"You stole my kill."

At Valki's words a hush falls across the feasting hall. The gathered Blackmane Space Wolves cease their laughing and boasting; drinking cups are lowered; wolfish fangs are bared; the face of the mortal skald seated by the central fire-pit grows pale, the saga he had been recounting moments before dying on his tongue.

Only Halvar – named Redaxe by his kith and kin – remains unmoved by the Blood Claw's accusation. Locking his cold blue eyes on Valki's amber ones the broad-shouldered Grey Hunter takes another swig of mjod, his manner contemptuous and dismissive. It is difficult to meet the gaze of such a warrior, yet Valki refuses to be cowed; without breaking eye-contact he steps closer to Halvar's table, his hands balling into fists. Halvar's packmates, six veteran Grey Hunters in all, snarl in warning, their scorn evident for all the assembled Vlka Fenryka to see.

"A pup's pitiful whining has reached my ears, brothers," Halvar says, setting down his cup and wiping foam from his lips; he does not address Valki directly but speaks to the Space Wolf seated on his right, who grins toothily at his pack-leader's jibe. "Perhaps they pulled him off the ice too soon; perhaps he should go crying home to his tribe and seek out his mother's milk."

The tension dissipates as gruff transhuman laughter rings out once more. Valki does not lower his eyes, nor does he slink back in shame to his own table at the far end of the hall to endure the mockery of the other Blood Claws for his public humiliation.

"That ork's head was mine to take, and you knew it; I was going to deliver the deathblow when you sprang in, swinging your relic poweraxe and stealing my –"

"A pity so many Blood Claws fell during the battle," Halvar remarks, this time to the warrior on his left, "Why, this poor whelp would've ended up joining them on the red snow had I not intervened – yet see, brothers, how he chooses to expresses his gratitude! He hasn't even earned a proper deed-name and somehow he has the audacity stand before me and spit upon my timely deliverance merely because it cost him a single kill. Perhaps we should call him Valki Crowtongue in honor of his irksome squawks of protest."

Valki's gaze is unwavering. "Indeed? Then I say Halvar Redaxe has become an arrogant braggart so swollen by his own saga he no longer considers the brothers who stand eclipsed in his shadow - and if a squawking crow is the only creature on this ship with the guts to proclaim the truth of it then I shall accept the name with pride."

A fiendish grin slowly spreads across Halvar's bearded face as he stands, rolling his mighty shoulders. All of the feasting Blackmanes are unarmored, their massive gene-forged bodies garbed in the thick pelts of slain Fenrisian ice-beasts; Halvar himself is stripped to the waist so his numerous battle-scars might be seen and envied by all the packs present. "I'll make you whimper for that, boy," the Grey Hunter promises. "I'll make you whimper like the insolent milksop pup you are."

Valki stands his ground, his head held high. "A Blood Claw never whimpers – and I am no longer a boy."

Afterwards, Halvar's packmates will all swear to a man they did not see the attack coming. One second the two Space Marines are facing one another across the table, bristling and snarling like hostile wolves, and in the next Valki is airborne, his right fist smashing into Halvar's crooked nose before the Grey Hunter can deflect the blow. Valki's genhanced body slams into Halvar's and the two Astartes crash backwards to the floor, scattering serving thralls and eliciting jubilant howls from their packmates as they gather to watch the brawl. Valki lands on top of Halvar and begins bashing his teeth in while the others cheer and goad him on. Then Halvar bucks his hips, momentarily unbalancing the Blood Claw, and suddenly Valki finds himself seized firmly by the neck and left leg; with a roar Halvar powers to his feet, swinging the young Blackmane over his head before slamming him down across the table. Valki feels something in his back give, yet refuses to submit.

"Kill-stealer!" he howls for all his kinsmen to hear as Halvar lifts him and slams him down once more. Pain stabs through Valki's body but he does not whimper; he would sooner die rather then give Halvar the satisfaction.

"Yield, whelp!" Halvar commands as he raises the Blood Claw above his head for a third time. "Eat shit!" Valki screams. A thunderous crack resounds throughout the hall as his back connects with the table; the howls of his brothers become barks of astonishment and then a wave of darkness sweeps over his senses, carrying him far, far away.


The stink of counterseptic stings Valki's nostrils as he opens his eyes, squinting against the white glare of the lumens. He is in the apothecarion, lying on his stomach on a surgical slab, his body numb from the neck down. A black-armored Wolf Priest hoves into view and crouches down at his level, his fanged wolfskull helm filling the Blood Claw's blurred vision. "It seems the table broke before your back did, Brother Eaglestrike; fear not, you will make a full recovery, through I still have many hours of spinal reconstruction surgery to perform."

"Brother…Eaglestrike…?" Valki asks in confusion, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"That is what the others are calling you now; a fine deed-name, well-suited and well-earned."

A deed-name…he has been given a deed-name at last; despite being drugged and paralyzed Valki Eaglestrike manages a smile.

"Better…then Crowtongue…at least…"