In a time long forgotten, the world was but a realm of silence, a tableau of darkness so profound that it seemed to swallow all possibilities of light. A world so lifeless and desolate that even the simplest emotions of joy, love, and happiness were figments of an impossible imagination. The world was devoid of colors, devoid of hope. It was a world where the six different troll tribes existed, but their existence was merely survival against the relentless onslaught of the Metal trolls, a race of creatures so inhumanely cruel and ruthless that it took the combined effort of all six tribes to keep them at bay, to endure another day.
In this grim epoch, a troll unlike any other was born. His name was Kairus.
Kairus was not like the other trolls. Where they were colorless, he bore the colors of life. His fur, a deep, vibrant shade of green that contrasted sharply with the stark world around him. His eyes, an icy blue so piercing it could cut through the darkest night. His appearance was startling, disconcerting even. But it wasn't just his unique appearance that unsettled those around him—it was something far more disturbing. There was something uncannily sinister about Kairus, something that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest trolls.
Kairus behaved differently from other troll children. He did not play with his peers, nor did he indulge in the innocent banter of childhood. His interactions with the other children were marked by a disturbing display of dominance and disregard for their feelings. He would take their toys, shatter them into pieces, and then watch as their faces crumbled in despair. His actions were so distressing that all the other trolls began to avoid him, preferring the danger of the Metal trolls over his unsettling presence. Even his own mother seemed to breathe easier when he was sent away to the army on his 12th birthday to be groomed into a warrior.
Kairus's induction into the army revealed his true potential. His strength was immense, his prowess unmatched. Each encounter with the Metal trolls was a testament to his power, his ruthlessness, his indomitable spirit. His allies and enemies alike watched in awe as he decimated his foes with effortless ease. Within the first year of his training, he had an epiphany. A realization that altered his life's trajectory. He reveled in the art of war, he enjoyed the thrill of battle.
And then, he found four others who shared his sentiments.
Four troll brothers approached him one day. Torin, who was the oldest among them, Eldrick, Kellan, and Garrick were their names. They were older, yet they did not fear Kairus. Instead, they respected his strength, admired his skill, and saw potential in his power. They extended the hand of friendship towards him, an offer that Kairus accepted, seeing much of himself in them.
The five of them soon rose through the ranks, becoming the youngest generals in the history of the troll tribes. Their victories were numerous, their strategies were flawless, and they became the beacon of hope for their tribes. Kairus began to see them as his brothers, his comrades-in-arms.
But after a very intense battle, Torin, who had taken the lead in one of their assaults, was grievously wounded. Even with the field medics doing everything they could, it was suspected that Torin would be dead within the hour.
Kairus was accompanied by the rest of his brothers in the infirmary tent as they said their goodbyes to Torin. Wanting to do something, anything to ease their older brother's pain in his final moments, Kairus performed an act that would forever change the course of history.
He sang.
Kairus's brothers watched in awe as his powerful notes invoked something in all of them. One by one, the four of them all began to sing as well. Slowly, all four of them started to glow as they placed their hands on Tiron. Tiron's eyes started to flutter open as his body began to glow as well. They watched, their jaws dropping, as Torin's previously ashen skin regained its healthy color, the deep wounds inflicted by the Metal trolls sealing up as if they had never been there in the first place. The once lifeless atmosphere of the infirmary tent was now filled with a strange, ethereal energy that made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end. It was as if they were witnessing a miracle.
The song ended, and with it, the glow faded. But the miracle they had just witnessed remained. Torin was alive, whole, and without a single trace of the injuries that should have claimed his life. Surprising them more, Torin, Eldrick, Kellan, and Garrick now all had colors as bright as Kairus's.
For the next 10 years, Kairus, through his newfound magic, and his brothers, who possessed it to a lesser extent, went from forces to be reckoned with, to unstoppable warriors. Finally, the Metal trolls ceased their attacks. The war was won. But this was not the end.
Kairus and his brothers, who were praised as heroes for their hand in the war, soon began to devise a plan against the kings and queens of the trolls tribes. They saw that the weakness of the troll leaders was what had allowed the Metal trolls to dominate them for so long. He believed that he and his brothers should rule the tribes instead. He believed that it was their birthright to rule, and that their colors and power were proof of that.
And so Kairus and his found family rebelled, a civil war began, and many of the trolls that had fought under Kairus had joined his side.
The war of rule, as it was later known, was not a simple rebellion. It was a brutal, bloody uprising that tore the six troll tribes apart and unleashed a wave of destruction that even the Metal trolls couldn't match. Kairus and his brothers, with their newfound powers and the army of loyal followers, were an unstoppable force.
The kings and queens of the troll tribes, despite their experience and wisdom, were ill-prepared for the ferocity of the revolt. So instead, they used the bit of magic that they knew to devise a plan. Through a magic ritual involving six strands of their hair, they created an instrument that could both give, and take away the magic of others. An instrument that would come to be known as the sacred harp.
In the final battle of the civil war, the kings and queens confronted Kairus and his brothers. The battlefield was a cacophony of clashing steel, the roars of trolls, and the intense cracks of magic. The sky was a dizzying canvas of color as the magic of the sacred harp clashed with the powerful magic of Kairus and his brothers.
The sacred harp, held aloft by the six leaders, radiated an intense light. They began to play a haunting melody on the harp, a melody so powerful that everything else seemed to fade into the background. The harp's magic swept over the battlefield like a tidal wave, washing over every troll, every tree, every speck of dust. The magic was so intense that it even reached the heart of the land itself, causing it to rumble and quake in response.
Kairus and his brothers, being at the epicenter of the harp's magic, bore the brunt of its power. They fought against it, their bodies radiating their own colors as they tried to resist the magic of the harp. But it was too powerful. One by one, their colors began to dim, their bodies began to weaken, and their magic began to wane.
Unable to fight any longer, they fell to their knees, their once vibrant colors now a dull gray. The battlefield fell silent as the trolls watched their once revered heroes fall, their magic stripped away by the harp. One by one, they fell to the ground, and their lives ended.
But in their place, the world around them seemed to fill with the light and color that Kairus and his brothers once had, as if the magic from the harp had transferred their vibrant hues to the world itself. The battlefield, once a desolate and colorless landscape, was suddenly awash with a myriad of colors so radiant and beautiful that it was almost painful to behold. The trolls could only stare, their eyes wide, their jaws dropped, as they saw the world transform before their very eyes.
From the deepest blues of the sky to the lush greens of the grass under their feet, from the fiery reds of the setting sun to the golden hues of the sand, everything was filled with color. It was as if the world had been reborn, a new beginning after the bloody end.
Even the trolls themselves were not unaffected. They looked down at their hands, at their bodies, and gasped in surprise as they saw that they too were now adorned with colors just as vibrant and beautiful as the world around them. The colors were unique to each troll, reflecting their personality, their emotions, their essence.
It was then that they realized the true power of the sacred harp. It was not just an instrument of war, not just a weapon to combat Kairus and his brothers. It was an instrument of creation, a tool that had the power to bring color, life, and magic back into the world.
The kings and queens of the six troll tribes, now weary but victorious, looked at their transformed world and their colorful subjects with a sense of satisfaction and relief. They had not only managed to quell the rebellion and end the war, but they had also managed to bring life back into their world, to usher in a new era of peace and prosperity.
However, while Kairus and his brothers had fallen, their followers held fast to the belief that they would one day return, and a prophecy was born from their unyielding faith.
Despair will take his colors, but through the world, he will gain them back, brighter than before
His blood will give him strength that will rival and surpass even his greatest enemies
The magic of his voice will bring strength to his allies, and despair to those who oppose him
With his reborn brothers, he will take back the magic that was once theirs, and plunge the world back into silence under his rule
The Wielder will conquer all
--
"This cannot be true. The Wielder is not real.."
Cybil slowly closed the book, trying so very much to keep her calm composure. Repeating to herself over and over that this prophecy could not be true. That it was only a legend.
"This is not real. This story is not real. But.." Cybil lost her words as she thought about everything she and the other trolls had witnessed Branch do when they were in Bergen Town. When he showed up with the Rock trolls, his colors had almost completely returned. When he had sung, he not only restored all of their colors, but the few he was missing as well.
And when that bergen attempted to crush Branch with his mace, the boy caught it in his bare hands.
"Strength that will surpass even his greatest enemies.." Cybil said to herself. "Despair will take his colors, but through the world.. the magic of his voice…"
So that only left the final piece of this prophecy. The piece that talked about reborn brothers. If Branch was Kairus, then that meant that these brothers that the prophecy mentioned could only be referring to…
"No." Cybil said. "No, this can't be right. They died…"
--
"Where did you find that, Poppy?"
In the dawn, Poppy stood in her father's royal pod, holding the scrapbook she had found in the royal library last night, looking him in his panicking eyes.
"Give it to me." Peppy said, reaching out, and aggressively trying to take the scrapbook, only for Poppy to step back, keeping it out of his reach. "Poppy, give it here!"
"Dad, what is this?" Poppy asked.
"It's nothing!" Peppy said, a small tint of anger in his voice. "Now, give it to me!"
"No! No more secrets, dad!" Poppy said back. "These scrappings, I know they're of you and mom, but this other person in the pictures, if it isn't me, than who is it?"
King Peppy looked at his daughter, his usually confident demeanor faltering under the weight of the memories that flooded back at her innocent question. With a heavy heart and a long sigh that seemed to carry the burden of years of secrecy, he finally met her gaze and spoke, his voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow, regret, and a hint of relief at the opportunity to unburden himself. "You had an older sister, Poppy."
Poppy froze in place at his words. "...What?"
Peppy sat down in his chair, his eyes now on the floor. "Her name was Viva."
Poppy continued to look at her father in silence, waiting for him to elaborate further.
"You were maybe three months old when it happened, Poppy. It was the day of Trollstice. The Trollstice that took your mother's life." King Peppy continued. "Viva was 15 years old at the time. I did my best to help her grieve. But that same night, when we were holding the funeral, Viva left, and found her way into my study. That's where she found the books I purposely kept away from her, and the rest of our people. The books that speak of the other tribes."
"What happened?" Poppy all but whispered.
"She was furious." Peppy said to his daughter. "Asking me why we never attempted to reach out to them for aid. I tried to explain to her that this wasn't possible. That we hadn't heard from the other tribes in centuries, and even if we did, there was no guarantee that they would help us. But she wouldn't listen.. She even blamed me for your mother's death."
Poppy looked at the scrapbook again, her eyes glued to this picture of the sister she never knew.
"A year later, as Trollstice loomed once more," King Peppy's voice trembled slightly. "Viva and I led the desperate escape through the labyrinthine tunnels. But as we fled, the ground began to shudder violently. The Bergens discovered our plan, and their relentless digging caused the tunnels to collapse. Viva, along with so many others, never made it through. They were lost to us..."
King Peppy's voice faltered, heavy with the pain of the past. Poppy could see the weight of leadership and loss etched deep into her father's features, a burden she'd never truly understood until this moment. The scrapbook in her hands was more than a collection of memories; it was a testament to a history she had never known. To the sister she never met.
"When we made our home here, I never spoke of her again," Peppy continued after a deep, steadying breath, his eyes still downcast. "I thought it would be easier for us all to move on without the constant reminder of what we'd lost. I'm sorry, Poppy."
Soon after this, both Poppy and her father's hug-time watches went off. The newly crowned queen looked at her father, and could only feel pity. She wanted to hug him. She wanted so much in this moment to comfort her father. To tell him that everything would be ok.
But she couldn't.
Poppy closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and looked back at her father. She could not forget why she was here. For what her father had done, sending so many of their people to their deaths, lying to them for so long, even sending away one of Poppy's best friends. Her father had to face the consequences.
The charged atmosphere in the royal pod was palpable as the weight of duty bore down upon the young queen and her father. Poppy, with a newfound resolve strengthened her gaze, and tried her best not to let her voice crack.
"Dad…" Poppy finally said. "I can't look past everything you did. The people you took away from their families, the lies, all to keep us from learning about the other tribes."
"Poppy, please understand." King Peppy said to his daughter, slowly approaching her. "Whatever I've done, I've only done it for the betterment of our people. Unlike the other tribes, we have only ever known peace. Here, there is no violence, no war, no conflict, no homelessness. We have only ever known peace, and that is because of our seclusion from the other tribes."
"You sent Legsly to die." Poppy said, sadness bleeding from the stern look she was trying so hard to keep up. "She would've died if the Rock trolls hadn't found her! What were you going to tell me if they hadn't? Do you think I wouldn't have looked for her? Or were you gonna lie to me, like you did to everyone else? Tell me!"
At the mention of the Rock trolls, King Peppy's expression darkened. "I didn't want to send her away, Poppy." He said. "But when she discovered the royal library, she gave me no choice. I couldn't risk her telling anyone what she saw. It was her mistake."
Poppy gritted her teeth. This aching feeling of hurt and betrayal at her father's words. A mistake? Was that how little her father thought of what he did?
"And what about Branch?" Poppy asked her father, trying everything to fight her tears. "When his grandma got eaten, and he was all alone, you wouldn't let anyone try to adopt him. You didn't even tell him that his mom was still alive!"
"Branch is unique, Poppy." King Peppy quickly retorted. "He shares blood with those.. Monsters. Any day, he could've become aggressive. He could've hurt, or even killed someone. By nature, Rock trolls are violent, bloodthirsty savages. I couldn't risk that! I couldn't bear the thought of him hurting you!"
Once again, Poppy felt as if she had been physically struck by her father's words. Never once had she ever heard him speak so negatively about any other trolls. It went against almost everything she had ever learned from him. To call the Rock trolls.. to call Branch a monster…
"Branch would never hurt us! He'd never hurt me!" Poppy yelled. "You saw his bunker, dad! He spent so many years making beds and storing food for the entire village! The only reason he stopped was because all we ever did was call him crazy for wanting to be prepared if the bergens ever found us! And the Rock trolls saved us!"
"Because they want us owed to them, Poppy!" Peppy said to his daughter. "Those barbarians don't do anything out of the goodness of their hearts! And you witnessed the carnage they leave in their wake yourself! They use their music for violence, and they love doing it! They even capture and slaughter smaller creatures for food! They're no better than the bergens!"
Poppy's chest tightened as she grappled with her father's cruel words once again, a part of her reluctant to accept them. She couldn't decide if she felt anger, shock, or sadness anymore. His cutting remarks seemed to echo through the pod, piercing her heart like a knife. As the weight of her dual roles as both daughter and queen settled heavily upon her, she found herself at a crossroads, torn between her personal emotions and her duty as the leader of her people.
The conflict raged within her, tumultuous and unyielding. On one hand, a fierce surge of anger rose within her, fueled by the injustice of her father's actions, and the pain they caused. On the other, a profound sense of sadness washed over her, mourning the fractured relationship with her father, knowing that it would never be the same.
Yet, amidst the emotional turmoil, a steely resolve began to take root within her. She knew that regardless of her inner turmoil, she had to do what needed to be done.
"Dad…" She finally said, her mind made up on what she would do. "I can't look past what you did. And you have to be punished for it."
--
"Ugh.. my head…"
Queen Barb groaned as her eyes started to flicker open, her head pounding as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. As she blinked and looked around, she realized she wasn't in her room. Instead, she found herself still seated on her grand throne in the throne room. Her gaze shifted to her roadies, Sid Fret, Riff, and Carol, who were slumbering in various positions around the room. Carol lay sprawled on her back, still holding onto a microphone, Riff was leaning against his drum set as if it were a pillow, and Sid Fret was snoring loudly, face-first on the floor.
Shaking her head to clear some of the booze she put away, Queen Barb rose from her throne, her feet echoing across the chamber. "Wake up, you lazy fucks!" she bellowed, her voice cutting through the room like a guitar riff. Startled, Sid Fret jolted awake, his bandana askew. Riff stirred, rubbing his eyes while Carol let out a groggy moan, dropping the microphone on the floor.
The events of the previous night began to trickle back into Queen Barb's mind. Her people's victory against the bergens, and the massive party she had held in celebration. She smiled as she thought about everything that had happened. Blasting that bergen king into oblivion, saving those Pop runts, and... singing with Branch.. Wait, where was Branch?
Curious, Queen Barb did another quick stretch before she started to make her way out of the throne room to search for her newest band mate, her three friends close behind her. As they walked through the castle, the four talked amongst themselves. Mainly about everything that went down yesterday.
"You should've been there, Carol!" Riff said to his girlfriend. "They thought they won when they started attacking us all at once! But when Branch and Barb started singing together, it was over. We blasted them to pieces!"
"That wasn't even the craziest part." Sid Fret added. "When we were fighting their king, Vibe City showed up. Then when that fat fuck tried to smash Branch with his mace, the dude caught it with his hands. Then he grabbed it with his hair, and smacked the giant son of a bitch with his own mace."
"No way!" Carol said. "Wait, with his hair?"
"Yeah, it was crazy!" Riff said. "I asked your aunt, and she said that it was some kinda Pop troll thing. They can do all types of weird shit with their hair."
As they walked down one of the many hallways of her castle, still talking and laughing, Barb once again reflected on all of the things that had happened yesterday. On her very first official day as queen, she had accomplished more than most of her ancestors could have ever dreamed of. Her name would be remembered for centuries.
But even with this victory, one thing was still bugging her. That Pop troll runt.. Poppy.
Frankly, Barb didn't know what Branch could possibly see in that little woman-child. She was so unbearably pink, that she looked like a walking stick of bubblegum, her voice was so high and squeaky, that it could make your ears bleed. All of it disgusted Barb.
It was almost laughable when that pink brat tried to intimidate Barb when she attempted to play that shitty pop music on her anglerbus, as if she'd ever been in a fight in her life. She'd probably shatter like glass if Barb so much as tapped her. Yet she thinks she could even handle a troll like Branch?
And there was one more thing now that was bothering her. Branch, and everything he had done yesterday. When he and Barb had shared that rocking duet against the bergens, something happened. When Branch sang, not only had it energized Barb and her people, it also seemed to make her, the rest of their people, and even their weaponized instruments more powerful. At first, the queen chalked it up to the Rock string, thinking that maybe this was just another one of it's abilities that she didn't know about. But then the Poprock troll did something very similar to the Pop trolls when he sang to them, restoring all of their colors, and the rest of his. Moreover, Branch didn't even seem to be aware of this ability of his.
Barb's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of her father walking down the hallway. With a warm smile, the retired king approached her, surprising his daughter with the fact that not only was he not hunched over, but he was walking without the use of his cane. Barb's eyes widened in disbelief and joy as she watched him, her heart starting to fill with a rush of unshown emotion. It had been so long since she had seen her father move with such ease and grace.
"Good morning, Barbara." Thrash said. "Did you have fun last night?"
"Dad!" Barb exclaimed, a smile on her face, her eyes lingering on her father's newfound vitality. "You're walking without your cane!"
Thrash chuckled, loving to see his daughter so happy for his well-being. "Ever since the battle yesterday, I've felt incredible. The aches, the pain, the slowness, they're almost non-existent. Even my mind feels sharper. I feel so much stronger than I have in a long time. In fact…"
Surprising his daughter, Thrash quickly swept Barb up off her feet, and started playfully tossing her up into the air like she was a child.
"Dad, what the fuck!?" Barb yelled. "Knock it off!"
But her protest fell on deaf ears as Thrash continued to lift her, smiling all the while. Eventually, Barb's initial annoyance gave way to laughter. As much as Barb wanted to maintain her composure in front of her father, seeing him so healthy and happy made her joyous in return.
"Dad, c'mon!" Barb said through her laughter. "Not in front of my roadies!"
As Thrash gently set her back on her feet, Barb straightened her clothes and tried to regain her composure, and then shot a glare at her three friends, silencing their giggles. But despite her best effort, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. Her father hadn't been able to pick her up like that in who-knows how long..
"So what has you all awake so early, Barbara?" Thrash asked. "I figured that after last night, you and your friends wouldn't awake until at least the afternoon."
Barb regained her balance and looked up at her father, her tough exterior softened by the display of affection and her father's remarkable recovery. The sight of Thrash's vitality had momentarily made her forget why they were up and about in the first place.
"You seen Branch, dad?" Barb asked. "We're all gonna get matching tattoos to commemorate yesterday."
"Your new friend? I believe I saw him and Artina out by the gates." Thrash said. "They're probably still there."
With that, Barb and her roadies began to make their way down the long hallway, the echo of their footsteps reverberating against the walls. As she approached the gates, the familiar sound of an engine revving and lively chatter reached her ears. She slowed her pace, eager to catch a glimpse of the source of the commotion.
Walking through the main gates, the group spotted Branch out by the anglerbuses messily parked around, sitting astride a gleaming beetle bike. His hands resting confidently on the handlebars. Beside him stood his mother, Artina, wearing a beaming smile that lit up her face.
"And this is mine?" Branch asked, his eyes widening with a mix of surprise and uncertainty as he gazed at the sleek vehicle before him.
"I had it custom-made, just for you, Branch," Artina replied with a hint of pride in her voice. "It's a two-seater with a built-in sound system and extra storage space, and even an autopilot system. You just type in where you want it to go, and it'll take you there. It's also equipped with ground-mode mobility for when the weather isn't suitable for flying."
To demonstrate the bike's versatility, Artina pressed a button on the dashboard, causing the beetle bike to transform. Its wings gracefully folded in as wheels extended from the undercarriage. Branch looked on in wonder, deeply touched by his mother's thoughtful gesture.
"Mom, I…" Branch began, struggling to find the right words to express his gratitude. Even after all the gifts he had received, he found himself overwhelmed by his mother's unwavering generosity. This level of care was unfamiliar to him, as he had grown accustomed to relying solely on himself for everything.
"You don't like it?" Artina inquired, her concern evident as she searched for signs of disappointment in her son's reaction.
"No, no, I like it!" Branch hurriedly reassured her. "It's just that… I'm still not used to all of this. The castle, this guitar, the room, the clothes, the food. I just… It feels like I don't deserve this."
Artina enveloped her son in a warm embrace, holding him close as she sought to convey her love and understanding. Her voice was a soothing blend of tenderness and conviction, resonating with the depth of a mother's affection. "I wish I could've had you home with me so much sooner, Branch. This is the life you should've always had. And you do deserve this. After everything you've been through, if anyone deserves this, it's you."
Barb stepped away from the corner and watched the sappy show, her presence going unnoticed. Barb had known Artina since she was a baby, but never once in her life had she ever seen her advisor be so affectionate with anyone. She might've taken this time to tease Branch again if not for the fact that she had just had a very similar heart-to-heart with her father. Ah, what the hell, she'd do it anyway.
Barb cleared her throat, stepping into view, and getting both Branch and Artina's attention. She offered a smirk to hide the softness she had felt just moments ago. "What's up, Artina. Good morning, mama's boy."
"Hey, aunt Artina." Carol chimed in, lightly waving to her aunt.
Ignoring Barb's teasing, Branch walked up to his friends with a smile. After a few exchanged fistbumps, Artina stepped back, giving the group some space. She watched with a gentle smile as Barb and her friends interacted with her son, so relieved that he had gotten along with them so quickly.
But then the mother's eyes went wide when Queen Barb jumped onto the beetle bike with Branch, her chest pressing onto his back.
"A two seater, huh?" Barb said seductively. "You plan on taking someone on rides with this bike, Branch?"
Almost immediately, Branch's fur started to burn a little as he felt a growing blush. Finding the words became even more difficult when Barb wrapped her arms around his waist. "Um.. Well I…"
"You have your mommy get this extra seat just for me, Branch?" Barb said into his ear, a grin on her face.
Branch's embarrassment was palpable, the heat from his blush almost tangible in the cool morning air. Barb's teasing was relentless, but just like when she had first flirted with him two days ago, he felt an undeniable pull to Barb. In this small moment, he had almost forgotten that his mother and friends were both present.
Carol and the rest of the group started to laugh, sharing knowing looks. They had seen this dance before, the flirty banter that often reminded Carol of how she used to make groupies flutter within their tight-knit group. Though admittedly, this was odd. Usually, Barb didn't tease someone like this more than once or twice.
"I hope you haven't forgotten, Branch." Barb said to the Poprock troll. "We've got an appointment with a needle and some ink."
"Oh, right." Branch said. He had just then remembered that last night, they had all agreed to get matching tattoos on their left hands. Something that matched up well with their victory yesterday.
All ready, Barb's roadies all started to gather at her anglerbus, minus Branch, who was eager to test his new ride. As Carol, Sid Fret, and Riff all gathered at the anglerbus's entrance, and waited for the queen to join them. Though before Barb herself could join them, Artina grabbed her shoulder. "Your Rockness, I need to speak with you later. In private, preferably." The advisor said.
Barb raised an eyebrow at her advisor's request, curiosity mingling with a hint of concern. Artina's tone held a weight that suggested it was important. She nodded, her smirk fading as she took Artina's words seriously.
"Uh, sure?" Barb replied. "I'll find you later."
With that, Barb ran to her anglerbus, and soon after, it took to the skies, Branch right next to them on his new beetle bike. Soon, they had all disappeared into the dark clouds of the city.
Artina watched them depart, a serious look on her face. The advisor might have been reaching her twilight years, but she had been young once too. She was not oblivious.
She knew romantic feelings when she saw them.
--
"This is so exciting!"
Back in Pop Village, in the shared pod of Satin and Chenille, Smidge was standing in front of a full-length mirror while the twins bustled around her, their measuring tapes and fabric swatches in hand. And all the while, Smidge could barely contain herself. There used to be a time where the dwarf troll feared that because of her small stature, deep voice, and overall intensity, this day might never come.
But here she was, getting fitted for a wedding dress. And in a week's time, she was going to marry the love of her life, Milton Moss.
Chenille's eyes sparkled with excitement as she held up the beautiful wedding gown that she and her sister had been working on. "Oh Smidge, you're going to look so stunning in this gown! Milton won't know what hit him when he sees you walking down the aisle!"
Smidge blushed at Chenille's kind words. She still couldn't believe Milton asked her to marry him! This is a dream come true!
But even with this, there was something that had been weighing on her mind since yesterday. The truth of the five other troll tribes. The father she never had the opportunity to know, who had been unjustly banished by ex-King Peppy, and most of all, her biological mother, who apparently was a Classical troll.
Smidge did not lie to Poppy when she told her that she had no intention of leaving Pop Village. But all the same, she couldn't help but be curious about her birth mother, and the other half of her blood. There was a whole side of Smidge's ancestry, steeped in a culture that she knew absolutely nothing about.
And what was her biological mother like? What did she look like? Did she have other family members? Was she just as curious about Smidge? Was she aware that Granite was dead? Would she.. would she want to be present for Smidge's wedding?
Smidge lightly shook her head. No. No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't leave. At the very least, she couldn't do it now. Right now, the only things that mattered were here, Milton, and their upcoming wedding. She had duties to Poppy as her bodyguard, and soon, she'd have duties as Milton's wife.
After completely making sure that the size and estimates of the dress were correct, Satin and Chenille both displayed it for Smidge to fully see. The gown was snow-white with pearl-blue trimming that matched Smidge's hair. There was a large pink bow wrapped around the waistline, and pink hearts stitched around it's edges.
"Oh my Gah.." Smidge said, her eyes went as bright as stars as she looked at the finished dress. It was almost like something out of a fairy tale. Something a royal princess wore, waiting for her gallant hero. And it was all hers. "It's perfect! Thank you both so much!"
Satin and Chenille both beamed with pride as Smidge admired the dress. "It was our pleasure, Smidge." Chenille said. "This is gonna be your special day, and you deserve to have a dress fitting for it."
Smidge hugged her two friends tightly, overwhelmed with gratitude. "Thank you! Thank you!"
The three shared this joyful moment, the happiness and excitement in the air palpable. Smidge looked back at the dress, eager to see how it fit on her. "Can I try it on now?" She asked.
"Of course!" Satin exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. "Let's see how it fits you!"
Without a care of a single ounce of shame, Smidge grabbed her dress, and pulled it over her head, giving Satin and Chenille an unwelcome look at her small blue bra and panties. Not that the two were really all that shaken by it. They'd had trolls strip down for fittings before.
But then Smidge turned around, giving the twins a full view of her back. In unison, Satin and Chenille screamed.
"Huh? What is it?" Smidge said, looking around for what was causing her two friends to panic.
The sisters both stood in silence as they looked at Smidge's back. Right between her shoulder blades were two diagonal slits, partly open, with some sort of translucent frillings poking out of them.
--
As Bridget sat down in the dense forest next to her dwindling campfire, cooking a bird that she had found and killed, she thought about everything that had transpired yesterday. The attack of the Rock trolls, the death of King Gristle, and the hell that fell onto Bergen Town soon after.
Bergen Town had already been a cursed place before the Rock trolls came, but after the death of the bergen king, it had quickly become something truly terrible. Without his very little authority, or the guards, or fear of punishment, the bergens who had survived against the Rock trolls turned to stealing and killing each other without mercy, not that such a thing was a well-known concept before. Stores were ransacked for supplies, and the streets became battlegrounds for anyone willing to kill for food, supplies, or just for the fun of it. Even Bridget's own father met his death yesterday.
Not that Bridget cared about him. He was the same man that would have her kill other children for meat and entertainment. Bridget's only regret was she didn't get to kill him herself, like she did with Chef.
After Bridget had stabbed Chef to death, she took her keys from her body, and used them to get into her kitchen, where she grabbed Chef's cookbook on trolls. Most bergens couldn't read, write, or even comprehend anything outside of violence. But Bridget, she wasn't most bergens. She was smarter. It was the reason that despite being smaller than most of the other children, she never once lost a fight.
With a smile, Bridget reached into her bag, and pulled out the cookbook, her stomach growling as she looked over its many pages. She had looked over the book so many times, fantasizing about all of the different recipes, and how good they must taste. According to the book, the flesh of a Pop troll was so soft and tender that you didn't even need to cook it if you didn't want to. The thought alone made Bridget's mouth water.
As she fantasized about this, another thought hung over Bridget's head. One that had been with her since yesterday. That pink troll. The one that freed her from her chain. The troll that the yellow one who stabbed her hand called "Poppy".
Bridget wasn't sure what that troll was hoping to accomplish by helping her, but she did not care. If that troll was so ready to help her, despite Bridget trying to kill them, it only showed the bergen girl that Pop trolls were just as stupid and naive as all the stories said.
Her eyes pulled back to her cookbook, and she flipped through the pages. The images of the various Pop trolls in the cookbook seemed to dance before her eyes, each recipe more tantalizing than the last. The descriptions of the flavors, the textures, and the preparation methods for each dish were detailed and elaborate.
Unconsciously, Bridget slowly licked the page, getting hungrier and hungrier. But not for the bird that was currently cooking on the fire. Not for any of the other small creatures in this forest. Not for the few slices of Chef's flesh that Bridget had cut from her lifeless body and stuffed in her bag.
No. Bridget wanted trolls. And she would have them, no matter how hard, or how long she'd have to search for them.
"NOW!"
Suddenly, Bridget's hungry thoughts were painfully interrupted as an ominous boom erupted from the dense underbrush beside her. The tranquility of the forest was pierced by the malevolent hiss of a projectile slicing through the air. In a flash, a small harpoon, tethered to a rope, tore through the serenity and impaled her right forearm with a gruesome thud.
A visceral scream tore from Bridget's throat, a raw sound of agony and shock. Her mind reeled, instinct screaming at her to rip the foreign object from her flesh. As she reached with her left hand, heart pounding with primal anger, another harpoon, swift as a shadow, shot out and skewered her other arm. A second scream, more harrowing than the first, echoed into the forest canopy.
Bridget frantically looked around. The two roped harpoons that were currently holding her in place were coming from the bushes, but the forest was so dense that she couldn't see who was currently attacking her. In a desperate attempt to escape whatever was happening, Bridget tried pulling away, trying to ignore the pain from her bleeding arms. But whoever, or whatever was holding her was too strong.
In a frantic final attempt to escape whatever was currently happening, Bridget let out the loudest, angriest roar she could, hoping to maybe scare off whoever was attacking her. But Bridget's intimidation display was not met with that. Instead, it was meant with laughter. Laughter that was coming from all around her.
As Bridget's gaze shifted ahead, her eyes widened in shock at the sight of a crude, menacing contraption inching closer to her campfire. A makeshift catapult, being operated by someone behind it. Someone she couldn't see. The contraption, though smaller than her, bore a boulder that was almost the same size as her head.
With a deafening release, the colossal rock hurled through the air and struck Bridget's forehead with a sickening thud, just above her eyes. Agonizing pain seared through her skull, a blinding white flash engulfing her vision. The impact was like a sledgehammer to her senses, leaving her reeling in a nauseating daze as her legs buckled beneath her. The world spun around her, the metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth as she fought to stay conscious, the echoes of the impact reverberating through her like a haunting toll.
The last thing Bridget saw before completely blacking were a bunch of very small laughing creatures approaching her. Trolls? No… they were something else…
--
As the moving bugs helped Peppy carry away his things, Poppy watched her father, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. This wasn't how the day of her crowning should've been. It should've been a wonderful party with cake, glitter, and music. A day to remember and cherish. But for her father's crimes, he could not be allowed the joy of such a thing.
Poppy, standing at a distance, observed the scene, making sure that the critters Peppy would be taking with had enough food and supplies for at least a month, which would hopefully be enough time for him to get situated somewhere far away from the village. She knew that it wasn't fair for her father to have that advantage. When he banished their people out into the forest, and to their deaths, they had nothing. Peppy should get that same treatment. But Poppy's heart was barely strong enough to do this to her father. She couldn't bear the idea of sending him away with nothing.
As the last of his belongings were loaded onto the bugcart, Peppy turned to face his daughter. His eyes, once filled with pride and warmth, now held a deep sorrow. "Poppy, I am sorry for putting you in such a position," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you. And I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to understand why I did what I did."
Poppy's eyes glistened with unshed tears. Even now, the only person he seemed to have any regrets hurting was her. Not to their people, not to Branch, not to any of the families he emotionally devastated. She wished that this would make her angry. If she was, at least this might have been easier.
"I love you, Dad," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "But what you did…You…You have to go… I don't have a choice…"
Peppy nodded, not wanting to hurt his daughter with any more words. With a heavy heart, he turned away, ready to face the consequences of his choices. The newly crowned daughter watched in silence as her father, someone she used to look at as a figure of adoration, began his journey into the forest.
The second her father was out of seeing distance, Poppy, still heavily fighting off her tears, tried to calm herself down by thinking of all the good things that would soon come to pass. The party that would be held today in celebration of her being crowned queen, and soon, the wedding of one of her best friends.
Her mind temporarily distracted from her father, Poppy smiled, and made her way back to the village, ready to rummage through her closet, and find herself a nice dress for Smidge's wedding.
--
Branch, Barb, Riff, Sid Fret, and Carol all walked out of the tattoo parlor, their hands all tatted with a skull to commemorate yesterday's victory. As they made their way down one of the many streets of Volcano Rock City, Branch once again thought on the many differences between the Rock and Pop tribes. Did Rock trolls do this often? The closest thing Pop trolls had to tattoos was face painting and things of the like. Nothing as permanent as a tattoo. Not that Branch minded. The tattoos reminded him of the scars he had received over the many years of working on his bunker. They were trophies. A physical showing of his endurance.
"You guys wanna head down to Fire Burger?" Carol suggested. "I'm fiending for a box of nachos."
"Sounds good to me," Riff said. He still wasn't sure what had happened with his girlfriend last night, but he was still so glad to see this brighter version of Carol.
With a silent agreement made, the five of them ventured down the street towards Fire Burger. The scent of sizzling beef and spicy jalapeños wafted through the air as they approached the bustling eatery. The interior was adorned with fiery red and orange decor, and the sound of rock music filled the space, adding to the energetic atmosphere.
They settled into a booth, except Carol, who immediately made herself comfortable in Riff's lap. Barb leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with determination. Now that all of the bergen nonsense was dealt with, she and her group could get back to other matters. The most important one currently.
"Alright assholes, listen up." Barb said with a smile. "In all the shit that happened yesterday, I almost forgot about what we were practicing for. The Battle of the Bands next week."
Branch, who was still actively learning about this side of his culture, looked a little bit puzzled. "A battle of what?"
"It's a competition the city holds every year." Sid Fret said, rubbing his hands together as a troll brought them their orders. Without a care, Sid Fret grabbed his burger, and tore into it like he'd never eaten a day in his life. "A bunch of bands perform for the people, and the crowd decides who wins."
Barb's eyes held a small amount of frustration as she turned to Branch. "We've won every single year since I was sixteen. Up until last year, when we lost to Bad Hair Day. Got shown up in front of all my people. It was so humiliating.."
"Bad Hair Day?" Branch asked.
"They're our rival band." Riff said, feeding Carol her cheese nachos with a smile on his face. "Led by Billy Reverb. As much as it pains me to say, they kicked our asses last year."
"But we've got the advantage this year." Barb said with a smile. "This new song is gonna have Rock City in flames! And with you here, Branch, and Carol back on the mic with me, we'll destroy them!"
"Hell fucking yeah, we will!" Carol said.
"Alright, let's do it." Branch said, the enthusiasm of his friends reaching him.
With that plan set, the five of them raised their hand horns high, ready to put in every ounce of effort it took to bring victory to their band. But almost immediately after this, Branch realized something. The Battle of the Bands was in a week. But so was Smidge's wedding. The wedding he promised Poppy that he would attend. Immediately following this, Branch also remembered that Poppy's coronation was tonight! He was already supposed to be at Pop village!
At this moment, Branch quickly got out of the booth, surprising his friends.
"Where are you going, Branch?" Barb said with a mouthful of fries. "I just said we need to practice."
Branch turned and looked at her, the weight of the inflicting obligations starting to hold him. "You think we can start practicing later? I kinda forgot I have to be at Pop Village today?"
"For what?" Barb asked as she wiped the salt and grease from her mouth. But she had a sinking feeling that she knew what, or more specifically, who Branch wanted at that glittery village.
"I promised Poppy that I'd be there for her coronation today." Branch said to her. "I'm sorry, but I have to go."
Barb tried her best to hide her anger at the mention of Poppy. In her little square-up with that Pop runt yesterday, she had forgotten the other things they had talked about. Poppy's coronation being one of them. Barb hadn't said anything then, and technically, Branch had made these plans first. As much as she didn't like it, it wouldn't have been fair for her to get on his case about this.
"Alright dude, fine." Barb said with a slight huff betraying her cool demeanor. "But you'd better be ready for practice when you get back. I plan on getting our cred back from Billy and his goons!"
Branch's face lit up with a grateful smile, and he wasted no time in making his exit. As the sound of his beetle bike revving up reached the trolls inside, Barb couldn't help the smile that danced on her lips. A smile that spoke volumes to her observant bandmates. The moment her gaze shifted away, the three Rock trolls exchanged knowing glances, their expressions morphing into smug smirks.
"What?" Barb's voice was a challenging snarl as she caught their looks, trying to scrub the involuntary smile from her face as if it were a stain on her rock image.
"Barb, what the hell was that?" Sid Fret couldn't help but blurt out, disbelief coloring his tone. "If any of us had tried to skip out on practice, you'd have bit our heads off."
"I noticed your flirting before, but I thought you were just messing with him." Carol chimed in, nonchalantly biting into a jalapeno popper as she eyed Barb with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "What's going on? Do you have the hots for my cousin?"
The room went silent as Barb's glare hit them like a blast from a rock anthem, the intensity enough to silence even the most unruly lava spider. It was a look that commanded respect and promised retribution if challenged. As if by an unspoken command, the laughter and teasing ceased, and all three trolls straightened up in their seats, suddenly very aware of the gravity of their misstep. As close as they were to her, they often forgot how terrifying Barb could be when she wanted to be.
"Let's go." Barb growled, her voice leaving no room for argument or further discussion. Her anger was palpable, a force that seemed to push against the very air in the room. She stood up from the table, her movements sharp and deliberate, a clear indication that the time for joking was over.
As the four all left Fire Burger, and made their way to Barb's anglerbus, Barb silently cursed herself for letting her roadies see that level of affection from her. She'd make sure that this didn't happen again.
--
Milton Moss hummed a cheerful tune, so glad that his animal cottage had been just far enough from the center of the village that it was spared from any damage when the bergen attacked. He walked around the stables, feeding his many critters with a joyous smile on his face. His love for these animals was only outmatched by his love for Smidge, his soon-to-be wife.
When he and the other trolls in the village were all taken from the bunker by those bergen monsters, and they all found themselves in that cauldron, waiting to be killed and eaten, all he could think about was Smidge. When he proposed to her that day, he did so because he thought for sure that neither of them would live past that day. But thanks to the aid of those Rock trolls, he, Smidge, and everyone else were all alive. And in one short week, he and Smidge would be married.
As he finished feeding the animals, Milton took a moment to appreciate the peaceful surroundings of his cottage. It was a bright, cloudless day, casting a warm glow over the landscape. He knew that there was still much work to be done to rebuild the village and ensure its safety, but for now, he allowed himself to bask in the tranquility of the moment.
With a happy and grateful heart, Milton gently sat down in the grass, careful not to put too much pressure on his still-recovering back, and closed his eyes, so eager to see Smidge again after she finished getting fitted for her dress. So ready to marry her. So ready for Smidge to move in with him, and let him love and care for her, just as he does for the many creatures that live here.
Milton was so engulfed by his joyous thoughts that he did not notice the person standing in front of him until he opened his eyes again.
Standing above Milton was a tall man in what looked like some sort of black jacket over a hoodie. The veterinarian couldn't make out his face because of the hood, but he could see his eyes. His very unsettling darkish-purple eyes.
"Oh, hello." Milton said, standing up to greet his unexpected guest. "What brings you to my home today?"
But before Milton could offer him a drink, or see if he was interested in adopting one of the critters, the veterinarian's face was met with the stranger's fist in a punch that sent Milton right back onto the grass, barely catching himself on his hands and knees.
As he tried to recover from the unexpected attack, Milton wiped his nose, realizing that it was bleeding, and bleeding a lot. He looked up at the hooded, who still had an unamused look on his face, waiting to see what explanation the man could possibly have for doing this to him.
"That punch didn't knock you out?" The man said to him. "Seems that being here these last few months has made me rusty. Let's try that again."
With no hesitation, he grabbed Milton up by his jacket, brought his fist back, and connected it with Milton's face for the second time. Just like that, the world spun before his eyes went dark. Milton slumped to the ground. The last thing he saw before falling unconscious was this hooded figure approaching his critters with a knife.