The history of the Bezogian Trolls is one of the oldest tales in Bezogia. Once great warriors, the Trolls, united by their King, come together from far and wide to conquer large swathes of Bezogia ripe for the taking. The Trolls, while vicious warriors, possessed a particular form of sarcastic intelligence that they used to taunt their foes with twisted insults to break them down before a fight.
The Trolls have a very dark history. While on their conquest of Bezogia they met many challenges along the way, with their resources heavily depleted, supply lines disrupted, and numbers thinned by countless battles, the Trolls had their backs against the wall. Trolls never leave their dead, ever, so while on the road of conquest they had a caravan at the back of the army named The Wagons of the Dead. At this point in their journey, the Wagons were pilled high, there were so many dead trolls that the wagons could barely hold their rotting corpses.
With another battle looming over the horizon, the Trolls faced a serious challenge with their army in its current state. The Troll King wanted blood, guts & fresh land to farm. He wasn’t going to return home empty-handed with nothing but fully packed wagons of rotten flesh and bones. The first day of the battle was a disaster, the Trolls, with their spirits high and their tusks sharpened, followed their King forward into the melee. Skulls were smashed, tusks snapped and bones shattered. The Troll King simply didn’t have the numbers he once had to throw his soldiers into mindless melee combat. There was no choice but to retreat to camp and change strategy to have any hope of coming out on top.
Once back in camp, the Troll King had a dark and mysterious visitor, a Fudder that claimed to be part of a cult, led by a sinister character called the Fud King. The Fudder promised the Troll King limitless power and might to crush his foes if he followed him to the Fud King's lair and made a sacrificial blood pact. The desperate King agreed to meet the Fud King.
The Fud King offered the Troll King unimaginable power, the power to bring the dead trolls back to life, stronger than ever before. There was a price though, the Fud King needed their flesh, and upon resurrection, their flesh would be removed from their bones, along with any compassion and positivity left in their reborn personalities. The King, with his back against the wall facing defeat, accepted the deal and made a blood pact with the Fud King.
Upon his return to camp, the Troll King was eager to test his new powers, gifted with a bargain of flesh with the Fud King. He went over to the back of the war caravan to the Wagons of the Dead and asked the wretches that pulled them along to dump out all the bodies onto the dirt, horrified by this unholy request, the wretches protested that this was against Troll principles and they wouldn't do it. The King, usually a patient leader, approached the protesting wretch and rammed the dull blade of an axe directly into his forehead. The wretch, still alive, fell to his knees, gushing blood violently and whimpering illegibly while his eyes dimmed to black. The Troll King smiled and pushed the axe deeper into his skull, observing carefully as the life left the wretch. The King then started to chant, something dark that the trolls had never heard before.
The piles of bodies on the wagons started to twitch. The surrounding trolls started to panic and the skies darkened overhead as the King carried on his twisted chant of the dead. Fleshless arms and lifeless faces started to emerge from the piles, the King felt the dead wretch at his feet grab around his ankles and scratch at his legs. When the King looked down the Troll looked up, but his face was no longer that of a Troll, it was reminiscent of a Troll but with an utterly vulgar grin that he couldn’t seem to remove. The now fleshless troll looked up at the King and said, ‘Problem?’ Another Trollface from the pile shouted ‘You mad bro?’, the thousands of corpses filling the wagons were now all shouting the same thing.
The King rounded up his new army of fleshless Trollface minions and sent them to battle. With his army now back at full capacity and with new strength, he easily overpowered his foe. His army seemed to repeatedly chant ‘You Mad Bro?’ and ‘Problem?’ while swinging their gruesome blades and grinning at their enemies with their hideous faces. The battle was over, The Troll King had got what he wanted, but at a terrible cost. Upon returning home, the King went into his throne room and caught a glimpse of himself in his father's old shield hung on the wall over the fireplace. His face had changed, into a twisted perpetual grin that he couldn't seem to shake. He remained that way, as his flesh started to rot, along with the rest of his kind, destined to be undead servants of the Fud King forever. The Troll King got what he wanted, but it cost him everything.