark woke up and groaned. His breastplate felt heavy on him. When he looked at his arms and legs he began to cry. His wonderful muscles, earned through excersise, running, fights and several quests, were gone, leaving him with no more muscle power then a young girl. He had heard the tales of the Muscle Flies but had not throught they were true until it was too late. He could move, but it would take a very long time to get his muscles back into good condition again.
The frogs are thick and plentiful here. Everywhere you go, you’re almost always about to squash one of the slimy things underfoot if you’re not careful about what you tread on. And at night, the tiresome din of multitude of the amphibians croaking, fills the air and render sleep all but impossible. Worst of all, the disgusting things are prone to invading one’s hut, huddling in dark corners.
In this dank land, the Bombo hold sway. And the frogs thrive, as do their more mysterious cousins…
The soldiers charged screaming into battle, their faces twisted into masks of hatred as they struck out with blows stronger then humans would normally be capable of. Each wore on his shield arm a Star of Rage, a starfish-like creature, ruddy red with the blood that it was draining from his body.
Never look over your shoulder when you hear that hiss..
Beware the amphibious wolves my child, and most of all, avoid the red-eyed crow!
A dark shadow falls over the still waters of the swamp, and for a brief instant every sound made by a living creature ceases.
Unbeknown to them, the party of Brave People wading in the shallows in hot pursuit of a small band of defeated human soldiers, have themselves unwittingly become the prey.
Whilst they are not the leading predators that they used to be, a bite from them is still to be avoided.
In a small inn (the more remote the better), a man turns up dead. There are no wounds on his body what-so-ever, and he aboslutely reeks of garlic.
The man died of a curse that forced him to eat a clove of garlic a day or suffer the penalty. This gets really interesting if the body somehow appears on top of a someone the villagers are suspcious of.