The trees of the Slidecrown Isle stood tall in the forest, larger than many mountains. Each tree had supped from the magical waters of Ghyran since the Age of Myth. Their roots ran deep and thick through the earth. To behold even one tree was to see the majesty of the Realm of Life made manifest. Only the greediest creatures could look upon the titanic forest and think of exploiting it.
Nazbag Stinkbrain was plenty greedy.
While Grint and the others got to have the glory of leading the crusade for ancient Dzarak, it was Nazbag who had to ensure the city could survive once established. When the old Dross-Forged allies petitioned the hobgrots to support the attack on the island, the council voted unanimously to send Nazbag and the 13th Regiment.
He was told he was the only one capable enough to lead a small strike force into the heart of Ghyran. To reap the bounties of the forest and establish new trade agreements with potential allies. While that is partially true, it’s also true that he and his regiment were the most expendable.
The 13th Regiment is a bastion of bad luck. During the Frorholm campaign, the 13th never made it to the island. Their ship suffered mechanical failures and they listed in the Ulguan waters for weeks as their engineers tried to cobble together a fix. When they finally got it up and running, the rest of the army passed them on the return to Hysh. The island was taken over by a massive orruk and everyone had been forced to flee.
While the majority of the hobgrots did not have high hopes in the 13th Regiment’s mission, their Lamassu allies felt differently. They remember the stories from the Age of Myth, of the island of kurnothi and the great forests. Out of the triumvirate, K’hordal volunteered to oversee Operation Crownthief. While Zhalash was the zealot and Vra’kai was the tactician, K’hordal was the brute.
During the journey to the Slidecrown Isle, K’hordal barely spoke to the hobgrots. Whenever Nazbag spoke to him about strategy, the hobgrot could never tell if the great Lamassu was asleep behind his mask. However, whenever danger neared, K’hordal threw himself at it horns first. With hellfire and fearsome claws, he tore apart any threat to the Crownthief regiment.
The Crownthieves held formation outside of Nazbag’s command tent. Thick clouds of smoke wafted through the crowd. Each breath burned in the hobgrots’ chests but also filled them with a feeling of warmth and comfort. The Slidecrown leaves were infused with Aqua Ghyranis and the locals used them for healing poultices. The hobgrots decided instead to burn them. The camp braziers kept everyone in cheery spirits and healed minor wounds. Some hobgrots roll the leaves into their cigars, calling them “Fix-em Stix.”
Nazbag chewed on the stub of one such cigar as he looked out over the crowd. It had been a long journey to get here. He led his troops across the black plains of Ulgu, through the caverns of the Veins, and sailed across the waters of Ghyran. As he battled the dangers of the realms, Nazbag was glad that the hobgrot council had authorized the 13th Regiment to bring new arms and armor with them.
The great cannons and fusils shot down any foe that made it past K’haldor’s ferocious assaults. While the warmachines, artillery pieces, and explosives were all there to obliterate any threat to the hobgrots, they will also help cut down the massive trees of the forest. It was for this reason that the 13th Regiment gathered today.
They waited impatiently as the engineers made their final checks. Long hours had been spent drilling holes into the base of a massive tree. As soon as the drills were extracted, the wood would begin to heal and close the holes that the hobgrots just opened. Copper wire had to be threaded throughout the tree in order to stop it from repairing itself. Only then could they begin to place the caustic explosives. Once this was done and the wiring complete, the hobgrots scurried back to camp as quickly as they could.
When they arrived, the lead engineer, Kraz, handed the detonator to Nazbag. The marshal gleefully held it above his head to the cheers of his soldiers.
“This is it boys! Let’s shows this forest who’s in charge!”
He slammed the ignition switch down. A massive explosion of emerald flames burst out from within the tree. Wooden debris scattered across the forest floor. Yet the tree still stood. For many moments, the ancient trunk refused to move. But the hobgrots’ explosives were more insidious than a mere tree could believe. The green smoke that lingered in the air ate away at the pulpy wood, dissolving it faster than it could heal.
After standing for centuries, a tree that outlived many ages finally fell. The sheer weight of it crashed through any branches that dare block its fall. It shattered the ground beneath it and its death quaked ripples through the forest. The caustic smoke still hung low in the air, drifting across other trees. The spoiled splinters of the fallen tree passed their decaying bite into the neighboring plants.
The hobgrot lumberers began to hack away at the fallen titan. Each ax swing chipped away at centuries of growth. The time of the Slidecrown forest was over. Now was the time of reaping.
