First Light

‘Who are those dorks, Binglow?’ gurgled Paglot from the shadow of the hideout.

‘Let’s like we have some guests in here, chief,’ blurted the other.

‘The guys of Garlin?’ squatted his mate behind the slate.

‘The Black Dwarfs… indeed, they are?’ moved his pupils the pig-troll archer.

‘Who else, right?’ giggled the other. ‘Did you expect a drunk Trunket paying visit to these places?’

‘A drunk Trunket? You mean, you know the sober ones?’ laughed them.

‘Shut up, you idiots!’ barked the chieftain, ‘in these dark times you could expect any penniless vagabond, name Gragners alone. Now, let’s look what they want?’ smirked he.

‘What we’re supposed to do?’ whispered Binglow, squinting eyes behind the rock, ‘I see them carry something with them?’

‘Good, then,’ grunted the chief, ‘I like your eyesight, Binglow, pretty sharp for a pig.’

‘Oh, thank you, didn’t know you’re aging so fast.’

‘Ha-ha, funny. This calls for a mission!’

‘What mission?’ worried Binglow.