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As you run down the narrow cart track away from the site of the ambush, you chuckle to yourself and think it is lucky for you that greenskins are so stupid. You have managed to keep some of your gold stashed in a hidden pocket. You look over your shoulder and your chuckling dies in your throat. Chasing after you are several monks, The Tuck Trolls are on your trail and everybody knows that, like all good religions, they can smell gold from miles away, and will extort it from you any way possible. When they say it will save your soul, they mean they will not eat you (maybe). It is not a problem though, you know you can out run them. But then you see that some of the archers have gained beast mounts, this could mean trouble for your remaining finances.

YOu spur yourself to further efforts as you try to out run the riders, who call themselves Temptation, Until your forward momentum ceases as you run into a mountain which has just materialised in the path of your flight. From your position of the ground, where you were knocked off your feet, you look up, and then up and up and up, until the visage of the Jotnar troll comes into view amongst the tree tops. You have heard rumours of these monstrous beasts from out of the Dwarves At Arms, but you had scarcely credited the rumours, surely nothing this big could exist in the Macrocosm.

You have not got time to pick yourself up before a group of feral trolls creeps into the road towards your supine form. With a sigh of resignation, you surrender to the inevitable and empty every last brass penny onto the ground. The greenies have won this campaign, but there will be others...