Trolls

There are two types of Trolls, the Vesten will tell you: Rock Trolls and Green Trolls, and Rock Trolls are stupid.
Rock Trolls are stupid, smelly and savage; they smell of brimstone and will rip you from limb to limb if you accidentally wander into their ill-defined strips of what they call “territory.” If a Rock Troll grabs you while trespassing, only abject flattery, groveling or trickery will save you from a violent death and possibly not even then. To go hand to hand with a Rock Troll is suicide; they are “strong enough to hold a boulder on both shoulders,” as the Vesten saying goes. Moreover, their solid-stone skin renders them impervious to most forms of violence and all but the harshest elements; the latter is fortunate, in a way, as it means most Rock Trolls establish territories in inhospitable peaks where they are not likely to maul more than the occasional passing traveler.
There are two types of Trolls, the Vesten will tell you: Rock Trolls and Green Trolls, and Green Trolls are smart.
Legend has it that the White Witch carved and enchanted the first Green Troll; for its defiance of her orders, she cursed it to ever-wander. Ill-fortune would torture all who welcomed it and any of its descendants should it ever try to find a home. The White Witch in her sledge still haunts Vestenmennavenjar as a Jotun and most Troll rituals exist to lessen the effect of her curse (such that a single or several Trolls can stay in a village for days or even weeks at a time). A few rituals also exist to suppress the White Witch’s ability to manifest near Green Trolls, for stories say if a Green Troll ever sees the White Witch, it will be compelled to obey her commands.
Green Trolls travel solitary or in bands, sometimes with a bevy of Rock Trolls trailing behind; Rock Trolls obey Green Trolls unquestioningly, though good luck getting a Green Troll to tell you how they manage that. Green Trolls are sharp-faced and secretive; no human can learn their language, which they speak in voices that sound like stones grinding against one another. They travel from town to town with sacks on their backs or in caravans decorated with strange stone charms, working as artisans or peddlers: their stonecarving in particular is renowned.
Unlike Rock Trolls, they never settle down; their possessiveness manifests differently. They drive hard bargains, count their coin, never lose money at dice or cards, and though it takes them a day or a decade, they track down anyone who steals from them and extract twice the price of whatever was pilfered. If you threaten them, they try to kill you.
People tell you meeting a Green Troll is preferable to meeting a Rock Troll and it may be so, but meeting a Green Troll (or a band of them) is hardly a comfort. A lot of them look nearly identical—green skin, high cheekbones and grotesquely wide mouths—and to make matters worse, they all wear heavy cloaks with hoods even on the hottest days. They have a bevy of rituals they do—only on the nights of the waning moon—that they do not let humans come near: you only find out about them afterward when you see boulders marked up with black wax pencil, the stone stained with blood and never any bones—nobody knows what they sacrifice on those rocks, and most folks do not want to question.