Deep in the bowels of Khandara, lies a strange subspecies of Troll, the Tulva Droll. This family of trolls found refuge, or perhaps a prison, in the citadel’s forgotten depths. Time and isolation have twisted them, their forms becoming as grotesque as the frozen sculptures that adorn the icy halls above. With each generation, their features grew more misshapen, their minds simpler, and their kinship more convoluted. Yet, their isolation did little to hinder their ferocity; the Tulva Drolls, armed with the relics of giants, became a force as formidable and unforgiving as the biting gales of their subterranean home.
Their thick hides have adapted to the cold that seeps through the stone, and their muscles have swelled to wield the massive weapons left behind by the giants of yore. In the echoing chasms of Khandara, their roars resonate, a guttural symphony that tells of their relentless struggle for survival. They hunt not for sport, but for sustenance, their simple minds incapable of malice, driven only by the primal urge to endure in a world that has long since abandoned them.
In the eyes of the other denizens of Khandara, the Tulva Drolls are a reminder of nature’s cruel indifference. They are the wild, untamed brutality of the world above, brought down into the depths of despair. Their presence is a constant danger, an unpredictable storm of violence that can erupt without warning. Yet, in the rare moments when the trolls huddle together in the darkness, their monstrous forms silhouetted against the ice, one might glimpse the faintest trace of the familial bonds that once led them to seek sanctuary in the heart of the mountain—a sanctuary that has become their everlasting domain.