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Wulfe let the man with the club take a swing which he dodged, and then whacked the club wielder on his arm with the morningstar. Take him down!” The two men, one armed with a cutlass and the other with a large club dutifully charged at the warrior. “Here comes some shepherd to try and rescue these lambs. “To arms, me hearties,” he yelled to his comrades. The leader of the thieves was the first to notice his approach. Wulfe trotted down the hill, his weapons ready. One of the monks was lying on the ground, obviously hurt. A small group of five male and two female pilgrims were being shaken down by three brigands. My weapon has a large swinging range.” He then hurried up the hill with the young nun close behind him.Īs he crested the hill his trained soldier’s eye appraised the situation. “If they are as brave as these two stalwarts I will take their measure,” said Wulfe. “There are three more over the hill robbing my companions.” Wulfe watched them go, and then helped the young woman to her feet. As they fled they hurled insults at the warrior and each other. The two brigands swore and ran off as fast as they could run, the skinny man cuffing his companion as they ran. “If you want to try your daggers against my weapons, come on. “If you are wise this is where you run away.” Wulfe began to advance. I used to kill a dozen men like you before breakfast.” He began to swing the morningstar. “Soldier of fortune and former captain of the army of Baron Vogun. “I am called Wulfe,” the stranger said quietly. He was obviously a warrior by the look of him. He wore a chainmail hauberk, and carried a scramasax in one hand and a morningstar in the oher. They found themselves confronted by a man six feet tall and weighing at least 200 pounds. As they reached a standing position again they drew their daggers and turned to face the kicker. The skinny brigand had a hard time of it with his pants encumbering his ankles.
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The pair struggled to get free of each other and regain their feet. He flew, tail over teakettle, over the woman, and landed, cursing, on top of his pudgy friend. At that point someone behind him gave him a terrific kick in the rear end. The taller thief managed to hike her robe up over her hips and then dropped his trousers. The fat brigand held her arms and slobbered on her face trying to kiss her. They came to a halt at the edge of the woods, and together they forced her to the ground. Over the crest of a small hill two men came, dragging a young woman in a nun’s robe with them.
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Here the forest pressed in on the trail on both sides. It was a hot sultry day on the old trade road that led to Khazan. Here’s a character pieces by Roy Cram, who has created more than one adventure for Tunnels and Trolls, and is also a stalwart member of Trollhalla.
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Introduction: I’m not the only person who writes fiction set in Trollworld.