Here is a hacktastic tale about a pair of characters you may soon come to know well. Enjoy The Rat and The Hammer

download-the-rat-and-the-hammer

New Hacktastic Fiction One Door Too Many, a short tale about a dungeon crawl gone bad. Hope this gives you a good fix for hacktastic action until your next game.

One Door Too Many short story

“Now I lay me down to rest, me heart still beats within me chest. Should it stop ‘fore I rise, place two coins upon me eyes.”

The tinny voice carried more than a hint of madness. Many said that to enter the Lands of the Dead, one had to be insane to begin with. Carrow had traveled the blight for more than five years, and had seen (and committed) all manner of unspeakable things. He was a tall, thin, raven-haired man with a heavily scarred face and an angry, empty socket where his left eye should have been. A slight smile twitched across his yellowed teeth as he crouched, staring into the flames with his one good eye.

“Shut it, Carrow,” growled a mound of blankets lying just outside the fire-light. Beneath the blankets lie a barrel-chested man, average height by Mar-tillan standards, but nearly as stout as a dwarf.

A well-kept mustache and long, braided goatee sprouted from his face, while unkempt brown hair spilled down his head to his shoulders. A battle-worn splint maul lay next to him.

Carrow’s head lazily swung over to look at the large man. “Jus’ a lil’ prayer for me soul’s well bein’. No ‘arm innat, now is there, Grumon?” He smiled maniacally, showing several missing teeth.

Grumon sat up and growled through gritted teeth, “There are some of us who have not, as yet, succumbed to madness. We would like to get some rest, but your damn fool chatter every night seems to get in the way of that!”

Read the rest of this entry »

28 Jul 2007                                                                           The Sewer Delvers        

            “RATS!” the rumble of Hakron Granitegutt’s low dwarven baritone echoed through the narrow sewer tunnel.

            The stout dwarf fighter stood boot-deep in the churning trench of waste that ran down the center of rounded tunnel, readying his dented shield and choking up on his waraxe in preparation of the coming attack. On either side of him, narrow raised walkways ran the length of the tunnel; these were made from the same rough-worked, cobbled stones as the rest of the maze-like sewers that ran beneath the free city of Dagger Falls. On the right side walkway Kizza’s tiny halfling form was barely visible as she edged along the cobbled wall. The two adventurers stood in silent anticipation, for what seemed like several minutes, until Kizza’s whispered chirp cut the ominous silence

 “I don’t see anything you hairy chinned sissy.” The little rogue jibbed as she eased off the wall she was using as a hiding place.

She was answered only by a low grumble and a hearty helping of filthy sewer water splashed at her by a dwarven shield. She nimbly avoided the stinky deluge with a few quick steps.

“You know, for somebody who has no problem charging headlong at a raging ogre, you sure are jumpy when it comes to rats.” She spouted all the while moving out of range of another sewer water attack.

“You know I don’t like ‘em, so let it be you chattering little ferret.” Hakron grumbled as he sloshed through the muck after her.

“I’m just saying, why be scared of rats? Sure, the ones that are the size of dogs are a bit creepy, but I’ve seen you fight much worse things before…” She rattled on as they traversed the tunnel that began to whined slightly to the right.

“I aint scared of rats, I just don’t like ‘em, besides we wouldn’t be slopping around in this vermin infested sewer if YOU hadn’t lost most of our coin at the dice tables.”

“They cheated, I’m sure of it. I have never had that much bad luck in my life and besides we are only down here because you didn’t like my other idea.” the little halfling pouted.

“Cheated, who would have guessed? I’m sure a place named The Rusty Stiletto attracts only the most honest of folks. As to your other idea, NO, I didn’t want to step into the ring with a half-troll half-ogre pit fighter named Brainsmasher!”

“Then quit your bitching, besides I sold my favorite kukri to get us a glimpse at that treasure map” Kizza huffed with a raised eyebrow.

“Your favorite kukri? You stole that off the elf the last time he questioned your trapfinding ability, as to that map, I don’t trust anybody named Honest Pete!”

Kizza the Cat, ducked her chin low to her chest trying to hide her grin “Well it was my favorite, it had sentimental value. As for Honest Pete, we go way back, we were in the same guild you know?”

“He’s a no good dirty thief!” Hakron spat.

Kizza looked hurt, stuck out her lower lip and began to pout in a way that reminded the dwarf of a small child who didn’t get her way.

“Don’t go and start cry’n you little cutpurse, besides aint you always say’n you’re a Rogue, not a thief anyways?’

“I prefer professional procurer.” She pouted.

“Have it you your way, just don’t go cry’n.”

“I wasn’t crying! That potion of Darkvision is making my eyes water.” Kizza lied and wiped her eyes on the back of her bracer.

“Yah, I hate cheap potions.” The dwarf grinned seeing his friend once again back to her old self.

“Anyway, that map looked pretty authentic to me, so our money troubles will soon be at an end once we find that secret door, spring a few traps and knock down a couple of guardian monsters, we’ll be sipping ales at The Blue Orc before you know it.” The halfling rogue’s mischievous grin once again returning to her dirt smudged face.

The two adventurers traveled onward through the maze of twisting tunnels, Hakron trudging through the flowing waste and Kizza scampering along the narrow rim. They walked for nearly an hour, stopping every few minutes for Kizza to “recall” the map and get her bearings, the grim dwarf always on the look out for rats.  At a T-section they paused once again for Kizza to drink another potion as her magical night sight started to fade.

“You know, I aint seen even one rat since we been down here” the dwarf warrior mused as he shot a look first down the right tunnel and then the left, which seemed to turn sharply around a corner a few paces ahead.

“Don’t worry about it tough guy, they probably have a local office of The Pest and Vermin Slayers Guild in town, besides, no rats means good fortune, or something like that…” Kizza chattered between sour gulps of the ink colored potion.

“Hush, chatterbox.” The dwarf warned as he cocked his head down the tunnel trying to hear around his worn helmet.

The tone of her friend’s voice stopped her in mid sentence. Kizza crouched low bringing up her little crossbow in one motion. She strained her keen ears to try and hear what Hakron had. A creaking sound of metal was barely audible above the bubbling slosh of the sewer water.

“What is that?” Kizza whispered.

Before the fighter could answer the sound came again, this time followed by a muffled curse.

“Armor, heavy armor, unless I miss me guess.” The dwarf growled over the rim of his shield.

“I hear, whispered voices, three…no make it four, and by the sound of it they are moving this way.” The little rogue whispered while crouching even lower, so that her knees were almost above her ears.

They stood in silence waiting for the first glimpse of whom or what was coming towards them. A shadowy figure was almost upon them before they caught sight of him. A slim built man, dressed in black dyed leathers was creeping ghost-like along the left hand walkway, a thin bladed dagger in each of his hands. The way the man squinted his eyes made it apparent that he didn’t have the advantage of night sight. Several paces behind the first was another black clad figure though this one carried a large crossbow. Kizza took aim at the crossbowman and Hakron readied himself to deal with the daggerman. The first rogue crept ever forward unknowing that he had been spotted; he adjusted his blades to a combat stance that would allow him to strike both low and high. Hakron almost smiled thinking how the rogue’s expression would change once he realized he wasn’t striking an unaware victim. Just as the daggerman was about to pounce, the crossbowman raised his weapon to cover his companion incase he failed to bring the dwarf down.

 With a serpent’s speed one blade tried to slice across Hakron’s throat as the other descended in an arc towards the side of his neck. The cagy dwarf ducked low bringing up his shield blocking the cross slice and slamming its rim into the descending wrist of the daggerman. The rogue yelped in pain and surprise as his numb hand dropped its dagger into the muck. The crossbowman fired. The bolt tip punched through Hakron’s shield just above his forearm, giving the daggerman enough time to skitter backwards out of the dwarf’s axe range.

Kizza shot the crossbowman through his left eye, the man dropped dead almost instantly to splash heavily into the flowing water.

Hakron waded after the retreating daggerman taking a series of short swipes with his waraxe at the rogue’s knees and ankles, only the man’s quick reflexes saved him from loosing a leg or foot. Now the sounds of armored boots rang out through the tunnels and a pair of heavily armed warriors careened down the narrow walkways, one on each side of the flow from around the sharp corner.

Kizza was reloaded and about to take a shot at the rushing warrior on the right side of the tunnel when a crackling ball of magical lighting erupted from the unseen mage that was levitating inches above the sewer water. The orb flashed down the tunnel and hit Kizza in the shoulder, sending a muscle twitching blast of pain that sent her tiny body into a gut-wrenching spasm, she screamed out and then fell limply on the walkway, still twitching from the electrical spell-effect.

At hearing his friend’s anguished cry, Hakron surged forward ignoring the dancing rogue and went straight towards the floating mage. The rogue recovered quickly and leaped off the walkway in an attempt to drive his dagger into Hakron’s back, but the dwarf’s surge carried him clear of the blow and caused the rogue to tumble into the muck.

The mages long-fingered hands began to weave the pattern of another spell as the first warrior, along the left side engaged the raging dwarf with a quick stab of his longsword. Hakron’s shield sent the blade wide, just as the warrior on the right leaped into the water in front of the dwarf to stop his charge at the mage.

Hakron now faced a well scarred warrior wielding two swords in front of him, a Rogue at his back and another warrior to his left, all the while a mage prepared to unleash his killing magic on the dwarf.

The rogue’s dagger was mere inches from Hakron’s back when a little bolt burst from his throat. The rogue dropped his dagger and pawed at the tiny bolt as it robbed him first of his killing blow then of his life.

A blast of sparkling colors filled Hakron’s vision. A warrior of a lesser race would have been at the least stunned by the magical onslaught, but the grim dwarf shook his head and plowed into the two sword warrior driving him backwards.

The warrior on the left walkway planted a well placed kick into Hakron’s shield driving it back against his body, jamming the bolt that pierced it into his shoulder. Hakron bellowed in pain and rage, ripping the bolt from his aching shoulder and hooking his axe around the leg of the warrior to the left. A great jerk pulled the warrior’s leg out from under him, already unbalanced from his kick the warrior fell with a ringing crash catching his head and back on the edge of the walkway, then tumbled face first into the water unconscious. Hakron added to the downed warrior’s deadly situation, by planting a heavy boot on the warrior’s neck, assuring his death in the churning stew.

The two sword warrior sent a flurry of quick slashes at the dwarf, in an attempt to save his doomed friend only resulting in one minor wound to Hakron’s already bleeding shoulder.

Hakron stomped down on the neck of the drowning warrior, since now he could not spare the time to take pleasure in finishing the drowning. The result was an unhealthy cracking sound that brought an evil-looking smile to the dwarfs already rage twisted face and caused the still standing warrior to cease his attempted rescue. The duel wielding warrior back peddled, trying to get room to prepare his guard for the grim dwarf.

The two-sword warrior had begun a series of defensive parries meant to demand the dwarf’s full attention, relying on his mage companion to end the destructive dwarf. Two bolts of blue magical force darted from the outstretched hands of the floating mage and stuck Hakron’s chest, the dwarf ignored the wound and rained down heavy blows that bashed aside the warrior’s two-bladed defense, but did not manage a wound. Seeing what little effect his magic had had on the dwarf fighter the floating mage fumbled with a scroll tube at his belt, in an attempt to once and for all kill the fierce warrior.

Hakron, heedless of whatever foul magic the sorcerer had in store for him focused his ire on the duel wielding swordsman, abandoning his shield and taking his waraxe in a two-handed grip. He mustered all his might into one mighty blow that shattered the crossed blades of his opponent and buried his axe into the chest of the man, the warrior died with a look of shock and horror as the axe blade passed through his breast plate as though he was wearing only a linen shirt. The grisly wound sent a spray of blood across the face of the floating sorcerer, who began a hasty flying retreat before the dwarf could free his axe from his fallen companion.

Read the rest of this entry »

The Ambush

            It moved with a lumbering fluidity, great muscles pumped along under a thick layer of well earned fat. One of its ugly heads stared off skyward, with an imbecile’s slack jawed expression, that caused its gaping maw to produce a steady stream of drool, while the other searched the surrounding boulder field with a beady-eyed stare, all the while it’s long sinewy arms swung a pair of massive clubs, made from uprooted trees in a way that was reminiscent of a child fidgeting. The ettin’s gaze searched long and hard amongst the tumble and the skree, knowing it had seen something skitter rabbit-like across an open gap between boulders, though nothing seemed to be moving now. Just then a loose stone bounced across the rocky ground behind the beast, bring its drooling head back to consciousness. Now two sets of eyes scanned the area in search of known danger. The nostrils of its right head sniffed the air like an animal, trying to pick up the sent of whatever beast was foolish enough to stalk it, while its left began a low, rumbling, snot-filled moan that ended in a rather unhealthy looking gob of spit that could have soaked a man from head to toe.

“Quiet, Yak! You want bashed?” grumbled the right.

“Fooooodaaa!” moaned the left.

Hakron Granitegutts watched the gangly beast from his hiding spot behind a boulder. He along with his companions had tracked the ettin for seven days, since it had attacked the trade caravan in High Axe pass. They had marched all through the night to get ahead of the beast in hopes of setting up a suitable ambush. He knew the others must be hurting, because even he with his dwarven constitution had almost dosed off, while sitting and awaiting their quarry, though he would never admit it. Now though, with the ettin so close the stink of the thing could be smelt on the winds he was a quiver with a boiling rage, that he could barely contain, a rage that doubled when he caught sight of the two dead dwarves hanging like rabbits from the thing’s belt. He tightened the grip on his waraxe and awaited the signal. Soon, yes very soon this thing would see what a true dwarf warrior could do, instead of a handful of beardling craftsmen.

Read the rest of this entry »