Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Seige Of Mount Bloodhorn - Act II

Kravyn’s blood was up, as was his beasts around him. He was where the fighting was thickest, right in the bottleneck of this dark cavern. The stench of the dank sweat and and stale breath surrounded him as his hoard pushed forward further into the enemy lines.
A giant skeletal serpent lay twitching infront of him, dozens of Gors running past him onto further bloodshed. A broken corpse who was the serpent’s master and rider stood shakily. The magicks which held him together were failing, and he knew it. He brought his staff weapon into a two handed grip, almost in defiance at Kravyn. Kravyn took hold of the weapon in his Ugluhand and wrenched it away, casting it far behind him. His undead foes arms went with it, torn from his shoulder joints still clasping the blade. At that, the skeleton crumbled, no longer able to sustain itself from such trauma.
Kravyn stepped through the numerous ribs of his vanquished foes skeletal steed, feeling his aura grow at the death of an ancient warrior. His wyrd grew, his Ugluhand sucked up death and thrived on he act of killing. Kravyn was most dangerous when in the heat of the bloodlust – a true scion of the beast kind.
Kravyn looked ahead and saw the remnants of a troop of red skinned goblins being chased down by some human peasants. He ran forward, revelling in the confusion he would sow into their ranks. The first flagellant saw him too late. From his scars this cultist was no stranger to pain – fitting the last feeling he would know would be excrutiating. Kravyn grabbed him by the head and pulled it from his shoulders, throwing it away. His fist became a flat, and he rammed his hand fingers first into another’s chest, again ripping bones and a huge chunk of flesh away. His hand became a claw, which he raked across the face of another foe, tearing a sickening length of meat and cartlidge.
A hand grabbed him by the shoulder, and Kravyn twisted to deliver another killing blow. Sowbane stood before him, unflinching in his full mail. “Lord, our flank crumbles.”
Kravyn snarled, brought back from his bestial rage. He turned to see Sowbane was right. A monolithic statue the shape of an ornate feline tore into a unit of the largest red skins. Gouts of eldritch flame tore into the orcs, whilst obsidian paws swiped into their ranks felling them pairs at a time.  If that unit fell, the beasts flank was turned, and could not fight off such a powerful foe whilst pushing their momentum forward.
Kravyn looked at his hands, bloodied with gore. Already the blood was burning away in dark red clouds, roiling and twisting around his taloned fingers as his ulguhand turned it to magical potential. He could feel the winds of magic picking up around him, rushing to him. His ugluhand drinking draughts of lifeblood and rewarding him by attracting the winds to his command.
Kravyn clenched his fists, then outstretched his left hand at the War sphinx. The power left his hand, and the feline stopped mid paw swipe and stumbled, just managing to stay upright. Chinks appear in its jet black surface, cracks snaking from its joints and knees.
Kravyn threw out his other hand, aiming towards the ranks of red Orcs who surrounded the war sphynx. They rallied themselves, finding a new power within them. Each blow they threw were powered  by some unseen force, the forces of shadow willing each blow to leave it’s mark. Kravyn gritted his sharpened teeth, strings of drool dripping and hanging from his mouth as he concentrated all of his dark will forwards. His robes flapped violently as the winds howled past him to their target.
The gales soon died down, but Kravyn only relaxed his body when the last piece of the sphinx tumbled to the ground and came to a stop, and the great cheer from the Orc boys echoed throughout the cavern.
He turned back to the front just in time to see four great bone chariots smash into his hoard’s ranks.
Roaring cheers came up from the remaining Gors as the lone remaining human fled from the field. Kravyn walked through the pile of dead humans and bones and hewn goblin, his eyes fixed on the general galloping away unharmed. The Bull, they called him, Jaegerbomb. He had a feeling the survival of that one man would come back to haunt him. Even hiring Grosque the Manculler hadn’t rid the Badlands of that particular pest.
A roaring cacophony came up from behind him. He turned, seeing a score of heavily armoured Black Orcs smashing their weapons on their armoured bodies, a resounding salute to Kravyn. He snarled, if he was not so weary he would wipe them from the face of this battlefield for their insignificant contribution to this battle. They had sat back, outmaneuvered and unable to commit their might to any point of the conflict.
He turned again, seeing the carrion like ungor picking through the scraps of the battle field. One had found a standard, a large red spider on a blackened background dripping with a hissing venom. He lifted it above his head, giving a weak bray. The crowds of Gor around howled in appreciation.
Skullcrown hobbled over, still sore from where Jaegerbomb had knocked him on his hind. “A great victory!” The shamen laughed, “A sound hiding delivered to those curs.”
“Indeed!” Kravyn smiled, “Send our ungor raiders forward, tell them to watch, but not engage. Feed everything back to me. We have a firm foothold from which we can gather our enemy’s weaknesses.” He turned and fixed a talon on Skullcrown’s cranium head dress, just above an eyesocket, “A small, fine point of pressure...can just be as devastating as a heavy blow.” To prove the point, he let his finger slip and the talon went through the hole, cutting into the shamens forehead underneath.
Skullcrown staggered away in shock, a trickle of blood running down his left cheek.He then cackled. “Yes! Yes my lord!”
Skullcrown stumbled away, and Kravyn turned back to the banner waving Ungor. He had now climbed on top of an upturned Tomb King chariot, and was waving the Goblin banner whilst wearing an imperial knight’s helmet. A hulking mail clad bestigor came from behind him and delivered a hard backhand to his head, then tore the flag from the ungor’s grasp. The bestigor and gor around the field howled with laughed and shouted as the armoured beastman threw it to the ground and begun relieving himself on both it and the knocked out ungor.
Kravyn laughed, knowing no one would have any use for that banner after this day was finished.

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