1. Dungeos and Frolos Part I (werktitel)

Dungeos and Frolos Part I (werktitel)

Allereerst mijn excuses voor het Engels, ik schrijf vloeiender in het Engels en het bevat mooiere woorden. Anyway die verhaal is niet op mij gebaseerd maar op mijn digitale alter ego. have fun reading, leave a comment so I can improve part 2 (also suggestions for the title are welcome)

As a slight breeze rustles the parchment on the table two pairs of eyes stare at the flickering of the candle that is set in the middle of an old wooden table. The flame gently dances on the tip of the wick when the door opens with a gentle creek. The gust of wind entering the room vanquishes the candle’s flame. Footsteps shuffle into the room accompanied by the gentle thuds of a staff being planted on the floor. “Good evening” says a warm, old and wise voice. With the flick of his hand the candle is relit. “let us begin, who would like to go first?”

Stepping into the light, the troll hunter spoke: “I’ll go first old man.” “Ah, Frolos, I see you haven’t changed”, spoke the old man. “Just get on with it, what’s the point of this chit chat while I could have been out there already!” “As you wish” spoke the old man before shrouding the room with a thick grey smoke. After the smoke dissipated, Frolos was gone.

Opening his eyes to a painful bright light he immediately closed his eyes again, shielding them with his hands before attempting to reopen them. Now he could get an idea of his surroundings. He was lying in what appeared to be a stretch of grass close to a rock cliff towering several hundred feet above him. “Couldn’t the old bastard just kill me right away by throwing me off that cliff” he grumped as he got to his feet. While taking in his surroundings he dusted off his rages clothes “no luxury this time around”.

The grass seemed to stretch far towards the east, at least as far as he could see the green grass ruffled slightly in the breeze that gently brushed his face as well. As he started walking towards the grass he stumbled over a duffle bag that was half hidden under the grass “Well at least some supplies for the trip it appears”.

He started unpacking the bag uncovering a bow, brownish with its blades strangely shaped as if to resemble the wings of a bat. The next item was a quiver, filled with black coated arrows, from tip to feather they were matte black. “I can work with this.” Thinking there was nothing left in the bag he picked it up, turned it upside down and shook it to see if anything else was still left behind in the bag. He shook the bag while looking around as if not really caring what was still in the bag, he spotted a small rock formation at the horizon of the grass field to his east when he heard a small thud. “what the…” he went down on his knees and put his hands on the dirt trying to find what fell. “I should have just kept rummaging through the bag, that old man knows me to well. What do we have here?” his hand touched a cold metal object, he closed his dirty fingers around the object and picked it up. It appeared to be a small flute, pitch black, just like the bow and quiver. He put the flute away in the pocket of his ragged linen pants, slung the quiver over his back followed by the bow and started of walking towards the stone formation on the horizon. Right next to the flute, still in the grass was left behind a little note.

 

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