Me look at da snappy-jaw-thingys. Dey make mouth move but me no hear noise?
Dey jus’ pretend?
Me touchy… but me finger stop?
Dey turn an’ dey both hold dey’s mouth open. Dat look fun. Me do it too!
But how me no touch dem? Dey’s close. Me could touch… but me can’t?
One of da thingy make big-thingy move an’ den it speak.
“Dat… uh… see-no-go-stuff.” It say.
What dat? Me touchy but me no go?
“Dat it. You see mud on river-bottom, but dey’s water in da way. See-no-go-stuff da same.”
It water? Me pull finger back. Me no like dat.
“You no like water? You no river-troll?”
Me… river-troll?
“You… river-troll. You live near river… under bridge?”
Me look at bridge. Me did.
“Den you river-troll. But you no like water?”
Water make heart go bumpy. Me no like.
“Me get. Dis no water, but it like water. It no hurty you.”
Me put finger back.
“But no touch, please. It break easy!”
Oh no! Me no want break! See-no-go-stuff no break. Dat good.
What me doin’?
“Wot you be?”
Me is… river-troll? An’ you is snappy-jaw-thingy.
Da other snappy-jaw-thingy move da big-thingy, an’ den it dere. “No… me be darien. Dis be jonas. Wot you be?”
Oh. Me is Grug. Me is strongest troll!
“Grug good name, strong name. Jonas want speak big-troll.”
It no know? Why it no know?
“It no know yet. You help?”
Me help? How? Me talk slow? Me use less word?
“It ok. It say bad word, it no bad, ok?”
What?
“Jonas try learn. Like you learn hard-earth-stabby thing?”
Oh, it need noggin work?
Da darien-thingy make head go up an’ down. “It sorry if say bad word, hurt word, attack word?”
It ok. Me smart troll, me help jonas noggin work. Me reach over an’ me made fist an’ me go smack-noggin.
But darien no happy snappy-jaw-thing.
“Gurg, no! Sorry! Noggin no need smacky, better noggin need listen!”
No noggin smack den? It work for me.
“No noggin smack! Me make jonas learn speak big-troll.”
Me look at me hand.
You noggin smack?
“No, me is good. Me smack own noggin!” it say, den it smack own noggin.
It no look like good noggin-smack, but den it smaller?
Noggin need less smack to make work good?
Me look at river. Me hurty.
“You hurty? Want dis?”
It hold out hand. “Dis flicker-hot-help-thing. You rub, like mud on big-troll?”
Da snappy-jaw-thingy talk silly, but me take… an’ den me rub on me.
It just hurty… it no help?
“No… it in da flicker-hot-help-thing.”
In dere? Why it in dere?
“It like… cave, an’ it live dere. But need rub it on you. Me show?”
Me hand it back, an’ den it wrap it hand around da small bit an’ it twist. It pop off, an’ it hand it back.
“Okay, now it come, like river.”
Me hold it.
Me hold it more.
It no come?
“Me show?”
Me hand it back. He turn it so da small-bit is at da bottom, an’ den glinty stuff come out, flow like river.
It turn it back before it all come out, den hand it back.
Me take, an’ me turn it so da top is da bottom… an’ den it come.
It touch me hand…
Flicker-hot-hurty no so bad!
Me rub it on me, all over me. It no hurty so bad! Dis best! Dis best stuff! Me like dis stuff! Want more!
Me rub an’ me rub until me reach all… but me back still hurty.
“Me… Me… rub back? Me help?” say damien-thingy. Me turn… an’ he no do.
“Me need flicker-hot-helpy-thing.”
Oh. Dat right. Me silly troll. Me give it, an’ he rub it on me back.
Den he stop.
Why he stop.
“You big-troll, me small snappy-jaw. Me no can get.”
Oh. Me lay down on da ground, an’ he rub more. Snappy-jaw-thingy good at rub!
“Me best rub snappy-jaw-thingy?”
Dat it. Dat right. You best snappy-jaw-thingy!
Den it stop… but da hurty small. Me feel good, now!
“Den you help me, an’ Jonas? Small snappy-jaw-thingy no cross river, it make us go bye-bye?”
Me look at right, den at snappy-jaw-thingys. Dey’s too small? Me go in river, an’ me looky at dem.
Dat open, me pick-up dem. Me go grab it make loud sound so me stop. “No, me… break, like bridge? You no pick-up me or me break.”
Me mouth go open. You break!? Me no want friend break!
How me…?
Noggin work. When me wrestle da big thingy to make not-annoying-buzzy see noggin-hurty, me pick-up ground.
Me do dat!
You be here. An’ me touchy da ground.
Dey go… but dey’s slow. “Me break… please, no break.”
It ok. Me dig hand in da ground an’ me pick-up da ground, slow.
Me take da ground with me an’ da snappy-jaw-thingy come on it. Me put it down on da ground, an’ da snappy-jaw-thingy go off.
“Dat good. Me good, Jonas good.”
Me bare munchers! Me smartest troll! Dis good!
Da snappy-jaw-thing look at me teeth. Dey like me teeth?
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Dat good! Good teeth!”
Dey help, me help. Now dey help fix bridge?
“Need lots hard-earthy-stabby. Me no have. Go big-rock-place an’ dey’s got lots-lots hard-earth-stabby. But it no here.”
Ok. Me wait. Me go back in river. Heart bumpy…
“No… Grug… da flicker-hot-hurty no gone. Da flicker-hot-helpy-stuff go bye. Dey’s more at big-rock-place… an’ big-stick-place scary. You go, me go, Jonas go?”
Me? Go big-rock-place?
But… me need fix bridge…
“Need hard-earth-stabby. No get dat if me go bye-bye, an’ big-stick-place make us go bye-bye.”
No! Me no want friend go bye-bye! Me come!
“Ok, dat good. We go big-stick-place an’ den further. To… lots-big-rock-place, an’ den big-big-rock-place?”
Me try dat puttin’ finger out thing. Me point at da long-far-big-rocks.
Dere?
“No… dey’s lots. Big-big-rock-place no lots, just one. An’ it dere.” It say, den it point.
Me go back up an’ me go dark-big-stick-place.
[ You have made your first barter based solely on mutual trust of a return. ]
Sentience Completed.
[ You have unlocked Path to Sapience System ]
Sentience Tier:
Observation: 100% - Complete
Basic Dexterity: 100% - Complete
Memory: 100% - Complete
Basic Communication: 100% - Complete
Animal Instincts: 100% - Complete
Sapience Progress:
As you learn to change the world around you and communicate with other sentient or sapient beings, you will gain bonuses and unlock certain abilities.
Combat Intelligence Social Intelligence Memory and Recollection Cognitive Intelligence Motricity
0 Tier
No Bonuses
(4%)
0 Tier
No Bonuses
(6%)
0 Tier
No Bonuses
(1%)
0 Tier
No Bonuses
(3%)
0 Tier
No Bonuses
(4%)
Additives:
Additives:
Additives: Additives: Additives:
Fought for something other than food: +2%
Won a fight: +2%
Made Friends: +2%
Made Friend: +2%
Communicated: +1%
Bartered: +1%
Recall of fear: +1%es:
Transported Friends: +1%
Used Rope Effectively In Combat: +1%
Used Hammer: +1%
Used Hammer +1%
Tied sticks together +1%
Transported friends: +2%
No! Lots-noggin-hurty, why it noggin-hurty! Me no want!
“Grug ok?”
It ok. Me jus’ no like noggin-hurty. You want see noggin-hurty? Me can give noggin-hurty!
“It no noggin-smack?”
No! Noggin-hurty no noggin-smack.
“Den give?”
Me grab it an’ me give it. It eyes look up… it see it.
( Cognitive Intelligence +1% )(Emotional Intelligence +1%)
( Connecting information. )
( Memory +1% )
( Recollecting previous action to repeat it. )
Why dere more! Get it gone!
“It ok, Grug. It no hurty long. Me know dis, but me no know noise for it.”
It ok. It gone now.
“Ok. Den we go big-stick-place an’ den big-big-rock-place?”
Me point to da big-stick-place. Dat big-stick-place. Me point at dark-big-stick-place. You go dere?
“Dat it. Go dark-big-stick-place, den big-big-rock-place?”
Ok. Me go!
Me go in big-stick-place. Me go far… an’ den me hear snappy-jaw-thingy noise.
Me look. Dey far. Why dey far?
Me wait. Dey get near… so me go more. Den me hear it again. So me wait… den me start go more but dey make noise again.
“Me no fast, Grug. Jonas no fast. You big-troll, you fast, me little, no fast.”
Me fast? Dat no fast. Me can go fast an’ fast-fast. Dis slow.
“You go, me no fast, me no see you, me no can help you?”
Me get. Me fast, you no fast. Me go slow-slow. Me go… but no fast.
Me see dem. If me no see, dey no can help. Me want bridge fix, so me see dem. Me touch big-stick, an’ den me pop me head around it an’ make sure me can see dem.
Den me do it again.
Dis fun. It game.
Me go, but me still see.
Behind big-stick!
Me look out from big-stick.
Me giggle.
Dey’s make noise… but me no understand. What dey do?
—
Jonas
“So, what? The language doesn’t have, like, ’us’ or ’we’. Or so many other words?”
His father shakes his head. “Nope. As I said, it’s very hard to communicate. Agathor damned to whoever has to transcribe this language into a Book of Communication—“
His eyes suddenly go wide, as though he has suddenly seen damnation. “—or, gods forbid, write a novel in it.” He shudders.
The troll’s face is suddenly in front of them, foul breath blowing their hair back as it speaks.
Jonas can’t understand even a fraction despite combing over the notebook his father had been filling out.
He knows enough to understand that the book is immensely useful — but akin to arcane script, utterly incomprehensible until it finally clicks.
This isn’t clicking, however. He thumbs the metallic contraption on his arm. He figured out how to make this… surely trollspeak won’t beat him?
His father steps forward and utters something incomprehensible. Then he takes a second and looks at Jonas.
“I’ve just realised how narcisistic trollspeak really is. There’s no way to communicate we’re speaking a different language. The closest I got was ’no trollspeak.’”
He shrugs and sighs at the same time. “Infuriating, I tell you.”
“You said he can see the same things you can? The words?”
“Ah, that. Not the same. He didn’t show me stats, he showed a… ’Path to Sapience’ panel. I’ve not seen nor heard of the like, so I don’t know… but I think our troll might be getting smarter.”
—
No trollspeak? Den how you…? Den how you all?
“Me speak… all?”
Oh. Den like not-annoying-buzzy friend. Me no see it. Me want see it.
Den me turn an’ me keep going big-stick-hide-touch. It fun.
—
“Oh… that reminds me!” his father speaks suddenly, then looks at Jonas. “Sorry, he said he had a friend… a fly I think… but he said it could speak ’all’. Earlier, when I first approached, he said something that I could understand, but it wasn’t trollspeak… it was different.”
Jonas nods. “So I wasn’t going insane? I heard him say ’Freend’ or something along those lines. So he knows a word of Voidori?”
“No. Not a lick.”
“Then what?”
He shakes his head. “It can’t be but… I think this fly friend of his taught him a single word of Absolute. I don’t know fucking how, but it did.”
Jonas stops. “Absolute? Are you kidding?”
He grabs Jonas by the shoulder and pulls him along. “Don’t stop. We’ll lose him.” He explains. “It’s only a single word, but it’s damn-well not Voliniki. Whoever he says that to, they’ll understand it.”
“But it doesn’t mean anything? What is ’Freend’?”
Father gives a small chuckle. “I think he’s trying to say ’Friend’. So he can speak the word to anyone… but they won’t understand it anyway.” He starts laughing harder.
Jonas smiles. “You can’t speak Absolute, right, father?”
His eyes go wide. “Not a chance! There’s only a few in the world that can. So, how in damnation has a troll, of all things, managed to learn it?”
Jonas starts to speak… then stops. If he can speak absolute…
“Father? If someone who knows a word in absolute were to hear the word in another language, would they understand?”
His father raises an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting question… and one I don’t know how to answer. Why?”
“Well, because that’s true, and he can learn Absolute… doesn’t that mean he could understand… absolutely?”
“Oh. My my, my aspiring scholar.” He taps Jonas on the back.
“Yes. I suppose he could, if speaking and understanding are the same… he could understand all language. What a fascinating prospect.”
—
EMERIC
Two weeks since last sighting.
Emeric looks up the river — to the last place he saw the troll. His leg clicks, but trolls aren’t the only things to have regenerative powers.
Alchemy is such a versatile art.
No troll mills about — yet there is no corpse. He doesn’t smell it. It should reach for miles, let alone how close he’s gotten.
His joyful march is spoilt. He had come for one singular purpose: to dance on the troll’s corpse and too take its finger for his collection.
Now, there are three things that worry him:
First, the large brass-bronze boxy… thing that hogs the west-bound road. He doesn’t know what to make of it.
Second is the pile of wood stacked on the bridge. Large, nicely cut planks lay in a pile — as if someone where trying to rebuild the bridge.
Last is the large growth of flowers in a circle. They grow up from the riverbed… yet do not seem to mind the water’s force.
Something isn’t right.
Yet there’s nothing to place. With great care, he scouts the road around the brass-bronze thing.
Large trollish footsteps are all over it… but then there’s two smaller footsteps. A little smaller than the average human.
What other races live nearby?
On the main continent of the empire?
Only the northern half-giants. They wouldn’t stray down here and they are by no means smaller than the average human.
Then whatever they are, they had some planks and attempted to rebuild the bridge… or rig a crossing?
Yet, it failed… so where are they?
He looks down the river. Did they attempt to cross? Get swept away?
No… the footsteps follow down towards the bank of the river, then stop as the grass obscures them.
But… a piece of the ground is freshly-broken. Then they did attempt to cross… and the bank gave way.
He laughs.
But… that doesn’t explain the lack of a troll’s corpse.
Trolls do not float. They sink like a rock.
Then… maybe it retreated to its cave? Died in there, and the smell is somehow trapped? A cave-in, perhaps?
He has killed many a troll in their caves. Only a few ever venture out… but this one is older than most.
He shudders, and grabs his folded spear, letting the spatial rift inside fill it.
What if… it didn’t die?
What if… it’s waiting for the right moment?
Watching him…?
A shiver runs down his spine; he turns to look at his surroundings with a new light.
It must have been hiding under the remnants of the bridge, in horrific pain… then the two smaller-creatures came and attempted to cross… and it ate them.
Could that give it enough to survive?
It’s not a normal troll.
It could be anywhere.
It could be in the trees… he looks at the ground. What if it has buried itself? Trolls are expert diggers…
A gust of wind billows through the trees and rustles the leaves. He twists, his mind flashing with the images of the troll being right on top of him.
His eyes flick left — then right, listening over for the sounds of the forest. For heavy footsteps…
He pulls a brew from his pocket. Whiff of the Dog. He snorts it… and his nostrils expand.
You can smell a troll from a good distance.
A nasty, horrid smell.
He stops.
That’s because of their glands… on their skin…
The very skin he burnt off.
He’s not in a good position.
He needs to move. It’s too open — it come come from anywhere!
It can throw rocks… what if…
There’s a splash.
He rounds on the bridge, crying out… a large chunk of mud floats down the river. His breathing is heavy in his ears.
He seizes up; holds his spear out at the chunk until its gone…
But as it does… he catches a whiff.
Of course… the troll’s feet won’t be burnt. It didn’t spread down there before Emeric ran off.
They’ll still sweat. Still produce that musk.
He singles out the scent — and follows the trail. Two other scents hit him now. Fresh scents. Hours… no… minutes.
He understands. The troll fled the bridge… fearing it would be disturbed as it ate.
It’s not dead… but it is afraid.
He’ll have his revenge. The hunt is on.
This time, he will not run!