While the horrible yells still reverberated through the hills and the horrible stink grew only worse, the ground began to thud with the fast inhuman shambling of huge creatures. Then, finally, the figures burst over the far treeline and crested the hill to the party's front. Luckily the group had prepared swiftly, for the 2 large trolls raced down the slope of the hill in a frenzied sprint of feet and claw. There was only enough light to see their flesh, bright putrid green and yellow, but something was amiss.

Any adventurer would know the properties of a troll. Regenerative to the extreme, trolls are extremely difficult to kill because of their fast-healing bodies. They have only one true weakness, which is fire. However, the two trolls charging headlong at the party were obviously wounded. Gaping open sores oozed all over their bodies, rotting away as fast as the flesh tried to knit itself back together. Whole charred pieces of skin sloughed off of their forms as they ran, flapping in the breeze. The stink of death and rot grew ever stronger as a pale grey vapor oozed from their wounds. To those learned in the arcane, they reeked of necromantic magic in the extreme.

The two trolls, each standing about 9 feet tall, roared again as they sprinted across the open field. There was only time for an arrow or two, perhaps a single spell, before the disgusting creatures met with the line of warriors. The first troll, a sickly yellow-green, seemed to focus in on Gentle, the biggest target before him. It roared and swiped it's claws at the minotaur man. The second troll was a step behind, with two malformed heads sitting on it's shoulders. Both sets of eyes locked on to Naldir, the Aasimar, and slammed down it's rotting claws from above.