Troll-Herder's Wrath

A tiny Skink Priest with towering dreams, Obsessed with daemonic flame— He’s followed me through jungles, Whispering “Prince… remember my name.” Commanding an army a hundred times his size, Yet small in spirit and soul— A zealot chasing destiny, Fixated on my control. Troll-Herder’s Wrath… For a scheme you thought was grand. You sought a Prince’s blessing— Now behold my burning hand. You wanted dark ascension? Chaos answers only thus: Troll-Herder’s Wrath… And your world turns into dust. I had a battle waiting, A war I was meant to lead— But the Priest devised a foolish plot Born of envy, hope, and greed. He lured away my Trolls— Stone-headed fools I guide— And did it at the moment I was late for genocide. I found them in the marshes, Eating mud, licking trees… And the Priest stood proud beside them, Falling to his scaly knees. He begged: “Great Prince, I did this!” With delusion in his eyes… But the shadow of my fury Is where every ambition dies. You stole my Trolls for glory— Now reap what Chaos sows! Your army breaks like thunder Beneath the wrath you chose. No temple wall will save you, No prophecy, no rite— For all this doom was written The moment you sought my sight. Troll-Herder’s Wrath igniting, Let the jungle burn and fall— Next time you want my notice… You could’ve simply called.