Keith Edward English, Wordsmith

Professional site for all of Keith's writing adventures


March 2018

Hold my Battleaxe 7 – Gax Almost Wins a Beauty Contest


Saryn slobbered drunkenly as he pounded the table, sending one of his several empty mugs clattering to the floor. His head swiveled and bobbed, his glassy eyes hard-pressed to keep up with the motion. Even Gax looked up from his game of cards, the puny parchment things that would certainly win him a few copper rounds clutched in his callused, green fingers.

“You’re placing all wagers on the bet safe!” Saryn roared, slurring his words heavily. Even he seemed confused by the ordering of his words, his face scrunching up. “I say, we talk to Gax!”

Gax, knowing the reputation of this tavern-crawling cretin paid him no mind. Soon, Gax was sure, Saryn would flop to the soggy, wooden floor face-first and find himself tossed roughly out into an alley comprised more of piss and shit than stone. Saryn listed lazily to the side and Gax cursed himself for not shouting a wager that the drunkard was slipping into unconsciousness even now.

“Gax! You big pig of a son! Tomorrow, you win the fairest maid contest, I give you a gold hundred!” Saryn raised a full tankard as he belted his final few words. Half of the ale inside sloshed out and landed either on his own head or on the table. Then, he promptly dropped his head to the table and passed out. Continue reading “Hold my Battleaxe 7 – Gax Almost Wins a Beauty Contest”

Hold my Battleaxe 6 – Gax goes on a Date

26165736_524925471206813_5741445874671323792_n“We’re between jobs, low on gold, ain’t got shit to eat or drink, and you’re going out to dinner?” Darsil’eit growled at Gax. She stood with one hand on her hip and one eyebrow arched. Her olive skin glistened from the humidity of the air in their tight quarters.

Gax ignored her for a moment, smoothing the wrinkles from his roughspun cotton shirt, which clung tightly to his muscular frame. It was his nicest shirt. Well, one of his only shirts, actually. He left his torso naked more often than not, save for when the seasons shifted and would have frozen the orc blood in his veins if not for layers of clothing and pelts. “We aren’t that low on coin…”

“We’re sharing a damn room in the shittiest inn this side of the mountains!” Dar shouted, her eyes wide and alive with fire and fury, her arms splayed wide to encompass the cramped box that barely managed a single cot.  Continue reading “Hold my Battleaxe 6 – Gax goes on a Date”

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