A mighty roar 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”