Wayfaring Writer

Driven by a violent desire to write.

Burnit Bonesmasher

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Burnit Bonesmasher

Burnit watched the dwarves rampage through the tunnels of the goblin hive. There were a dozen heavily armed dwarf scouts setting fire to the simple homes of the goblin tribe that had adopted him. It was his fault they were there. They had seen him gathering berries for Beritte and must have followed him back.

There was no reason for everyone to hate goblins like him so much. Why must they be hunted all the time? Why must they be hated? All his live Burnit had been feared and hunted. That’s how he got his name in fact. His parents were killed by adventurers passing through and he had been left behind. When he stumbled into the human village three days later, starving and emaciated, they all shouted “Burn it!” He heard it so often after that day, he forgot what name his parents gave him. It was as good a name as any other he supposed.

Beritte was one of the bodies he hid under, berries juice staining her mouth. Her eyes stared into his, her face locked in a rictus of pain and terror. “So sorry Beritte. Burnit got ’em all killed. Got you killed.” She remained silent, judging him. “Burnit so tired Beritte, so tired of runnin’ and hidin’. Want more.” Flies started to form around her mouth. Burnit sighed and began to think about where he would go next looking for safety.

Hands shot underneath the pile of bodies and locked onto his arms like a vise. Burnit tried to pull away but there were too many holding him. They dragged him from his hiding spot and into the center of the tunnel. Five dwarves now surrounded him, laughing and beating him. They had necklaces with twine winding through the goblin ears they had collected.

“Well, look what we found boys. A stray trying to sneak up behind us once we left.” Laughter rumbled out from the group as three of them began to go through the pile of bodies they had pulled him from, collecting more ears.

“No, no sirs. Burnit not sneak up. Burnit gunna sneak away.” They laughed again, “Sneak away? So you can eat some poor forest family. No goblin, your evil dies here today.” Burnit scrambled away from them, his back to the wall. “Burnit not evil, Burnit no eat anyone. Burnit just wants to be happy.” The two dwarves stalked towards him with their daggers drawn. Burnit began to turn away but saw the other three cutting the ears off his friends and paused. He hated them, he hated them all so much. Why wouldn’t they just leave him alone?

When they grabbed Berrite’s head and began to saw at her ears the world went red. His hand touched something cold and sharp, a hand axe someone had dropped. He gripped the handle hard and his anger and hate boiled inside him like a living thing.

Burnit launched at the closest dwarf, screaming and swinging the axe wildly. He took the dwarf by surprise and buried the axe in his face, killing him instantly and snapping the wooden shaft of the axe. The second dwarf had frozen in fear, so Burnit leapt upon him and stabbed him over and over with the broken handle of the axe.

The other three dwarves turned now, scrabbling for their weapons. Burnit grabbed the fallen dwarf’s battleaxe and swung it around him and charged the dwarves screaming. His scream and the whirring axe were a storm of rage and vengeance. One dwarf’s scream was cut short as the axe took his head from his shoulders. His next swing went wide and stuck in the ribs of another dwarf and he collapsed to the ground covered in blood. The third dwarf managed to pull his short blade and swing at Burnit, gouging a furrow in his arm before the goblin berserker jumped on top of him. Burnit’s screams were ragged with exhaustion now, sounding like a wounded animal. He swatted the blade out of the dwarf’s hand and scrambled to get a good hold on it’s head.

He pulled at the dwarf’s coarse beard and greasy skin while the dwarf scratched his face and chest with its stubby finger. He found the dwarf’s eyes and dug his sharp thumbnails deep into the sockets. It was like pushing his nails through berries that had been sitting in the sun, hot and thick. The dwarf screamed and scratched harder, leaving long trails down Burnit’s chest and face. After some time his breathing stopped and he died.

Burnit sat on the dwarf’s chest, lungs burning from exertion. What just happened? Did he just kill five dwarves? Realization at his actions dawned on him. While he was both scared and hurt, he also had an idea for what to do next.

He got up and pulled the battleaxe from the rib cage of the fallen dwarf and began to gather an assortment of armor and weapons from the scouts. A ragged cough broke the silence and he looked up to see the dwarf he had stabbed with the axe handle still alive.

Burnit grabbed the axe handle and strode over to the dwarf, slowly dragging the axe along the stone ground behind him. The dwarf glared at him, “You filthy thing! You’ll be hunted down for what you’ve done here! You’re nothing but a monster and a villain! Your bones wi-” Burnit kicked him in the teeth, silencing the tirade. He gazed down at the dying dwarf and said, “Not gunna die, Burnit gunna be a hero. Save the goblins from the bad guys.”

Burnit hefted the axe in his hands, “Dwarves gunna suffer. All gunna fear Burnit Bonesmasher.” He swung the axe hard and hit the dwarf with the flat of the axe, crushing it’s skull.

Burnit turned and continued gathering his gear. He knew a spring nearby where he could sleep for the night. He’d have to make some sort of suit to mask his appearance for when he went to towns. He was going to hunt down all the adventurers he could find. Many would hunt him, but goblins, orcs, and other creatures of the night would regard him as a hero. And he was going to be a hero. No matter what it took.

About Luke Geldmacher

I grew living on an island in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. Currently, I live in a 40 acre farm in Cookville, TX. I sometime write about life issues, but my passion is sci-fi and fantasy storytelling.

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