Troll hunting tip number one: don’t hunt in the dark.

I barrelled over a twig. Gnome and I crashed in the underbrush.

“Must you sapiens always rush headlong into certain death?” Gnome whined, upended in a bush.

I pushed myself up and listened for the thunderous footfalls. Far ahead the canopy of leaves wobbled. “Didn’t you say something about adventure back in the cave?” I swept him up and dashed ahead, darting in between trees, occasionally stubbing my toe on exposed roots.

“Ah yes, how silly of me. Though I also recall saying something about not dying!”

The sky was clear, and the moon provided enough light to reveal the shape of the woods. The chase took us up a hill where the trees thinned out, pine replaced palm, and scattered rock marred the terrain.

The troll lumbered along, swinging its arms wide. Its legs were wrapped in bark, and roots were coming out of its feet. Wait, are those toes?

High on the hill above a bright orange light emanated from a cave. I followed to the side, keeping close to where the trees were still thick enough to provide cover, and watched the walking safari step into the globe of light and duck inside. Smoke billowed out of the cave like the nostril of a dragon, from a fire with logs so big they might have once been trees.

“Well, we found its house,” I whispered, stooping low in a tangle of thorn bushes.

“Yes, that’s all well and good. Can we vacate ourselves from the proximity of its projectiles now?”

I hadn’t noticed the pile of rocks next to the sling until Gnome pointed them out. Each one approximated the size of my head and would likely sweep it clean off on impact.

Troll hunting tip number two: try not to lose your head.

Even with the many rocks outside the cave I could use as cover, the troll had the high ground from its cave. I watched it slip out of its tree armour and set the shield aside, but even unarmoured I didn’t give myself five seconds before it was on me and I was pounded into mush.

I took Gnome’s advice and slinked away. I built our fire near a promontory overlooking the palms and the moonlit waves far beyond. To the south was a forest of trees so tall they could rival skyscrapers. I wouldn’t have been able to spot it without the giant balls of colourful lights flitting in and out of the dense umbrella of leaves.

I asked my favourite chatterbox what it was, and as I set up the furbo on a makeshift spit (just a stick with some rope, really. My B+ in arts and crafts in second grade was finally coming in handy), he regaled me with fantastical descriptions of treetop towns, cave villages and lantern groves on this side of the island. The flickering lights were faeries, he said, wardens of these strange pockets of civilization.

“Actual towns?” I pressed him. “With people and shops and things?”

“Not as such,” Gnome admitted, miffed I had interrupted his storytelling. “Temporary locales of creatures from the other side of the island. Every time I am awakened by one of you sapiens, there are new towns, with the others returning to the earth to be devoured by vines. In those places it is as if time has marched forward a thousand years when only days have passed.”

So those ruins really were just that. “But why?”

“It is part of the game. I am coming to the conclusion the makers from your world have negotiated some kind of accord with the Hobblescars,” Gnome said gravely. “What they have traded for such power, though, I am uncertain of.”

I took a bite out of the furbo. It was uncomfortably chewy. “So if we go to one of these places,” I began, my teeth struggling with the poorly cooked meat, “would I be able to get us some help?”

“Unlikely. Fey beings are slippery by their very nature. They are perhaps more pliable in their own territory, however. That’s where they are most comfortable. Most vulnerable.”

As Gnome droned on about his distaste for fey, the shadows began to retreat. I peered beyond the red glow of the fire where the colour faded. The veil of night that was the boundary of my lame human vision dissolved. Trees came into focus, separated by varying shades of grey. Out over the ocean the horizon was sharp. Holy shit, I can see.

Ability Discovered

- Darkvision -

Tier 0

Con 1

Con -1%/min

Now you know how your cat feels when it sits at the end of the bed, staring at you. If you start licking yourself, we’ll have a problem. You can see in the dark in shades of grey.

Troll hunting tip number three: if you have darkvision, ignore tip number one.

“I have an idea,” I said suddenly, interrupting whatever it was Gnome was saying.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Oh no, not another one,” the mimic complained. He yelped when I scooped him up. “Must you be so sudden in your sparks of inspiration? You are causing this mimic a great deal of stress.”

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The terrain was much easier to scout with darkvision active. I still had exhaustion after my uncomfortable sleep earlier failed to remove it, which meant my constitution hovered at eighty percent when full. Eighty minutes of darkvision. It wasn’t much, but it would do for the execution of my plan.

Being able to see around the perimeter of the cave was crucial. Close to the entrance the trees were sparse. There were some overturned logs gripped by fungus and clusters of rock and boulders acting as a natural defence—or source of cover—for any intruder. Any one of those rocks might be safe to hide behind while I let off my arrows. It wouldn’t last, though. In height I came up to the troll’s waist, which meant at running speed that thing would quash me before I could get anywhere. Above the cave, though…

The cave itself was fairly compact. The troll was hunched over the fire and if it leaned back it would clonk itself on the ceiling. The path up and around the sides of the cave looked perilous—plenty of jagged stone and uneven ground. Not very suitable for troll climbing. But there was a narrow strip of flora that managed to stake its claim up top. A few trees, a scraggly bush or two, and not much else. That was enough.

Gnome was predictably skeptical after I relayed to him my plan. So was I. But if I needed to run, I woud have an easier time of it from above the cave. There were more trees behind the troll’s home than in front, and the natural slope and jagged ascent meant a more difficult chase.

I crept slowly around the firelit abode, keeping an eye on the occupied troll. What looked like a squirrel skittered up its side and jumped off when the beast moved to scratch an itch. It was humming to itself and staring contemplatively into the fire.

Once up top and hidden behind the rising smoke, I set to work. I tied some rope around the tree closest to the lip of the cave, and to the next tree further back, linking the two.

Timing my chops with the crackling and snapping of tinder, I began burying my ax into the first tree. It didn’t take long before the trunk had chipped enough for it to start leaning over the cave. The branches swayed and the leaves shook as the rope went taut, locking it in place.

I looked back to Gnome and nodded. I liked to imagine he was nodding back, but in reality I knew if he had a head, he would be shaking it.

“Here goes nothing,” I breathed. I slipped my arm through the smoke and dropped the furbo carcass directly beneath the partially felled tree’s arc of collapse.

There was a soft thump. The humming stopped abruptly. Slowly the troll came into view as it leaned out of the cave, sniffing.

My ax cleaved the rope in one swing. The tree groaned as the troll tilted its head around. Like a cartoon its eyes opened comically wide before the trunk smacked it square in the nose.

Tree and troll crashed to the ground, and my bow was in hand before it could figure out what happened. Nock. Fire. The arrow pierced its chest. The troll growled, swatting at the air.

Nock. Fire. The second punctured its shoulder. The third sunk into its hand as it continued to swing wildly. Four shots. Five shots. The drifting smoke danced around my arrows as they zipped through, subjecting the troll to a very uncomfortable acupuncture session.

Tired of my arrows, the troll screamed and tapped the hive on the side of its head. I heard the buzzing before I saw the swarm. The cloud of insects circled me. I leapt back and the swarm followed. They stung my arm, my neck, my shoulder.

- Poison resisted by Endurance -

I pulled my dagger free and slashed at the stinging whirlwind. Another sharp pain in my knee, followed by my back.

The troll was up again, and with one arm hauled the fallen tree up onto its shoulder. It grunted and chucked it like a javelin. I managed to duck as it flew by and tore another tree out of the ground.

“Shit, that thing can throw!” I yelled. I went for another shot, but the painful stings knocked my shot wide. Before I could try again the troll had ducked back into the cave. “Little fuckers!” I switched back to my knife and swung in random arcs, cutting—I hoped—at the bugs.

Status Received

- Poisoned -

You may start to feel a little woozy, maybe a little faint. Don’t fret, you’re only dying. Albeit slowly. And probably painfully. Your Vitality is decreasing at a rate of 0.5%/min.

The troll emerged from the cave again with a sackful of rocks and a sling, and wasted no time in returning the favour. I jumped right to avoid the first stone. My foot slipped out from under me as the second one launched, gracing my shoulder. I said gracing, but that shit hurt. The force was enough to send me rolling over my head and slamming into Gnome, whose squeal alerted me to the fact he was very inconvenienced by the shift in battle.

“Don’t just lie there,” he commanded, “slay that troll!”

I swallowed the wit I was about to fling back. He was right after all, this was my mess. I bounded forward again, momentarily slipping out of the swarm. I had my bow in hand and an arrow ready to fire when the second troll emerged from the woods.

This one was bigger by about three feet, hauling a dead Large Bird under one arm and some kind of goat-looking creature under the other.

“Whas’ hap’nin?” He wondered, confused. Then he saw the arrows sticking out of the other troll. He dropped his groceries. “Hun, y’okay?”

The one he affectionately called hun lowered its sling and pointed up to the very bad man with a bow and many inflamed sting marks beginning to show on his skin. “Da human hit me, Gurg!” She said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Yeah. She.

Troll hunting tip number four: never assume a troll’s relationship status.

The stinging resumed all over my body, but I had other problems to worry about. Problems such as the very angry looking husband-troll sprinting towards me with a speed that would make any short distance runner blush.

“Well fuck.”

But he stopped suddenly, skidding to a halt. He looked down at the arrow in his side. Both trolls exchanged a confused look before the second arrow flew through the air like a dart, hitting him in the neck with a perfect bullseye. He turned to the woods to see his shooter dart between the trees.

Troll hunting tip number five: bring some friends along.

I didn’t know who my saviours were, but they had my thanks. If I was religious they would have my blessing. It might have been Sinthu and the rest of the Ruby Rangers come to take my kill and then my life, but at the very least I wouldn’t have my head caved in by a sailing rock.

The female troll was momentarily distracted by the eruption of chaos surrounding her other half, who had swept a rock off the ground and launched it blindly to the woods. A vine broke out of the ground and snatched the rock mid-arc and tossed it back like it weighed nothing. It shattered against the troll, nearly taking him off his feet.

Whoa. Crouching behind a tree was the mastermind of that well executed play, his arm movements orchestrating the snaking vine.

Another arrow, this one wreathed in blue flame, streaked through the air.

I broke myself out of the trance and rejoined the fray, firing my own paltry non-flaming arrows, and stealing the attention of the wife-troll. Frustrated, she dropped the sling and began hurling the rocks at me like baseballs. I darted out of view, narrowly avoiding a direct hit.

The swarm had found me again, piercing any part of my skin they could. Up ahead the male troll leapt forward, batted away a strike from the animated vine, and tore it out of the ground.

As impressive as that ability was, shit was hitting the fan real quick.

Troll hunting tip number six: don’t hunt trolls.