Swords for Adventure

A tale told by aged Dwarves to their Younger Kin

Dwarf-slayer.jpg

Anvilfist Trollslayer had taken up with some human merchants traveling south toward the Sword Coast. A cold breeze came in from the west as they traveled south. Anvilfist was hired by the merchants as security. He was being paid as a body guard for a young merchant prince.

Anvilfist approached a clearing with a pale obelisk centered inside. The clearing seemed unaffected by the biting cold wind from the west. The hair on the back of Anvilfist’s neck stood up as he felt watchful eyes peering at him from behind the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. His thoughts turned for the moment to his home in the mountains. The smell of the forge, a well earned meal topped off with a cool brew and a good woman sitting in his lap.

Anvilfist returned to the moment. He thought “That is all a memory now, my path is set.” He grasped “Foe Cleaver” his slayer axe along with his trusted war axe. He felt the cold steel in his hands. He knew the metal would soon be warm with the blood of his enemies. He thought “that’s right bitches”, your blood on my axes. “GET SOME” he yelled as he charged across the open ground.
No sooner had Anvilfist yelled, an orc arrow creased his shoulder above his left bicep trailing a thin line of blood. Anvilfist thought in the moment….“here we go, time to feed the rage and cleave some skulls.” A group of Orc archers were just opposite Anvilfist behind the obelisk. Their volley had gone long.
Anvilfist moved with unnatural speed more akin to an elf, surprising the orcs and moving among their front ranks disregarding the archers. He sensed his human friends were some distance behind him and closing. Anvilfist swung Foe Cleaver in a close arc to his right slashing the throat of the nearest archer attempting to block his line to the Black Orc Shaman in the rear of the formation. His Waraxe cut up through another archers lower jaw and cleaved clean through his skull. Black Orc blood drenched Anvilfist’s axes as it ran down his fists.

The Shaman, Dargum the Voice, began casting a spell. Cold blue lightning crackled around Dargum. His voice rose and peaked as the lightning extended from his fingers striking Anvilfist solidly in the chest. Dargum laughed in anticipation of the stench the burning dwarf would make. He let out a load roar which was cut short by a low gurgling, as blood poured like a fount from his mouth over his lips. Dargum turned his head right over his shoulder to see Anvilfist grasping Foe Cleaver in his right hand and pulling the axe from between Dargum’s neck and shoulder blade. Dargum dropped hard to the ground bleeding black blood from a clean gash in his neck and back.

Anvilfist’s human friends made quick work of the orc archers, taking very few casualties. The remaining orcs fled to the trees. As the orcs disappeared into the woods, a low and rumbling horn blew from beyond where the orcs had run. A loud booming voice called out in orc…“You will pay, Akrurz the Hacker has come for you”!

A large Black Orc, whirling a large black axe, emerged from the treeline. He boomed “I am Akrurz the Hacker! I am here to end your existence.” At least Anvilfist thought that was what the Orc said….he couldn’t be certain, his orc was rusty. Anvifist peered over his shoulder to the rear and yelled to the humans…“Get the prince outa’ heya, I got this!”
Anvilfist and Akrurz squared off and the humans left with prince, heading towards Waterdeep. Anvilfist grasped his axes, Orc blood drenching the blades. Dargum tried to raise up on his arms and Anvilfist crushed the Shaman’s skull with his left foot. Anvilfist and Akrurz charged.

Two days later the merchant prince found Anvilfist in a tavern in Waterdeep. He exclaimed "How did you….I mean what the…Anvilfist interrupted, buy me a drink, sit down and listen to my story.

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Iandimitri004 Templar1060

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