# Adventures of Morte - Prologue

Author: Mortuest
Tags: Adventures, Bull, Fantasy, Minotaur, Morte, Mortuest, Prologue, foreshadow

#1 of Adventures of Morte

This is the prologue to a novel I'm writing. Please let me know what you think. Yes, its a bit 'purple prose' but I liked it for the prologue. Title is a working title for now, not married to it by any means.

 **Prologue**

A dark mist rolls into the room, roiling and twisting like fire in space - slithering along the walls and ceiling until the lights of the bar are but pinpricks of luminescence.&nbsp; A flash of light bursts from the darkness, blinding you for a second.&nbsp; You notice the mist writhing as if it were in pain, retreating back into the darkness from whence it came.&nbsp; As it recedes, you start to make out a form standing in the opening in stark contrast to the light surrounding it.&nbsp; The light envelops the form like spectral wings, protecting the figure from the darkness and driving it further from the recesses of the room, and your mind.&nbsp; Your senses return and you realize you have been talking to the candle illuminating your table.

&nbsp;

You notice the stranger close in and take the empty bench across from you.&nbsp; He sits at 6 foot, bristling with muscles.&nbsp; Horns the size of your legs sprout from his noble head, stradling his face like support beams.&nbsp; A large silver ring hangs, suspended from his nose, laced with intricate carvings of ivy and leaves entwined and folded together into celtic knotwork.&nbsp; Large black spots mar an otherwise pristine white hide; tough and leathery, yet firm and somewhat comforting.&nbsp; He wears no shirt, instead preferring to let the warm summer air bathe his skin and face while roaming wild in the grasslands.&nbsp; His tattered black breaches hang from his waist and hug his thick legs like stray strands of thread clinging to the trunk of an oak, thrashed by the wind in a huricane.&nbsp; Hooves terminate his legs; dark like obsidion but shining in the light like smooth glass.

&nbsp;

He buys you a drink, and as you stare into his dark blue eyes, you hear his name reverberate in your bones.&nbsp; "Mortuest" he whispers, "call me Mortuest."&nbsp;

&nbsp;

As you sit there, stunned, he not so much stands as pushes the floor further down.&nbsp; The ease at which he moves his bulk is startling, but what stands out is a gleaming claymore strapped to his back with white silk ropes linked together with golden rings.&nbsp; As you watch him fade back through the doorway, you think you catch a glimpse of tattoos in the shape of angels wings behind the massive weapon.&nbsp; An instant later, the flash, the darkness, and then the drone of people around you, chattering and yapping as if nothing had happened.

&nbsp;

Was it a dream?&nbsp; Is your sanity fading?&nbsp; You start losing details about your brief encounter, and soon, the only memory left is the fresh mug of root beer sitting in front of you.&nbsp; As you sip the frothy brew you wonder who that stranger was, and, more importantly, what he wants with you?

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/rnaGxl3e
Part of the series Adventures of Morte
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