Reincarnated as an AXE!

“Max, what just happened?” Libby asked me as we slowly returned to consciousness. We were laying on the forest floor, covered in dirt and leaves, as though we’d been there for quite some time. I leaned forward and shook my head hard, causing all sorts of things to come tumbling off of me.

Man, nature could be clingy.

__

Earlier in the day, we’d just finished up at the bandit camp.

As we'd expected, they hadn’t been willing to give up their key to the FG entrance. Instead, they chose to call us names and make several nasty threats about what they were going to do to Libby once I was dead.

I didn't find any of that to be very friendly, so I decided to convince them to take our request seriously, which I did.

Very, very thoroughly.

When I was finished, the survivors begged us to take the key and leave in peace, which we did, no fuss, no muss, only happy to oblige them. We were heroic adventurers, not murderous fiends, after all!

The captive women hadn’t yet been delivered to the goblins, just like Libby predicted, so we freed them unharmed from their cages. They'd had a pretty harrowing day, so Libby and I let them have all the gold the bandits had managed to accrue from their varied dirty dealings.

And because, for some mysterious reason, none of the remaining bandits possessed any unsevered hamstrings, we also offered the girls free access to their pointy weapons, and some quality alone time with the now crippled men who’d been mocking their tears, leering at their bodies, and threatening to rape them all day.

Heh, we could still hear the screaming from quite a distance away.

Being a hero feels nice!

But then, as we were making our way to the goblin den, we mysteriously fell unconscious!

“I really don’t know, Libby,” I replied. “One moment we were heading to the Fog’s cave, and the next we were out cold. I think we were talking to someone…someone who’s important to our world but also clearly an unmotivated loser who wants to start slacking off just when things are starting to get interesting.”

“It’s confusing, but what you said feels right,” Libby concurred. “Whoever that stranger was, I feel as though he’s still single for a reason. Almost as though he leaves all the effort in maintaining a relationship to his partner but acts surprised when she gets tired of putting up with his bullshit and kicks him out of her apartment.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s never be like that stupid bastard. If, for some reason we needed to take a short break, let’s do that in style with an action-packed cliffhanger that’ll leave the audience looking forward to our return, instead of feeling like another great story has been suddenly dropped.”

“That’s a great idea, Max! It’s an awesome way to show our appreciation. And who knows? If we do that, maybe more people will be inspired to leave ratings and reviews,” Libby said before turning pointedly in the direction of where presumably this narration was being read and giving the presumed readers a hard look.

“Libby, shame doesn’t motivate an audience,” I said chidingly.

“Not our entire audience! Reddit has been great! I’m referring to those other viewers.”

“Oh, God, this has gotten so meta!” I said. “I really don’t know if we’re established enough to make jokes like this and get away with it! Also, your personality seems to have slightly changed! You seem darker and slightly more vengeful."

“I might be slowly evolving into what’s known trope-wise as a Dark Action girl,” Libby said. “I’ll be dangerous in a fight, but my sarcasm and ambivalence will earn me lots of new fans in the name of character development. Oh, I should probably dye red streaks in my hair and start kissing women. But not today, because writathon is still going on!”

“You like girls?” I asked in amazement. “Libby, that’s awesome! I never realized we were so progressive! Good for us! We’re a story that’s violent and inclusive!”

“I like guys too! Want to make out?” Libby asked.

“Seriously? I don’t know, Libby. There’s been very little narrative buildup to something like that. I mostly view you as a friend and a comrade.”

“It’s fine, Max,” she replied. “We’re just doing it to tease the shippers.”

“We have shippers?”

In response, Libby grabbed me by either side of my face and began kissing me. I lost track of time for the length of it, seeming to dwell eternally in the intensity of that sweet moment, lost in the scent of her, the feel of her, the taste of her.

It was…incredible.

When she was finished, she pulled away from me while still holding my face. “I didn’t feel anything,” she declared between heavy breaths pushed out from her heaving chest. Her skin was flushed, and her eyes practically shone with the intensity of the wordless desire she refused to acknowledge.

“Yeah, yeah, me neither,” I gulped. “This is just a ratings ploy; we’re just getting those suckers hooked to keep them interested, nothing more. That was as boring to me as doing my yearly taxes."

“Yeah,” Libby whispered. “Fuck those guys! This is pure manipulation and nothing more. I’m getting nothing out of this!”

She pulled my face back down to hers, and this time the contact was animalistic. She gently bit my lip, then slowly increased the pressure.

When I began to cry out in pain, she laughed and bit down even harder, then lapped up the blood that slowly poured out of the small wound, licking away at it like a kitten at a bowl of sweetened cream.

Maddened by her cruelty and completely out of my head, I pushed her against a nearby tree and began nibbling away at her neck, in exchange. But I put no force behind it, making the gentlest contact that I possibly could, teasing her skin mercilessly as my tongue ran down it; I relented only when her moans began to turn into heated panting, before exerting the slightest pressure behind my bites. Then I reached behind her head and pulled back roughly on her hair as revenge for her biting my lip.

“Max!” she gasped with primal urgency before I reclaimed her mouth with my own.

Once more she pressed her hands against my head, but this time it wasn’t to hold me in place. Instead, she pushed my head down lower and lower, until I was eye-level with her waist. Understanding what she wanted from me, I gripped the sides of her pants and began to pull them down—

(To help her readjust them, because they didn’t have any belt loops, and she was embarrassed they might fall! He’s just being a pal!)

(Hey there guys and girls, it’s me! Writey! I’m the mascot for Writathon, and it’s MY job to make sure that all stories are compliant with the rules and expectations laid out for participants in the bi-yearly Writathon competition! My specialty is making sure that stories don’t get TOO naughty! But I’m sure there’ll be no problems here! So don’t mind me, I’ll be practically invisible!)

--I couldn’t focus any longer, her cries and moans, and the tension behind her grip on my scalp had driven me into lustful madness! Wordlessly, I pulled her to the ground beside me and began tearing away at her shirt—

(Because he’s checking her for injuries! Golly, you can get hurt in all sorts of ways if you don’t pay attention to what you’re doing! I’d sure love to have a friend like Max, wouldn’t you?)

--She looked me unwaveringly in the eyes as I hesitated.

“Do it,” she said.

“Libby…,” I moaned. “This…are we going too far?”

“DO it, you fucking bastard!” she yelled before spitting on me. “DO IT—

(Yeah, do it, Max! Help her remember what the capital of Nova Scotia is. That’s in CANADA, folks!)

--wrapped her strong, taut legs around my waist and locked them in as I tightly squeezed her—

(arm to make sure she doesn’t fall off when he gives her a piggyback ride! Isn’t that nice? Remember the last time you got one of those when you were a kid? I do! I used to go weeeee!)

(Did you know that in England they call piggybacksCockeybackriding? In Scotland they call itCoalcarry! And in Ireland it’s known as Takealongs!But I much prefer the American term. After all, who wouldn’t want to be a wee snug piggy being carried along by a trusted friend or loved one? Wheee!)

--Finally, we both screamed as one and knew sweet release—

(Primal screaming is a radical form of therapy created by the controversial psychiatric figure Arthur Janov, who theorized that many problems in life can be traced back to childhood needs going unmet. By screaming out your wordless rage in a safe, monitored environment, Janov believed that people could be cured of anxiety and depression!)

(Primal screaming also formed the basis of the song writing for legendary new wave rock duo,Tear for Fears,who used their own experiences with the therapy to craft their chart topping single,Shout!)

“Max,” Libby murmured. “God, you just—

(Shout! Shout! Let it all out! These are the things I can do without! Come on! I’m talking to you, come on!)

--me like a volcano. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

I smirked at her words. “Well, I’ve got a lot less in me now, that’s for sure.”

(Because he hasn’t had breakfast yet, kiddos! Gosh, never skip your morning meals, guys. You’ll feel emptier than a bachelor who realized he never took any chances in life and now he’s alone and secretly a massive disappointment to his mother who still smiles and pretends to love him but secretly wishes he were like her nephew, Carlo, who’s a married family man with a great paying job! But no,no, keep on twitch-casting and playing League of Legends. We’re all sure YOU’LL be as good as a Korean teenager one day, you thirty-six-year-old do-nothing!)

We held hands and stared at the sky for a bit. Libby spoke first.

“You know, in a way, I’m glad we got this out of the way. But I have to be honest, Max. I’m really not looking for a relationship right now.”

“Really?” I asked her.

“Yeah. I mean…you’re sweet, but I’m really new to this whole corporeal existence thing, and I feel like I’m going to be in an experimental phase for a while, if that’s the right term for it? I just don’t want to feel locked down is all. Can we still be friends?”

“Uh, you’re telling me I just got to have mind-blowing s—

(He was going to say “SNES time” and he was perfectly right to describe it as mind-blowing! The SNES was the king of the legendary sixteen-bit era. Genesis does what Ninten-don’t? Ha! Hardly! With legendary games like Super Mario world, Super Castlevania, the Legend of Zelda a link to the past, and Donkey Kong Country, the super Nintendo just may very well have been the most dominant home video game console of all time!)

--and I don’t need to buy you any flowers or act weird around you? Hell yeah! Let’s just chalk this off to experimentation and forget it ever happened, unless we have nothing better to do and no access to television, beer, or better-looking people.”

“Sounds good to me!” Libby replied cheerfully. “Hope you ate well, shippers! ‘Cuz that’s it for now!”

“Yep. Sorry guys!” I said with a smirk.

Then we got dressed, repaired out duds and moved on.

(Welp, nice working with you, everyone! ‘ol Writey’s off to enforce compliance with any other potential rulebreakers! I’m sure you all appreciated my efforts just as much as I appreciate ALL OF YOOOOU. Good nighty night!)

__

The creature howled in mindless rage as I backhanded it down with vicious force.

It had come leaping for me from a tree, but I’d sensed its movements and reacted on instinct. Before it could recover, I swung down hard on its head and was rewarded with the sweet sensation of feeling its skull come apart beneath my blade.

“Fraahhaga laah!” screamed other voices. Soon, a swarm of ugly grayish-green creatures began racing towards me, springing up from hidden spots in the ground and the treetops, and the brush. Some of them wielded rust-pitted steel weaponry, but the majority of them held crude stone tipped spears and wooden clubs.

It was my worst nightmare. The fog goblins may have been blessed with a hilarious name, but there was nothing amusing at all about these grotesque beasts. I could see their eyes swimming with mindless hatred and animosity, and I could practically smell their desire to spill blood. Libby was right…

…these things were fucking gross.

Speaking of Libby, she’d decided to borrow the stealth ability I had so conveniently acquired a short while back, and was now hanging out of sight, content to let me do what I do. I was grateful to her. Because there was no way I was going to hold back. Not this time.

These Fog Goblins…I couldn’t express my disappointment in words. Wait no, I actually could, I'm very articulate and I’d just done it a short while ago. I think what I’m trying to say is that it’s okay not to be cute. It’s okay not to be amusing. But it’s not okay to have an awesome name that brings laughter and joy to the blessed hearts of all good little axes everywhere, and then turn out to be a complete disgrace.

Sorry, Fog Goblins. But You’re guilty of not living up to your potential and I just can’t forgive you for that.

Roaring with anger of my own, I lifted my axe and raced to meet their challenge.

The Slaughter begins in Part II.