Fight Without a Sword

Never Been Afraid to Die

"You've never been afraid to die, Braka," Gax said fondly to his commanding officer.

They stood back to back atop a small hillock, surrounded by dozens of the Helvete Faen. A visitor to this planet, unaware of the history and brutish power of dwarves, might think these the final few moments of the two heavily armored figures. They did only stand four to four and half feet tall, while the monsters surrounding them towered upwards of nine and a half feet.

And although the Helvete Faen's milky white skin looked rocky and brittle, it was thicker than a dozen layers of Dwarven leather. Blades were ill equipped to battle such horrid creatures, which is why both of the sturdy dwarves held blunt weapons.

Braka Hammaer, Captain of 213th regiment of the Dwarven army's toughest faction of warriors, the Oor Viti, held his two children, masterfully crafted warhammers, one in each hand. Hata and Bani had been gifts from the Commander of the Oor Viti upon Braka's appointment as Captain. It was said that no finer hammers had ever been crafted by the blacksmiths found within the depths of Mount Storr. Their heft was balanced perfectly, even though the handles were an unusual length: too short to be considered two-handers, and longer than was typical of one-handed hammers. Commander Lot had called them, "The Two Bastard Brothers."

Gax favored the traditional two-handed battle hammer, his being a standard issue from the Dwarven armory. Which, of course, meant it was still a thousand times better than any weapon the savage Helvete Faen could create. Those beasts tended to use found weapons, looted items, or the vicious needle like teeth that filled their gaping maws and the giant claws found on each three fingered hand.

"It's not that I'm unafraid to die, Gax," Braka said from the side of his mouth, the Bastard Brothers gripped firmly in his gauntleted hands, "It's that I know in my soul the ancestors wouldn't let me die without becoming a father first."

Gax chuckled wearily and replied, "You'll have to bed a female for that to happen, sir. Babies don't grow from the sea, you know."

Braka's dark skin crinkled with a wide grin. At 204 years old, the Captain was only halfway through the long life of a dwarf, but it was true that he had never been with a female. He had spent his time working on the docks, loading and unloading ships for the past 100 or so odd years, building one of the most impressive physiques found in all of the Dwarven castes, which is saying a lot. Dwarves are not exactly known for being scrawny. Between the mining, fishing, farming, and blacksmithing castes alone, most dwarves weighed in at around 300 pounds of pure muscle. Braka had them all beat by at least 50 pounds, which he wore in his huge arms, broad shoulders, and immense chest.

"When I find a lady that can handle this much dwarf, I'll settle down, old friend," Braka told his second in command... the only remaining dwarf from his entire regiment. All 675 of his charges had been slaughtered in this battle, a fight that would probably be the last stand of the entire Dwarven race on Brenna. Despite dwarves being the best warriors on the planet, the Helvete Faen had the advantage in numbers.

The Faen had been pushing into Dwarven territory for the past 60 years, and for much of that time, Braka had been killing them by the hundreds every day. His heavy Dwarven plate armor was covered with battle scars, which he refused to have buffed out. Each one was earned, and reminded Braka to always be thankful to the ancestors for giving dwarves such a deft hand with crafting armor and weapons.

The only reason Braka and Gax had not yet joined their fellow soldiers in death was the immense piles of mutilated Helvete Faen corpes surrounding the two hardy dwarves. They would not be easily taken, and the monsters surrounding them were nervous, looking to each other for courage... but finding none. From the sounds of pounding feet though far off in the distance, reinforcements were not far away, and even these two dangerous warriors knew it was only a matter of time.