WOT Adv 233 - Fiznak

--- The Wheel Turns ---
Fiznak, finally sated from his meal, lay back and listened to the comforting crackle of the fire, watched the flickering flames of light until heavy lids closed over his mind, taking him into a deep sleep and out of time and space.
....
He stood in a grove of trees and thick mist up up to his mid thigh, drifted heavily over the forest undergrowth. Through the trees above he could see a full moon drifting under a dark star-lit sky with pale clouds.
Where in the light was he? Was this... a dream? Or was it real. It felt dream-like in a way, if he turned his head too fast, it seemed that the world blurred dizzyingly. Yet, he felt strangely tangible.
His head was pounding fiercely. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled.
"Light..." he moaned and pressed one hand to his temple, expecting to see blood where his bandages were. But he felt nothing but whole skin and his normal scalp. After a moment the pain subsided. He shook away the tendrils of mist that clouded his mind, and touched his arms and side. There were no wounds here. He was completely whole and hale here. Wherever "here" was...
Off through the trees, he saw something move. A black shadow stepped out from under a large oak and into the pale moonlight. It was a large humanoid shape with powerful looking arms, in those arms it held a wicked scythe-like sword, it was covered in thick chain mail armor. As it peered around a tree, Fiznak could see a face under a heavy helmet... A beak of a bird mixed obscenely with a man's all too human face with red eyes. Rams horns jutted out and the horror turned to look at him. It grinned and showed rows of razor sharp teeth. A tongue snaked out and licked it's lips.
A trolloc.
"I can shmell you, man-flesh," it growled. "I shall feast upon your bones!" The beast roared ferociously and charged towards him.
"Blood and Ashes!" Fiznak breathed, weaponless, he took a step backwards, stumbling over his cloak that had wrapped itself about a low root or branch. Down on one knee, he cast his eyes about for a weapon and grabbed a nearby stout tree branch.
"Ashes, it's better than nothing!" He cursed his ill luck to be in this strange place and sent a few more choice curses towards Bors for destroying his father's sword.
Suddenly, the stout branch shifted and changed and his father's sword was in his hands, the familiar feel of the steel pommel clenched in his hands.
The trolloc slowed it's charge and hesitated a moment, seeing Fiznak's blade glint in the moonlight. It's breath sent humid expulsions of breath from underneath its helm. It held it's scythesword in two hands.
"I'll spear you like a boar, manling," It postured. Crouching it watched Fiznak carefully. The borderlander could hear the creak of leather of its boots and the clink clink of the chain mail.