Do you appreciate a good troll? And where have they gone?

aaronjumper wrote: »

Trying to push peoples buttons without getting an outright ban is a hard trick to pull off these days, add to that the general decline in peoples intelligence, then is it really any wonder there are no witty trolls left?

It's actually appallingly easy. Most people are just really bad at it. I blame kids shows like Barney telling every knuckle dragging windowlicker that, in defiance of all available evidence, they are nevertheless special snowflakes destined for greatness.

Where have they gone?

Well after the council of Marmarath the wise Sages decided something had to be done about the horde of trolls who would descend from the mountains every winter and destroy churches and eat the simple folks sheep and children. They thought for hours and days on this conundrum; how to stop 100s of trolls rampaging forth on to the peasants land? They were unsure and decided the best course of action was to consult Sindri, who was the wisest and most handsomerest of all the Sages. Ever! But to consult the great and magnanimous Sindri they had to venture to the land of Niðavellir which was over the black mountains and into Niðafjöll but that is where the dragon Níðhöggr, who did not take too kindly to strangers in his lands, apart from Sindri, who had travelled those lands aeons ago and ventured upon a young and angry dragon whom he had befriended, as was his way. Angry because he had a thorn in his claw. Níðhöggr attacked Sindri but Sindri, who was and still is a master of the instrument of the Gods, the electric triangle, crooned Níðhöggr to sleep thus delaying the attack on his person. As Níðhöggr slept Sindri took pity on the young dragon and pulled the thorn from his claw with a pair of tongs he kept on his person. When the dragon awoke he was so grateful to be done away with the irritation on his paw he granted Sindri a barony on his lands and made him the keeper of his treasure as well as priveliges with his wife the beautiful and mesmerizing Derisa. But Sindri kindly turned him down as Sindri was celibate and pious in his ways.
The stories of Sindri's life were well known in his day and the Sages knew of his wise ways like always urinating down wind, which Sindri had written a popular and in depth pamphlet on which was mandatory reading in the Kingdom of Majalajar. They sent the young Niggli to consult Sindri; Niggli being the son of Piggli and the grandson of Wiggli who was begot by Giggli, the same Giggli who wrought the powerful blade Jujibur which had long been lost to the evil shadow master shaman and troll king Kyglig (who was a right bollocks if the annals of Nigimuugur were to be believed, which they were, as Sindri had written them and he's perfect (if the annals of Nigimuugur are to be believed, which they are). Niggli was young, and inexperienced in the way of the Sages. He wore yellow robes denoting that he was an apprentice. The Sages had sent Niggli due to their craven disposition of traveling such a treacherous path as well as their fear of Sindri, who could always colour in inside the lines no matter even if the drawing was a vertical single line of black ink, and that was a talent they rightly admired and feared.
Niggli set out on his journey from Udjfaulusi, a port town on the peninsula of Midraterash Island (as well as a centre back for Atletico Madrid), which in fact was not in Midraterash at all, the name being misleading but the name had stuck after it had been misidentified by a cartographer long ago.
Niggli was scared and uncertain. He was an oaf and no where near as talented as me Sindri. He found passage by boat to Fertilar and decided to start his journey from there. A grave mistake...

(Continued in Part II of the Tales of Sindri the Omnipotent...)