It was rough growing up. Then when I became a horny little bastard of a teenager- it sucked to be in school and to be hard because EVERYONE could tell... I would try to tell people that I had a third leg- somehow that would be more acceptable. I tried taking it out one day and putting a shoe on it but I was sent home. That afternoon, ashamed and sick of my preDICKament- I took out my father's hatchet. There I was, standing in the middle of my grandmother's room in front of her giant, ornate. Only it wasn’t a lid it was a narrow blade with no hilt. He stabbed the gnoll in the arm. The Gnoll shook violently looked at Fellfallow in confusion and collapsed. “Draught…” Mumbled the poisoner as he desperately dipped the blade back into the jug.Back on his hillock surrounded by four gnolls the boy began his third song, it was in another language and very strange to FellFallows ears. “Third verse!” Wheezed the poisoner “Third verse or nothing, you damned mother lovers!”“Third verse!” Unseen. More

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