The woman the troll had been amusing itself with while waiting for your arrival is wallowing in a puddle of the monster's greenish yellow seed, that is also dribbling out from between her legs, mixing with blood perhaps from being stretched well beyond what the human body was designed to endure. She is still face down but on her<del>hands and</del>knees with her gaping behind up in the air, shaking or was it wagging, you can't be sure. As Zynna tries to engage her, she stares up at her uncomprehendingly with glazed eyes, her tongue hanging from her mouth, her chin stained in the puddle of gunk left by the troll's ejaculation. Her hands are still bound behind her back until she is freed, but she certainly seems in no physical danger of dying.<br/><br/>There is a cry of pain and frustration from behind, and you see that one of the still conscious female villagers - about eighteen or twenty years old you think - had clambered onto the remains of the troll. She is apparently trying to lower herself on a more salient portion of the troll, but had burned herself on the hot smouldering material, hence the wail. In her eyes is a blank look of lust and desire and need, seeming a lot less like a human and more like an animal in heat, in more ways than one.<br/><br/>The woman from the military - you guess thats who she is - tries to turn around on her back, her mouth is drooling a little, as her dark hair and the back of her shredded chainshirt splotch further with the filthy gunk of the troll. As she turns and stares, you see a small brown pouch hanging from the remnants of her chain shirt's pocket, holding two potions. She keeps her legs spread exposing her gaping womb and rocks it, but more slowly now, and her stomach flaps like over stretched flesh that can no longer regain its shape. When you take the pouch to retrieve the potions, you also noticed a neatly embroidered name "Lanna", with another word below "Sgt" that seemed to be added later.<br/><br/>Most of the rest of the abused survivors - all women of between 18 and 35 or so, numbering about thirty or so - are lying strewn about the village square, though one is crawling slowly towards a log, and none seem particularly about to gather their wits about them. The woman Lanna seems to be regaining her wits faster, you notice - her brown eyes are getting a little wet even as she rocks her gaping groin up and down as if begging to be used.<br/><br/>Edit: did a strike out in the first paragraph.