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The weeks turned slowly, as Brandon and Elinor brought joy to their lives as Elinor's belly began to swell, only dampened by the darkening clouds outside the castle. In the village and the fields, people always spoke in hushed voices, casting wary glances at neighbours, or travelling folk. Pointing and looks of scorn were common among groups of people as they weary and shunned others who were not a part of their group.
Whilst villages closed in on themselves Celtics turned to wargs an unnatural existence and a stain upon the land. Bands of them began to roam, hunting those who bore the 'gift' of the Old Gods. Village by village, they searched, accusing and dragging those they found from their homes. They wished to purge the North of wargs and bring them closer to their gods.
But the people of the North did not submit quietly. They fought back, defending their kin and pushing back with violence of their own, and so the land bled again not just in the wilds but also in the homes and villages. It was no longer rare to see blood spilled on the mod paths, no longer shocking to witness sword clashes or brawls over matters of faith or food. Every week brought new fighting, whether small skirmishes between neighbours or full-blown battles in the streets. Those who followed the Old Gods would not surrender to those who sought to erase them.
The People spoke feeling like the Long Night had returned with a vengeance. The sense of dread weighed down on them, as families clenched their stomachs and wailed for better times.
Tension-filled time passed, but the North had found no peace. As the struggles between the followers of the Old Gods and the Celtics moved into homes, more problems washed up on their shores. The Ironborn came back in greater numbers than before, their longships darkening the horizon like a swarm of locusts. Their iron price upon their lips and swords in their hands.
They struck into Ryder, Warg, Glover, and Flint kingdoms and through the coastal kingdoms had prepared that did not make the fighting any easier. The Ironborn came with fire and fury, sweeping through villages and leaving destruction in their wake. Their raids were swift, brutal, and relentless, pillaging homes and strongholds alike, and dragging away what they could not burn. They took men and women as slaves, coins for their collections, and loot for themselves.
Led by the many kings that made up the Rocky lands of the Ironland they came as a wave of fire determined to burn the North in blood and ash.
Amid the North's chaos, when it seemed that the land could bear no more blood more arose. To the east, in reaches of the Lonely Hills, something stirred. Aloe has graced the people with his presence and his latest creation. He released into the Red Kingdom, like a curse, his 'great work'. He called it a troll.
The troll was a creature of nightmares, as large as the Giants of the North, towering at nearly twelve feet tall. Its body was a hulking mass of muscle and bone, its limbs long and thick, filled with crushing strength. Its skin was cracked and dry, like old sun-burned leather, but tougher like a rock. The skin hung loose in places, sagging and split, before running down to three thick fingers built like shovels.
Its face was a twisted mockery of man, with sunken eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness, full of hunger. Its mouth was wide, filled with jagged, rotting teeth that could tear through flesh and bone with ease. And yet despite that all it was surprisingly human and could even talk in human speech. The troll was no mindless brute.
They started to roam the Lonely Hills, its presence turning the once quiet hills into battles for dominance of the hills and mountains that make up the lands.
As the people of the North struggled against the Ironborn and the Celtic hunts, news of this new terror spread like wildfire. People had already started to learn and hear the name Aloe and his madness, and the release of the troll cast an even darker shadow over people. And all the while, Aloe watched from the shadows, his grin left on the wind as his eyes gleamed over.
The people feared for their homes, family, friends, and the last of their possessions. They were hunted by beasts, raiders, bandits, hunger, and the cold. Nowhere was safe for them any longer. They felt alone and weak.