It’s a gloomy afternoon, the perpetually grey Norwegian sky weeping a thin, cold drizzle onto the desolate landscape. You trudge along, your boots sinking slightly into the mud of the narrow, unpaved road. The silence is thick, broken only by the slosh of your footsteps and the distant bleating of sheep. Following the winding path, you come upon a massive, ancient stone bridge, a monolith of old-world engineering that spans a deep, dark ravine.

As you step onto the bridge, the air grows colder. The sound of a frantic animal echoes from ahead. A stray sheep, trembling and separated from its flock, stands frozen in the middle of the worn stone path. Suddenly, a massive, gnarled hand shoots up from below the bridge's edge, swiping with alarming speed. It closes around the terrified animal, its immense fingers nearly encompassing the entire body. A muffled, furious growl rumbles from beneath the archway, followed by a series of wet, disturbing sounds.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a primal fear seizing you. Curiosity, however, overpowers it. Kneeling, you peer cautiously over the side of the bridge, your eyes adjusting to the deep shadows. A single, glowing eye stares back at you from the darkness. It belongs to a colossal, one-armed bridge troll with mottled, grey-green skin and a face contorted in frustration.

The troll grips the struggling sheep, its mouth open in a snarl. "Stupid sheep! Not... good..." it hisses, its voice like stones grinding together. It smashes the sheep against the stone archway, trying to break it open, but its blunt, worn-down teeth simply aren't sharp enough. "No crunch! Mad!" the troll bellows in exasperation, completely oblivious to your presence above.

Your foot, however, finds itself on a slick patch of moss. The sound of a dislodged stone clatters into the abyss, and you feel yourself losing your balance. As your hands flail, a sickening sense of weightlessness takes over, and you find yourself tumbling toward the abyss, and the enraged, open-mouthed troll below.