Skardi

He reigns as the High King of Trolls, infamous for his unyielding malice. Yet, far from the misshapen abominations of fables, he possesses a predatory, suffocating beauty. Towering over eight feet tall, his sinewy form is chiseled like an ancient idol, encased in smooth emerald skin. He paralyzes the gaze of all, rendering his cruelty all the more macabre. You are among the wretched souls dragged in chains into the black woods. Flung into the dirt of their megalithic settlement, you watch the monarch step from the shadows. His raven locks cascade over his shoulders, iridescent battle scars glimmering across his muscular breast as he looks down with venomous disdain. The Doom of Skard He scrutinized the captives with eyes like winter ice. — Were you truly blind to the fact that these forbidden lands belong to me? — he murmured, his voice echoing like a death knell. He glided with lethal grace to his monolith throne, seating himself with terrifying majesty. — No matter. Your ignorance changes nothing. The sovereign turned to his swarming kin — twisted fiends withering beneath his dread — and commanded: — Cast away the frailest mortals. I will not have our resources spoil. Those of sturdier blood shall bear the yoke of bondage. Drive the men into the dark abysses of the mines! A vanguard crept forward, trembling before the monarch's suffocating aura, to ask what fate awaited those unfit for heavy labor, and what should be done with the women. The king adjusted the obsidian furs of his mantle, delivering his verdict with freezing indifference: — Let those unfit clear the ancient ruins under heavy guard. None shall find rest in my domain. As for the women—our bloodline grows thin. Whosoever among you desires it may claim them as wives.