Thread: Have Axe, Will Travel  ( TriniMad x Blackthorne )

Voragg Bloodaxe had named himself. He had no memory of how he had come to be a Minotaur, a bull headed man. Had he parents, had he been a man cursed into a beast? He didn't know, nor did he find any great desire to know. If it was a curse, it was one he was glad to have been inflicted with. In fact it was something he relished. He was powerful, in combat a nearly unstoppable juggernaut, able to cut a swath of destruction in any pitched battle, sending enemies fleeing, crushing their bones, drinking from their skulls, and hearing the lamentation of their womenfolk. Those words were not his own, but the sentiments were ones he had adopted as part of his personal code. He had no memory of what he had lost. Had he a family that he loved? Lands, a loving wife? He was a beast now, and only remembered what had happened to him the night he awoke in the labyrinth years ago . But he remembered all of it, every step , just as he knew every stone of the labyrinth. He remembered the screams of every opponent he had slaughtered, te smell of their blood as well as the faces of anguish and pain and the cries and every maiden he had deflowered over those decades He had met others of his kind, but had more intelligence more cunning, and most importantly, more skill with weapons than any of his kind that he had met. And so rather than defend his maze against a steady stream of his kind looking for a place to live he had chosen to live on the open road, living by his axe and his wits. Many towns did not welcome him, or even allow him through their gates, but even the outskirts of a small town held more interest than a cold dark underground maze. But here on the eastern edge of the Darkvale , and the western headwaters of the Asra River, with fed into the Serpenia River system, lay the town of Nighthearth, here in this settlement, he felt at home. There were nearly as many non-humans here as humans, and all were allowed, so long as they kept to themselves and didn't rile the authorities. There was no official government of the encampment, but order was kept by a group known as the Blades of Nighthearth. Essentially they were a group of thugs, a gang, but they were effective at keeping more or less some semblence of order. Of course, being here as a single woman was either an exercise in courage, or a foolish mistake. More than a third of the women in Nighthearth were slaves, , nearly a quarter of those had been captured near or around Nighthearth To the west of Nighthearth lay the Darkvale. The attraction for merchants was clear - a caravan would save more than a month of the time it would take to bypass the Dreadwood and the Qara mountains. Of course , the Darkvale was an unnatural cut directly through the mountains, purportedly torn in the land an age ago by powerful magics. In many places rich viens of ore ran close to the surface, obviously miners flocked to the area. But there were few settlements in the Darkvale, as food would not grow in the tainted land, though scrub brush and bushes grew aplenty, more than enough to hide the scores of bandits and monsters that sought to waylay miners and travellers. Some of thes e monsters came up from the ground themselves, others had migrated here seeking the riches of the miners and the caravans. Not to mention the scores of adventurers who came here, seeking treasure in the myriad crypts that dotted the landscape, as when Darkvale was created, it revealed dozens of subterranean temples, some having been buried by time, others were used by creatures of the Underdark, which one culd also reach via many portals in the Darkvale Voragg plied his axe here regularly, though usually only long enough to build up a nest egg upon which he woudl feast and drink, enjoying his money and throwing around large sums of money. But his pouch grew light , and he was ready to travel and fight once more. More than a dozen times had he traveled through the vale, and he had proven to be more than a match for most of the monsters faced, his axe had slain hundreds. He awoke in his comfortable room, roused by a familiar smell in his nostrils and a sound in his ear. The sound he heard , the sound of a melodic elvish voice singing, carrying over the din of the fires and the shouts of the hawkers and the calls of whore mongers, the rough laughter in the barrooms and the cries of passion in the fleshpots. This voice carried over it all, calling him from his slumbers comfortable room at the inn, he lifted his axe and lept directly out his second story window, making a large impression in the ground next to other similar impressions where he had done the same in the past. As he approached the gathering, the smell of the fae folk was surely unmistakable. He licked his lips at the thought of a young elvish woman A full head or more taller than the crowd, he waded through it, towards the sound of the haunting melody, as it ended the same voice spoke, seeking a true man, a hero, to travel through the Darkvale . Voragg stepped to the fore, brushing aside others in the crowd. I am the one you want, I will go with you His voice was deep baritone bordering on bass , and resonated deeply . The crowd begn to murmur, those were the most words anyone in town remembered the Minotaur having uttered, other than More drink or Food, now He looked up to the elvish woman expectantly .