"Check...mate" a grin loosed from the young boy’s face as he dramatically moved his queen into position, completing his well-planned chess game. He sat back smiling and stroking his chin. He chuckled.
"A little conceited are we?" cracked a young brunette sitting in the seat in front of him, as she cleared the board. “Issachar!” She gasped, “Today is the first day of the festival of Gifts, I almost forgot! We’ll be late!”
With that they both scurried off to their rooms and began getting dressed. Issachar grabbed a large piece of clothe that was once white, but from wear was now a dull greyish tone, and began wrapping around himself In an attempt to cut the frigid cold ...view middle of the document...
The torso was covered in hair, and had two arms, with claws dripping with blood. The Troll had four legs, each with it’s own set’s of claws. The first set being aligned with the torso and the other further back.
Issachar stared as the creature walked towards the Ram. The season hadn’t faired well for him and his sister, and he couldn’t let that ram slip through his grasps. That could feed him and Ash a couple months. He had to act fast. The troll was about to grab the net when it felt a stabbing pain in it’s left side. He reached down and felt a spear in his side. Yanking it out, splitting the shaft, he began to walk slowly around listening for his attacker.
Issachar tried to slow his breathing down but it was no use. While the troll slowly walked towards him. He slowly unsheathed his sword, a medium length curved sword that he had made himself. When the Troll was within a couple yards of him, the boy leapt up and charged the beast. He caught it off guard but not enough. When he swung, the troll swatted the sword out of his hand and slashed his right arm. As his arm began oozing blood the beast went in for the kill. The young hunter barely had time to roll out of the way and begin to run for his sword. As he ran the Troll dashed towards him, gaining very rapidly. With one fluid motion Issachar grabbed the sword and swung the sword behind him. All he heard was the thump of the troll’s head in the snow. As his heart rate began to slow, the pain in his arm began to intensify. He then jabbed his sword into the goat’s side and wrapped them both in the net, and used some of his garments to wrap his arm. It took all his strength to drag them back to the village.
He continued dressing, tucking his sword into the layers of clothe, and wrapping his neck with a well worn grey scarf.
When he arrived at the outskirts of town, he dragged himself into the trading outpost and collapsed from exhaustion. He slowly opened his eyes to be wrapped up in a warm fur and lying by a blazing fire. He began to sit up when a tall burly man, clothed in in animal pelts came over to him.
“How long have I been out?” Issachar asked rubbing his head.
“Two hours?” the storeowner answered, “I saw that you brought in a Troll! Very Impressive for a lad of how many years?”
“Seventeen. Yeah, he nicked me pretty good.” He said, looking down at his arm to see that he had a fresh bandage.
“Aye I saw it lad, nasty one, I took it upon myself to change it for you.” The man said and adjusted his coat, “Me names Thomas, Thomas Higgleton.”
“Nice to meet you Mr. Higgleton,” he extended his left hand and the greying hunter took it in his and shook.
“Please, just call me Tom.” The hunter said with warmness in his voice, “And what’s your name?”
“I’m Issachar Boyce.”
An expression of recognition struck over the weathered hunters face, “Ah you are the son of Augustine Boyce! Your Father is a brave man.”
“He was…” Issachar...