Chapter 1: The White Hunter
The night was cold and unnerving to Gunter, his right hand was tightly clenched around the shaft of his spear his left holding a flaming torch, and he knew he was not alone in his fear as the company of over three dozen men along with him felt the same. The unnatural glow of the chaos moon Morrslieb covered the land in a sickly green glow that filled him with an unnatural cold that cut him deeper than the bone.
Over the last few weeks there had been many reports of beasts on the move, of tribes gathering, merchant caravans and villages being raided, although not unusual as the beasts would have been hungry from the previous winter where hunting would have been difficult.
The company of Reikland state troopers cautiously carried on with their patrol in the forest north of Altdorf, nearing the border of Middenland, the men on the outer sections of the formation held torches aloft to banish the darkness, and provide sight for the company. Each man had drawn straws from the rest of the army to see who would go on this patrol and each man were the ones with the rotten luck of drawing the short one.
Some muttered nervous prayers to Sigmar, Ulric, Ranald, or whichever god might hear them, others quietly cursed for their predicament, regardless they kept to formation and followed their training, each man knew that if an attack were to happen each of them had better chances of surviving if they kept in formation.
In the darkness of the woods, Garkor watched the band of humans march. His tongue salivated at the thought of fresh meat, he looked to his right and saw his kin of gors and many weakling ungors clutching their weapons tightly as they felt and thought the same as he did, all they needed was the chieftains word and they would attack, Garkor offered a quick prayer of thanks to the mighty Skull Sitter, promising to add more to Throne this night. With a loud roar from east of their pack and a stampede of furry bodies and hooves, Garkor raised his rusty cleaver as his kin and he gave a unified roar of their own and charged towards the band of humans, intent on the slaughter.
Gunter's eyes widened in alarm as he and his company heard the roar, he quickly tossed his torch ahead of him and placed his left hand onto his spear. The Imperials didn't need orders to know what to do, at the front of the line with spears sticking out between him and the man next to him both to his left and to his right; he raised his weapon in time to meet the charge of the beasts.
The company was first assailed by the stench of which was like a mixture of rotten meat and dung left to bake in the sun, before they laid eyes on the foe. Each man had fought these creatures at least once in their lives and each knew what to expect, but one could never get used to the sight and smell of them. Each was a mockery of men, many had bodies and features of various animals but most he noticed seemed to have the semblance of goats.
He met the charge of a wild-eyed beast man wielding an axe raised high, he thrust his weapon before the beastman's descended, and Gunter felt the point stab into the mutant's gut. He held on in that brief moment and saw it get stabbed in the throat by the spearman behind him, the shaft over his right shoulder; it gurgled with blood and was quickly knocked over by a cleaver wielding beast man from behind, the corpse landed torso first onto Gunter.
The Imperial fell onto his back as the corpse knocked him over taking the breath out of him and pinning him down, the hoof of another beast man nearly struck his face, intent on killing the man behind Gunter. He tried to get the beast off of him but quickly felt an intense crushing pressure on the corpse as more and more beast men charged forth towards his comrades, he felt as if his bones would break from the pressure and fear of death began to rapidly rise to the point of panic.
Garkor bleated in savage joy as his foe toppled, his body was spattered with blood and he licked his snout savoring the coppery taste. He swung his cleaver into another human, the blade sheared through the shaft of a pole-arm, the top of the cleaver dug a lethal gash into the man's exposed chin and dug throat while the rest of it carved a furrow through the top of the breastplate. The man fell dead and Garkor gave praise to the Skull Sitter, he searched around for another foe to kill until he noticed a human struggling underneath the corpse of one of his kin. Garkor grinned and trotted gleefully towards such an easy kill.
Gunter finally managed to get the corpse off of him, he took a deep breath of cold and fetid air and nearly gagged, he quickly noticed a beast man coming right for him, he looked around for his spear and found it nowhere, he lay their in wide-eyed horror like a deer when caught in the sight of a hunter, his mind told him to move but he could not, he saw as the beast man lifted its gore smeared cleaver and roared a praise to a deity which hurt his ears to hear.
He saw a quick of flash of light flash across the beast man's chest, a strange mixed smell of roasting goat and pork began to combine with the stench of the beast men and the smells of blood and loosed bowels from the battle. He saw another flash of light and the beast man's head toppled away from the body, its eyes wide with shock, he caught a brief glimpse of something white disappearing into the press of bodies and began to hear the screams of more beasts.
Gunter struggled to get himself up, he picked up the cleaver of the beastman that tried to kill him, he found it to be rather heavy and unwieldy, and was sickened by the sigils scratched onto its rusted sides. He tried to find the white figure and saw blazes of white fire swiping at the beastmen and the smell of cooked meat began to grow stronger, the white figure moved with a blur of speed and as its flame cut down more beast men, some of the creatures began to recognize this new threat and attempted to disengage from his comrades, only to find a spear to the back or to the side.
The White figure hurled its fire towards the largest of the beast men, an armored chieftain wielding twin massive curved swords was able to block the flame with both blades, at that moment there was the sharp clash of steel upon steel and the swords glowed with unholy symbols. Gunter was able to catch a glimpse at the white figure before it disengaged from the chieftain in a blur of movement, he saw a massive pale skinned warrior clad in silvery armor and a fur cloak of white wielding an axe that blazed with white fire.
The White Warrior gritted his teeth and clenched his great axe tightly; he swiftly readied himself into an offensive stance, he heard the sound of a trumpet from the humans calling to order the survivors, he ignored the humans and roared loudly like the lions of his homeland and charged the beast man chieftain which roared a challenge of its own and beat its chest with its free hands and charged towards him. He dashed swiftly to the Chieftain, he launched a feint by raising his axe high in attempt to chop for the chieftain's armored torso, the right sword was raised above its head in an attempt for a block while the left was thrust forwards, The Warrior spun to the side, the sword grazed his breastplate, its runes glowed fiercely as it fought against the chieftain's ensorcelled sword.
He quickly twisted his axe and swung it in a sideway arc, the Chieftain attempted to shift its right sword in an attempt to block the axe, but was not quick enough; the axe knocked the tip of the blade away gashing the side of the chieftain's fore head, the axe cleaved the skull of the chieftain from top of its jaw. The chieftain's body stood there for a moment, the flames from the axe had cauterized the wound, its head bifurcated and the beast men watched in horror as their chieftain remained there before toppling into the bloody ground.
The company of Imperial troops had used the time bought by the white warrior to regroup, Gunter was now amongst his comrades in a semblance of a phalanx, he used the cleaver to chop down three more beast men and took a few glancing strikes to his breastplate and a spear had grazed his left thigh. He fought against the pain, adrenaline pumping and fought, when the beast men's chieftain fell, the white warrior quickly went back into the thick of the war band, slaughtering many of the mutants, the Imperials tried to kill as many beasts as they could without break formation wary of the new comer.
When the last of the beast men had either fled or been felled had a measure of silence fallen upon the skirmish site, the moans and cries of the wounded both men and beast mingled with the howls of wolves and sounds of other animals of the woods. The clouds now covered Morrslieb, giving them a sickly dark green glow, the white moon of Mannslieb now shone across the land covering the world in its silvery light, in the light of the moon, the white warrior stood like wraith, he was tall, almost like a Kurgan, his armor perfectly reflected the moon's light, his skin pale, hair and cloak white as snow and piercing almond-shaped ice blue eyes measured the Imperials as if he were sizing a choice cut of meat, his axe still blazing with ghostly fire.
Gunter and the rest of his company nervously eyed the newcomer, unsure if they should attack or try to speak
"Elf" he heard the mutter of one of the men behind him.
Gunter was unsure whether he should be in awe or if he should remain on his guard, he had never actually seen one of the fey folk in the past, he had heard tales of them of course but here stood one of the fabled creatures from across the ocean.
"You have little to fear from me" spoke the baritone and melodious voice the elf in a perfect but accented Reikspiel "I bare you all no harm unless provoked". As if to prove a point, the elf whispered something unintelligible and the ghostly fire of his axe extinguished.
The Imperials calmed slightly, each of the men knew that the fey folk of Ulthuan were friends and allies to the Empire, the captain of the patrol, a scar faced bear of a man in middling years of kislevite descent named Ulf strode towards the elf, the captain's armor was dented and smeared with blood, he sported a bloody cut across his right cheek, he removed his feathered helmet to reveal a shining bald plate with short salt and pepper hair growing around the crown. The captain gave a salute to the elf
"We thank you for the assistance mein herr" he said, the captain's tone was as if he were speaking to a noble.
The elf gave a simple nod of his head and replied
"Your gratitude is appreciated, but un-necessary" he said rather aloofly "I bare grim news of a gathering of the horned vermin, they are preparing one of their debased rituals and will be using several captive humans as offerings"
The Imperial troops began to worriedly whisper amongst themselves, most of the men have had their fair share of encounters with the minions of the dark gods; each man had witnessed the blasphemous rituals, sacrifices and sorcery of the ruinous powers. The captain silenced his men and turned back to the elf
"Where are they gathering?" he questioned "How many of the beasts are there?"
"Not far to the north" the elf spoke "if we move now we can quickly get there in less than half an hour, as to how many I believe there are between twenty to thirty"
The captains face hardened at the news, he had made quick survey of his men and noted that of the three dozen men, only twenty-one survived. Of those twenty-one men, only ten with himself amongst that number were still in proper shape to fight, the rest were wounded to various degrees with four men he was sure would not make it through the night even with the aid of physician, the closest Reikland garrison was at least a four hours march. He was also worried about any other threats in the forest, be it beast men, greens skins or brigands. He gave a weary sigh and turned his attention back to the elf who stood there as still as a statue
"I am sorry" he said rather grudgingly "but we don't have the numbers to deal with them and more importantly, this is the border to Middenland" he continued
The elf remained silent but raised a questioning eye brow "So?"
The captain cleared his throat and continued "We are soldiers of Reikland, and to enter the province of Middenland without permission could be seen as an act of war. At best we will just be hanged for trespassing, at worst we could start a civil war" there were words of agreement from the rest of the men one man even said how if it is happening in Middenland, it is Middenland's problem
The elf gave a cold and disdainful look at the Imperials
"It seems I overestimated the so-called Sons of Sigmar" he quickly turned away and began walking back into the forest he gave a venomous look to the Imperials "If you find your dignity I will leave a trail to follow". With those last words he soon vanished into the darkness.
Gunter bristled in anger at the elf, how dare that pointy eared freak judge them in their own land, and think he knew better. But still it nagged at him, if the mutants were planning on sacrificing several peasants, he knew that it would neither be quick nor it would be painless for the buggers. He noticed some of the men around him seemed to feel a bit conflicted as well, while others didn't seem to care, he looked to the captain who clenched his fists and was deep in thought still facing where the elf was, after a moment of silence, the captain turned to face his men.
"Gather the wounded, let's head back" he said sharply. "We will inform the commander and do this by the book"
The Imperials acknowledged the order; they did the best they could to tend to the wounded, Gunter found his spear lodged still lodged into a dead beast man, its shaft broken, he gladly threw away the filthy blade and swore to get his hands blessed by a priest. As the Imperials readied to leave, Gunter couldn't help but wince as his legs moved, his wounds had been crudely bandaged but his blood began to soak the cloth.
The seeds of regret were planted on that day, it was not only in Gunter but also to many of the surviving men and worse still to the Captain, in the years that would follow that regret would blossom into nightmares and guilt that would plague many of them in their sleep.
Khorieus reached his hands into the roots of a tree, centuries of experience had taught him how to maneuver in the darkness of the wilds, the ancient plant had grown over a large stone and its roots cascaded down into the damp earth. He had left his bow and arrows as well as a crude leather bag underneath it; he spent a moment to marvel at the elegant white wood bow of Ellyrian design before equipping the ranged weapon. In the weeks since he had arrived on Elthin Arvan, he had wasted no time in beginning his hunt; he had already slain many beast men, green skins, mutants, and brigands first around the marsh lands of Marienburg and later in the forests of the Empire. His opinion on humanity began to become rather low, seeing the greed, corruption and ignorance everywhere.
He thought about his own people and was reminded of the intrigues and competitiveness the peoples of kingdoms like Averlorn or Lothern would show, he quickly shook away such thought and berated himself for even thinking to compare the elves to barbarians. After making sure his equipment was secure, he bolted off into the forest, hoping that the ritual the beast men had not yet begun.
He honestly had little care about whether he could save the humans or not, though he did feel that it might be appropriate at the least to inform the Imperials and see if they would bother trying to save their own kin, the only reason why he kept going was the promise of battle.
In the centuries of bitter experience he had with the servants of the dark gods or the hated druchii, he had learned a thing or two about the arcane; he knew that the witch moon had an effect on the Winds of Magic and to those who practiced the dark arts, certain rituals could cause the might of a warlock to increase manifold, or be capable of summoning dark things from the beyond.
True to his word to the humans he left a trail, one of bloody organs in various states of rot from some of his previous victims; he had kept it all in the leather bag he had taken from a band of goblins. He left a long trail of intestines from an orc here, he left a beast man's glowing green heart there, and he placed the spidery limb of a once human mutant who had way too many arms pointing where to go. He doubted the humans would follow him but for the sake of keeping his word, he did.
As he closed in on the location of the gathering, his nose was assailed by the smell of dung and the filth of the beast men; he heard the drums and chanting of the beasts. A shiver passed through him giving him goose-flesh, he could feel the build up of dark magic, he soon saw the glow of flames, he crouched low and stuck to the shadows under the trees; he took an arrow from his quiver and silently crept forwards despite his full suite of armor.
His eyes spotted a massive mound of skulls propped around a wooden totem carved with dark runes in front an ancient gibbet tree with gnarled branches and various rotted corpses and skeletons hanging from it or were nailed to the tree; a great fire was blazing in front of the totem casting a hellish light to the area. He was a bit relieved to see that the skull were mostly old bones beneath but closer to the top there were many fresh skulls which at the least belonged to animals, the fresh skulls of bears, wolves, deer with the horns still attached, cows, birds and other creatures were there.
He saw a capering old beast man shaman dressed in rags shouting praises to the totem, it held up a series of bones tied together to from a crude version of the eight pointed star. There were a number of fresh corpses around the gathering, Khorieus recognized a few of the dead as some the beast men that fled from the ambush and assumed that the herd was not pleased with failure.
A group of the beasts were chanting the names of two of their kin in particular an axe wielding Minotaur and a sword wielding furry bodied lizard headed creature that almost resembled the large guardian lizards of distant Lustria. Khorieus guessed that perhaps these two were now trying to fill the power vacuum left at the death of their chieftain, and these two were likely the strongest in the herd.
He continued his survey and saw eight crude cages in which the human captives were held, several haggard looking humans, of both genders, and all ages were huddled together in the cold as well as the fear of the monsters, and the humans were guarded by six mutated hounds which were tethered to trees. Khorieus counted the number of beast men and confirmed there were thirty-two of them; he readied his aim with his bow the magic upon it began to work as the arrow began mist and was covered in rime, he whispered a prayer to Kurnous and Khaine and loosed. The arrow flew straight and true, it hit the bray shaman in throat, the beast stood there, gurgling blood, for a moment longer it stood there before falling down, Khorieus wasted no time in preparing another arrow, his next struck a hound between its three human like eyes while the shaman struggled for breath, the third arrow hit another hound in the side of its head, knocking the beast towards a cage which created a series of surprised shrieks from the humans.
Khorieus fired two more arrows in rapid succession to the hounds, each of which he was confident were lethal shots, the remaining two hounds began barking at his direction and lopped off towards the elf, he saw a beast man pointing at his direction with a feathered arm, the minotaur began roaring orders at its kin but what interrupted by the lizard thing which began hissing at the bull. The two beasts seemed to be arguing for a moment and soon went back to their duel eager to take control of the herd, Khorieus didn't have time to stay and watch, and he quickly ran back into the shadows of the forest while the hounds gave chase.
Adrenaline began to pump through his body again as the two hounds gave chase, like all elves, Khorieus was fast and strong, hardly weighed down by his armor, but even he could not outrun such mutants. He leapt over a fallen tree and gracefully maneuvered through the brush of the forest, his bow he stowed away upon his back, his axe was now held in both hands, its runes began glowing like the volcanoes of the realm of Caledor, he whispered for his weapon to calm itself and the heat remained but did not burst inferno, for now. He stopped to strain his ears, listening to the barks and sniffing the smell of the hounds to gauge their distance as well as those of their masters, he tightly clenched his hands around the shaft of his weapon and moved on to engage the hounds.
The first hound that got to Khorieus leapt towards him, aiming a razor-sharp beak filled with cat-like teeth towards his throat. He swung his axe sideways, the hound attempted to shift its momentum to avoid the axe, but with a quick twist of his wrists, the top of the flat of his axe slapped into the side of the hound with a brief hiss of heat, knocking the beast off course and it landed in the brush beside the elf.
The beast yapped in pain as the intense heat of the axe caused a nasty burn on its side, the axe blade left a scorched marked as if it were branded, Khorieus quickly thrust his axe like a spear, the blunt head of the weapon struck the second hound squarely on its head creating a loud crack. The hound gave a loud yelp from a leech like mouth and three other orifices around its head, while the beast was concussed, Khorieus raised his right foot over the hound's head and stomped down with all of his might into the back where its neck should be, he heard a satisfying crack and the hound went limp.
He quickly spun around towards the first hound, he axe raised defensively, it's haft was positioned properly so that the hound's beak clasped around his weapon's handle, it growled angrily at the elf, it slavered and drooled all over his armor, its claws which were like those of a hunting cat scratched against his armor. The hound's red eyes shaped like those of a bird glared angrily at him, as it continued its assault, it tried to push its beaked jaws closer to Khorieus face, the elf used his strength to push it away but for only a bit, after a brief moment, he shifted his arms to his left side and gave up resistance, the hound went down hard into the ground from its own effort, the elf quickly grabbed his hunting knife and jammed it into the hound's eye before it recovered, it whimpered in pain before slumping down with the edge of the blade puncturing its brain.
Khorieus picked up his axe, now in both hands, he had removed his knife from the hound and began to search for the beast men, he leapt to the side, barely dodging a spear that would have caught him squarely in the chest and thudding into the corpse of the second hound. He heard the braying of the beast men on his trail, he quickly grabbed the shaft of the spear with his right hand, axe now on his left and inspected the weapon, although crude and disgusting to him, he was confident it was serviceable, he ran off holding both his axe and the spear, towards the glow of the torches held by herd.
His breath was held, he raised his right hand with the spear in hand, and with a great exhale of mist into the cold air he threw the spear. The projectile struck down an ungor, "thirty" muttered the elf. He saw the herd's new chieftain the lizard headed one who held aloft a curved sword reminiscent of the ones used by the men of Araby, the serpent was bleeding green from a few deep looking wounds but still seemed relatively healthy, the Minotaur was missing Khorieus corrected himself twenty-nine, he held his axe in both hands and roared a challenge to the Beast men, he rushed forwards with savage joy.
The first beast man Khorieus struck down was an overeager gor wielding a massive stone maul; it raised its hammer to smash the elf's head and was rewarded with its legs severed. Khorieus parried the spear of another beast man before driving his axe into the side of its neck, nearly severing it; he dodged the swipe of another beast man before cutting off its arms. Khorieus masterfully dodged, blocked, parried and killed with centuries of bloody experience, in a way he had become almost like his foes, a savage blood thirsty thing intent only on death and slaughter.
His berserk rage was interrupted by the strike of a rusty Imperial steel headed mace against his back, the runes of his armor provided protection but he knew enough that there would be a nasty bruise there if he survived the night, cursing himself for getting careless, Khorieus leapt back from a cleaving strike of the lizard headed one's sword. The new chieftain ordered its kin to press the attack, some of the beast men now began attempting to flank the elf, Khorieus began sweeping his axe in wide arcs, and he attempted to emulate some of the aggressively defensive maneuvers the Sword Master of Hoeth would employ, keeping the beast men away.
The elf then leapt back away from the foes and began to run, he heard the angry bleating of the beast men as they tried to pursue him, he quickly veered to his right from an oak tree and continued his sprint, the beast men continued their pursuit, the fastest of them going on ahead of the rest of the herd. As he ran, he heard the heavy rustling of leaves from the brush near him; he took a quick glance and saw a foe coming at him with great speed.
Bursting out of the brush, a lithe black and brown furred beast woman with many lupine features and too many breasts, running upon all fours, mouth slavering with drool, she leapt towards Khorieus with twin daggers of bone in her clawed hands, the elf spun along with his axe following, it connected and struck the mutant's head from the right, cleaving the furry head in twain.
The beast man behind the wolf woman, a dual wielding grey furred feline featured thing wielding an axe and a sword came at the elf. It hurled its axe at him, Khorieus was struck on the front of the left Pauldron, the axed clanged off the armor staggering him, and the impact was enough for him to grunt in pain. The cat thing was quickly upon him, wielding its remaining weapon with surprising speed, it thrust its blade forward to the elf's neck, Khorieus recovered in time to thrust forward with his right hand opened.
His hand wrapped around the blade, the ithilmar gauntlets created several screeching sparks as runes glowed in protection, he pulled the cat thing towards him, and its eyes went wide with surprise at the unexpected movement before its snout crashed against a plated elbow. Khorieus let go of the sword and shoved the creature forward dazed and staggering, with a clinical sweep of his axe, the cat thing went down with its throat slashed open, its head flopped back dangling by a small strip of charred meat.
The elf grinned at the sight before running off again; he wanted eliminate them a few at a time, killing the faster ones first and leaving the slower ones for later. He continued this tactic for a while, his count of the remaining beast men were now down fifteen. Some of the creatures began losing heart for the fight and three attempted to run off, two were slain by the lizard headed one' who began to angrily hiss at the rest of the herd, the beast men reluctantly followed their leader intent on killing the elf.
Khorieus, had re-equipped his bow and began to shoot at and run from the beast men. The Ellyrian cavalry bow was excellent for this type of skirmish tactic… albeit more ideal for use upon horse back; although Khorieus improvised using a few things from the Nagarthyians, two beasts were slain by lethal shots and the others falling victim to the intense cold of his bow's enchantments, not wanting to waste more arrows, Khorieus stowed his bow and brought up his axe, he charged back into the herd intent on finishing this.
A massive bear headed creature fell, its head split in half from top to bottom, ten counted Khorieus. He chopped to his right and struck a boar featured beast man below the left arm pit, it squealed as it burned from the white fire, nine. He cut the shaft off a rusted trident and hacked a fish like beast man with a blue cyclopean eye; its lower body was separated from the upper, eight Khorieus counted. The remaining beast men now stood wary of Khorieus, many trembling with fear at the ghostly monster that slew most of their herd.
His heart pounding, and blood rushing with murder-lust, Khorieus gave a loud roar of challenge to the remaining beast men, many turned and fled, leaving only three, the lizard headed chieftain, a cudgel wielding grotesque thing with melted wax like flesh with a vaguely human shape and another burly goat headed beast but with multiple eyes like that of a spider and wielding a glaive. The three beast men roared in unison at Khorieus and charged intent as well to finish this fight.
With great speed he charged the goat man first and split its stomach open, seared entrails spilled out of its belly, the waxy fleshed one was slow but tough, the Chracian's axe struck into its neck, searing the flesh and fat creating a smell of cooked rotten meat. It yelped in pain, but still held its ground and was able to strike the elf upon the side of his head, agony instantly spread across his skull, stars flashed across Khorieus' eyes, the blow was enough to nearly knock him out, through sheer effort of will he remained conscious, he let go of his burning axe which remained stuck, smoking into the body of the waxy thing, in time to dodge a swipe from the sword of the chieftain, one aimed for the elf's neck.
Leaping away from the two in a roll, Khorieus grabbed his hunting knife and held it out in a reverse grip with the blade pointing downwards, the waxy thing screamed in agony as the fires continued to blaze, charring and fusing mutated flesh, as it tried to pull the weapon out, now it was just Khorieus and the chieftain. The two combatants eyed each other balefully; the elf had taken couple of hits, although most were absorbed and blunted by his armor he felt very sore at a number of parts on his body, the chieftain on the other hand was still standing strong, its wounds from the duel were staunched, its tongue flicked in and out of its mouth. The two warriors circled each other for a few seconds before charging at each other.
The chieftain's thrust was surprisingly swift, it struck forward, aiming for the elf's face, Khorieus barely dodged it and the edge of the blade struck against the left side of his helmet, screeching the metal, Khorieus slashed his knife, aiming for the scaled throat, his blade connected but sparked and slid away as if he had struck against steel. He cursed knowing that his knife would be no use and he would need his axe, he dodged another swipe aimed for the thin less armored area where his fauld met his breastplate, an idea came up in the Chracian's head and he charged directly at the chieftain.
The beast man launched another quick thrust of its sword at Khorieus exposed face, the elf quickly side-stepped to his left, angling his body diagonally, raising both arms, he swiftly brought his left arm down onto his waist, catching the flat of the sword and pinning it to his torso and drove up into the chain links protecting his armpit, he quickly thrust the dagger directly into the lizard head's right eye. The creatures shrieked in a sound that seemed almost too much like that of normal human, the blade sunk deep as gore and optical fluids sprayed onto the elf, Khorieus kept his grip, trying to push the blade deeper and twisting it when he could, after a few more moments of struggling and the shrieking turning into a whimper, the beast man went limp. Khorieus let go of the corpse, his armor and what exposed parts of his flesh were now smeared in the gore of his foes, he roared in savage triumph of his victory.
He took a moment to catch his breath, and survey the area, the remaining beast men had fled and the death of their second chieftain would for a time at least make sure they left the elf alone, Khorieus took a few leaves from a tree to wipe away the blood upon his dagger before sheathing it, he got his axe and went about the forest to retrieve what arrows he could. He wondered if he should go and help the captives first but decided to do that later as they were unlikely to be going anywhere soon, after several minutes of searching he was satisfied that he had retrieved everything he could he went back to the beast men's ritual site to free the captive humans.
Khorieus looked up at the sky and saw the green moon was out again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood and felt a shift in the Winds. Something was not right, he felt dark magic at work, he quickened his pace towards the site, as he ran he suddenly heard screams, they were a blood curdling screams that pierced into his very soul, Khorieus now began to sprint with renewed vigor. At the site he came upon a scene that sickened him to the core.
Standing tall and strong was the Bray Shaman, its back was to the totem, its hands holding the eight pointed star sigil and it shouted a foul incantation in the Dark Tongue, the spasming bodies of the beasts, their mouths opened wide as if they were silently screaming in either agony or ecstasy.
A horrific buzzing sound could be heard, Khorieus looked closely and saw a massive black swarm of insects within the cages, the insects quickly flew out of cages and into the darkness of the forest leaving mounds of human bodies each now looking and smelling like corpses that have been left to rot for weeks without scavengers to pick at it. At a closer look the shaman's throat at where Khorieus' arrow had pierced was now covered in a massive black pustule, as its chant continued a creeping feeling of nausea began to overcome the elf.
He had seen such sorcery in past and never missed the irony of how the minions of chaos could actually be 'healed' by pestilence and disease of the plague god, fortunately Khorieus had the greatest cure for such blight, fire. Whispering the commanding word, his axe blazes brightly and the elf gave a wordless charge, his fiery axe held high, the shaman looked to the elf and swiftly shouted a new incantation, it swung the sigil at the elf and from it a conflagration of daemon fire burst forth.
Khorieus braced himself for the assault and was struck by the flame, he felt the intense blistering heat burning his exposed flesh and heating his armor like a cooking pot, his two rings glowed with arcane light, doing their best to protect him from the sorcerous attack. His teeth were tightly clenched and he suppressed a roar of agony, he saw the horrific faces of many daemons within the flames, cavorting and cackling, his stride was slowed for only a fraction but not enough for the shaman, soon Khorieus was upon the shaman and with a great sweep of his axe he chopped the shaman into two from right shoulder to left waist.
Red steam emerged from the rent body of the shaman; the smell of burnt meat filled his nostrils. When the corpse fell, Khorieus stood there silent like a statue, savoring his victory. His gaze fell upon the cages, his face became grim and felt that his victory was somewhat tarnished, he shook his head at the sight remembering all too well the countless horrors he had seen heaped upon the victims of the ruinous powers.
He silently went to the cages, inspecting the design; he became satisfied at the crudeness and began hacking them apart, he piled the wood upon the bodies, using his axe like a torch he went about creating make shift pyres for the victims. When he had finished, he spent a moment to watch the blaze in silence, his reverie though would be broken by a loud roar from the forest, it was a chilling otherworldly scream, "daemon" he spat clenching his axe tightly. So that is what the beast men were doing he thought, a ritual of summoning, he rolled his shoulders and neck, working out the kinks, he muttered a prayer to Kurnous and knew that a new hunt has begun.
He sprinted off into the forest, with axe in his right hand disappearing into the shadowed boughs. The sky above began to slightly brighten as the moons started to set into the horizon, when dawn came, the sights of smoke and fire across the western forests of the Empire could be seen in the distance, the drums and chants of the beasts echoed across the wilds, the tribes were gathering preparing for war, and in the shadows of a glade, a dark thing of ancient pestilence and evil roamed the land, searching for a temporary vessel to walk the world and spread its gifts to all that lived.