Tall Tales & Fables

The Ballad of Fjolfrin

Along the riverbanks of Lloringel, in the shadow of the Roof of the World, Fjolfrin stumbled into his meager home after toiling the fields of the Kinsey family estate. Despite the ache in his bones and the weight in his eyes he remained restless. The mockingbirds of the north made sleep all but obtainable as their mimicry carried well into the mid of night. Their songs were that of an eerie sort for they had taken upon themselves the sounds of roaming beasts and the ever moaning undead.

There then was a vial shriek and the birds fell silent. Fjolfrin rose, grabbing his axe and took for the street. Thick smoke clouded his sight and burned his lungs with every breathe. Fjolfrin knew not friend from foe as shapeless forms whirled through the smoke all around him. He was knocked to the ground and fell unconscious.