- "What the gods gifted to me can be gifted to another. I will not be the one mind in a race of blunt, witless animals."
- —Throgg, King of the Trolls[2a]
Throgg, the King of the Trolls, is among the most unnaturally intelligent of his vile kind, intent on bringing the world under the rule of a new ice age with himself at its head. Even the most lackwit child knows that Trolls are grossly stupid beasts. Nonetheless, around the campfires of the north, there persist rumours that in the depths of Troll Country there is an elder beast whose mutations were not just of the body but also the mind — a Troll King possessed of a grim and malevolent cunning who seeks to grind the realms of Man under his monstrous rule.[1a]
At the heart of an icy labyrinth strewn with the gnawed corpses of once-mighty heroes, the Troll King, Throgg, sits brooding upon his rocky throne. No fanfare announces his arrival, no vassals pay him tithe, and no courtiers vie for his favour. His subjects are drooling, stinking monsters and his domain is a desolate and wind-whipped wasteland. A filth encrusted crown rings one of the Troll King’s tusks, a once priceless heirloom taken from a great warrior whose quest led him only into Throgg’s gullet.[1a]
- "It is the hubris of men to see their own destiny in all things. Von Carstein. The Everchosen. Dead men. Exalted men. In their skin they are all still men. This...will be the Age of the Beast."
- —Throgg, King of the Trolls[2b]
There was a time when Throgg was content purely with a life of hunting, raiding and killing. He led his monstrous kin in ambushes and midnight attacks, each more successful than the last. Throgg had a knack of using the harsh climate of the north as his ally, for Trolls are quite at home in the numbing cold; to them a fierce ice-shard blizzard is no more troubling than a light summer rain. Before long, the Troll King became infamous, known amongst the warriors of the Old World as Wintertooth. Every season, great and lauded heroes would ride northwards, brave knights and adventurers, all seeking out Throgg’s lair to slay him. Every season, the Troll King dined upon noble flesh.[1a]
One moonless night, as Throgg was picking his yellowed tusks clean with a gem-encrusted blade, he beheld the broken bodies of his prey and began to think. Throgg muttered to himself, his eyes burning with cold fire for several long days. If the race of Man was so keen to fight him and his bestial subjects, then fight he would, with all the monsters of Troll Country at his side. That night, Throgg vowed that he would see the lands of Men despoiled in the name of the Dark Gods. He would gather every monster, mutant and madman under his rule and march at the head of a nightmarish horde deep into the so-called civilised lands of the south. On his heels would come the bitter cold of winter, for where the creatures of Chaos tread, the land itself warps and changes. Throgg would bring about an age of ice and darkness and make all of the races of the Old World his slaves. As the Troll King marches determinedly south, his monstrous entourage grows with every passing day. Under Throgg’s dominion, the creatures of the hinterlands have united into a vast army, and soon the race of Man shall feel the Troll King’s wrath.[1a]