Scaling this treacherous, narrow, cliffside path, Axehammeran is able to reach a safer passage without another incident. The trail begins to open wider after a good stretch further up the cliffside, and it steers inwards into the mountain again. A short ways after that, Axehammeran notices down the trail that there is a series of ancient stone tile steps carved from the mountain’s rock that lead upwards. Axehammeran gives them a passing glance and begins his march up these ancient stone steps, with full disregard to where he places his feet.
His foot pushes on a tile and it shifts itself into place. Axehammeran pauses to articulate his act, and realizes he must have set off another trap, only he realizes this too late. He feels several miniscule darts poke into various areas of his body- pffzzztt–ppfzztt–ppzzzttt– they hiss through the air before embedding into his neck, his shoulder, and his bicep, and a sudden wooziness overcomes him.
“I feel like I’m drunk!” he says in dazed realization, sitting himself down for a quick breath.
Looking about his rapidly blurring surroundings, Axehammeran feels weird. His head snaps back in a double take as he sees a large scaly wurm slithering its way towards him. Axehammeran struggles to focus his sight on the thing as its ghoulish mandibles begin to part, dripping slimy ooze from its wiggly parts. Axehammeran rolls aside off the stone steps just as it wriggles past. He lands softly on his back upon a bed of flowers. Getting up, he turns to his side but unexpectedly bumps face-first into a large, soft object. Scraping his beard along this object as he looks up, he met the menacing eyes of a pissed off looking minotaur.
“I like the look you give, that’s the look of a warrior. What brings you here?” he says to Foostus with slurred speech.
“This!” spits the minotaur as he bounces Axehammeran off his belly and swings his battleaxe down upon the unsuspecting dwarf. Axehammeran raises his axes in defense, then he suddenly feels an excruciating pinch in his back shoulder blade as the wurm’s line of dagger-like teeth sink themselves into Axehammeran’s reality. Foostus’ axe breaks through Axehammeran’s block and smashes into his pauldron. The strike should have taken Axehammeran’s arm clean off, but the armor did what it was intended to do and caved in, only allowing the offending axeblade through enough to inflict a commendable gash in Axehammeran’s stocky shoulder.
Foostus takes a few casual steps back and begins to position himself for another attack. Both sides of Axehammeran’s body have now suffered a heavy assault, one side still in the clutches of Foostus’ wurm-companion.
Axehammeran attempts to roll the grotesque creature off his back, shaking his shoulder rigorously to the side in attempts to break the hold, but the grasp is firm, and it fails. Taking his opportunity, Foostus charges forward, his hooves pounding thump–thump–thump– as they crunch the snow beneath them. He raises his axe overhead and swings it down upon his pinned-down adversary, calling out, “Wind Fury!” and this time he swings with incredulous speed. Axehammeran is able to slightly deflect the blow, but the heavy axe ultimately swipes down across Axehammeran’s chest, slicing through the multitude of steel scales, spilling Axehammeran’s chest blood upon the white snow. Foostus’ menacing face turns upright in a grin, and he calls to his pet, “Jimm! Get him!” and the wurm sinks its sharp teeth deeper into Axehammeran’s armor and skin. Its tongue creeps into Axehammeran’s battered armor and slowly starts boring its way into his back.
Axehammeran takes a deep breath as his adrenaline sends him into his duly awaited battle heightened nirvana, pushing all his pain and worries of death fleeting from his Mind, and then he lashes out at his attackers with a sudden rabid fervor.
He turns and swings both axes down, catching the feasting wurm in its scaly carapace, and then he swiftly turns back around and swings forward again with both of his axes, rewarding the minotaur two comparatively small axe wounds in his large beastly quadriceps. Before the two victims of Axehammeran can react, Axehammeran immediately lashes out once more as he says, “Come and get me motherfuckers.” with groggy grace.
Foostus, reels back out of reach, but the still feasting creature takes another spiteful axe attack to its tail-end. Only this time the creature gives a muffled squeal and loosens its steadfast grip on Axehammeran’s flesh. Axehammeran wrenches his axeblade free of the wriggling wurm and a gush of blood sprays out all over the whole procession.
Foostus cries out, “NO! Jimm!” as the after effect of Axehammeran’s attack sprays over his face. Foostus’ stricken eyes turn to Axehammeran and tighten. He whips out an intimidating chain, and suddenly electric sparks flicker from the hand grasping the chain. He swings the chain overhead and whips it down towards Axehammeran.
“RAAAHHH!!” roars Foostus.
The chain slaps along Axehammeran’s armor, Kha–kaaaannnggg!
A lightning bolt tears across Axehammeran’s armor and ricochets off violently, striking a nearby tree, leaving a smoldering slash across its bark. Taking advantage of the minotaur’s blunderous strike, Axehammeran swings heavily upon the bloodied creature still clutching onto his back. The attack was so powerful that both axes cut through its scaly body and through its though flesh, severing the creature into three segments. The wurm releases it grasp on Axehammeran’s back and drops to the ground and writhes savagely back and forth.
Foostus watches in horror as Axehammeran kicks the writhing segment in his direction.
“NOOO!!” shouts Foostus in anguish.
He huffs out of his nostrils and begins to scrape his hoof along the ground in frustration, guh–guh–guh–guh–guh, and he rushes towards Axehammeran with his head down and his great fearsome horns aimed to gore his opponent. In his angry rush, Foostus stumbled over the remains of his precious pet wurm, Jimm, and Axehammeran easily dances out of the way. Chasing after his avalanche of an opponent, he strikes brashly with an axe as Foostus whirls around to face the dwarf again. The axe lands deeply into the flesh of the minotaur’s broad chest. The attack briefly staggers Foostus and any advance planed in retaliation. A spatter of blood sputters out of Foostus’ snout as he looks down at his shorter adversary, and an angry scowl spreads across his hairy, bull-like face. Suddenly a deep call rings out from behind the wounded minotaur, “Head’s up!”
Two spiked, metal balls suddenly swing down upon the head of Foostus with a hideous crunch, collapsing the skull into a mess of bone, pink brain, and a lot of sprayed blood. Foostus’ big, heavy body crumples to the snow, sending blood out of his fractured skull in gentle, rhythmic spurts.
“Almost gotcha.” Ortaddon says casually as he steps over the pile of flesh that was once the great Fighter of the Mid-West, blood dripping from his dangling flails. He wipes blood off his face as he steps up to Axehammeran.
Axehammeran silently nods his head and then says in a gruff voice, “You wanna continue with me? Better chance with both of us than all those motherfuckers!”
Ortaddon’s face turns sour in response to Axehammeran’s request, “I saw you fighting Foostus, I’m gonna take my chances alone!” he says, as he turns his back to Axehammeran and begins marching off.
Axehammeran’s short temper flares for a split second, and his Mind thinks to kill another possible adversary, but Axehammeran pushes the thought away. He instead sits down and begins to bandage himself after his most recent, and arduous of battles.
Once sufficiently patched up, Axehammeran takes a short wine break and collects himself before forcing himself onward. As he lets his Mind soak in the blessings of the wine once more he decides to push on, and he begins his trek through the thick snow yet again.