Raiding Shübenhagen (beastmen story)
Lähetetty: Ti 03.10.2006 10:08
Raiding Shübenhagen
Rahri's hooves worried the ground, digging up rotten leaves from below to mar the pristine white of the night's snowfall. The foe-renderer snorted, working his jaw in anticipation to the coming slaughter. On his rough tongue, the weather tasted bitter in it's angry coldness. There was a smell of excrement in the air. Some of the younger beastlings, unable to cope with the tension, had soiled their loincloths. Rahri shook his head in contempt, the frost upon his fur cracking with the movement.
The early morning sky above the quiet village of Shübenhagen was deeply overcast, the cloud promising heavy snow. On the village, only a rare window shone with yellowish light. Rest were dark, the unsuspecting manlings behind them sleeping still. Thin grey wisps of smoke rose placidly from a few soot darkened chimneys.
A stray beastling bumped into Rahri's side. Rahri grunted, irritated. His hand shot out, took hold of the ungor's windpipe and squeezed. Bones grated together. The ungor dropped to ground, death spasms twitching throught it's small seminaked form.
Feeling eyes on him, Rahri looked up. A form clad in fur and black armour was watching him from the shadowed depths of an angular, horned helmet. The figure nodded to him in acknowledgement and Rahri could see a flash of a smile in the dark. Rahri nodded back.
The figure was Ulnar, their leader. Though Ulnar was a manling, Rahri respected him immensely for his cunning and brute strenght. Ulnar, in turn, respected Rahri, seeing in the uncommonly bright gor a future beastlord. They had slaughtered and feasted together many a time, Ulnar and he, and Rahri knew today they would do so once more.
Ulnar moved. It was time. He raised his heavy axe, then pointed it to the village in a silent command.
The beastherd detached from the dark treeline in a seething mass of furry bodies. The beasts loped downhill as fast as their twisted legs cuold them carry, kicking up snow and brandishing crude, rusting blades. Rahri felt like howling, but kept his jaw shut. Ulnar had ordered silence.
In the village, a lone maid was on her way home from a cowshed. As she spotted the black silhouetttes nearing her village, she stopped on her tracks, dumbfounded. Wolves, she thought, a whole pack of them. I have to warn papa!
A long spear whispered out of the predawn light, and skewered the small girl, silencing her to death. Her pail of milk fell, the still warm contents sloshing upon the powdery path. Out of the shadows stepped Ruhri. He pranced up to the girl and lifted her, biting deep into her body. Hot, steaming blood poured out of her, into the greedy maw of the foe-renderer. He drank deep. Seeing Ulnar from the corner of his eye, he turned to offer the child-thing to the leader. Ulnar took her, and teared a mouthful of soft flesh from her. Biting into the choise dish, he smiled. From elsewhere in the village, the screams started.
Rahri's hooves worried the ground, digging up rotten leaves from below to mar the pristine white of the night's snowfall. The foe-renderer snorted, working his jaw in anticipation to the coming slaughter. On his rough tongue, the weather tasted bitter in it's angry coldness. There was a smell of excrement in the air. Some of the younger beastlings, unable to cope with the tension, had soiled their loincloths. Rahri shook his head in contempt, the frost upon his fur cracking with the movement.
The early morning sky above the quiet village of Shübenhagen was deeply overcast, the cloud promising heavy snow. On the village, only a rare window shone with yellowish light. Rest were dark, the unsuspecting manlings behind them sleeping still. Thin grey wisps of smoke rose placidly from a few soot darkened chimneys.
A stray beastling bumped into Rahri's side. Rahri grunted, irritated. His hand shot out, took hold of the ungor's windpipe and squeezed. Bones grated together. The ungor dropped to ground, death spasms twitching throught it's small seminaked form.
Feeling eyes on him, Rahri looked up. A form clad in fur and black armour was watching him from the shadowed depths of an angular, horned helmet. The figure nodded to him in acknowledgement and Rahri could see a flash of a smile in the dark. Rahri nodded back.
The figure was Ulnar, their leader. Though Ulnar was a manling, Rahri respected him immensely for his cunning and brute strenght. Ulnar, in turn, respected Rahri, seeing in the uncommonly bright gor a future beastlord. They had slaughtered and feasted together many a time, Ulnar and he, and Rahri knew today they would do so once more.
Ulnar moved. It was time. He raised his heavy axe, then pointed it to the village in a silent command.
The beastherd detached from the dark treeline in a seething mass of furry bodies. The beasts loped downhill as fast as their twisted legs cuold them carry, kicking up snow and brandishing crude, rusting blades. Rahri felt like howling, but kept his jaw shut. Ulnar had ordered silence.
In the village, a lone maid was on her way home from a cowshed. As she spotted the black silhouetttes nearing her village, she stopped on her tracks, dumbfounded. Wolves, she thought, a whole pack of them. I have to warn papa!
A long spear whispered out of the predawn light, and skewered the small girl, silencing her to death. Her pail of milk fell, the still warm contents sloshing upon the powdery path. Out of the shadows stepped Ruhri. He pranced up to the girl and lifted her, biting deep into her body. Hot, steaming blood poured out of her, into the greedy maw of the foe-renderer. He drank deep. Seeing Ulnar from the corner of his eye, he turned to offer the child-thing to the leader. Ulnar took her, and teared a mouthful of soft flesh from her. Biting into the choise dish, he smiled. From elsewhere in the village, the screams started.