Keith Edward English, Wordsmith

“Hold my battleaxe, Dar,” Gax requested, handing the massive weapon to the elf before she had a chance to respond. Darsil’eit snatched the axe from Gax’s outstretched hand with both of her arms, her bow now leaning against a nearby tree.

“What are you about?” she asked suspiciously as he strode forward.

Gax slowly shifted his feet through the watery mud beneath him, brushing past low hanging willow branches. The swamp he trudged through sat bathed in the soft glow of dusk, motes of dust and small insects flitting fancifully past the rare shaft of intense orange light that pierced the thick veil from the many trees and tall ferns.

“The traps you set are sound, yeah?” he asked, not breaking stride. “They’ll capture an ergun well?”

“Three if they’re spread out,” she said with an air of superiority.

“Good. I figure it’s my neck we should stick out here, not yours. Axe will slow me down getting back behind the traps.”

“Well, seeing as how, thanks to your stupidity, we’ve been tasked with capturing creatures dangerous enough to rip either of our faces off, I’d be inclined to agree. Carry on. Long as Obrel gets his ergun, I’ll be happy.” Continue reading “Hold my Battleaxe 5 – Gax tries to capture an ergun, and doesn’t do so well” →

Gax parried a weak sword strike with his massive axe, burst forward, then slammed his fist into the human’s face. Bones crunched. The merchant flopped to the rocky ground, a limp heap. He brought his axe up over his head and set his feet apart.

“Gax!” shouted a familiar voice. “No killing!”

He rolled his eyes and spun around to face Darsil’eit, his elf companion, his arms going slack.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he argued, kicking backward and striking the unconscious human with his heel. Continue reading “Hold my Battleaxe 4 – Gax makes an eagle angry trying to score hallucinogens” →

A mighty laugh spilled from Gax, issuing between his large orc teeth, some of which were sharpened, drowning out the laments of several humans. He reached across the bar table, his rickety stool wobbling threateningly beneath him, and raked a small pile of copper ovals toward his person. The other players begrudgingly shoved their dice back into their cups and began shaking them.

Gax snatched his ale and drained it in a mighty gulp, a bit spilling from the corner of his grinning mouth. He slammed it back down and looked triumphantly at the others. Continue reading “Hold my Battleaxe 3 – Gax wins a grappling match by knocking himself out” →

Gax and Darsil’eit traveled the snow-clad streets of Durthlem warily. The particular avenue they traversed sloped downward ever so slightly, making the going even more treacherous. Once already, Gax’s feet had slid out from under him and he’d crashed down onto his back to slide a dozen feet down the icy thoroughfare.

“Ya know, you didn’t need to bite a chunk out of Beshyn’s ear,” Dar said, picking at her long fingernails with a knife. “He would’ve talked with a few mugs of ale in him.”

Gax looked sidelong at his elf companion. “And a run with you in his bedroll! He said as much!”

“He hinted as much, you dumb idiot. Now we’ll have to keep our eyes out for him and his friends trying to get even.” Continue reading “Hold my Battleaxe 2 – Gax runs into a horse, and earns some ale” →