"Never a dull moment, eh?" muttered Bronn, glaring at the remains of the razed goblin camp around them. Grobi corpses littered the ground and Bronn aimed a kick at a decapitated head lying in front him. It flew through the air and disappeared behind a pile of bodies.
"Not in the life of a Ranger," he continued dryly. "No greater falsehood has ever been uttered! Someone killed the grobi scum before we could!"
He was wringing his hands so hard around the haft of his axe that the leather wrappings creaked. Beside Bronn, Drumdin Swiftstrike stood scowling at the destruction around them. He could understand Bronn's frustration; they had spent weeks stalking and ambushing these greenskins, whittling down their numbers from almost three hundred to less than a third of that. Along with Bronn and Drumdin, they numbered three dozen Rangers in total. They had been planning a final attack to wipe out the remaining survivors when they saw the column of smoke rising from where they knew the goblin encampment to be.
By the time the Rangers had reached the site, destruction had been sown. Whomever did this had been ruthless in their slaughter. Drumdin first suspected a Brettonian force, since these forests bordered on their lands and they held no love for the greenskins, but his instincts would find no peace with the thought. He had seen humans fight before and he never once saw a manling able to tear a goblin apart. Most of these goblins had been ripped to pieces and body parts lay scattered everywhere. Some also had large chunks of flesh missing, seemingly half eaten. Drumdin could not bring himself to believe that mere humans did this.
Bronn was uneasy as well and walked with his axe held ready. Dumdin himself carried a crossbow - the prevalent weapon among Rangers - with his own axe slung across his back. On the barrel of his crossbow a small collection of scratches could be seen near its middle. These fine incisions represented the Rune of Precision. It was a gift from a Runesmith he had assisted some years ago.
Drumdin estimated they had reached the centre of the encampment when another Dwarf emerged from between two smoldering tents, his black beard as dark as the burned wreckage around them. He also carried his crossbow, with a quiver of bolts hanging at his side along with two short battle axes. "Captain," he said, nodding at Drumdin. "There is something you should come see. I believe we have uncovered the identity of the ones responsible for killing the grobi."
"Humans?" Drumdin asked as he fallowed the black bearded Dwarf, Hrald, with Bronn close behind them. "Perhaps," he answered grimly, "though I doubt they are allies to the Dawi."
"Why do you say that?" Bronn asked.
Hrald spat on the ground before answering. "See for yourself."
Drumdin noticed they were nearing the perimeter of the encampment. The stench of burned greenskins increased tenfold. Ahead of them stood four more Rangers, and Drumdin recognized them as some of the ones he had placed under Hrald's command to scout the surrounding area. Their attention seemed to be fixated on a large patch of blackened earth littered with dozens of more burnt corpses.
At first it seemed the bodies and body parts had merely been thrown about haphazardly and set alight, but then Drumdin noticed the form the blackened patch made and swore loudly. Scorched into the earth by the smoldering bodies of the goblins was the hated symbol of the Chaos god of Pleasure and Pain, Slaanesh.