Simon was running. Again. He always seemed to be running, but at least this time it was after something, and not away from it. Then again, is that better? To run towards danger instead of away from it?

“Why do my legs keep moving!”

He knew why. He reached behind his back, trying to wrestle his map out from his pack. The uneven ground of the forest floor made it difficult, as did the fallen trees that littered his path. He was just able to pull the map out as he jumped over a particularly large tree, its trunk gouged deeply.

He carefully unrolled the map. He could easily see the forest that he was currently within, and the small town only a kilometer or so away from the edge. He had to catch up, or else that town would be in huge trouble. Those creatures were supposed to stick to the deeper parts of the forest. A small town like this would be unable to defend itself, and most certainly be destroyed. They needed a hero.

“And it looks like I’m that… Shit!”

Simon was lucky enough to look away from the map just in time. Any longer running like that and he would have run straight into a tree stump. He sighed deeply and carefully stowed the map in his pack. The stump was just on the edge of the forest, and so was his quarry.

Its figure was mostly humanoid, but it was betrayed by several abnormalities. It was easily three times taller than the average man, though its hunched stature made it appear shorter. Its legs were short, but long enough to run with. In contrast, its arms dragged along the ground, the knuckles of its clawed fingers covered in dirt. Its skin was a dark, mottled green and covered in hair, especially on its back.

The monster noticed Simon, and looked down at him. The creature’s face stretched forwards, almost like an animal’s. Thick drool dripped from its razor-sharp teeth, landing in thick pools on the forest floor. Its most viscous aspect were its tusks. Two massive spires of ivory, jutting from its jaw, ending in points that could pierce even the thickest armor. Two dark eyes gazed at the small human below them.

“So that’s what a Troll looks like up close.”

A strong wind blew in his direction.

“So that’s what a Troll smells like up close.”

The Troll looked down at him, and Simon crouched, prepared to fight. Before he could attack, however, the Troll turned away from him.

“What?!”

Everyone knew that a monster never passed up a chance to kill a human, and this Troll just treated him as though he didn’t even exist. That wasn’t all. As it turned away, there was something else. Something that flashed in the creature’s eyes. A flash of… green?

Simon shook his head and started running after it. He could think of why this Troll was acting strange later. He had time to formulate a plan before it got to the town, so he would be able to… There was a house at the edge of the forest. Between the Troll and the town.

“I wish I was getting paid for this…”

Simon ran as fast as his legs could carry him, rolling up his sleeves at the same time. He ran his fingers over his arms, feeling the difference in texture between the scars and regular skin. He stretched, tensing his forearms, and feeling his blood flow through his veins. The scars on his arms formed complex, interlocking designs, ending in symbols on the back of his hands. He took a deep breath, and focused on the scars, on how they pulled on him, and on each other. A spark jumped from one scar to another as he thrust his arm towards the Troll in front of him.

A bolt of lightning burst from Simon’s arm, and into the back of the monster. It was only a single bolt, but it was enough to get its attention. The monster turned to face what had stung him, obviously annoyed.

“That normally works out better.”

Simon swore to himself. That bolt was a test. He could unleash stronger energy than that, but it was obvious it wouldn’t work. The monster’s hair was so thick it acted as a conductor, dispersing the bolt before it did anything useful. Luckily, he had another form of magic up his sleeve.

Simon curled his fingers, and instead of focusing on the scars on his arms, focused on the ones on the backs of his hands. His fingers stopped just short of touching, being slowly pushed apart by the objects manifesting in his hands.

Simon ran up to the Troll, with two swords now clutched within his hands. He was mortified to realize that the Troll had once again turned its back to him. He was going to need to make it pay attention to him, before it was too late. Only seconds until it reached that house.

He jumped up and stabbed one of the newly formed blades through the back hair, and into the Troll’s flesh. Wisps of black smoke oozed out of the monster’s back, reflecting the purple light Simon’s blades gave off. The Troll roared in protest, and swung one of its arms back to try and grab the pesky human. Simon took the opportunity to let go of the blade and start climbing up the hairy mountain he was clinging onto, still clutching his other sword tightly.

By the time Simon had made it to the creature’s head, the blade he had left behind had dispersed, fading into nothingness. He stood up and took a moment to enjoy the view. The house before him was a cozy-looking two or three-room cottage, and it was just at the top of a hill that led down to the town below. The sun was setting, and it cast a brilliant glow over the land.

While Simon was distracted, the Troll had noticed where the human had gone to, and swung his head back viciously. Simon lost his footing, and began to fall directly into the Troll’s open mouth. He swiveled to try and stop himself from becoming the monster’s dinner, and he almost made it. Then pain shot through his right leg.

Simon’s head jerked as he came to a stop. He looked up and realizes why he had stopped falling. He was now hanging outside of the Troll’s jaw by his leg. He took a closer look at the leg and almost passed out. Coming out of his leg was the top half of the Troll’s tusk, drenched in Simon’s blood.

While he realized that anyone or anything in the nearby area could easily hear him, he didn’t care. He screamed his lungs out. Not only from the pain, but from something very important he had forgotten about Trolls. Trolls used their tusks to take down prey, and could outlast most opponents because of them. He was able to catch his breath long enough to yell at himself.

“Troll tusks are coated in poison!”

He had to kill this thing now, before any more of the poison made its way into his bloodstream. And before it destroyed that house and the town. And before it decided to just kill him now. Well it may be too late for that last one, as the Troll’s claw was coming towards Simon’s head. Simon twisted his body away and could dodge the claw, but he clenched his teeth as his leg slid farther down the tusk, the wound growing larger in the process.

He then realized that his hand was still clutching a sword. And he was dangling right next to the Troll’s neck. Damn he was an idiot.

Simon thrust his blade into the monster’s neck, twisting the blade to drive it as far as he could. The monster roared, shaking Simon back and forth, but it was too late. Black smoke poured from the wound as the Troll collapsed to the ground. Before long, the entire monster had dispersed into the wind.

Simon got to his feet, but almost immediately collapsed. He had lost a lot of blood, and the poison was certainly moving through his body now. It wouldn’t kill him, but if anything found him, the poison wouldn’t need to.

His vision swam in and out, but he was still able to see the small house that was in the Troll’s path. He had rescued the people in that house, as well as all the people in that town. Or had he? Had he saved anyone in the house? Was anyone even living in it? Had he just killed himself for nothing? Was anyone going to care that he died?

Questions swam through his mind as he slowly drifted off into unconsciousness. He had completely blacked out only seconds later, not seeing the figure opening the door of the house. Not seeing the figure stand over him. Not seeing the figure pick him up and drag him away.