The Axe and Hammer (a story)

[violence]

This is the beginning of a story that I am writing. Your criticism is welcome. I hope that you will enjoy it.

After an afternoon of relaxation, intoxication and hedonism at the Rusty Nail, Taran and Veringal sat comfortably on the ground inside the alleyway outside the Tavern. Passing a massive barrel of De'Artanign's Balor Ale they laughed, coughed, and belched their way through various and sundry recountings of the day's events.

A passerby would hardly have noticed the pair, and in truth they were not so unusual. Typical thugs they appeared, and thugs were far from uncommon on the streets of Luskan, especially in the Tavern District. Dirty loose trousers, shirts, and worn, tattered cloaks did little to hide impressive muscular physiques, and too large tears in their clothes would reveal the glint of chain mail to the observant passerby.
However, Taran and Veringal were far from ordinary thugs. They had been well known as bodyguards and ruffians in the more southern port of Waterdeep.

The "Axe and Hammer" they were called for their respective weapons they carried, and they commanded a high price from wealthy merchants and politicians who found themselves in need of some extra protection. They had recently traveled from Waterdeep under less than ideal conditions. Veningal, who had a great weakness for women, had been caught in the act with a powerful merchant's mistress, and he and Taran had decided to leave town rather than fight it out. A wise decision.

So far neither regretted having come to Luskan. Anonymity lent them a much needed break from watching their backs. And they had already found a home, offering to do odd (and usually violent) jobs for the Rusty Nail's barkeep/owner Vish in exchange for two small cots in a back room. The Rusty Nail had a full-time bouncer, but due to the rough nature of the crowd, occasionally a little extra help was needed. They still had plenty of coin, so they had at least a few weeks before they had to start worrying about making any serious money. In the alleyway, half drunk, they felt like kings of the street. And soon they just might be.

Later on, in their room Taran shook Veringal awake. The last few nights in the Rusty nail had been uneventful, and Taran's insatiable bloodlust was starving for some violence. "I be so bored I can't hardly stand to sleep another night away, So wake up yer lousy arse and strap on yer hammers. Goin out tonight." Veringal grunted and moaned, but he had to admit that he hadn't found the need to swing his hammer arm in several days. "Come on, ye smelly lout, there be a couple sorry Paladin's in town or I'm a rotten headless corpse" At that Veringal sat up and shook his head to clear his thoughts. They both hated Paladin's, always sticking their noses where they didn't belong and meddling in affairs that weren't their business. "how do you know?" he asked.

"I seen 'em come in the Tavern an' harass ol Vish for his whores. Said they'd be comin back on the morrow an make sure he'd let em all go. Said that they (here he wrinkles his nose up and uses his best whining voice) 'would not tolrate such depsicabul acts' or some such pitifulness." Veringal snarled "Suren I'd like to be murdering me a Paladin tonight. Know where the bastards are staying? Either a church or a monestary by my reckoning"
Taran smiled slyly, "I don't know, but I bet Vish can find out"

It must have been quite a few hours still before sunrise, because the tavern was still going strong as Taran and Veringal made their way down the stairs into the common room. They were well known and better liked in the Rusty Nail, but tonight they drew curious stares as eyes invariably fell to their weapons. Veringal had both of his powerful warhammers slung by his side, and Taran was openly carrying his huge battle axe in his right arm. Slung on his back was a leather case of 10 throwing axes that could be reached over either shoulder. It must have weighed almost 100 pounds, but Taran wore it like an extra shirt, and indeed, he was more than accustomed to the weight. Vish looked up from pouring 3 glasses of dark beer. "Are we at war lads? You know as well as anybody that I don't allow weapons in my tavern. Dead patrons don't drink much you know."

Taran smiled, "We know sure enough, and we aren't stayin for more than a pint a time. Jus couldn't help me own ears tonight but to hear them pesky Paladins groanin and moanin and botherin about things not their business. We're not for liking a man being told what to do by the likes of them" Veringal winked and said, "Thought maybe we could get them off of your case." There was an evil glint in Vish's eye, for truly he hated the Solomon knights, and this was not the first time they had troubled him. However, he seriously doubted that the two thugs could handle four Paladins. "not my loss, though" he thought to himself. "Free room and board for a month, no strings attached if those fools don't come calling tomorrow." he said.
The Axe and Hammer just smiled. "jus tell me where the hairy nuns are stayin" said Taran. Vish knew, and in a few minutes they were well on their way to a nearby Hotel.

The four Solomon knights were young Paladins, and they enjoyed throwing their "holy" weight around. More seasoned veterans would not have wasted their time in the hopeless streets of Luskan, but they were interested in making a quick reputation for themselves. They were on the fourth week of their righteous journey and still hadn't anything truly righteous to boast of. So they decided to shut down some of the prostitution in Luskan, thinking it would be an easy task. 2 hours before dawn found them asleep in their beds, fully trusting on the heavy bar across the door to keep out any unwelcome company. That trust was misplaced.

The heavy metal bar held firmly against the massive impact of the two charging shoulders, but unfortunately the screws that held it in place, along with the door latch, lock and all four hinges gave way, and the solid wooden door crashed to the ground. To their credit, the Paladins kept their weapons by their beds and were no novices to surprise attack, their chosen careers leading them often into unknown and unwelcome territory.

Veringal and Taran never stopped their initial momentum and charged immediately to the closest beds. The first Paladin never even found his weapon before he was assaulted by a huge man with a warhammer swinging in both hands. He tried to roll off the side of his bed, but the blows fell to quickly, crushing down on his right thigh and shoulder. With a smashed sword arm, his long sword would have been of little use even if he could have reached it, but in a last desperate attempt he lunged for his beloved weapon. When he turned, his naked back was exposed and Veringal howled as he brought both warhammers down right on the fool's spine, recognizing the telling cracks and knowing the man was out of the fight-permanently.

Taran had leapt to the second man's bed and was met with a powerful punch to the left shoulder. This Paladin was the strongest of his friends and smart enough to know that if he went for his weapon he was dead. The blow threw Taran off balance and turned him to the left, but he knew it probably hurt the man's fist far worse than his own mail-clad shoulder. He slung the battle axe in his right arm back around high, knowing that to dodge the man would have to flatten himself to the bed, and with his left arm reached over his shoulder, drawing free one of his throwing axes and bringing it straight down in a hard chop. The man saw the battle axe coming and sure enough flattened himself against the bed, preparing to kick out with his right leg to buy time to go for his weapon. He saw the ploy for what it was far too late as the second axe came down right into his stomach. The blow breached his abdominal wall and drove right through his stomach. He screamed in mortal agony.

Taran didn't bother to retrieve the deeply buried axe as he looked up to see the other two Paladins standing across the room weapons by his side. He heard a hearty snap and crunch behind him and knew that the odds were even now.

The two young friends stood side by side, unable to believe their own eyes. The two vicious marauders facing them had just taken the lives of Jermian and Karl, and were now approaching them steadily. The vicious sneers on their faces clearly showed their contempt for the young do-gooders, and Mauren and Rendez both wondered if they had slighted these two monsters in another life, or insulted them unwittingly on one of their campaigns. Anger welled up within them along with fear, but they suppressed the latter. They were Solomon knights. They would avenge their fallen comrades.

Taran bellowed "Ready to die? ye bloated barrels o' offal!"
Unable to hold back his wrath he hurled an axe at the pair and charged. Mauren had been raising his heavy crossbow to fire at the axe weilder, but now he jerked it up in front of his face to block the hurled axe. His life was spared, but the crossbow burst into kindling and he scrambled for his shield and sword.

Rendez and Veringal now faced each other about ten paces from the other two. They circled and waited, each testing the other fighter, sizing them up. Rendez held a Sword in his right arm and a shield in his left. They were in no hurry, knowing that the one who yielded and attacked first was likely the weaker of the two.

Across the room, the story was entirely different, Mauren was using his shield and sword both to fend of the furious attacks. Taran swung his heavy axe very quickly for such a heavy warrior, and he was a master of improvising. He feigned a hard swipe just to drive the butt end of his axe mercilessly at his opponent's face. Mauren was fighting for his life, trying to find some system in the unpredictable and unfamiliar style. Each time it looked as though he had an opening to thrust with his sword, his weapon would be batted away so forcefully that he feared he might lose his grasp. However, his defense was well orchestrated and Taran's first flurry of attacks did not score a hit. Now it was Taran's turn to defend as Mauren feigned a sword thrust and rushed suddenly forward with his shield, putting Taran back on his heels. Taran had seen this routine before however, and rather than trying to maintain his balance he leaped backwards several feet. When the sword predictably came up and around, aiming for his right flank, he used the flat blade of his axe to slap the sword even harder in the direction that it was already going. The unsuspecting Paladin was turned hard to his left and he had to cross his right leg over his left to avoid losing his feet.

Now Taran put both hands on the end of his huge axe and swung it low, trying to cut the legs out from under the overbalanced Paladin. Mauren tried to jump clear of the wide, sweeping blade, but the sharp curved top edge of the axe sliced through his right calf muscle and his right knee buckled. Taran never stopped his momentum but carried his axe in a complete circle and was swinging it with all of his might towards his vulnerable enemy. He made no attempt at precision, since the coming blow had so much power behind it that he knew the blade would cut the man cleanly in half if it connected anywhere on his torso. Down on one knee with his back half turned, Mauren desperately tried to get his shield arm back in front of his body. He barely succeeded.

His left arm swung around fast but he didn't have time to prepare for the blow and met the hard slash with a stiff shield arm. Taran's axe glanced so hard against the shield that both his hands were jarred from the impact. The Paladin's shield was quality and it held against the impact, honorably sustaining a deep dent in the center that could have been left by a hill giant's swinging mace. The shield would eventually find it's way back to it's maker, a talented smith who worked forging weapons and armor for the Solomon knights. He would keep it on display above his hearth as an example of his fine craftsmanship, telling the tale of it's use against host of orcs and giants in an epic battle of good versus evil. Yes, the shield survived the blow, but Mauren's stiff arm was another story. Upon impact the joint and bones were totally shattered. The young man let out his first true scream of pain as he felt a thousand knives piercing his arm from the inside. Taran didn't stop to lift his axe again. He saw the wide opening and smashed Mauren in the face with the worn butt end of his axe, breaking Mauren's nose and blurring his vision. The Paladin couldn't see and couldn't move his left arm. He swung his sword blindly, but he might as well have spit hard. He missed badly and Taran kicked him in the face.

Rendez and Veringal took careful note of each other's movements, pacing and squaring off, the distance between them decreasing as neither gave ground. Neither seasoned warrior allowed himself to be distracted by the flurry of movement off to the side. Veringal was a full six inches taller than his opponent, and he knew he was stronger than the man facing him. Thinking he could win with sheer brute force, he brought both his hammers to bear. In one swift, fluid movement he crossed his arms and swung them backhanded, from opposite angles at the man's shield. Rendez took the hits on his shield without a groan though, and immediately struck out with his sword. Veringal realized his mistake and hastily brought his left warhammer down to bat away the blade. He parried the strike successfully but only after it cut about a half inch into his side. The Paladin feigned another straight thrust, but when the big man swung his right hammer to bat it aside it was no longer there and he was met with a strong shield rush.

He tried to backpedal but he was hit straight in the chest and thrown back. He hit the bed and fell back on it, but used his momentum to go all the way over and land on the other side. His legs narrowly evaded the swinging sword. As he went over the bed backwards he lost one of his hammers, but he came up ready. Rendez gave him no relief though. He leapt onto the bed, thrusting and slicing almost before Veringal hit the ground. He used the high ground of the bed to his advantage, and scored two more minor hits on the shoulder and hip of his off balance opponent. Veringal, now frustrated, took his warhammer and swung for the Paladin's legs. Rendez jumped forward, straight over the blow and kicked the huge man in the face, knocking him to the ground. Rendez followed his leap with a downward thrust. Veringal rolled and instinctively brought up his warhammer, but he only partially blocked the descending blow and the swords edge cut deeply in to his shoulder. He howled in pain and dropped his remaining hammer.

Now confident of his victory, Rendez raised his sword over the now defenseless man. "For my fallen comrades" he said in a quiet, firm voice, and then lurched to the right as his leg was cleanly severed from behind him with the heavy swing of a battle axe. Rendez hit the floor in more pain than he had ever known, blood pouring freely from the remaining stump of his leg. Taran lifted the dripping axe again, this time above his head. He brought it down with both hands, as hard as he could. The two foot wide head drove all the way through the chest of the fallen man, stopping several inches deep in the wooden floor planks. Taran turned to survey the room, Rendez and Jermian were dead, Karl with the axe in his belly was still jerking, and Mauren was rising to his feet, blinking away the tears and blood from his twice broken nose. His left arm hung limply by his side. He had forgotten to pick up his sword. In truth, he had no desire to fight, and as his vision cleared he saw the cruel berserker walking towards him and wished he had stayed on the ground.

"Ye want to know what happens when ye pokes yer smelly nose in other folks' affairs?" An answer was not forthcoming from the dazed man, and a heavy fist smashed the Paladin right in the middle of his face, breaking his nose a third time and knocking him cleanly off his feet. "Yer nose gets broke, ye whimpering fawn." He let the man lie on the ground to think about his wise advice while he went to retrieve his two thrown axes.

The man on the bed moved only his eyes to watch Taran approach him.
"This be going to hurt. Hurt a lot. If ye can still be feeling anything that is." He laughed, put his foot on the man's chest and jerked up with both hands, covering himself with blood and spilling the contents of the man's abdomen. He then moved to the wall and retrieved his other axe, wiped them unceremoniously on the bed sheets and returned them to their respective slots in his case. Turning he saw Veringal, who had ripped the sheets to make a makeshift bandage and tied it around his shoulder. He was cursing, tearing more strips of sheet and tying them together, twisting them into rope...

Argunhumph, usually called simply Humph, was the Sheriff of the Tavern district. He had long ago learned his true purpose was to collect bribes from the highest bidder and cut a percentage to his superior, reducing his risk of an untimely death and lining his pockets with coin. Those Solomon knights had been as much trouble to him as to anyone else, threatening to inform the authorities of his improprietary behavior. Therefore, it had been no large burden when Vish had approached him with half the standard fee for staying away from a planned crime. At first he was incensed at the apparent slight, but then Vish slyly explained to the Sheriff the identity of the victims. Humph smiled and told him that he needn't pay for a service performed for such a worthy cause (not that he wouldn't take the money if the bartender insisted, of course).

So it happened that it was late in the afternoon when Humph lazily made his way down to the Hanging Banner hotel. Noting the dead manager with four fingers chopped off cleanly. Finding without trouble the room with a removed door, even admiring the clean holes in the wall where the screws had been stripped.

Humph was accustomed to violent deeds and violent men, but even he was impressed when he stepped through the torn doorway. Only slightly less impressive than the dead bodies was the damage done to the room itself. Two places stood out particularly. Against the wall opposite the door, their was a raking gash so deep that Humph wondered whether it could be seen from outside the hotel. Also, after inspecting a dead man who had one leg chopped in half, he realized that the killing blow had gone deep into the floor and the removal of the weapon (obviously a Halberd or a large battle axe) had taken up two floor boards. Three dead and mutilated bodies were in the room, and one, still alive, hung from the lone light fixture in the center of the ceiling. His face was bloody and bashed beyond recognition, and he hung by a makeshift rope tied to both his arms, one of which was clearly broken. Further examination revealed him to be severely tortured. The Sheriff easily recognized the men as the offending Paladins he had met earlier in the week. It was amazing that the hanging one was still drawing breath. Humph mercifully drew out his knife (kept for just such circumstances) and thrust it in the broken man's heart.

[Magus]

Pretty good