Tag: Duggla the Crone

The Party’s Over

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Image credit: S.T. Ranscht

Singing and dancing, stories and laughter, the woods filled with music and cheer. Contests and games, honors and congratulations, the community reveled in camaraderie and fellowship.

It was a night to hold in memory and revisit over the years in times of sorrow to lift a grieving heart, in lonely times to recall the bonds of friendship, or to polish up and present as a model for future times of grand celebration.

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General Hai

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Elliot 139
Photo credit: Sam Droege

Sounding like rocks grinding together, the hovering embers spoke. “Madam Duggla.”

The messenger lit a lantern.

A wasp. Duggla let out a grunt. Why should I worry about a wasp? But his boldness made her cautious. “I know who I am. Who are you?”

“A friend who is sorely disappointed by the Marauders’ failure to take the Kingdom of Bog for their General.”

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Stranger In the Dark

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Elliot 138
Image credit: TextureMax

Madam Duggla didn’t mind being led into the unknown. She didn’t mind sitting in the dark with the walls entombing her. She wasn’t even bothered by arrogant pests that forced their way through life by threatening creatures less cruel than themselves.

But when the unknown threat in the tomb-like hole smoldered in the dark, it caused her some alarm.

To be continued. . .

Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .

Toadstool Pigeon

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Elliot 137
Photo credit: Alolkoy

Smugly enjoying the stupidity of her former jailer, Duggla the Crone waited beneath the red toadstool. Time passed, the rain stopped, the sun came out, and still she waited. But now she muttered, too.

“Why should I sit here like a lackey? Nobody has the right to treat me this way. I should just leave.” But curiosity held her in place until a velvety voice called her name.

“Madam Duggla! Thanks for waiting. I apologize and I beg your pardon, but I was unavoidably detained.”

She pursed her lips and squinted at the red-tinged pointy end of his curvy tail. “Things come up,” she allowed. “Who are you?”

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The New Dungeon Master

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Elliot 136, Schneeengel on Deviantart
Image credit: Schneeengel on Deviantart

Madam Duggla yelled up the stairs, “What does a body have to do to get an extra blanket around here?” A late afternoon rain chilled her jail cell, aggravating her rheumatism and making her crankier than ever.

The lone guard descended the steps for the fifth time in an hour, not bothering to hide his own aggravation from the lone prisoner.

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Queen Lilian

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Photo credit: Mark Berkery

Bowing so low her nose touched the ground, Duggla the Crone’s show of respect bordered on the obsequious. “You summoned me, your Greatness? How may this humble old woman serve her King?”

Rolling his eyes, King Arnie dismissed Duggla’s escort and waited. When the crone straightened up to look at him, she wore a lopsided, snarky grin.

“Madam Duggla, the Kingdom has further need of your assistance.”

“What is it now?” she sneered. “It’s almost sunset. I need my sleep.”

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Let’s Make a Deal

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Photo credit: Darrell Raw

“Be at ease, Madam Duggla,” the King said, “I only wish to speak with you.”

Wiggling in a vain attempt to loosen her arms from the grip of the Knights who’d brought her, the old crone eyed the King with sullen suspicion. “Then send your jailers away,” she growled.

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Heads or Snails

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Image credit: S.T. Ranscht

The Knights of Service worked together in silence tending to the injured, removing the fallen, gathering the weapons left behind. Someone had taken the initiative to mount the heads of the vanquished Marauders on pikes and stab them into the ground as a crude fence of morbid monuments facing outward along the border.

Let them feel their triumph with their grief, King Arnie thought. Soon the day will come when we feel sufficiently secure and ashamed enough to take it down. Today was not that day.

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Oath of Consolation

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Photo credit: Mustafa Öztürk

Trapped between the Knights of Service and Madam Duggla’s furry honker friends, the few remaining Marauders came to a quick and sticky end.

King Arnie surveyed the battlefield. How could so brief a skirmish cost so much?

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Surprising Attack

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Photo credit: Britannia.com

The river closing over him, Barry grabbed at the rope-like loop cinched around his leg, tightening as it dragged him backward through the murk. He plucked and pulled, trying to loosen its grip while it scraped him across the rocky bottom, racing back toward Bog.

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