On the heels of the Slayers are you and Clan Angrund, and you draw to a halt at the sight that greets you. Hundreds of Trolls gathered in the abattoir that the King's Gates entrance hall had become, feasting on a thousand slain Goblins; you call to mind the few glimpses you got of the pit underneath the false floor, and realize it must have been an entrance of its own to a vast network of Troll-infested caves. You try not to imagine what would have happened if Clan Angrund had charged in first, expecting Goblins rather than Trolls. You've heard stories of what Troll vomit does to a heavily armoured victim, when steel that should have protected instead traps the terrible acids against the skin. The carnage would have been terrible.
Not that the events unfolding before you are much better.
A Slayer goes into battle unarmoured - Hell, damn near unclothed - and while this so often leads them to the deaths they seek, it is entirely an advantage against Trolls, with slow reactions and slower minds. Geysers of stomach acid are nimbly sidestepped around and axes bite deep into stomachs to spill out their most disgusting weapon, then ankles until the Troll falls, then spines or throats to finish the beast, and the Slayer moves on to the next. Hundreds of them lose their lives, not because they can't avoid an attack but because they choose instead to drive home a crippling blow moments before their doom reaches them.