Our heroes stand by a lake beside each other, cold in the lightly blowing wind. Behind them, a lake and in front three pathways lead into the lush treeline of the forest blocking the view at the end.
"Nya dho mellons d pan lende ost..." spoke the elf breaking the silence.
"Does anyone here speak elf?" spoke a turquoise dragon with a surprisingly light voice.
An orc stood forward and bellowed in an oakey voice "me".
The elf spoke again more insistently "In tirios. Duath. bannan."
"Well what is he saying?" asked the dragon.
The orc thought for a second and finally came an answer.
"He can't remember anything except darkness and shadows. Then everything left and was gone in his head. He says the only thing they left were his talents and a town with walls and towers."
"Can he remember his name?" questioned the dragon.
The orc spoke quietly to the elf and the elf nodded multiple times. The elf returned and spoke
"Feanor Tulcakelume." He spoke nervously, unlike the usually confident elf.
The orc repeated "Cedric Stormcloak".
The dragon replied, "my name is Crystyl, Crystyl Night", crouching down to comfort the elf. "And yours" she spoke standing up from her crouch to talk to the orc.
"Charles the first," he replied confidently "or is it the second?" he said suddenly unsure.
"It seems all of our memories have been removed as not to forsake our mission" said Crystyl answering the lingering question.
"What mission?" inquired Charles.
"Based on what Cedric has said I can assume we are on a mission to find this village" said Crystyl so we had best be on our way"...
YOU ARE READING
Quest
Fantasy10th century London, in the town of In Tiros: The constant battle between good and evil continues as a group of oddball warriors set out on a quest to find a village in the north. Meanwhile dark and sinister forces brew, such as grisly Anto-witches...
