The injured troll was tending to his wounds, and tearing the arrows out of his body, when he felt lighter all of a sudden. He looked down, and his chest-plate was missing! He looked back into the road, and saw it laying out in the open. He still had his gauntlets and helmet. He felt weak without his armor. This was the first time in years it had ever been off of him. There were indents on his chest of where the armor had been on him for all these years. He had no choice but to run out into the street, and fetch his chest-piece. That is exactly what he intended to do. Garashbur charged out and grabbed his armor. He felt swords slashing across his bare chest. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would bleed out. He charged back into the woods. He tried to put the armor back on, but the straps in the back had come untied, and Garashbur never learned how to tie a knot. He buried the armor in leaves, so no-one would take it, and charged back out. He realised that he would have to take care of the rest of them before he could escape. He charged out, swinging his arms wildly at the Strikers. He took many down, before they were stabbing him in the chest and back. Garashbur felt his skin tearing, and his back bleeding. This built up his rage. He began picking up strikers and using them as weapons against their own. He was swinging at them with an orc soldier he had picked up off of the ground. They were falling, one by one, until there were four left. Garashbur felt as if he could not fight any more. Garashbur fell to the ground. The four strikers surrounded him, two in the front, two in the back. There was no way they could lift a troll. Garashbur thought about the group. He thought about his friends. They were the only friends he had ever had, and they were the best friends he had ever hoped for. He had to save them, he had to help them in Markarth. He stood up, and grabbed the striker nearest to him. He swung him at two of the others. There was one left. "ROOOAAAAAAAR!" Once the final Striker heard the roar, his back was to the troll, and was running full speed in the other direction. Garashbur hobbled back into the forest, grabbed his armor, and headed on the road to Markarth. Little did he know, there was an entire army waiting for him, a few miles from where he was. He would be walking right into a trap.
