Droplets of water fell through the cracks of the old tavern that had been destroyed during the the nine day struggle. The rain tapped against the wooden roof in a melodic symphony that could have lulled even the most problematic child to a deep sleep. Puddles were forming on the old wooden floor seeping into the boards and weakening the already rot infested wood. The rain continued to pour into the tavern until one of the beams caved in and fell to the floor causing some of the floor boards to give way and crack from the weakness. The sound echoed around the room; it was met with a loud snort and then the deep grumbling of a male voice.<br/><br/>Upon an old tavern table, a short, large male laid on his back with his mouth opened and his muscles relaxed in a way that would say he was either in a deep sleep, or he had been put into such a state by copious amounts of alcoholic beverages. A snore would come from him every once in a while as he happily slept, despite the fact that the roof could cave in on top of him at any moment. A short, muscular arm hung off the side of the table with an obscure dusty bottle clasped in his hand. It had only a few drops left of whatever it had once contained. It's fumes almost competed with the musty, damp scent of rotting wood and fresh rain fall. The smell overshadowed the scent of all the booze that had once stocked the shelves of the little place.<br/><br/>After a nine day battle, Giligor felt as if he had deserved a day of binging. Death had not claimed him in the battle; most of the mutants and warriors were unworthy in battle with mediocre weaponry and rags that couldn't even protect them from the bite of a bug. So many frail humans had died in battle, but most of them were so ill trained and pampered that it was a wonder how the army had even succeeded in stopping the filthy beasts at all. Giligor was positive that he had the most body count, but who was keeping score? Not the damn army -who had picked up and left the dead without properly disposing of the bodies or taking care of the poor towns folk. The cowardly, weak humans had left the people of Untergard completely vulnerable and prime for another attack that would be sure to wipe them out. It was typical of humans.<br/><br/>Instead of traveling with them like he had intended on, Giligor had stayed to drink away the anger and shame he felt. Was death so hard to come by? Would he be able to find something worthy of killing him? He had to die in a glorious way so stories would be passed down from generation to generation about the great Giligor. He had to be known for being the best fighter and blacksmith around, instead of the failure that he knew he really was.<br/><br/>Screams filled the air causing Giligor to shoot straight up. He blinked, groaned, and looked at the almost empty bottle. "Eh? How did that happen?! Who drank my booze?!" He looked around the dimly lit room realizing that he was as alone as he had been the night before. "Well hell," he muttered as he tipped the bottle back into his mouth and swallowed the last few drops. He looked at the now dry bottle and chucked it against the counter. It shattered -the glass scattered over the floor where many other shattered glass bottles were. "That was the last damn bottle in this shithole, too!" He rubbed his head and then went back to laying on his back while smacking his lips.<br/><br/>The screams of battle rang in his ears once more, and this time he was fully aware. "I knew those damn beasties would come back! Ye damn humans! Always running from a good fight!" He slid off the table and hit the ground with a "thump." As he picked up his axe, the door burst open with a twisted man-beast growling at him. In a fell swoop, Giligor turned around and threw his axe at the beast. It did not have time to give another growl. One blade of the axe embedded itself deep into the skull of the beast slicing through the being as if it was paper.<br/><br/>"Ha! Teach you to growl at Giligor!" He grabbed his gear and slung it around his shoulder. Hurriedly he ran to the mutant beast and pulled his axe out of its head like it was nothing. He swung the axe to get the blood off of the blade, and then looked out into the street to see the scrambling people as they all made their way to safety. Two mutants saw him and ran at him. With a loud, deep war cry that rang out over the battlefield, the Dawi Slayer ran at them with his axe in hand. "You fools! You must have never heard of me!"<br/><br/>As he drew close, Giligor used his axe to swipe at the stomach of one of the mutants. The shriek pierced his ears. "Quit yer yapping," he growled and brought his axe down aiming for his neck. The head rolled to the ground just as the other mutant came up behind him with a club in hand ready to crack the skull of Giligor open. Just in time, Giligor lifted up the handle of his axe and blocked the club. Grunting, he slipped behind the mutant and swung his axe into the side. The beautiful blade buried itself deep into the mutant's body causing a torrent of blood to come from the wound. He yanked his axe free and grinned. "Dawi! We may be small, but we be the fiercest of them all!"<br/><br/>Seeing people actually fight back, Giligor's eyes widened and he grunted. "No one outdoes me!" He watched as a boy was about to be murdered by a mutant, and some fancy schmuck just stood there muttering to himself like a man hyped up on the mushrooms that grew in the nearby caves of his home Karak. He was about to charge into battle when the weapons went limp and a she-demon jumped in to intervene. Magic and self righteous she demons? Giligor's blood was boiling.<br/><br/>Charging in with another way cry, he swung his axe at one mutant across his unprotected belly. It screamed as its innards spilled out around him. He collapsed to the ground while another mutant came at him. Giligor buried the blade of his axe into its chest. When he looked up, he saw that the she-demon was stabbing away at the beasts with tiny little blades that seemed so ill made that it was a wonder they were doing any damage.<br/><br/>A mutant came up behind her, and it was obvious she hadn't seen it. "I'm going to regret this," Giligor huffed. With a great groan, he aimed his axe, and threw it. The mighty war axe went sailing through the air almost seemingly heading for the Elf woman. The blade managed to sever a small section of her blond hair, but it had missed her head and found home in the face of a disgusting mutant. Giligor ran after the axe and grabbed the handle of it pulling it out of the mutant. "This aint hair braiding time, girl. This be war!" He narrowed his eyes at the blades she was holding and he snorted. "Elf weapons....nearly as bad as human weaponry! And magic....damn magic is only good fer healing." His green eyes scanned the battle scene. "Knew this would happen....spineless humans..."