The light casts sharp lines on the Settlement in the Hatchet hills and the Amani Pass.  The walls of Zul'Aman glisten a jade-like green as the dew is slowly burned from the surface.

A guard in red and gold stands watch, his hair ruffled in the light wind, his keen eye upon the Amani village, so close by.  The acrid smoke of the amani's breakfast on the fire fills his nostrils and his stumoch rumbles a complaint.

“Has da nex' watch come yet?”, the guard questions another standing to watch the gates of the City of Zul'Aman for any attack from those buffered inside the city under seige. The other looks at him and snorts.  “Nah, not yet.  Soon dey will come back from dere trip for supplies from Sen'jin.  Righ' now only Kukul'Kan provides for us, but soon da wo'mons will come, den we can provide too.” The guard winks at his companion.  He looks to the rising sun with the thought of warm food and women soon to arrive settling into his mind.

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The priestess of the Raptor looks over the charms and grisly offerings that dangle and reside in the Zigguraut over looking Zul'Aman and more importantly the Alter of Ula'tek.  The witchdoctor prepares a circle with color tinted charcoal, his long tusks are etched with the designs of feathers and claws, sacred symbold of the raptor loa Kukul'Kan.  The mid afternoon sun shines upon the two as the begin to chant their prayers to the Great Raptor, seeking his blessings for the hunt and for enemy blood to be shed.

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The hunter skulks about the bush and fronds of the hot jungle evening in Stranglethorn Vale.  The humid air is thick and cloying at the back of his throat.  He sharpens the point of his spear and watches the large tiger as it hunts its prey.  The tiger leaps with a flash upon the green jungle raptor.  The troll waits a moment the bone fetishes click in his hair and he grabs a flask of deadly poison from a kodo hide pouch.  He breaks the vial on to the tip of the featherd spear.  With a strong arm the spear flies and hits its mark, the cat falls, the raptor flees.

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The moon sighs across the sky and shines lightly down upon the village of Sen'jin.  The trolls celebrate their feast.  The tiger would feed the village for a few days.  The fires light the shining smiles of the trolls as they laugh, tell stories, and dance.  They all look to the skies, to the spirits, they praise the loa.  Today has been a good day, a day worth being a troll.