The blade of the axe severed the orc's head with ease. The wondrous great-axe Dawnhalo easily cut through the dwarf's enemies.
It was an orc raiding party that had attacked the lone dwarf as he walked wearily down the path in the Forli Forest. They had completely underestimated him; even tired the dwarf could easily cut them down to as size as long as they didn't swarm him. Now, within the first few seconds of combat, three orcs lay upon the path, dyeing the dirt road dark red as they bled from their wounds.
A large group of the ugly beasts still remained, however. Their skins were a shad of gray and appeared as a tanned hide or leather, their hair was coarse, like that of a horse, and was colored from black to blood red. Many boar skulls and other trophies from past encounters, the one with the most trophies was now furiously battling the dwarf, whose features remained hidden due to a large cloak. The orc was quite larger than the others and seemed to have a few more teeth missing, he growled as he missed the dwarf again. They fought mighty great-axe to crude great club.
The beastly orc let out a blood curdling roar, revealing pointy, yellow, decaying teeth. He brought his club down hard, thumping it upon the ground as the dwarf rolled to the side. The surrounding orcs dared not interfere with their leader's firth, they merely grunted loudly and banged their rusty and poorly kept weapons against their broken shields.
As the stout man rose from his roll, the orc swung his club at his side, but he blocked it with the flat of his axe's blade.
"You'll hafta try harder than tha'," he said to the creature as he swung the other end of his axe into the orc's face, bashing in his nose with the shaft of his weapon.
The orc stumbled and was stunned for only a second. As the dwarf regained his footing, he was ready to attack again. Letting out another cry, the orc brought the club into the air again, but before he could bring it down on the short figure, the blade of Dawnhalo found it's way to the orc's stomach.
The orc dropped his club behind himself with a thud and he clutched the head of the axe and pulled it from his body. The dwarf watched as the orc watched his own organs spill out upon the ground with wide eyes. Bodily fluids, especially blood, followed the organs, and the orc fell forward, into the pool of his own extracted innards. The other orcs yelled in anger, each showing their own set of gnarled teeth.
The dwarf felt nauseated by the foul smell of the orc he had just gutted. They smelled even worse inside than they did out. The stench distracted him as the other orcs rushed him. He attempted to retaliate, cutting them down almost as quickly as they came. However, there were far too many of them, and the smell too repulsive, for him to withstand them all. Soon the sea of ugly brutes overcame him.
Chapter One: The Nameless NamedA small man was at a table in a crowded room. He sat on a clearly old bench, for it creaked with every move, and drank slowly from a large foaming mug full of ale. His face couldn't be seen for a large hood kept it hidden, the rest of his body hidden by a bulky cloak made of a brown material that seemed to have lost it's original texture due to age.
The rest of the room was quite lively, as it seemed a small celebration was going on. The short, well-hidden man in the corner did not partake in the many events going on around him; he merely sat and drank. Whenever one of the partying crowd came too close to his table he would bark at them in a gruff voice to leave him be. As the bubbly, and well-curved, bar wench came to his table, he would only speak enough to ask for another drink and then he would place the coins required to pay for it on the table.
Outside the small tavern the last cold winds of winter blew through the wondrous city of Morcil. The small sign about the door swung back and forth at the wind's mercy. Upon the sign lay a picture of a boot that appeared to have been drenched with water and the words "The Wet Boot" were written above it, the paint of the sign seemed to be fading from lack of care.
Inside the tavern the drunken group was gathered around a few travelling minstrels that had started playing their selected instruments. One of the crowd walked away from the group towards the strange in the corner. He was a man, standing at about six foot; he had blue eyes and medium length blonde hair that fell around his face attractively. Several of the people hugged him as he parted ways with the group.
The man in the corner growled at the other man's advances toward his table. "Leave me be." He said coldly in his gruff voice.
"Nice to meet you too." Said the approaching man in a cheerful voice. "My name's Alexander Galabrio, what's yours?" Alexander reached out his hand when he had come close enough, as to shake the short man's as of yet unseen hand. But the man just gave a loud, and rather rude, grunt, which caused Alexander to come to a realization.
"Ah, okay." Alexander turned from the man and looked for the bar wench. "Miss Natalie! Yes, over here!" He said waving his arm in the air and smiling at the young lady.
As soon as she arrived he asked her to bring two more of whatever the other man was drinking. Natalie left with his order and promised to be back quickly as she dodged a drunken man who seemed to think he could dance.
Alexander sat down on the opposite side of the table as the man. "It seems you are the only one here not enjoying himself." He said.
The man looked at him through his hood and said, "I am enjoying myself just fine, I am just not a fool like the others here."
"Now, now, they really aren't that bad if you get to know them. Not even that big one there." Alexander pointed to the poorly dancing man that almost toppled the bar wench's tray as she returned with the two gentlemen's drinks. "Ah, and it seems our drinks have arrived."
The man smiled underneath his hood. I did jus finish my drink. He thought. Natalie gave them their drinks and Alexander gave her a gold piece in return.
"Heh, you pay for a stranger's drink even after he yells at you to leave." The man took a swig of the new mug. "You're not too bad, you know that?"
Alexander smiled at the compliment. "So, will you tell me your name now?"
"Sorry, can't."
Alexander nearly spat out the mouthful of ale he had just put in his mouth, and after swallowing said, "What? Why?"
"Now hold on, don't go crazy." The short man said. "I can't tell you because I don't have a name…or rather it was taken from me." Sorrow was in the gruff voice as he spoke. Painful memories arose as he thought about events that had led to the removal of his name.
"Well, how can it be taken?" Alexander said in complete confusion. Who had ever heard of a name being taken?
The short man removed his hood to reveal a balding head. His face was square, with a large nose that looked as if it had been smashed at least once before. He had dark brown eyes and a large, braided, graying beard that was so long that it ran underneath his cloak dominated his face.
He was a dwarf, the short, stout, strong race that lived among the stone of the Under Mountains.
What's he doing so far from home? Alexander asked himself. All he could do was stare until he could get the words "You're a…a dwarf" out of his mouth.
The dwarf chuckled. "Yes, I am. You're very observant." He stroked his beard as he spoke. "And my clan took my name from me before banishing me…" His voice full of sadness.
Alexander ignored the harder topics of his clan and his banishment, not wanting to pressure the dwarf into confession, as he was sure he wouldn't speak of it any ways. Besides, the past mattered not, or so Alexander always told himself as he was pushed onward before in his life.
"Well, then you need a name, don't you?" Alexander said cheerfully and the dwarf answered with a look of confusion. "From here on you shall be known as Gregory."
The dwarf smiled this time. "Gregory, 'tis a fine name." It had been too long since he had had a name. "It's nice to meet you Alexander." He said, sticking out his hand.
"And it nice to meet you Gregory." Alexander said, taking his hand shaking it.