He went as far as the arctic wastes of Teleria, where he learned as much as one could of Jotuns and their rune scripture. Struck by this truth, Drokgul vowed to find enlightenment and break free from the vicious cycle of violence he had created.

All his grief and hardship were the result of his own failings, no one else’s. Eventually, he came to a startling realization. Yet in this solitude, Drokgul had time enough to brood over his fate as he scraped a living in the northmost wastelands where the chilly breath of winter was his constant companion. For many winters he roved alone, resentful and full of anger. So it came to pass that Drokgul was driven from his home and forced into exile.

No clan, no matter how small or desperate, would accept him, and his rivals soon banded together to defend themselves. Drokgul had seen much strife in his youth, for his temperamental nature led him to fight his kindred over hunting grounds, spoils, even minor insults.

But even among such simple creatures, a spark of genius can be found. For most of them, it was a simple existence unburdened by the calamities of change or naive dreams of progress. Trollfolk dwelled amid the craggy mountains and grassy hills, their rule unchallenged for many centuries. Long before the first humans set foot to the vast tundras of Telerian north, it was an untamed land of spirits and mysteries.

Drogul the gaunt raid shadow legends