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“If you want to travel through the troll kingdoms they would see many magical scenes and mystical sights.
Through the Rock kingdom that housed Heavy and Soft Rock, as well as Punk and Alternative, one would go through a vast network of advanced cities before making it to the Rock Volcano, a giant city nestled into the side of a steaming volcano. From transport Creatures like Angler buses and Beetle bikes that moved between cities with ease, flying high overhead. To the small Furrybats that were often kept as pets or used to send mail. Outside of the many creatures, the Trolls were the most important. Their colors were the dullest, usually ashy in nature, with diamond-shaped ears, they were usually stout and broader than the other musical trolls.
From the Rock kingdom one might go to the seemingly endless desert plains of the Country Tribe. Their Tribe was widely spread out taking advantage of their land. Bluegrass and Folk tended to stick close to the riverbanks, sailing down to trade with Blues that settled downstream. In the middle one would find the Lonesome Flatts, where the elected mayor would make the big decisions for the Tribe. They have their own transport critters like the Saddle Spiders that got them through the desert and their mountains with a quick craftiness. Their creatures tended to be sturdier like the Adorabulls and Buffalo. Even with the many sub-genres and ways of living all of them were Country Trolls. Known for their stubbornness and work ethic the trolls tended to be warm and kind. They were one of the two quadruped species of trolls, but the only one with six limbs. With horse-like bodies from the waist down and a torso and head of a troll they were one of the tallest species.
You might also want to visit the Techno Reefs but only if one is a good swimmer, or the cloudy kingdom of the Classical trolls for a calming sound. The Funk trolls were welcoming but hard to pin down, the nomadic lifestyle of the kingdom left them usually just out of reach.
You could really see it all, and experience every type of music and lifestyle, from rolling plains to the underwater raves. Really there is only one place, one area, we must warn you against.
In the Troll Forest, a vast dense forest made up of millions of trees that were millions, possibly even thousands of years old with creatures never found anywhere else, was the Troll Forest. The troll forest surrounds the Troll Tree, the birthplace of all the trolls. And sadly many, many years, maybe two or three hundred of years ago the tree fell under the Pop Trolls rule. The Pop trolls used to be great, kind, and happy little things, the brightest color troll in the whole species. But one day the Pop King went mad- no one knows why- but he did. Now you may be wondering what did he do! Well, this mad king got up one day and decided no one else got to be king- no one else's music got to be heard. Just Pop and only Pop all the time. So, when the king was asleep the other trolls acted, stealing their music and running away, leaving the forest to the Pop Trolls. Pop trolls are selfish and maybe possibly evil, they think they're better than all the other trolls. Why else have they never come to any royal parlay? So, really just go anywhere else but there.”
She said with a snap of the brochure, hitting the colorful pamphlet down against the desk, her cheerful smile matching her cheery tone.
The forest used to be bright. Used to be teaming with flowers and fruits, with life of all types of musical and whimsical creatures. From the Singing Trolls to the Fluffalos and Snuggle bugs, light and sounds filled the forest, bouncing off the trees and bringing magic into the world. Any type of music was welcome, every creature from the smallest of small to the largest of large would come to rest in the thick underbrush and be welcome. Colors would dance from the treetops all the way through the roots. The forest had always been welcome to all that wished to hear its music.
Until it wasn’t.
The idea of a troll to be so selfish was unheard of. A troll? Cruel? Their little bodies did not hold enough for such negativity. It was what made the betrayal so devastating. When the trolls started to fight, their harmony was broken- shattered in the winds that used to carry their song, swept up as if it were nothing. The light seemed to follow each tribe out, chasing them out of the forest, nipping at their heels as if to urge them on.
But the great divide happened hundreds of years ago. And the darkness that now blanketed the land was something much worse.
In the center of the forest, under a canopy of leaves, and surrounded by a wall of thorns was a village.
Was.
Had been.
Is maybe a better word.
Homes that used to hang high up in the trees, colorful and full of light lay tangled and scattered, crushed as if made of sand. Some lay on the forest ground, upside down or on their sides. Dozen of them, forgotten, empty, and lifeless other than the few glitter worms and beetles that made their homes in their corpses. Here rays of light show through broken branches onto the scene of a massacre. The scene of loss. The ground is stained with the colorful blood of the colorful creatures that used to call it home. Vines and saplings began to grow over the fallen pods, reclaiming them as their own.
It was in this silence that a figure moved. A fluff of wild orange hair sticking out, before dark brown eyes peeking out over a ledge, blue nose sniffing the breeze that made the leaves sway. Her eyes darted around taking in any movement. Carefully she stepped out from her hiding spot, cautious looking around. She was small, with a gray cropped top and white patched shorts, and though she offered to be the lookout she still held a Wufflbug plush in her iron grip.
Her lip trembled for a second before she leaned her head back.
“ALL CLEAR!”
She shouted. And one by one trolling after trolling climbed out of hiding spots, from the downed Pods to the many entrances to the Bunker the Pop trollings crawled out. The twenty-seven trollings quickly checked between each other, glancing around the area with curious expressions. From the Bunker’s doorway, a little hatch that blended in seamlessly with the giant mushroom stage, came two trollings. A pink haired pink trolling with a flower crown and a bright grin, hand in hand with a gray trolling just a year or two older with threaded shorts and a leaf vest. He stepped out before her, leading her out to the gathering children.
“Well,” The pink ten year old queen said with a clap trying to infuse cheer and happiness into her voice, “Doesn't look like anything but Tarantacapuffs!”
The gray troll frowned at her before turning to the group, “Alright everybody, let’s keep working. Remember grab stuff that is easy to carry! We don’t know how long we’ll be walking.”
The trollings nodded and disappeared, returning to their assembly lines, pulling any leftover cans or jars from the wreckages.
The young queen took the distraction and let her smile drop, reaching forward to grab onto the slightly older troll's hand. “Hey,” she said softly once he looked at her, “This is going to work Branch, I just know it.”
Sighing he smiled at her, pulling the old map they had discovered the night before out of his head and pulling her down to the dirt with him. Laying it out the two studied it.
“The Rock trolls look like they're in the mountains,” he said, pointing down at the map, “So, I think we need to head to Disco or um the Country trolls. We can follow the river so we don’t have to worry about water.”
She nodded along, tracing her finger down the winding river, “Whichever town we find first.” she nodded, flopping her hair around, “Maybe after we get there, they can help us find my Daddy and all the other grown-ups.”
Branch smiled sadly at her, unwilling to point out how unlikely any of the older trolls were left alive.
“Yeah, Poppy, maybe.”