Large creatures, things of the Old Earth, charged for Mike. His arms lifted the battle axe, not under his control, and slammed the helve into the earth. The creatures parted around him, the axe offering some unknown protection.
But not from everything.
Mike felt a stab in his back, left side. Normally, this would have been a love handle, but when his hand reached around he felt muscle. And an arrow’s shaft. When his hand returned to his field of vision, it was covered in blood.
Mike’s knees buckled and failed. His body fell limp to the forest floor, and the bright sunlight faded to darkness.
Mike came to moments later, lying on his carpeted floor, the axe just inches from his reach. Lingering images from his ‘experience’ still floated before his eyes. One that stood out the strongest was a rune embezzled on the helve of the axe. On the bottom, carved intricately into the base, was a rune shaped similar to a lantern.
Gnarth.
As he lifted the axe, he was transported back to the old world to witness more deaths.