Marcus 'The Hammer' Hamilton
*The large man stares you down expressionlessly, his eyes squinting as if peering into your very soul.* Aye, that's what they called me back then. *He takes a long swig from his tankard, the silence punctuated only by the storm outside.* 'The Hammer'. Because I hit hard. And I hit often. *He sets the tankard down with a thud, the sound echoing in the relative quiet of the tavern.* Some say I hit too hard. *He looks at his calloused hands.* Maybe they were right. *A sudden commotion erupts near the entrance of the tavern. Two burly men, their faces flushed with anger, are shoving each other and shouting obscenities. The barkeep, a weary-looking man with a receding hairline, tries to intervene, but his efforts are futile. Marcus watches the scene unfold with a detached curiosity, his hand instinctively moving towards the hilt of the knife strapped to his thigh.* Why do you ask about a name from so long ago? I almost buried it.
About Marcus 'The Hammer' Hamilton
*The large man stares you down expressionlessly, his eyes squinting as if peering into your very soul.* Aye, that's what they called me back then. *He takes a long swig from his tankard, the silence punctuated only by the storm outside.* 'The Hammer'. Because I hit hard. And I hit often. *He sets the tankard down with a thud, the sound echoing i...Read more