Roddik Briarheart smiled as another wave of hounds came streaking out of the dark. Horrible, twisted undead creatures with eyes of Balefire and whose claws and fangs were covered in the ever-rotting flesh of their previous victims. Terrifying as they may be, for one who has seen the true face of Chaos, this was nothing in comparison. Besides, how can you be terrified of something that you can always see, even in the dark?
There were six of them in this pack, a larger group than before. Perhaps they actually have the capability to learn, thought Roddik, though obviously not fast enough if they thought to send only six. Smiling behind his horned helm, Roddik moved engaged the first of the hounds as the rest of the pack spilt up in an attempt to flank him. The spiked ball at the end of the length of chain that was wrapped tightly around his left forearm whistled as it blurred into frenzied life. A sickening crunch ended the un-life of the first Dire Wolf as the spiked ball collided with the rotting bones of the wolf’s skull, shattering the brain-pan and sending the bottom jaw of the wolf spinning off into the darkness. The balefire in the wolf’s eyes flared briefly before disappearing, the magicks animating the corpse released upon its second death. Using the momentum from the initial strike, the blade in Roddik’s right hand slashed out, decapitating a second wolf as it leaped for his throat; its fiery gaze spluttering once before going out. Twisting his body to redirect the physical energy behind the second blow, Roddik spun once again to the right, wrenching the spiked ball from the ruins of the wolf’s skull in a spray of rotting bone and putrid flesh.
The third wolf had come in from his left, attacking from the blind-spot created during the slaying of the second wolf. It was not fast enough however as the spiked ball, now dripping with congealed blood and bone fragments embedded itself in its midsection; shattering its spine and ribs while turning the internal organs to pulp. With an unearthly yelp the broken remains of the creature were tossed back into the black veld that surrounded the island of light he fought in. The clattering of claws on rock revealed the fourth and fifth creatures that were dispatched as swiftly and without mercy. Scanning the area, Roddik’s gaze landed upon the final Dire Wolf watching him from the edge of the fire’s light. Half again bigger than the others, its face was twisted into a horrific snarl, blood and saliva dripping slowly to the ground from the flayed ruin that was the wolf’s maw. With a keening howl the Dire Wolf attacked, streaking across the open ground towards its intended victim. Roddik smiled again as his armoured boot lashed out, connecting the wolf’s sternum stopping its charge and forcing all the momentum upwards before a downward stab of his blade slammed the wolf into the ground; pinning it in place.
Roddik watched as the last wolf’s eyes faded into blackened pits before removing jerking the blade free. Wiping the blade clean and flicking the viscera clear from the ball-and-chain, Roddik gathered his meagre supplies and began the journey back to his village. The rotting heads of the Dire Wolves would be proof enough of his worthiness to rule and not even Krogen could dispute that. Krogen Steelfang may be the representative of Jarl Romulus Ironwolf, but Roddik Briarheart would command the defence of his own village; Father Nurgle will see to that.
Catch you all later