Carnage looked from the blood-soaked man to the blood-soaked head and back again. Both faces blinked at him. Decapitated heads didn't usually do that, did they? Carnage didn't think so.
"You're interesting," the man said. "What are you doing in my castle? And, more importantly, what are you?"
There was still a small amount of Scratch's snot on him, so he could have spoken, but Carnage thought it wise to hold his tongue. It was bad enough that this guy now knew there was a mutant hammer running around, it would be worse if he knew it could talk too. Or, at least, sometimes talk.
While he could easily refrain from talking, it was more difficult to ignore some of his baser desires. The smell of blood in that room was intoxicating. How had he not noticed it before? He could almost taste it on his tongue. He could almost feel it guzzling down his throat. The man was there for the taking; all he had to do was attack.
"What is it, friend?" the man said after Carnage hadn't answered. "Are you unable to talk? I have methods that can help with that."
Depending on the man's capabilities, that could mean one of two things. The first, and most obvious, was that the man was about to torture Carnage to get information. The second was that the man was some kind of wizard who could give him the gift of speech. Carnage chose to believe he was under attack. It seemed the most likely... and it meant he could defend himself. He enjoyed that.
Without warning, he took a dive from his spot at the window, towards the blood covered man. Carnage's accompanying yell reverberated around to room, promising death and violence. At first, the man smiled. The reaction made Carnage feel uneasy, so he made sure to put all his effort into headbutting his opponent. Unfortunately, his aim was a little off (Carnage blamed that weird smile for his misfortune), so instead of colliding with the man's head, he gave him a hearty knock to the shoulder. The man screamed, which was a marvellous outcome, but it didn't knock the bastard out as Carnage might have hoped.
Summoned by the man's scream, a dozen people piled into the room. From observing their clothing, Carnage judged them to be servants. He wondered if dying for their master was on their job description. He growled and most of them flinched. They were definitely not built for this kind of work.
Not all of them anyway.
Four of the servants stepped to the front of the crowd, pushing the others behind them. Their bulky frames protected their colleagues, and this time it was Carnage's turn to smile; worthy opponents always made his dark little heart happy.
Not waiting for an invitation, Carnage ran towards the closest of the big opponents. The less brave servants took several steps back, positioning themselves in doorways and at windows. They were blocking his exits, but it didn't matter. There wasn't much the meek little guys could do to him, was there? Besides, his immediate focus needed to be on the big chaps. And he was going to enjoy every second of glorious battle.
His teeth soon found purchase in the first musclebound servant. He tasted of hard work and determination. Those were valuable and delicious qualities. The servant grunted and tried to throw Carnage aside, but the mutant hammer just bit down harder.
Then, everything was a blur.
Hands grabbed at him. Carnage hammered his head, clawed, and bit. He swallowed flesh and blood, revelling in its flavour. He pulverised a skull and crushed some ribs. His clawed foot reached into a servant's chest and ripped out their still beating heart. Bits of brain and puddles of blood covered an expensive looking rug. There were screams and yells, thuds and sighs; a cacophony of violence. It was beautiful.
Carnage tore out the throat of one the large servants and looked around. His main opponents were all gone. All that were left were the servants at the exits...
… and the man.
The man stared at Carnage with an intensity that made the mutant hammer want to cower. This man was powerful. So why hadn't he fought? Why sacrifice his servants?
These were questions to ponder at another time, as the man raised a hand and lightning shot out of it.
Lightning. Fucking lightning. Maybe this guy was a wizard.
The air turned cold. Deathly cold.
Carnage did what anyone would do in such a situation. He ran. Moving as fast as his feet would carry him, he raced over the bodies of the servants he'd killed. While they remained motionless, he still cursed them for hindering his escape; they were huge. A bolt of lightning shot by him as he climbed over a body. That was too close for comfort.
Once on the other side of the bodies, he weighed up his options. He was left with one door, and one window, and the remaining servants had gathered around both. Crackling to his rear told him that the wizard was gearing up for another lightning bolt. Carnage had to make a decision. The servants tensed in the doorway, ready to try their collective hand at stopping him. The doorway was the obvious choice, wasn't it? That meant it was the most dangerous choice. While Carnage was a fan of danger, he wasn't so much of a fan when the danger could just chuck spells at him. That seemed massively unfair.
So, he ran for the window.
Panic smothered the faces of the two servants guarding it, and the distinct aroma of ammonia filled the air as at least one of them let their fear run free. But, to their credit, neither of them moved. The servants in this castle were probably the most loyal Carnage had ever seen. Since their master was a wizard that wasn't so amazing; they were likely under a spell or two. Underneath that façade of obedience, they were probably shitting themselves. If he was anyone else, Carnage would have felt bad for them; but Carnage was a mutant warhammer, and the only person he'd ever felt any kind of empathy for was Morga.
Morga... he had to find her.
Jumping with all his might, he made for the window. His hammer head made short work of the odd coloured glass, sending it shattering into an uncountable amount of pieces. Soon he was falling, hurtling towards the ground at neck-breaking speed. He hadn't realised how high up that room had been. As the snow covered ground came ever closer, he wondered if mutant warhammers could die.
He hit the snow. The impact knocked the first lot of sense of out him, then the snow washed him clean of Scratch's snot. His thoughts changed instantly. There was no longer logical plans and schemes. All that remained in his tiny mind were words like "eat", "kill", and "find Morga". As far as Carnage was concerned, this was a relief. Those other thoughts were heavy and took up too much space.
Carnage got to his feet in time to hear footsteps. Then there was clanging. And darkness. Anger swelled in him as he tried to attack something... anything. All he succeeded in doing was bashing his head against something metal.
"Got somethin'," he heard a voice call.
"Was it my new friend?" Another voice called back. This one was further away and Carnage recognised it as belonging to the wizard.
"Little hammer chap?"
"That's the one."
"Yup, got 'im trapped under a bucket."
"An enchanted bucket?" the wizard asked. "I don't want him escaping."
"Yup, enchanted bucket," the closer voice confirmed.
"Wonderful," the wizard said, and Carnage imagined he could see the smug bastard's smile.
*****
With a distinct lack of care, the bucket was flipped over, so that Carnage's legs bashed against the side. It hurt. And the clanging sound discombobulated his little brain, and it took him a moment to process what was going on. Carnage was still trapped in the blasted bucket, but now he had a clear view of the sky and the goblin who was carrying him. The goblin didn't seem to grasp that she was carrying someone capable of uncontrollable destruction, as she acted like she didn't have a care in the world, swinging the bucket back and forth like it was a picnic basket and she was on the way to lunch. To add further insult to injury, she was humming.
Carnage wanted to ask her where she was taking him, but his ability to talk had well and truly faded. He'd need to get Scratch to sneeze on him again.
Wait... wasn't Scratch dead? The memory of the fight with the unicorns replayed in his mind, sending a rage similar to that of Morga's orcish Rages through his body.
An emotion Carnage had never felt before washed over him, drowning him in melancholy. He already knew he wasn't a fan of this emotion, and someone needed to pay for making him feel it. To Carnage, that meant more killing and general violence was in order.
Deciding he should start straight away, he tried to jump out of the bucket.
But he couldn't move.
It was like he weighed more than six fully grown dragons. It was hard to even shift his leg, let alone use it to jump or walk. His jaw was too heavy to lift, so biting was out of the question. Defeated, he lay in the bucket, shifting into his normal hammer form.
"Ah, our friend's looking a little different now. How very interesting," the wizard said, his face appearing at the top of the bucket. He'd changed clothes and his face was no longer covered in blood. How long had Carnage been in the bucket? Up close and out of the haze of battle, Carnage realised something else. This man was a gnome. Carnage always got gnomes and humans muddled up, but this guy definitely had gnomish features. And he was pretty short. Still taller than Carnage, but wasn't everyone?
"I watched him change," the goblin said. "It was really interestin', boss. I made some notes. Would you like to see my clipboard?"
"Yes, but later. For now, take this one down to the dungeon. While it appears to be an inanimate object at the moment, we both know that will change. Until we know the catalyst for that change, it's better to keep it locked up. Is there a spare cell?"
"Yeah, boss."
"Good. Once it's in the cell, you can take it out the bucket, but keep it close by. You never know when you might need it."
"Yeah, boss," the goblin said again, before taking the bucket and skipping away.
From his spot confined in the bucket, Carnage tried to take in his surroundings. It was hard to take it all in while he was in mundane form, and his view was limited to walls and ceilings. Some parts of the castle were more lavishly decorated and furnished than others. Some walls housed magnificent paintings, while others just displayed cobwebs.
Once the goblin had turned a few corners, she looked down at Carnage, her face filling his view.
"I just gotta pick up some stuff, then we'll head down to the dungeon. I hope you'll like your cell. I'm poppin' you next to my new friend. She's one o' them serial killers. I think you'll get along just fine."
Despite being transported to a dungeon cell by this goblin, Carnage got a weird feeling about her. It was like he wanted to trust her. He made himself think of blood, guts, and gore to knock such thoughts out of his mind.
*****
The sound of footsteps and humming announced Petal's arrival. Morga rolled her eyes; she'd been enjoying the peace and quiet. She'd been using the unexpected downtime to channel Hector Cluescavenger. While the detective was known for solving crimes, Morga reckoned he'd come up with more than a couple cunning plans in his time. Right now, she needed a cunning plan to get her out of the dungeon and find her friends (or what was left of them).
"Hello friend!" Petal said. This time, her axe was strapped to her back, and her hands were loaded with that clipboard thing and a bucket. "I've got you some presents!"
Morga really hoped she wasn't about to be handed a bucket full of shit. That was just the kind of thing a goblin would find hilarious.
"First, I got you these. Jellybeans. They were with your belongings." Petal held out her clipboard with the little pouch of jellybeans balanced on the top. "Please take them through the bars. I've got my hands full at the moment."
Morga reached through and accepted the gift. Not that it was really a gift if it already belonged to her. Either way, chewing on jellybeans always helped her ideas to form, so she was grateful.
"The other present is that you now have a neighbour!" the goblin said. She was far too cheery and excitable; Morga found her to be exhausting. Plus, she reminded her of Scratch.
"Is my neighbour a bucket?" Morga asked, wondering if Petal was perhaps a sandwich or two short of a picnic.
"No, silly!" she said. "They're in the bucket."
Morga raised an eyebrow. "If they're that small, won't they just escape through the bars?"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Petal said. "But the boss enchants everything. Your new buddy won't be going anywhere."
The goblin opened the door to the cell next door by nodding her head. There was far too much magic at play in this place. Morga didn't like it, but she did give her own door a little nod to see if it would open. It didn't.
Petal took a couple of steps into the cell and turned the bucket upside down, emptying its contents onto the dirty floor. Morga gasped when she saw what had come out.
"Where did you find him?" she asked, before she'd had a chance to stop herself.
"Him?" Petal asked. "You've seen what he can do, haven't you? You know he's no ordinary hammer."
"Er..."
"Don't worry, I'm glad to have reunited you. Perhaps you can reminisce to pass the time before the boss visits you?"
"Who is your boss?" Morga asked.
"The greatest wizard of all time!" Petal announced, clearly very proud of her employer.
"Does the greatest wizard of all time have a name?"
"Yeah, but I get in trouble for sharin' it. Names are power and all that."
"But... Petal... I thought we were friends. I'm no wizard, what could I do with a name?" Morga said, wondering what good the wizard's name would do her even if she knew it. There was always the chance she'd recognise it and maybe come up with some way to bargain for her freedom. "Aren't we friends?"
Petal walked out of the cell and the door clanged shut behind her. "Yeah, we're friends. And you do make a good point. Most of us wouldn't know how to hurt someone with a name, would we?"
"Nope, I just like to know whose house I'm staying in. It's just polite."
"It is polite! Yes, I think it will be fine for you to know his name. It's..." Petal paused and looked around. Apparently happy that no-one was listening in, she leaned close to Morga's bars. "I have to say it quietly. While I know I can trust you, some of the prisoners down here are a bit less trustworthy."
"I understand," Morga said. "I wouldn't trust criminals either."
"Exactly!" the goblin said, pleased that she and Morga were on the same page. "Now, you will keep this to yourself, won't you?"
"Of course. Besides, who else am I going to tell?"
"Yes, yes... another good point," Petal replied. "So, the boss's name is Beefwehluhngtun."
Petal looked at Morga expectantly, like she was supposed to know who this chap with the weird name was. The name didn't ring any bells whatsoever. Was he meant to be some kind of celebrity?
"Oh..." Morga said, as she felt she should probably say something. "That's a... good name. A strong name."
"You don't know who he is, do you?" Petal asked.
"No, sorry. Not a clue." Morga admitted.
"That's okay... I guess you're new to these parts... you'll soon find out how wonderful he is. I hope you get to join us. I'm sure the boss'll find a place for you 'ere. You'll fit right in."
"I hope so too," Morga said, hoping the lie sounded at least slightly convincing.
"Anyway, I gotta go fill out my paperwork," Petal said. Paperwork didn't sound remotely interesting, but she seemed excited. Morga was never going to understand goblins. "These forms won't complete themselves!"
They shared a short goodbye and Petal left, her fading footsteps and humming marking her exit from the dungeon.
"Carnage," Morga said through the bars and into the cell next door. "It's time to get up."
*****
It was dark when Hector woke up, and his skull was still resting on his pelvis, so he assumed none of his companions had found a way to put him back together again, and he was still in that godforsaken barrel. It was tiring being nothing but a pile of bones.
"On the bright side," he muttered, "at least that hammer isn't gnawing on me any more."
Even though Carnage had tried to use him as a chew toy, Hector couldn't help but have a soft spot for the mutant. It was like they had a connection. Sometimes it was like Hector could tune into what the hammer was thinking. It was most odd. A mystery that he would solve once he was up and walking around again.
But he needed help for that.
"Hello?" he called through the barrel's walls. "Is anyone out there?"
"First a lively little hammer, now a talking barrel," a voice said. "We're having quite the day."
The barrel's lid was removed and a gnome looked in.
"Hello there, so lovely to meet you," the gnome said.
"It's a pleasure to meet you too," Hector said, not sure whether he'd just made a new friend or a mortal enemy.
