Long-lost Flute of Ice

Fate has made me a hunter of monsters. I'll not bore you with the details of how that came to be - monsters do what monsters do, and sometimes the survivors get angry enough to fight back.

So through the long years of my life - and I'm getting old, 48 now, and lemme just tell ya that something you feel in yer bones in the mornin' - I've fought all kinds. The daemons were the worst. Remember those early days of the first invasion? When we really thought it was all over? I remember them marching through the streets of Cresaur like they owned the place. I stayed and fought them from the shadows for awhile, but ... well, a girl named Vi convinced me it was suicidal.

At any rate, that's not the story I'm here to tell ya.

T'was in Fheuvenem. Care of the local duke, Arthur Quincey. As I was making my way across those lands - back in the direction of Cresaur, as chance would have it - I noticed a gathering of foulest spawn of darkness. I figured it nothing out of the ordinary - orcs, ogres, the usual - but then I spied their leader. T'was like nothing I've seen before - he could have passed for a man, if not for the lusterless black orbs of his eyes. He didn't like that dangerous, but he was playing these pipes - and all the rest, goblinkin, ogres, various spawn of the deep places, they looked on completely mesmerized. It was like one a dem prayer meetings, I tell you those monsters worshipped the black-eyed one.

And just there, for the briefest instant, I had like ... one a dem visions. I saw in my minds eye how this guy with the flute could enthrall all the monsters of the world. Bring doom to all of us. So ... I acted. Without thinking, I hurled myself forward - drawing my first few daggers as I ran.

Swords are for knights and kings. Nobles. Me, I'm a rotten bastard. I'll take a dozen daggers over a sword any day. And I can throw my daggers like you wouldn't believe. Before I even closed with'em, the first group lay dead or dying, clutching painful wounds to eyes, throats or worse.

For up close, I have a different sort of knife. Some joker told me they're 'kukri', and come from out east somewhere. Couldn't tell ya myself, but I'll attest to their effectiveness. Takes a monsters head off clean as any sword. With one in each hand, I carved my way through their ranks - left and right, chop, thrust and slice. I couldn't give you a number, but when the county sherif payed my bounties, he selved out two gold and twelve shillings for that lot.

Then it was just me, the black-eyed freak - and his personal bodyguard. One of my blades got stuck in the skull of an ogre - but no worries, I have enough. An orc with what I can only describe as one naste, huge crossbow got me in the thigh before I opened up his chest for him. But then, casual as anything - Black Eyes starts playing his flute at me. And just like that, it very nearly ended for me. Close now, I could see the flute was made of ice. Bright summer sun didn't melt it - but with those notes, my will faltered. 48 years, 30 of 'em fighting, and I very nearly lost it. But that vision came back - of Black Eyes commanding an army of monster. And my, his general. Like some ... hand-puppet. I blinked - and he noticed. There was only a moment for the fear to register on his face - then I lept, both blades slashing. I caught him temple and cheek, and cut his face to ribbons. When he fell, I stabbed him twice in the chest. Best to be sure, ya see?

So now ... I have this flute. I'm fairly convinced I've not a musical bone in my body. I've no use for such trinkets. So I guess this is the dukes lucky day.