An Axe in the Flames

Draxx

Part One. The Feral Wilds.

The world had passed Draxx by. That was certain. He was an old oak door in a world full of shiny new metal ones. The ones with really cool engravings and gold leaf pieces. The big money ones. He was an old, beaten, and weathered oak door that you saw in the back of run-down bars—the one with piss stains and pit marks.

He chuckled to himself, amused by his thoughts—a deep rumble of gravel sliding kind of sound.

Draxx was a big man with a beaten and weathered brow that resembled an old boxer. A graying beard that he rarely kept trimmed hanging to his barrel chest. He had such broad shoulders that he could barely fit through a doorway, and his walk was like that of a worn-out donkey. His body had been through a lot. Like three King's Wars and a handful of mercenary adventures lot. Twenty-five broken bones, three missing fingers, and a punctured lung lot. He felt it tonight. Every old injury sang to him like a drunken bard. Loud and obnoxious.

His gray eyes drank in the frosty night sky. Cloudless and freckled with what stars remained in that vast, black void. A lot fewer than he remembered looking at when he was a young Front-Line Fighter in the Emerald King's army. Twenty-five years had seen a lot of those lights wink out.

"Pretty damn cold tonight. Only gonna get colder." Draxx said. His breath made a fog that lingered in front of his face for a moment.

No one responded. No one ever did. Living alone and isolated had its perks. Namely, no small talk. He reached up and pulled the fur collar of his thick forest wolf's hide jacket tighter to his neck. With hands like slabs of meat, he closed the gate to the pen of his Halles Swine. A breed of pig formally used as war pigs. Pigs bred for men to ride into battle and be covered in armor. Such a beautifully gnarly site to see. They were roughly the size of a bear and a girth twice as wide.

As the gate shut, a mottled red and brown swine crossed the muddy pen. It's massive snout in the air, smelling intensely and rumbling with low grunts. "Whatcha smell, ole girl? Me? It's been a long day of reinforcing these fences. You wear me out sometimes."

She grunted and nudged the gate with her snout as Draxx reached down with a four-fingered hand, missing its thumb, and rubbed her head. "It's for your own good. I can't have you getting loose again and wandering into town. Those people think you're a monster." He chuckled.

Draxx lived on the outskirts of the nearest town, Dry Lake. A little trading town built in the recess of a dried-up lake. It was the center point between Red Sands and Crag. Two thriving towns that did all of their trading for furs and meat with Dry Lake. He enjoyed the proximity to the bustling towns without the disturbance of the noise. Draxx was old, after all, somewhere between 62 and 65. He had lost track. Life was slow and easy out here, perfect for an old soldier looking to fade away into the sunset and live life with Nila. His Halles Swine, of course. The only female who ever stuck around.

He was a hard man to love, just a grizzled old veteran. He was missing a thumb on his left hand and his pinkie and ring finger on his right. It's how he inherited the name he hated, Draxx Club Hand. It was so dumb. Why didn't they call him Draxx the Axe or something cooler instead of the stupid name Draxx Club Hand? Oh well, he thought, those days were long behind him. Now, it was just Nila and him on his little plot of land. He was loving the peaceful life, living life at his pace.

The nights had begun to grow colder with the coming deep winter winds. They always blew from the north, across Red Sands, and brought the smell of rich spices. Sweet and spicy. It made his mouth water to think about. Those were, after all, the best herbs a man could cure meat with. Even Nila loved them. In fact, she would only eat meat that was thoroughly rubbed in ground Fire Melon seeds and Lava Root.

Draxx had a fire going in his little cottage tonight, and the thought of the pot of stew boiling over it made his belly grumble. They were going to enjoy some Bramble Rabbit stew with Toe Potatoes and carrots tonight. Tomorrow was just another lazy day. Exactly what he wanted and exactly what he needed. It wouldn't be long before the traders from Crag came to town with their tools and trinkets. Browsing their merchandise was always a pleasant experience for him, and he had a new wood axe on his to-buy list. His three fingers held his old axe decently, but his good friend Amery had been working on a unique axe just for him and his ole club of a hand. What a stupid nickname.

He gave Nila one last pat on her massive head. "Stew should just about be ready. It's your favorite tonight. But you better let it cool down before you inhale it like you've never eaten before. I can't be fixing blisters in your cave of a mouth anymore. It's disgusting, to be honest." He mused.

She seemed to understand and grunted. Halles Swine were intelligent creatures. They seemed to know the human tongue right out of the womb. Nila had always been a little brighter than the rest of her littermates. She was the only living one left. The only one that survived all the battles and adventures that Draxx had stumbled through. They were bonded by blood. Tonight was going to be good eating for sure, he thought as he turned towards the front door. But she better not scarf that stew up. Gods knew the work it took to keep an infection from a swine's mouth.