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Ragd perspired under the shade of the Zinn’nidid underbrush, as the sweltering southern sun beat down mercilessly on her pale blue skin. She hesitated in her crouched position, wondering if it was wise to shake out of her stealth for a quick fix to the sweat dripping down her squashed blue nose. It annoyed her intensely. Ignore it, Hunter tradition from her tribe commanded in her mind.
She snarled silently and did so. That’s right--what was mild discomfort compared to the aching of her legs and arms from her night long hunt? Ragd was just two feet from her prey, which she had chased all the way here. She had proven herself courageous (or foolhardy, as the other hunters of her tribe had jeered at her back as she had left) by not shaking off the chase when it had gone too far into Jungle troll territory, and there was absolutely no chance that she was screwing up this moment in her life; her first kill.
Therefore, she was just going to have to sit here and stand the veil of sweat dripping down her face. Yes, that was making it hard to see, that was attracting the morning mosquitoes to buzz and bite, that was making a stream from its salty spring on her brow to drip down her nose and wiggle on her upper lip to make it itch—‘damn it!’
With a quick dash, the young island troll wiped her brow and returned it to the ground. In a flash, she froze again in the shadows. Had it seen--??
The raptor did not even lift the feathered crest on the top of its head in attention at her abrupt movement. It continued to pace around the ancient wall it had cornered itself at, coughing in seemingly reptilian indignation at being trapped. Its striped back was to Ragd, and she smirked in mocking triumph. What foolish advice her elders had given her—raptors seemed smart, but this one had no more strategy than tiger cub fresh from its den. She didn’t fully understand why voodoo tradition was so tenacious on the fact that a hunter was only a Hunter when he or she had killed and skinned the mystical lizards of their region. Yes, truly this ferocious predator had given her an extremely exhausting chase, yet--look at it! As she stood spear in three-digited hand, Ragd watched amusedly as it jumped wildly about and sent a flurry of panicked whistles and squeals in every direction. What a dimwitted creature.
Slowly she slid out of the shadows—‘Time for it to face the inevitable.’ She entered the clearing and the reptilian beast swerved around and hissed. It backed itself against the wall and crouched menacingly, baring its razor sharp teeth. ‘Those teeth will look good as a trophy around my neck,’ she thought with near glee. Ragd tasted the sweet tension in the air and gripped her shivering fingers around her spear. Bloodlust intermixed with adrenaline—hunting always made her heart pump faster.
The beast vibrated a terrifying roar from its throat, almost a scream. Ragd felt her nerve slipping slightly as the sound hit her ears—somehow this felt different from the tigers. She poised her spear to stab it through the chest. When the beast made a desperate lunge at her—flying in the air from its amazing back legs—she parried its claws with her weapon and gave the side of its head a hard sweep with the other end. It was knocked to the ground, dazed from the hit. The next would be at its belly, as Ragd flipped her tool around to its stone cut point—
“RRRRRRYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAGGGGG!!!”
Ragd glanced up. ‘Oh crap.’
The lone raptor’s pack stood at the top of the crumbled building Ragd was in front of, glaring down at her with their menacing slit eyes. The lone raptor, Ragd’s ‘easy and dimwitted prey’, screeched at the sight of them. It screeched in feral triumph.
Ragd involuntarily took a step back, but kept her weapon pointed at raptor number one. It was too busy making short whistle noises at the largest raptor, obviously the leader. They were communicating. That wasn’t a good sign for Ragd—dimwitted beasts usually didn’t have such a sophisticated lingo between them. When the entire pack of less than eleven reptiles leaped from the crevices of the crumbling ruins, Ragd suddenly realized that she wasn’t just in trouble because she was in Jungle troll territory. This was also this pack’s territory—and she had been dumb enough to fall in their trap.
Ragd slowly tried to retreat back into the darkness of the jungle. Yet that plan failed; in seconds she was surrounded by hissing, ravenous, and infuriated raptors. They began to close in on her—she felt her blood curdle. Was this her moment of dying?
Such an intense thought made a wave of emotion swell in her—if there was ever a good moment for her to feel her first berserker moment, that time was now. She gripped her spear and tried to harness that rage as the reptiles edge closer. The bloodlust seemed to elude her grasp, as usual. She panicked. If she was to die, it was best if she died in the way of her people—taking as many body counts as possible!
An arrow whizzed inches between her shoulder and ear to pierce the hide of the raptor in front of her. At the end of the shaft were the bright red feathers of the lizard birds of this region, unlike the simple brown feathers of her tribe. The raptor screamed in pain, and as it writhed on the ground trying to get the arrow out, its comrades and Ragd looked up. Ragd’s jaw dropped at the figure crouched on the top of the ancient wall. Things had now gone from bad to worse for her.
This is what the elders had handed down in told history to the young ones like Ragd: The island trolls had landed on the western continent many years ago, after being exiled from the eastern jungles by war among their race and the elves. They were of a tribe that was known for being less larger and intimidating to the other trolls of the forest, jungle, and the frost—they were lithe, averaging in two hundred pounds and seven feet in height--yet they were also known to be craftier in their small numbers than the rest of their race. When they landed on the continent, the proud exiles instantly had conflicting differences with the trolls that already dwelled there—these were the jungle troll tribe, the Sabertusks.
Fighting broke out, but the elders of that time swayed the tribe to better judgment against their pride in order for overall survival. The island trolls, sacrificing better hunting grounds and supplies for immediate peace, settled where the Sabertusks tribe ordered them to dwell—in the small patch of barrier islands off the coast. The island trolls were unhappy that they constantly struggled to live on these strips of sand where little life grew, but they endured it as they waited for their time to come to seize the Sabertusks’ land and gain a true foothold on their new continental home.
Ragd glowered at the smirking green troll staring down at her. ‘Of all the idiots of the Sabertusk tribe, why’d it have to be him?’
‘He’ wasn’t alone. More green trolls appeared around him, their leader Throg’didd in the center. The hunting party notched their arrows and in an instant after Throg’s command, and set them loose on the raptors surrounding the blue island troll. Quickly, the screaming reptiles were silenced, with their bodies strewn on the bloody ground.
The jungle trolls leaped lightly from the wall, their hard muscles fluid for all their bulk. They aimed their arrows at the smaller female troll. Throg’didd casually stood up from his crouch and took his time making his way through the corpses and his men to Ragd. His direct slowness worked in annoying her, yet she refused to show it. He towered over her like his underlings, but she didn’t flinch at the chief’s son. Ragd frowned up at him.
Throg’didd grinned at her obvious refusal to be intimidated. “You back again, maggit?”
“You’d think t’ree times having yo fingers cut off would tell someone not to forget where te borders layed,” said one of the duller looking warriors, staring at Ragd with little interest.
Ragd locked her jaw. “I didn’t forget,” she spat, her cheeks flaming. “I’m not stupid.”
“Oh ho ho,” Throg’didd jeered venomously. “

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Yeaaaa...Never finished this one. Sorry.