We start with Borir vs the Hill Troll
It starts here: I have left the dice rolls out.
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Borir is dragged out of the cell and a sack is pulled over his head. The Orcs pull him through endless corridors and forge-hot chambers until he is thrown onto a sandy floor. The bag is removed, and Borir finds himself on lying in the middle of an arena. An orc grabs Borir's head and holds it back, and cracks you mouth open, as another pours a foul liquid down his throat. The taste is awful but his weariness is lifted for a time. A crowd of Orcs jeers at him from a ring of stone benches around the arena. On the far side of the ring is a portcullis. There is something behind it, something that snorts like a bull and moves like a lumbering mountain – a Hill-Troll!
One of the Orcs throws down an axe to you with a snort. The portcullis cranks open, and the Troll emerges blinking into the firelight. It lumbers forward, sniffing, then catches Borir's scent, it roars a challenge and slams its mighty fists into the ground.
Borir tries to resist, but he's unable to gather his strength. Once the liquid is consumed and his spirit and wounds restored, he looks around to get a feel for where he's at and how he could escape. Seeing no easy egress route, he finally turns to find the portcullis and spot the creature behind it.
Once the hill troll steps out, Borir takes a step back and picks up the orc axe. It wasn't his own axe, but it'll have to do for now. He looks to see if there were any other immediate threats or if it was just him versus the troll. While he expects the orcs to not want him to succeed and sabotage his efforts, he shakes his head and peers back at the ugly abomination hoping to see a weakness or seize an advantage.
Borir looks around, it seems its him against the troll, the orcs are eager to watch a good fight, even if it does seem like the dwarf is bound to loose. Equipped withe only the orc's axe and his ragged clothing Borir wishes for his hauberk or helm or a shield, but he has none. Its him and the troll in the arena.
Borir stands his ground and as the troll arrives he leaps forward and connects with his axe on the tough hide of the beast. The blow is strong and swift and takes the troll by surprise slicing its leg, but it will take far more than that simple blow to end a troll. Borir then tumbels through its legs as it swings down into the ground moments after Borir moves striking nothing but air and dirt. The dwarf finds himself behind the troll.
The orcs in the crowd are going wild, hooting and hollering in joy to watch the sport.
Borir wipes his brow as he takes a breath after avoiding the troll's strike. With the much inferior orc axe in hand, his thoughts wander to the craftsmanship and quality of the axe and hopes it doesn't break.
Looking at the troll, the dwarf knows that his size is his ally. He might not be as quick as an elf or as cunning as humans, but he's strong and smart. Moving forward, he tries to strike at the hill troll again with the axe as he tries to avoid being struck hoping his stamina can hold out for longer than the troll.
Borir's mind wanders a moment to the quality of the axe, it seems strong enough for now. So he moves forward and like a Woodman against a tree, he hacks into the thick trunk of the troll's leg. The axe grazes the flesh, hardly a mighty blow, but even a great oak of Mirkwood can be felled by enough small strikes. The troll howls in annoyance and then beats its chest in a display of power and fear -- yet Borir is hardly bothered by such empty displays.
The orcs are laughing and jeering at the troll.
Borir knows that it'll take more than a couple whacks with the axe to knock the hill troll down, but for now, the dwarf continues hacking away. He wonders what happened to the others and hopes they were not thrown into fighting pit, he worries for Pipkin in such an area but knows it would be a better fate than hobbit stew.
Sizing up the troll, he remains defensive hoping to wear out the giant creature as he plots his next attack and possible escape. When the opportunity presents itself, the dwarf slashes out with the orc axe hoping to land another hit against the beast.
Borir keeps at it, he paces himself, nothing foolish here, he has a long fight before him. The crowd is leering and jeering, shouting and throwing old bones and rotten things at the dwarf. Yet he ducks and strikes the troll a third time on the same great toeless leg. The axe this time connects and bites in deeply. The strike severs the hamstring of the massive troll! It is a crippling blow, and as the troll teeters forward Borir almost looses his axe to the motion. Yet Borir rolls clear even as the massive enraged beast swings at him. He some how manages to avoid the hate-filled strike. The crowd goes silent for a moment after the exchange!
Borir must have Aule on his side, for the dwarf swings again, guarded against a counter attack, and connects. The blow is hard, but the hide of the troll his hedious and thick and much of it is turned away on a nobby thick portion of its flesh.
The crowd has turned against Borir, at first they thought it funny he hit the troll, now they worry he might actually fell it. The troll is in a rage, thoughtless and wild, it smashes the ground several times but each one is a foot away from Borir who circles around it keeping behind it as best he can avoiding the blows.
Borir continues to calm his nerve. While facing off single handedly against a hill troll isn't exact what Borir dreams of doing, he'd rather be sitting around a table with ale and meat stuffing his face, but for now, this is what he needs to work on.
The dwarf continues fighting cautiously and holding back his dwarven fury. His shoulders bob back and forth a tad as he sizes up the creature and then moves in for another attack with the axe.
The tide turns as Borir thinks of ale and food. It's just enough to slow him down as he swings and misses the lumbering troll who has finally caught on to the dwarf's tactics and avoids the swing of the axe. With a well timed fist the troll connects with Borir and knocks him sprawling across the dirt floor of the area to the laughing enjoyment of the orc crowd. The blow is heavy, and leaves Borir seriously bruised, and the wind is taken from his lungs -- its going to really slow Borir down now.
Borir shakes his head, hoping to regain his wits. Having fare well until the recent blow, has put the dwarf's anger forward. Taking the axe, he charges forward at the hill troll hoping to land another hit.
Borir shakes it off, as best as he can and then charges forward with more effort and recklessness than before. The orcs are howling in delight watching the exchange of blows and they cheer again as Borir connects with the knee of the hill troll! He is about to dart through its legs when it closes them and he runs smack into them and is hit with a balled up fist once more knocking stars into Borir's vision.
Borir is tiring, even for a dwarf, single handedly facing a hill troll is tiring. He tries to shake off the pain of the hit and catch a second breath as he looks for an opening in the hill troll's defense.
Borir can't take much more of that, dwarf or not. He swings weakly, missing by a few feet as the troll is now winning the fight, even with all its minor cuts and slices on it. As Borir fumbles about the troll bashes him in the head and sends him flipping head over heals into the ground with a heavy slam. Something SHOULD have broken inside the dwarf, but Durin's Favour must be on Borir because nothings has shattered or been punctured. The orcs are howling in enjoyment now as Borir is getting the snot beat out of him. Hardly able to stand, Borir...
Borir tries to hold his wits together as best as he could. He hadn't taken a beating so fierce in a long while. With his axe raised, he moves in and takes another swing at the hill troll. Knowing it might be his last attack, he smiles wildly as he has no regrets about dying facing off against a hill troll rather than sitting in a dungeon or cell.
Borir is barely holding it together, but he'll go out fighting, not like some rat in a trap in the prison cell. He staggers forward and slams the axe into the leg of the troll again but this time he hits with haft as it move, and the axe handle shatters and breaks. The axe head flies off into the darkness of the area as the orcs laugh and laugh.
Stunned a moment by the ill luck he looks up at the last moment as the troll punches him square in the face. His jaw broken, two teeth knocked out, the dwarf can hear the crowd go wild just as he blacks out from the pain.
He returns to the game here:
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