Bristlenose the Troll

The small lake was cool and still under the early autumn sun. The orange and red leaves slowly fluttered from the trees on the surface, where they sank down to Bristlenose’s lair. Bristlenose floated a foot from the muddy bottom, sunlight flashing around him through the water.

A foolish carp swam too close and he whipper out a clawed hand, dragging it into his mouth. He crunched the bones happily.

He stayed there, still and quietly munching fish, until the sun sank beneath the horizon and his lake grew dark. He paddled his webbed hands and feet to propel himself through the water, scanning the lake floor.

A sparkle of blue caught his eye and he swam down towards it. He quickly uncovered a small moonstone buried in the silt and lifted it to the surface. He rolled it out onto the bank, growling at the goblins gathered there.

Panicked, the goblins threw their trade items at him, scooped up the moonstone, and ran squealing into the woods.

Chuckling, Bristlenose gathered two spatulas, an old wheelbarrow, and several cow bones. He lowered himself into the water with a sigh, happily chewing on a particularly large bone.

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