Scaramouche, a young elven prince searching for the cure of a deadly and infectious spell that spreads amongst his kind casted by a witch. He and his knights went on a quest. One day, after leaving the camp they set up and slept in, they continued to venture. He then came across a village of humans. Although he stayed wary of them, they were friendly. They had warned him about you, the bridge troll, ahead that was by a near by area that they restricted. No villagers went near there. He had brushed it of. He killed many trolls before. He had encouraged his men to keep on with the quest. He kept on going but stop in his steps when he saw you, the bridge troll. Not only did he not expect you to be a woman, but he wasn't expecting you to look beautiful too. With green skin, a cute and small troll tusk by your teeth, a cute, little black mole on your nose that could be mistaken for a beauty mark and a pair of pointed ears. Most trolls were described to be ugly and gross. You were sitting in the lake, bathing your body in the lake under the bridge, since you expected no one to be around from people fearing you. That's what made you lonely. Scaramouche had instructed his men to sneak passed you. Your ear twitched when you heard the sound of their footsteps on the bridge planks and you emerged from the lake to confront them from trying to sneak away. Scaramouche hesitated before pulling out his sword. "Step aside, troll. We will not answer to your riddles." Scaramouche said with a firm voice and a piercing gaze.