Slayer Genesis and Slayer Initiates

[Thunderer]

Everyone,

Below is a little fluff that I am writing for my Slayer Horde of Karak Kadrin. It initially was kicked off by my defeat in the on online team warband game over at Bugman's (not plugging). Anyway with out further procrastinating let me kick you into 'Slayer Genesis' then I'll roll into 'Slayer Initiates'.


Naud, returned to consciousness with some severe pain to his head and to discover the broken shaft of the Silverhelm's lance still protruding from his let. He touched his forhead and pulled back his hand with sticky blood on it. At least he wasn't going to bleed to death.

Naud pulled the lance out and very nearly passed out from the extreme pain. He sacrificed his formerly white shirt sleeves of his thunderer regiment uniform to make a lighly wrapped bandage over the entrance and exit wound from the lance. He took his belt off and put it over the bandage and tightened it down to staunch the flow of blood from his bandaged wounded right thigh.

Around him he saw the remains of the destroyed dark elf cavalry who had volunteered to joining up to defend the critical crossroads south of Karak Kadrin. There was a burned caravan of supply wagons that would have brought the much needed food from the empire to Karak Kadrin.

He and his small detachment had failed against the remnant high elf rebels that had stayed in the old world after the Storm of Chaos battles. But now Chaos had retreated to the north back in to the wastes. Naud, had never failed in a task but he knew that he would take the slayer's oath when he returned to Karak Kadrin for his failure and for leading his fellow warriors to their doom.

He took the shattered lance and used it as a cane as he checked out the wagons and fallen warriors for survivors. There wasn't any, but several of his warriors and a couple of his thunderers approached him later as he limped up the road heading back towards Karak Kadrin.

"Naud," said Bork Bronzehelm "We thought you were dead after that lance shattered in you. Our courage failed us and we fled the field of battle."

Naud waved off his companions as they were trying to check on him. "It seems we failed our mission. I'm reporting back to Karak Kadrin where I'll visit the Shrine of Grimnir to take my oath. We failed. Because of that our brothers will be hungry this winter. Ale will be in short supply. We should have fought harder and been more fearless."

"Aye," said Bork looking down at the ground in despair for his and his companions cowardly action. "Naud, you were our leader and we failed you. I too will take up the Oath. I will fight by your side again and this time my heart will be strong and pure like Gromril. Never again will I run from combat. This I pledge to you," bellowed Bork throwing his shield and helm away in the first overt actions of becoming a slayer in the discarding of his protective gear. Around him the other five survivors did likewise.

"Boys, lets go do our duty. I didn't mean to lead you into this and you shouldn't have to sacrifice your honor and future for my failings. However, if you are dead set on maintaining this course we will go to the Shrine together," finished Naud with a shrug of his shoulders as he again took up his slow painful walk up the mountain leading to the gates of Karak Kadrin.


***


Over the next several days the remnants of the doomed escort mission trudged back up the mountain through the snow. The going was slow because of Naud Fyreberd's wounded leg. Gone was the joking and singing of their previous trips outside of the mountain stronghold of Karak Kadrin. Four days of blinding snow and the group of tired warriors entered their halls via the heavily armored cunningly wrought steel and iron gate.

"Comrades, I will report to the Council of Thanes the failure of our mission," said Naud quietly in the fortified entrance hall. "I would recommend that each of you go visit with your families this evening and rejoice with them. Tonight at moonrise I will be in the Shrine of Grimnir to take my Oaths. If some of you should decide otherwise remember that only us few know of the shame of our failure. And after tonight the memories of this life, of this time, and these events will forever be behind those of us who will give up our claim to hold and clan."

His small band of six survivors each met his gaze before coming forward to clasp his forearm in a strong hand shake. As they each shook his hand for the last time their gazed became more grim with the weight of their decision and its everlasting ramifications. When next they met he would no longer answer to the name of Naud Fyreberd, no longer be a clansmen, no longer call Karak Kadrin home because a slayer forsakes all vows of earthly bonds in their quest to seek redemption in a glorious death. He would be a homeless traveler looking for combat to ease shame that their failure brought onto him as a combat leader of his clan's military might.

The group broke up and each went his way. Naud watched them go before he limped off to the Council of Thanes to deliver his bad news. As he walked through the carved halls of Karak, Kadrin Naud saw his favorite sites, some of his old friends, and cousins but he didn't stop to greet them and they avoided him because of the determined look in his eye. The older clanners knew what that look meant, for they had seen it in the eyes of many lost ones of their generation. To them he was already a slayer even if he lacked the orange hair, tattoos, and frenzied attitude. There was that look in his eyes that communicated to his fellow Dawi that this was a Dawi seeking death, seeking redemption for an act known only to him, an act that wouldn't share with his clansmen that he used to call family.

***


It was nearing mid-night on the mountain that was Karak Kadrin. Out on a cliff there was an ancient open roofed shrine of Grimnir, this wasn’t the Shrine of Grimnir, just a minor shrine that for generations Dawi seeking redemption had journeyed to on their first step along the path of redemption. It wasn't much to see there were two arches on opposite sides of a round courtyard, on the entrance arch were ancient dwarven statues four times normal size holding up the base of the arch on their armored shoulders, their shield in front of them with an axe on one and a hammer on the other resting on the shield. This was the warrior gate, the entrance. The arch on the other side was the slayer gate, the statues were of naked tattooed slayers, one with a great weapon the other with two axes.

The floor of the shrine was the raw rock of the mountain but running through it was a small vein of gold that bisected the open air temple. In the center was a large stone anvil made of black granite. On the anvil were numerous non-descript steel axes, hammers, swords, maces, and metal shod clubs. Standing on the round stair leading up to the ancient anvil was the Slayer Rune Lord of Karak Kadrin, Kaaz Zruum. He was missing his right arm at the shoulder, and thick scars covered his right side of his face, neck, chest, and stump from where he was burned by troll spittle in a battle nearly a century before. He was topless in the falling snow displaying his blue, black and gold slayer tattoos. Attached to his waist was his night black hammer, smaller than most dwarven hammers due to the loss of his arm but rumored to be powerfully runed. He wore pants made from the big horned sheep that favored the rocky terrain, the long wavy woolen fibers having been trimmed short and then dyed with more runic patterns favored by the slayers. The pants were roughly sewn with leather thongs and his boots were made much the same as the pants but with the leather on the outside.

Kaaz Zruum pointed to a spot by the warrior gate where a grey and orange haired older slayer waited standing stoically in the falling snow in woolen pants, boots like Kaaz's and a wolf skinned cloak over his bare chest. Over the next half hour as the moon rose higher into the sky nine other Dawi marched into the shrine without saying a word. Naud noticed Bork standing two spots away from him. As each entered Kaaz directed them to a spot on the warrior side of the shrine and a slayer quietly entered and took up a vigilant stance behind the discraced.

"Shame has brought you here," said Kaaz in a gravelly deep voice that had the resonance of a late winter avalanche racing down the mountain. "The bonds of honor and duty have been broken," he continued as he eyed each of the Dawi in front of him with their brown, black, red, grey, or blond hair and beards. "Beside you is your guide. Each of us here has no reason for pride anymore. The garments and other items you wear belong to a person who no longer exists. Cast them off," said Kaaz in a commanding voice.

The ten dishonored Dawi stripped in the cold of the mid-night snow storm high up on the mountain as the winds started to pick up. First reluctantly then as they looked around at their companions they stripped with greater vigor hoping to rush the proceedings along in the cold winter night. The slayer guide beside each of the dishonored gathered the clothes as they were stripped and placed them in a flaming pit in front of the anvil where two more slayers were slowly pumping the bellows. The clothes, weapons, and jewelery caught fire and burned or melted as the bellows fanned the flames.

"Each of you arrives here under the judging gaze of Grimnir as we first arrived from the womb of your mothers. Naked. Defenseless. Into a cold cruel world. But unlike a baby from the womb we are not allowed to be comforted. That privilege was stripped from you during your moment of weakness when pride, duty, and honor bonds were broken. You ten are born again in Grimnir’s eyes as a tool to defend your people against that which they have no defense against.� He paused and walked near the fire pit where there were numerous metal rods sticking out it with wooden or deer antler handles on them. “You will fear not for your safety for you are already dead.� He picked up a rod from the pit and walked toward Naud. The rod had a curve favored by slayers and was glowing white hot. “Dead one tell me your crime so you may begin your passage,� commanded the Slayer Rune Lord.

“I failed to defend the crossroads where our winter supplies were to arrive. When the enemy charged me my courage faltered in the heat of combat. Though wounded I should have been able to continue to fight had my faith and resolve stayed strong. Because I faltered and succumbed to my wounds the crossroads were lost. My warriors and troops lost heart and fled the field of battle. The caravan was burned and now the winter will be spent on rationed meals for our hold further weakening the defenses in our time of need. I failed to achieve my mission. I failed to complete my duty,� said Naud.

“Grimnir, will show you the way,� said Kaaz. He pressed the glowing rod into the skin on Naud’s right front leg on top of the wound from the lance. Naud screamed out as the pain exploded through his body. Kaaz dropped the brand and back handed Naud cutting off his scream as he saw stars and tasted blood in his mouth. “You bring disgrace by crying out. Don’t you not know that the dead feel no pain. Return to your spot,� commanded the Rune Lord with anger and disappointment in his eye. Naud pulled himself up off the ground and shambled back to his spot by his guide. He began to shake as the cold sank into his bones.

Kaaz returned the brand to the fire and picked up another and walked to the next Dawi becoming a slayer. The process continued through out the night with the slayers to be confessing their sins and shames. Through out the early hours of the night the slayers were branded numerous times. Always in a spot that coincided with their continued confessions. Slowly the branded marks formed patterns that spead outward in spirals, shapes of runes, bars, and lines until the novice slayers bodies were bleeding from dozens of burns each and the sickly sweet stench of burned flesh was rich in the mountain air.

It was hours later when Kaaz spoke to Naud in a different manner. “As a baby emerges from its mother it is bald. The hair which covers your head and your beard belongs to someone of a different time in a different life. Grimnir’s teaching state that the color of his chosen will be that of metal heated in the fires of adversity. Heated metal is orange. Kneel.� Naud went to his shaking knees from the pain of the branding. Kaaz pulled out black iron sheep shears. “A slayers hair is a warning to his family that he Dawi they knew is no more and a site that chills your enemies. Long flowing locks are favored by the Elves, on your path you will wear mohawks in the beginning,� with that he began to roughly chop Naud’s hair. He cared not if he cut the scalp of the Dawi before him. He was becoming a slayer. Pain was his due. Pain was his deliverance. Pain and suffering would be his only companion on his quest for a glorious death. As the hair came off his guide collected every strand and held it.

Kaaz motioned to his slayer assistant. A small coal black cauldron was brought over and placed infront of Naud. “You will stand and place your head into the liquid and you will not come up until I pull you out. Do not drink or inhale the Blood of Grimnir or you will die right here, right now,� said Kaaz in a menacing growl. The Slayer Rune Lord placed the shears into his assistant’s hand and Naud saw droplets of his blood fall off of the blade and onto the thin snow that covered the stone floor of the shrine. A hand cold as iron and strong as steel grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up off of the ground and slammed him head first in to the steaming cauldron of liquid.

Naud didn’t even have time to take a breath or close his eyes as he was man handled into the cauldon up to his shoulders. His feet were off the ground and he we struggling for purchase as the Blood of Grimnir burned his eyes like strong acid and it felt like a million bees were flaying and stinging his skin. In a fit of panic he screamed and spent the last of his air into the Blood of Grimnir. He felt the grip on the scruff of his neck tighten until he thought his spine would pop. His lungs began to burn like the molten stone of the earth and he was twitching from head to toe as he felt the Blood seep into his ears and nose. He wanted to breath but knew down that path lay certain death. Slowly his struggles stopped as his oxygen starved body started to shut down. His vision was dimming as he felt himself yanked out of the keg and thrown away from the alter to lay naked on the snow covered ground struggling weakly as a baby to get a clean breath of air into his liquid blocked nose and to clear the Blood of Grimnir that was trying to run into his mouth.

“Slowly dead one, take it slowly, remember how it was in the beginning. Exhale first to clear the way and breath. Breath in the breath of life. Grimnir has given you this second chance,� said his guide beside him in a quiet tone. Naud finally was able to breath and then he layback exhausted, trembling and shaking from the bitter cold and his near death experience

Time passed and he was led back to his spot as it slowly neared dawn. The trials had lasted hours and were yet to be completed. Kaaz approached him again. “Grimnir offers his servants protection through his marks.� He dipped his hand into a pouch on his belt and pulled out some black mud like pudding. “Black is for death, made from trolls blood and that of dragons it hardens the heart and dampens the mind. Grimnir has determined that his tools shall know no fear,� he said as he rubbed the black mixture into Naud raw branded wounds. As the mixture hit the Dawi blood a whole new level of pain was felt by the Dawi as his wounds began to smoke from the acid and minerals mixed into concoction. Naud gritted his teeth and bore the pain, Kaaz met his determined gaze and for a split second Naud could almost swear that the Slayer Rune Lord nearly smiled.

Kaaz made the circuit putting the black tattoo base into each future slayer’s brands. He then returned to Naud. “Grimnir is steadfast like the foundations of the mountains. Though the winds of change might wear the facing of the mountain down over centuries Grimnir is unshakable in his determination. Blue is the color of the stone and gems at the base of the mountain. With the weight of all of creation resting upon it the foundation knows it must be strong or all will fail. Grimnir marks his servants with blue so that they and those around them know that their steadfastness is unshakable, their will in battle is that of Grimnir’s own. The teachings of Grimnir state that his tools, his axes, his servants will be unbreakable.� With that Kaaz spread some blue powder over the black charred tattooed brands. The blue cooled the black like forged metal being dipped in water or oil to cool and temper the metal.

Kaaz completed his circuit and then moved up to the anvil where he placed a basket on it. Working with his assistant he pulled two mountain vipers out and milked their venom into blood red marble bowl. He returned the snakes to the basket and motioned for the next container, a clear glass jar that held what appeared to be hundreds of black widow spiders. These were dumped into the bowl and Kaaz pulled out his hammer and gently started to smash them into the a pulp with the mountain viper venom. After that thirteen deadly Deathshroud mushrooms were put in as Kaaz continued to work the hammer into the pulp again.

Kaaz’s assistant moved to his side holding the bowl with the black hammer still in as the Slayer Rune Lord centered himself between the anvil and the fire pit being stoked by the two slayer anvil assistants. Kaaz pointed at Naud and waved him forward. “Grimnir decreed that his chosen be schooled in the ways of death. You must be swift like the viper, patient like the widow, and brutally effective in battle like the Deathshroud is at taking life from the unwary. Grimnir stated that these tools be called what they are tasked to do,� he took the hammer with the toxic mush on it and carefully traced over the fresh tattoos. “You are a slayer of the foes of Grimnir. You are a slayer of the foes of the Dawi. You are a slayer of the foes of Karak Kadrin. In battle seek out that which chills the hearts of the Dawi. Seek trolls, ogres, giants, dragons, and the undead. When your allies are frozen in fear you will attack with the strength of and determination of Grimnir. When you strike, you strike to kill. When you strike you strike with out mercy. When you strike, you strike without regard for your personal safety because this night you have died. This night you were born a slayer. Slayer I name you Sqalliq Oneleg,� said Kaaz putting his hammer back into the bowl. He turned and took a non-descript set of axes from the anvil. “Sqalliq these axes are pure like Grimnir’s hatred for the Greenskinned. These axes have slain hundreds of orcs and were forged from the armor of Grodduk Shieldbreaker, an orc warboss that ravaged the holds to the east three centuries ago. In the time since then they have been born by ten slayers like yourself, the last one was Brud Ridgerunner, he died trying to dispatch a giant. Will you carry these axe’s with the honor that the slayers before carried them? The deeds you do with them will help you on your path to redemption in Grimnir’s eyes. Even a slayer may one day know honor as he awaits Grimnir’s liberating kiss on the battlefield fighting the enemies of the Dawi.�

Sqalliq Oneleg looked deeply in to the gaze of the Slayer Rune Lord. “Kaaz I will carry Brud’s blades into combat against any foe that I meet until I am blessed with the liberating kiss of Grimnir,� he said with more strength of conviction than he knew his tortured body and exhausted mind had left after the long night’s trials.

“Sqalliq, I welcome you to the Slayer Brotherhood of Grimnir,� said Kaaz grasping Sqalliq’s forearm in a Dawi handshake. “Your guide will dress you and lead you onto the road of Grimnir beyond the Slayer’s Gate,� said the Slayer Rune Lord motioning to the arch behind him held by two slayer statues.

Sqalliq left the Anvil with nothing but the two unadorned axes of Brud Ridgerunner in his hands. Naked as the day he first came into the world. Naked as the day he first came into the world as a Slayer of Karak Kadrin.

As Sqalliq emerged from the arch the sun peaked over the mountains in the east and bathed him in its light. His guide stopped him with a hand on his raw and tattooed shoulder. “Sqalliq, I am Torin Kegsmasher. There are some clothes over here for you,� said Torin leading him to a pile of crudely made bighorn sheep leather boots, pants, and a cloak. “We will wait for the rest and then we set out for that pass over there,� said Torin pointing off across a gulf to the next mountain over and a pass over twenty miles away in a straight line. “There in the high pass is the giant that killed Brud. Generally the first mission of a new group of slayers is to kill that which killed the slayer to receive the first weapon. In this case it is a giant, the giant is weary and knows how we fight. He has been raiding caravan’s coming up the pass since summer and has survived three excursions against his territory. We are going to kill him or die trying,� said Torin as he fell into a brooding silence as the rest of the new slayers slowly emerged from the Shrine of Grimnir and dressed in their novice slayer outfits.

'Slayer Initiates'

Sqalliq Oneleg followed Torin Kegsmasher down the narrow icy trail heading down from the outdoor Shrine of Grimnir from their initiation. The weak winter sun shinning on the snow and ice sickles on the cliff above and beside them was bright in the late fall. The days were growing shorter and colder up in the mountains of the far north. But the sun provided enough warms to make the footing treacherous so the band of twenty slayers had to step carefully.

They were making good time and around noon all of the fur clad slayers were ready to stop and eat having descended several thousand feet and having traveled nearly five miles on the ice. They came around bend in the trail and noticed a small rough hill fort nearly a half mile away.

“Sqalliq,� said Torin. “That is Icefang Camp,� he said while pointing to the low walled fort. Unlike most dwarven holds this one only had a short shoulder high two to four foot wide stone fence and five or six small short buildings, one in each corner and another in the middle. “Icefang is an outpost for slayers,� he continued as the rest of the initiates fell in behind the two as they continued to walk slowly on the widening path. “Each of the buildings in the corner belongs to a mature slayer who has been unsuccessful in his quest for redemption. When we arrive you will be broken down into smaller groups and briefly trained in the slayer way of fighting. There is more to taking down a troll than just swinging an axe. No longer will you young slayers have leather, chain, plate, helm, buckler or shield to hide behind. Here there are no handguns, crossbows or artillery.�

“Torin, how long will that take us to complete,� queried Sqalliq tiredly.

“Being a slayer is like forging an axe. There is always another detail to add to the blade. A slayer is never done training and honing himself to be Grimnir’s weapon. We will cover all of this later,� said Torin abruptly as he took longer strides and put the initiate slayer behind him.

As they neared the gate Sqalliq noticed that the wall besides having stones was lined with hundreds of skulls. There was orc, goblin, snotling, some that looked like rats, ogres, giants, minotaur, deformed dwarvish looking ones, elf and even a few humans. The small huts in the corners looked like they could hold around twenty to thirty slayers each. The building in the center was larger and had two stories with a balcony on each side on the upper level. Unlike typical Dawi construction there weren’t any beautiful carvings on the raw stone. The narrow windows were lacking the thick stained glass having only cedar shutters made from the wood that grew lower on the mountain below the snow line.

As the band from the shrine marched into the slayer hill fort Sqalliq thought it seemed weird that no one was on sentry at the open “gate� which was just a spot where there was no wall. A slayer or two could be seen moving around in the court yard going from building to building, carry firewood or water from the well in two buckets on a pole over their shoulder, but there was no sign of a guard.

Torin chuckled and punched Sqalliq in his shoulder. “Don’t worry about security here. There isn’t a monster or enemy in these mountains crazy enough or suicidal enough to attack this fort. Didn’t ye’ see the skulls out side the walls. Generally each slayer will bring back one skull from an expedition to serve as a warning to all that would be foolish enough to seek combat with us on our territory,� growled the veteran slayer.

Torin raised his beastman’s horn horn to his mouth and blew a long sorrowful note into the cold crisp mountain air to alert the hold that he an his new charges had returned from Karak Kadrin and Grimnir’s Shrine. With in minutes there were nearly fifty or more slayers out in the courtyard. Each of the corner huts had between nine and fifteen slayers each and the only slayers that came from the central building were a few very scarred scary looking slayers, a slayer cook, and what looked like a slayer scribe or rune smith.

“Don’t mill around you blokes you new guys get in line and act like the Dawi warriors you used to be,� commanded a one eyed bald slayer with burns over most of his body that had erased his tattoos. “I’m Qwudd slayer of the Black Chaos Dragon Slizziq and the commander of this here sorry excuse for a pit stop on your trip to your grave. While here you new slayers will do what you are told, when you are told, with no questions.� He stopped and glared at the new initiates before he continued to yell at them in a frenzied deep voice. “I will train you. I will hone your fighting skills like a sharpener brings the blade back to a dinged daggers edge. I will strengthen your mind and body through exercises and drills like a master blacksmith folds the iron in a blade.�

Qwudd stopped and walked from slayer to slayer looking at their physical make up. He stepped in front of Sqalliq first. “So you sure are a sorry excuse for a Dawi. I guess your pappa didn’t make you work when you were a boy,� he said holding up Sqalliq’s arm and checking out his muscles and lack of definition. “Before every meal you will take that boulder over there,� he indicated a rock two feet thick, and nearly three feet long and around six inches wide. “And you will place it on each shoulder and run around the fort. After those two laps you will hold it in front of that sorry excuse for a chest with both hand and walk around the fort backwards.� Yelled Qwudd into Sqalliq’s face. Sqalliq shivered in the cold wind and from the warm breath on his face.

“What you never experienced any cold in your pampered life back at Karak Kadrin. If you think this is cold just you wait until you do your laps in the snow naked and with no boots,� yelled Qwudd. “Torin, this worthless maggot is in your pack. Get him running his exercises with his friend over there Thane Rock!� Qwudd stepped to the next slayer in line and carried on with his welcoming of the next victim to Icefang Camp.

“You heard Dragonslayer Qwudd stip those clothes and grab your rock you snotling whelp,� screamed Torin into Sqalliq’s ear as he came up from behind the new slayer and pushed him out of the formation and toward his boulder “Thane Rock�. Sqalliq felt his heart beating faster as he threw off the cloak and awkwardly ran towards the ice covered rock while kicking off his boots and trying to pull off his pants. He stopped at the rock and tossed his pants beside it and threw Brud’s Axes on the ground and hefted the boulder onto his right shoulder.

Sqalliq felt something hit him in the back of the head as he was knocked to the ground crushing his right hand under the boulder. When he rolled over he saw Torin standing over him as his boot was coming towards his face in a kick. The kick connected with his mouth and nose splitting his lip and he felt a loud crack as the bones of his nose surrendered to the force of the kick. “You never drop your weapon grot. How do you slay something unarmed. Pick them up and carry them with you always. When you go to the outhouse they go with you, when you clead pots after dinner they are with you, when you run this god forsaken rock around this camp they are in your other hand. You and them are inseparable. Where they go so do you,� screamed Torin as he rained kicks down onto the prone slayer initiates body. “Get up! Get up! Get up troll scum today is not your day to die but I will make you wish you had,� yelled Torin.

Sqalliq managed to roll over nakedly in the snow and retrieve Brud’s axes and pick himself up off the ground while receiving kicks from Torin. He amazed himself by picking up the eighty pound boulder and getting it to his shoulder but not without cutting his scalp with the blade of one of his axes. He tasted the copper of his blood as it trickled into his mouth from his nose and slit lip. Ever so slowly he managed to first start walking and then to jog in the numbing cold wind and snow as he headed toward the gate of Icefang Camp on his first hour of training on his first day of being a slayer of Karak Kadrin.

Sqalliq jogged awkwardly around the front and side wall of Icefang Camp. The boulder, Thane Rock, was very nearly freezing to the touch and he felt his hands go numb by the time he rounded the second corner. Torin was jogging right behind him and he could hear Sqalliq labored breathing as he sucked in the freezing cold mountain air. As Sqalliq rounded the corner he was greeted with a site that he wasn’t expecting the back wall was lined with half sized dwarven slayer statues.

“Keep running Sqalliq,� said Torin with out a lick of anger in his voice. “Those are statues of the fallen slayers of Icefang Camp. The disgraced are buried here among their kind. In time you will learn of the deeds and deaths of each of these slayers. Below each statue is bones of the slayer laid to rest. Karak Kadrin didn’t won’t our dead’s corrupted karma polluting the hallowed Vault of Ancestors, so we buried them here. At least here they will know peace at last.� Torin finished as they came up on the far back corner from the gate.

“Torin, will all of my training be this painful,� queried Sqalliq carefully to his guide who it seemed could release his anger like a keg of black powder that a spark touched.

“Sqalliq, I will be as hard on you as I have to be to ensure that when the time comes for you to die that you will take as many enemies of the Dawi and Grimnir as you can. I will not hurt you out of malice or for petty reasons.� He spoke easily while running noticed Sqalliq who while he was freezing was now sweating profusely from carry the eighty pound boulder carefully but awkwardly balance on his shoulder. “I am merely using the tried and true techniques to condition you mind and body to pain and to following orders. At times we will be under the command of a Dawi Lord in battle. When he orders our unit to sacrifice itself so that his army may achieve victory we will do it with out question, quarter, or thought. Reluctance to act instantaneously will be beaten out of you. Your will is not strong enough to survive against the like of Dragonslayer Qwudd’s instruction. Before his fall he was a great warrior, now he is a legendary slayer. The King of Karak Kadrin posted him here where he is unable to fulfill his destiny so that he may train people like you and me to be the weapons and the way for Karak Kadrin’s success in battle. Question him not, doubt him not, and respect him always.� Sqalliq heard Torin sigh, “But, to answer your question. Yes your training will be this painful and it will get worse. All this exercise is to do is to help you become stronger and to get that fat off of your frame.�

They arrived at the gate and Sqalliq changed shoulders while continuing to jog. The rest of the run was completed in silence and when they finally returned to the courtyard all of the other slayers doing other physical activities in the nude just like Sqalliq. One slayer was pushing himself across the ground on his back with his hands behind his head from one wall to the other, two other were fighting with clubs, another was pulling water up from the well by running with the rope attached to the bucket. A slayer near the well would take the bucket and wait for the runner to come back before dumping it on the runner, they would then switch. The last four were pushing a huge rounded boulder six feet in diameter around the inside of the walls. Three would push while the fourth was balancing and walking on top of the boulder. At each corner one would swap out. Along the way their senior slayers would beat the initiates for not moving fast enough, for falling off, or not pouring all of the water on the other slayer.

Sqalliq stood stiffly where Torin directed him and over an hour the rest of the naked, cold, wet, dirty, bloody slayers completed their task and fell in beside him shivering in the cold of Icefang Camp. When they were all done Qwudd walked down the line.

“You may think that this is bad. You may think that you can’t go on. You may think that you will die from the cold or the pain. But that is because you are still thinking about things that have no bearing on your current circumstances. You are dead. Dead things don’t think. Dead things don’t question. Dead things don’t feel pain. Dead things don’t feel cold. You were dead as soon as you started on the path of the slayer.� He said with his gravelly voice. “But in time you will learn when it is required to think and when it isn’t. You will begin to ignore unimportant pains and aches so that you can achieve things that you thought were impossible before your Slayer Path began. You will be stronger and more deadly than any Hammerer in the kings guard. You will be like a handgun waiting for the trigger to be pulled. And when I pull your trigger you will learn to kill with out question, with out fear, with out the emotional baggage that you might have thought was so important in your previous incarnation. Here there is only two things you need to know. That you are dead and that you will kill on command.�

He stopped and looked at the slayer initiates that were all huffing, puffing and shivering in the cold of the Karak Kadrin fall weather. “Torin, get these corpses cleaned up. Dinner is in an hour and they will learn the meaning of service by serving their fellow slayers. Send them through the pool,� commanded Qwudd as he turned and walked back towards the two story building in the center of the compound.

“Alright you skaven slaves, this aint no time to gawk follow me and quickly or I’ll beat you down like a gnoblar being bludgeoned by an ogre for spilling his beer,� yelled Torin as he led them to a small iced over pool that was fifteen feet in diameter. A small trough led to the well where the pool was refilled one bucket at a time. “Dive on in ladies and get clean. There are no warm baths in Icefang Camp.� The ten slayer initiated jumped in the frigid water breaking the quarter inch of ice on the surface. The stood shaking in the water as the four giant slayers tossed in pumice stone and rough bars of soap. “Lather up, rinse and get out. You all have kitchen duty,� yelled one of the giant slayers Sqalliq didn’t know. The quickly scrubbed clean and put on their rough clothes that were dirty from sitting in the mud and being walked on by the other slayers.

And so the new initiates were welcomed to Icefang Camp on a forgotten cliff on the west side of the mountain that housed Karak Kadrin. The ten initiates served chow, scrubbed dishes in nearly boiling water and ate the scraps and remains of the meal after all the other slayers had had their fill. Not much was left but some bread heels and gravy, the only drinks they were allowed was water that one of them had to fetch from the well. They all shared a ladle to drink out of from the bucket.

When the meal was complete the initiates split up into their appropriate group lead by their giant slayer and headed toward one of the barracks huts in the corner of the compound. Their first day as a slayer had been long and hard. They knew they didn’t have much to look forward to for some time to come. They each were shown a cot furthest away from the one fire place in the barracks and collapsed quickly into a dreamless sleep. So ended Sqalliq’s first day as a slayer.

And that concludes what is currently posted at the "Slayer Brotherhood" forum, ((but LO is a great cross race full spectrum wargame site for getting information out to a wider audience)) which is where I do all my writing with current updates. These also appear at the Brewery and Asur so if you frequent them steer clear of these stories on their sites. Comments and constructive criticism is heartily appreciated. Keep your axe's sharp.

[Thunderer]

continuing...


The next morning Sqalliq was awoken by a persistent shaking on his arm that was sticking out of his rough woolen blanket. “Hey new guy,� said a soft masculine voice. “New guy get up,� said the voice again as Sqalliq cracked his eyes and squinted into the lantern light.

“What,� said Sqalliq groggily.

“Get up and come with me,� said the thin scribe looking slayer he had seen come out of the two story building that Qwudd and the Slayer Runesmith resided in. The thin slayer waited patiently for Sqalliq to slowly and painfully crawl out of his bunk. He pulled his pants and boot on and retieved his cloak and axes while trying to make sense of what was going on. “Come on new guy, dawn is still two hours away and we have breakfast to start and chores to be done.� He turned and led Sqalliq out of the Torin’s Barracks with the deeply sleeping but noisily snoring slayers behind them as they stepped out into the frigid cold of the night time on the mountain.

The moon was full and peaked through clouds occasionally while a light snow fell quietly to the frozen ground that belonged to Icefang Camp. “I’m Berriq Stonehead,� said the scholarly slayer as they trudged across the frozen court yard past wooden practice dummies. “I am Dragonslayer Qwudd’s cook, assistant and scribe for Icefang Camp. Every morning you or one of the initiates will help me cook breakfast, muck, feed and milk the goats, collect the chicken eggs, bake the daily bread, and start the stew before the training day begins. It’s a lot of work, especially when there is only one initiate in the barracks,� he continued as he led Sqalliq into the central building. Sqalliq noticed right away that while the building wasn’t constructed of better quality materials that it was cleaner and more decorated on the inside than the outside led him to believe. In the entrance hall he noticed that each stone on the inside wall had a slayers face carved into it a name and two dates.

“Memorial stones,� said Berriq. “Soon your’s and the others will join them. The first date is the day you became a slayer, the likeness is of how you looked as an initiate, the second date records when and where death occurred. Some like this one here records a honorific of those that achieved forgiveness in Grimnir’s eyes by dying from a worthy opponent. That one over there has been gold leafed because he has been exceptionally unlucky and is a Demonslayer now, but he has killed many beast and fell creatures, he just hasn’t been granted Grimnir’s Kiss,� said Berriq wistfully as he turned and led Sqalliq through a great hall with five tables that replicated the layout of the barracks and the central hold.

to be continued... comments and criticism welcomed.

[Thunderer]

Arriving at the kitchen Berriq handed Sqalliq several buckets and a basket. “We need six buckets of clean water, get all the eggs from the hen house near the barracks opposite your’s near the front gate. We’ll need four baskets of wood for each of the four main fire places, and I will milk the goat while you do all that. In half an hour you should be done, with that and ready for the next set of chores,� finished off the scribe as he picked up his milking bucket and headed out a back door of the kitchen trough a pantry with potatoes, onions, garlic, several kegs of Bugman’s XXXXX ale, numerous bottles of wine, and urns of oats, corn, and wheat.

Sqalliq grabbed the six five gallon buckets and followed. Once outside he headed to the well and started to complete his chores. The well took quite a while fill the larger buckets. The chain and heavy steel bucket held only a gallon of water so Sqalliq had to hoist it up more than thirty times to get his thirty gallons of water. He grabbed the buckets two at a time and took them into the kitchen, three trips later he was headed to the hen house to gather eggs.

The hen house was attached to the side of the barracks with a radiator type heater that connected to the barracks’s fireplace to keep the chicken from freezing in the cold mountainous air. When he entered he noted that there was a sign to feed the chickens two scoops of corn and one of cracked oats. Additionally there was a two gallon bucket for water. Sqalliq fed the chickens and fetched the water while they ate and then he took the eggs out of the twenty or so nest in the stinky stone coop. He returned carefully to the kitchen with his trophies.

When he arrived at the kitchen he noted that Berriq was angrily banging around pans and bowls. “Put them over there and get the fires started. You need to move quicker or else every slayer in this frozen hell hole will hate you today and you will regret it come training time,� quipped the scribe angrily. “The wood is on the back fence. Hustle or it cold biscuits for sure.�

Sqalliq went running out the pantry and as he hit the snowy ground with a woodbasket in each hand his foot slipped out from underneath him and he lost his balance. He fell hard to the ground landing on his left elbow before smashing the back of his head into the ground. He laid there puffing as his vision darkened briefly and the world spun with a sickening sense of vertigo. Slowly he forced himself up off the ground and noted that there was blood on the ground from his head but he decided that could wait until after he had the fires going.

[Thunderer]

Continuing...

Sqalliq fetched the wood that was covered in snow and ice. Each basket weighed in at thirty or so pounds of wood and he jogged them back into the kitchen where Berriq was stoking up the fire from the night before in a large cast iron stove. “Good job bleeder now hustle and get four more for each of the fireplaces in the Slayer Hall. You need to be done with that in a quarter of an hour if we are to have all the eggs cooked and other food started for this evening,� heard Sqalliq as he fled the hall with two more baskets. Eight times he made the trip in and out of the kitchen and into the Slayer’s Hall. He would drop the full baskets of wood and grab the empties before racing back outside for more.

“Done,� said Sqalliq with an exhausted voice after his eighth load for the Slayer Hall.

“Far from it Initiate, the day hasn’t even begun yet,� came Torin’s voice from behind him as Sqalliq jumped and Berriq looked up from his mixing of the biscuit dough. “Berriq how is Initiate Sqalliq Bleeding Head working out for you this morning? Do I need to take him outside and kick his ass for moving so slow,� queried the giant slayer.

“No but I could use some help getting the food going,� said Berriq in a frenzy of activity. “Show clumsy here how to crack eggs and cook them while I set the bread aside to rise,� said the scribe moving quickly but effortlessly through the busy kitchen.

“Aye,� replied Torin. He walked over to Sqalliq with six eggs in his hands. “Watch,� he commanded. He put some bacon grease into one of the six cast iron skillets on the hot stove. “Hold the egg like so, hit it gently on the edge of the stove and gently squeeze so as to not get shells in the pan,� he said while demonstrating. “Watch again. Hold, hit, squeeze,� he did the eggs effortlessly before dropping the empty shells in to a waiting bucket. He then handed the last four eggs to Sqalliq. “Your turn.�

Sqalliq was much slower and he nearly totally destroyed the shells in his strong tired hands. “Gently Initiate Sqalliq, everything you do here is training. The attention to detail you exhibit in the kitchen serving your fellow slayers in the same attention to detail you put into slitting the throat of an orc when six of them are attacking you at the same time. Focus and do it smoothly, in all your actions seek efficiency and grace. For that will ensure that you have the energy to fight for hours and to not over commit yourself in battle by swinging your axe in a futile manner while giving your opponent the opening he needs to end your miserable existence.� After the fourth egg Torin took up a spatula and showed the initiate how to scramble the eggs in the pan, the proper color and consistency for the properly cooked eggs. When they were done he put them in a large flat serving pan.

“Now initiate we are going to cook the rest,� said Torin walking eight feet away to where the basket of forty or so eggs was sitting near the pantry. “Initate one egg goes in each pan. I will throw them to you from here. You will catch them, crack them and cook them. For each one that hits the ground there will be a set of laps with Thane Rock around the camp. For each pan with shells another set of laps. Prepare your self for battle slayer,� said Torin with a serious look on his face.

With a sense of grace that Sqalliq didn’t think the other slayer had in him the giant slayer quickly and effortlessly tossed an egg to Sqalliq. Sqalliq quickly and effortlessly crushed the egg while catching it ruining that one. “That’s one,� barked Torin as another egg sailed his way. Sqalliq caught this one two handed and rushed cracking it that resulted in the egg splattering over the front of the hot stove. “That’s two,� barked the giant slayer again. The eggs kept coming and quickly Sqalliq resolved to do better. Soon there were two or three eggs arching though the air at once as the giant slayer picked up the pace in short bursts to test his trainees dexterity and hand-eye coordination.

With in minutes the scrambled eggs were cooking and Berriq came by with some sea salt, chopped onions and diced garlic. “Mix that in clutz and try not to waste it, you’re going to wish you had made more of those eggs in the pan,� he said in a peeved tone. Sqallig mixed the seasoning equally into the skillets and was rewarded with a savory smell that had his taste buds watering. The scribe looked over his shoulder, “Torin I see shells in five skillets, plus the eight broken eggs, looks like your initiate is going to be very tired come dinner time.� The scribe walked to the other stove with several tea pots starting to boil.

“Initiate Sqalliq when the eggs are done one skillet worth goes on each table. Poor each teapot into a pitcher with the tea leaves and put one pitcher of tea per table. In the ovens are six sheets of biscuits, one per table, finally there is a vat of boiled oats and barley, fill up six bowls one on each table,� said Torin walking over to where Berriq was frying up several small slices of ham.

Sqalliq set the food on the five tables in Slayer Hall. The tables were filling up with hungry slayers and he was being insulted for being a sluggard and an unmotivated orc whelp. He noticed that the slayer hall was rather cold and looked at the cold fireplaces with wood stacked beside them. He had a bad feeling as he headed back into the kitchen. “Slayer Berriq was I supposed to start the fires as well in the great hall?�

Torin and Berriq looked up with an amused look on their face. Berriq put his slender hands on his narrow aproned hips. “Torin when I was a young dwarf lad a lifetime ago before becoming a slayer my parents taught me to respect my elders. In the morning I fetched wood for the family’s hearth. I fetched water so my mother would be able to cook and clean and worry about more important things. I guess you impertinent initiates don’t respect their elders these days,� quipped the Scribe.

“Berriq, that is true,� said Torin with a grin on his face. “I to did those things in another life and in this one as a fresh initiate. If I was an initiate I would set the table ware and get those hearths stoked before Qwudd arrives. And incase you are wondering the last table worth of food stays in here for the cooking staff, but your lazy ass might not be eating today if the Slayer Hall is unheated in another ten minutes or so,� yelled Torin as he and Berriq burst into a fit of laughter at Sqalliq’s expense.

Sqalliq yanked open a stove and reached is hand in for fresh log that wasn’t burning on one end and ran with the flaming log into the Slayer’s Hall. He put it into one of the hearths and started to heap some of the smaller sticks and kindling then several logs before racing back into the kitchen for yet more flaming logs. His hands were burned but in less than five minutes he had some fitful fires going in each fireplace.

The other slayers were patiently waiting for Qwudd to come into the hall for his breakfast. The older slayer entered minutes later and paused at the bottom of the stair that led to his personal quarters. All the slayers stopped talking and rose to their feet in respect.

Qwudd looked towards the kitchen doors as Berriq came through with his hot food. Torin and Sqalliq followed him out with fresh biscuits and butter from the pantry. Qwudd walked to his table and stood behind his high backed stone and wood chair with carvings of dragons, giants, and demons being attacked by an unstoppable horde of slayers. “Berriq, your kitchen help is slacking. When I come down stairs in the morning I expect the Slayer Hall to be heated with the fires of our fervor. Torin,� said Qwudd turning to look at the Giant Slayer in the eyes. “If your initiate likes the cold so much then your barracks can go without heat for ten days. Maybe then your sorry excuse for an initiate will understand that heat is a luxury for when we aren’t on campaign. Double his penalties for the day and not warm tea.�

“Yes Master Qwudd,� said Torin and Berriq together before backing away from the head slayer’s table. Sqalliq followed them quietly to the wall beside the kitchen door where they stood quietly. Sqalliq received a quick hard slap on the back of his head from Torin. “When Qwudd is done talking to you you will respond with a ‘Yes Master Qwudd’ in the future!� Growled Torin between clinched teeth.

The three slayers focused on the head table where Qwudd was the center of attention. The Dragon Slayer looked around and then began to speak. “Slayers of Icefang Camp, let us give thanks to Grimnir for this fine food and drink that he has put before us today. We are also thankful for the warmth, mediocre that it is. Let our thoughts turn towards training our new brethren and we ask for your guidance and wisdom, give us patience not to kill these initiates when they move too slow or ask the wrong questions. We beseech thee to hasten our chance to serve you in battle and receive your promised liberating kiss. Amen,� finished the slayer who then sat down and started eating with vigor.

Around the room the rest of the slayers sat down. One initiate reached for the eggs first and was rewarded with a punch to the nose that propelled the slayer out of bench seat. “Initiates are served last stinky grot maggot. Stay on the floor until you are called cur,� said the giant slayer at that table. The rest of the slayer initiates took the lesson well and waited patiently for their food and drink.

“Back to the kitchen Sqalliq,� said Torin as he turned and headed to his table. Berriq led the way back into the hot kitchen and the two slayers sat down and Berriq served Sqalliq some eggs, biscuits, and jerky. Berriq poured him some hot water in a mug, added some honey and several slices of dried apple.

“Qwudd said no tea. Before this day is done you will be needing that warmth and sugar,� said Berriq with a chuckle. They ate their meal in silence and for the first time in nearly a week Sqalliq wasn’t hungry or cold. “Go fetch the plates and dishes from the hall. Wash them, dry them and return the plates and mugs to the tables. When all the dishes are done and the floor mopped report back to you Giant Slayer for training, I suggest you hurry because your day is going to be very long with all those laps around the camp today.� Berriq walked off laughing to check on the bread and stew that he had cooking.

Nearly two hours late the dishes were done and the Slayer Hall cleaned up. Sqalliq stoked the fires and added several logs before heading back to his barracks to find Torin. Torin was outside his barracks with his squad of slayers going through mock drills several were doing one on one sparing matches while others were doing one on two or one on three matches. Who ever scored a kill then had to defend against the others as the attackers changed up. Several of the slayers were bleeding from fresh cuts and other had wicked bruises.

Torin stepped out of his sparing match as Sqalliq approached. “Initiate Sqalliq, you owe Qwudd and Berriq twenty six laps around the compound with Thane Rock. That will take most of the rest of the day. When you are done with your corrective training, you will report back to the kitchen for supper preparation. You can keep your boots and pants today but no cloak, that is for not having Slayer Hall heated for breakfast. Finally no stopping for breaks or drinks of water Initiate. Pace yourself on your laps and sound off with the count when you pass the barracks. I and the rest of the squad will continue to drill until you are done,� with that he turned his back on the initiate and stepped into a one on five match with his two short swords flashing he tapped out the current defender and then took on the six slayers in a series of lighting strokes that were nearly too quick to watch.

Sqallig dropped his cload by the door to his barracks and retrieved Thane Rock and set out on his twenty six laps around the camp. Several hours later he completed his laps and stumbled into the camp where he deposited the blood slickened rock near the door to his barracks. The rock had rubbed his hands raw as well as broken the skin on his shoulders from rubbing against his collar bones. His breathing was coming in quick painful hammer strokes as he put back on his cloak and staggered towards the well for water.

Ever so slowly he pulled up the bucket of water with tears nearly coming to his eyes from the pain and exhaustion forced upon him for his failings earlier in the morning. He choked back the emotion and started to drink the ice cold winter water as he surveyed the training going on in the camp. Torin was giving a class on tactics of two weapon use versus spear armed infantry in his corner. Another giant slayer and his squad were drilling with great weapons, the other squads were squared off and attacking each other in mock combat. Who ever died first then had to do one ten push up with the victorious slayer standing on his back.

Sqalliq finished his water and silently promised himself that he would redouble his efforts to be the best slayer he could be. He had let down Berriq, Torin, and his squad. He didn’t want to do it again.

He reported back to the kitchen after the washed the blood off of his hands, bruised and swollen face, and shoulders. The dinner that night went off with out a hitch and after he had cleaned up the kitchen he reported back to his barracks where Torin put him to work cleaning the barracks and scrubbing the cold fireplace clean. At nearly eight o’clock that night he was done with his chores, had cleaned himself up and his clothing, and had climbed into his cold bunk furthest away from the cold fireplace. Sqalliq had never before felt so alone in all his life. He had never felt his body screaming at him with pain in every joint and muscle. He hurt in places he didn’t even know existed before. He fell into a dreamless exhausted sleep still thinking about his pain, his second day as a slayer was complete.

[Thunderer]

The next day it was a different barrack’s turn to cook which meant that Sqalliq was able to sleep until nearly dawn. He was awaken by Torin kicking him gently in his bunk. “Sqalliq bring your axes it is time for some real training before we eat breakfast,� said the giant slayer before he walked outside the cold barracks.

Sqalliq laid in bed for a few more seconds feeling every fiber of his being aching from his broken nose, split lip, cut scalp from his axe blade cutting him on the first day, to his swollen bump from falling yesterday. His shoulders and hands ached from carrying Thane Rock around the camp twenty six times yesterday and his collar bones were rubbed raw and ached everytime he breathed because of his skin being stretched by the rising and falling of his chest. Finally his fresh tattoos still ached from the brands and then what ever it was that Kaaz Zruum the Slayer Rune Lord had rubbed into them.

He heaved himself painfully up out of his bunk, exhaled into the cold frosty air and noticed that inside the barracks his breath was making small clouds of condensation because of not having a fire. He quickly pulled on his boots, pants, and cloak and headed out side with his axes held in his left hand.

Torin was waiting not far from the door. “Lets go talk by the well so the other’s can sleep,� he said as he led his initiate away from the barracks. “This morning I will share the Slayer philosophy on axes and their use as tools of death. Do you know which part of the axe a slayer uses for killing,� queried Torin.

Sqalliq let out a chuckle at the stupid question. Every Dawi boy and girl was skilled in what part of an axe was used for killing. “Torin the blade is used for killing,� replied the initiate with a laugh. He wasn’t laughing when he was sliding across the ground from the giant slayer’s back hand that hit him in the mouth splitting his lip again. Sqalliq blink his eyes in shock as the giant slayer kept walking towards the well. Sqalliq quickly pulled himself up off the ground and jogged to catch up with his trainer.

They stopped at the well and looked out over the mountains. Far to the west the almost full moon was setting behind the mountains in a nearly cloudless sky. Torin sighed as if far away and then looked at his pupil.

“Initiate Sqalliq the answer you gave would be correct in the regular forces of the Dawi. But we are slayers. We kill by what ever means we can,� said Torin in a speech he had given to many slayers. “The blade of the axe will cut through armor, flesh and bone but it isn’t the only part of the axe that you will use for killing.� As he was talking he was demonstrating an over arm strike and then pointed at the blade as it neared Sqalliq’s arm. “An axe also has the flat of the blade, you can use it to slap an opponent’s weapon away or his face on a back stroke to make him blink. That move will open him up for a killing blow.� Again Torin demonstrated the axe stroke in a back hand way. “Or if you over shoot and then have to duck a counter stroke you can bring the axe back low to the ground hooking it behind your opponents foot and then with a swift strong pull you can cause your opponent to fall to the ground where he will be defenseless against a strike on his thigh which could sever his artery or you could crush his knee by using the opposite side of the axe blade or sever his foot. Either way you will have defeated that opponent.�

“You can use the top of the blade to push the opponent backwards,� he said while gently hitting Sqalliq in the chest with the top of his axe and heaving the sore Dawi back a pace or two. “This gives you time to size up your opponent or lop off a hand if the opportunity presents itself.�

[Invicticus]

Brilliant read mate, keep it comin. I want more.

-Invic

[Thunderer]

Lets see what I have left in the old scroll. Thanks Invictus for the incouragement:


“Furthermore the axe also has a handle. You can punch with it in your fist if you are too close to swing or you can get in close where they can’t swing at you and hit them with the end of the handle. That is why most slayer weapons have steel knobs or points by the handles. Finally if it gets really bad the leather thongs that you loop around your wrist, to keep the weapon from slipping in combat, can be used to kill an opponent if you should sneak up on one.� He talked as he demonstrated. “See hold the handle in one hand palm downward. Grasp the thong in the opposite hand, pull the thong down over an opponents head and place it below his chin. Pull back and up quickly as you lean back while tightening up the slack,� he released the slayer. “If you do this quickly you will lift them off of their feet and you might even break their neck. However, if you do not, all you have to do is break the bones near their larynx and they will slowly suffocate. But before you leave them to die I always like to either brain them with the back of the axe or cut the artery with a swift strike to the side of the neck.�

“Finally,� said Torin stepping in closer. “When you get close or the enemy is rushing you every part of your body is a weapon. You will crave death in time but you must not surrender easily. So if you have to punch, punch but then try to follow through with an elbow shot to a joint or large muscle group. Get in close and use your forehead against their nose. You can hit their thigh with your knee, it is very painful and might throw them off enough to finish them off. If you are in really close stomp on the arch of their foot and then shoulder them back. You need to not think but to react with a primal urge to kill and survive. You are a predator now. There is no flight or fight syndrome in you anymore. Now all that is left is a fight or kill syndrome. Get in close and be like a badger on a bear, like a sparrow on a crow, like an ant on a spider. Your fury will carry you through,� finished the slayer before taking a deep breath.

Torin paused, “We don’t fight like civilized warriors. We can’t afford to. If we fight we fight to kill and to kill quickly. That being said it isn’t uncommon to have to accept a challenge if you are a leader of a unit but even then it doesn’t have to be a fair fight. Fighting fairly is for Brettonians, Thanes, and pretentious Lords. I’m a Giant Slayer and I fight to kill.� He chuckled as he looked up and noticed all the other slayers heading into Slayer Hall for breakfast. “Let’s eat and then I will start your instruction on how to use two weapons,� he said as he walked his initiate to the great hall for their first meal of the day.

Breakfast was completed quickly and with out incident. When the slayers of Torin’s squad got together after chow all the slayers were relaxed and informal. Most had a dour outlook on the rest of their doomed lives but one thin slayer with blondish red hair and a braded beard named Chukku seemed to be the unit’s practical joker. Chukku was busy throwing snow balls at the other slayers until Torin came out of the central compound and headed their way.

“Qwudd has ordered our section to mount an expedition to go down below the snow line and bring back fire wood. So Chukku you like playing around so much you will get your chance to lead for a bit. Fetch the axes, saws, and sleds. You’ll probably need to bring back two trees a day for the next four days. In five days we will be setting out looking for that giant so Sqalliq can avenge Brud Ridgerunner’s death,� the rest of the slayers grew quieter and a slightly crazy look seemed to glaze over half of their eyes at the thought of combat with a giant that had killed so many slayers. “Well don’t procrastinate you have several miles to go get the trees.�

Chukku took charge and soon the ten other slayers in Torin’s squad were heading down the mountain with two sleds pulled by four slayers each. Sqalliq could see numerous axes, saws, snowshoes, skis, and other gear packed in the sled. Each slayer was also carrying his own personal arsenal of axes, short swords, clubs or maces.

“Come Sqalliq now we begin to train with two weapons,� the giant slayer led him to a flat open spot in the sun. “First let me tell you that fighting with two weapons is the hardest thing to train your body to do. You will have to learn that there is no dominate side to your body, no favorite hand or foot. This requires more hand eye coordination than you are used to because in a moment of weakness or a second with out concentrating you can injure yourself or open yourself up for your opponent to finish you off.�

“Now during the first half of today we will be using your left hand only,� he said. For the next several hours Torin drilled Sqalliq on the proper way to use the axe left handed. Generally after showing him a specific stroke and telling him how and where to use it he would put the young slayer on a dummy to work at it until we was able to do it correctly ten times.

Torin went away and came back several minute later carrying a heavy black smith’s hammer that was the same length as the axe but weighed at least five times as much and a long leather strap.. “Here,� he said throwing the hammer to the slayer. “From now on you will use this in your left hand to drill with. You are right handed and that left arm is slow, weak and uncoordinated. Come here. I am going to bind your right arm behind your back to also help you work on balance.� Soon he had Sqalliq’s arm bound behind his back and back to drilling. The hours past with out a break and finally a hour before dusk Torin led called Sqalliq away from the dummies. “You are looking tired,� said Torin standing ten feet away from the sweaty tired initiate.

“I am exhausted,� said the young initiate. “I thought we were never going to finish. I don’t think I could swing this hammer again to save my life,� jested Sqalliq.

Sqalliq looked up from the ground and noted that Torin’s face was red with fury. “Defend yourself grot,� bellowed the giant slayer as he pulled his two short swords from their sheaths and lunged at the initiate.

Sqalliq still had his right arm tied behind his back and his eyes went wide with surprise. In the blink of an eye Torin had gone from being nice and caring to red faced, furious, and with an angry frothing cry to a homicidal maniac seeking Sqalliq’s death. Sqalliq back pedaled quickly as the two blades shot in towards him. He clumsily wielded the heavy hammer and managed to block aside the blades in a swiping side stroke.

He received a head butt to his broken nose that made tears spring to his eyes and blood to flow from his nostrils. But that wasn’t the end. Torin’s shoulder followed him in pinned his left arm with the hammer across his chest. Sqalliq felt himself lose his balance as the giant slayer’s body weight drove him to the ground. On the way down the felt the other slayers knee hit him painfully in the left thigh making his leg go numb. As he hit the ground the other slayers body weight on his chest drove all the air out of his lungs as punches and elbow blows rained down upon him.

Sqalliq felt himself nearing his end and with a final grunt he gave a weak backhanded strike with all of his remaining strength at Torin’s head. The hammer connected barely and Torin’s body flinging his opponent off him. Sqalliq rolled over onto his right side and was using his left arm to get up when he felt Torin’s foot in the center of his back push him to the ground. He heard the whistling of the short swords coming in and then they stopped on either side of his neck just barely breaking the skin.

“Initiate, you will always have enough strength to defend your self.� Sqalliq heard Torin’s calm voice from behind and over his prone body. “Don’t ever tell yourself otherwise. Until you expel your last breath you will fight for victory every step of the way.� Torin stepped off him and sheathed his swords. “Good match. Now let’s get cleaned up for dinner.� He continued as he helped the initiate up off the ground and untied his right arm.

“I thought you were going to kill me,� said Sqalliq incredulously.

“I could have but you are not an enemy that needs to be killed. There would be no honor in killing a fellow Dawi,� said the Giant Slayer as they walked to the pool. Torin stripped down and stepped into the freezing water with the pumice stone and soap and started scrubbing himself clean. Sqalliq followed suit on the opposite side of the pool. “Words have meaning. Say what is important. If it isn’t important keep it to yourself. Otherwise you will end up like Chukku.�

“What’s wrong with Chukku,� questioned Sqalliq.

“Nothing is wrong with him. But he is hard to believe with his Elfish attitude. I don’t think he is really cut out to be a slayer.� His eyes went distant as he went into his thoughts. “He doesn’t have the right outlook to succeed at what we do. You can’t be a joker when something is trying to kill you. You have to find the animal instincts deep in side of you and tap into it. He can’t do that. He is quick witted and very fast, but he lacks focus. He won’t last long,� trailed off the giant slayer as he ducked under the water to rinse off and then climbed out of the pool back into the freezing winter air. He picked up his clothes and weapons and walked barefooted across the snow as if it was summer time the fifty meters to their freezing barracks.

Sqalliq followed after rinsing and was shivering by the time he had picked up his clothes, two axes and the blacksmithing hammer. They changed in the barracks and reported to Slayer Hall for chow. After chow Sqalliq cleaned the barracks, which was eerily quiet with out the other ten slayers.

The other slayers arrived several hours after dusk. They all padded in after eating and taking a bath in the frozen pond and bedded down for the night with out the usual banter. They all knew they were in for a long hard week and so ended Sqalliq’s third day as a slayer.

[Thunderer]

Completing the Second Chapter: Slayer Initiates

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sqalliq was awoken the next day by Chukku before dawn. “Let’s go,� was all he said. He tossed Sqalliq a woolen shirt and headed outside with the rest of his squad. The gathered up the sleds, put snow shoes on their feet and started trudging off heading down the mountain for the snowline and the trees.

The slayers passed around a bag of jerky and hard biscuits for breakfast. Later the slayers passed a skin of water around, it tasted like Berriq’s apple flavored sweetened water from the day that Sqalliq had worked in the kitchen. Sqalliq noticed that today all the slayers were quiet and alert as the headed down the mountain to bring back the trees they felled yesterday. Torin and Chukku were near the front with their weapons out and they also carried two long heavy javelins each. Sqalliq had never seen slayers carrying javelins before and he was intrigued about the goings on of the wood cutting expedition.

Sqalliq and three other slayers pulled the second sled down the snowy and rocky slope. He looked at an old wrinkled gran-Dawi slayer beside him laboring away. He cleared his throat and then turned to him and said, “Hello. I’m Sqalliq Oneleg!�

The older gran-Dawi slayer looked at him underneath semi-gray eyebrows. “I know dang who you are grot. You’re the lazy bastard that is making me old bones hurt from not having heat in the barracks,� said the grumpy old slayer. “If’n ye got enough energy to talk ye can be pullin’ the sled your dang self.� He finished in a huff and tossed his hemp rope line to Sqalliq as he walked off to join the sled in front of them.

A younger slayer beside him laughed. “Don’t fret Ol’ Jokkon, he is as grouchy as Bugman was when he discovered his brewery had been attacked. He don’t like none of the new guys. If you live through your first five or six battles or ten or so years he might actually learn your name.� He finished and stuck his hand out. “I’m Lorruuq. Welcome to Torin’s Terrors. Well that’s what we call ourselves, when Torin can’t hear us. No one else really calls us anything else but Torin’s Squad.�

Sqalliq took Lorruuq’s calloused hand and shook it vigorously. He noticed that Lorruuq looked to be about twenty years younger than he was and had thick black hair peaking out through orange hair that the Blood of Grimnir had permanently changed during the slayer ceremony at the Shrine of Grimnir. Sqalliq was happy to finally meet a happy face at Icefang Camp. “I’m Sqalliq Oneleg,� he returned.

“Yeah,� chuckled Lorruuq. “I heard you introduce yourself to Jokkon remember. Around here you listen to every word because there not spoken too often and you can never tell when they will be that slayer’s last ones. Death stalks us like a ranger tracks a deer. Most slayers are even more dour, taciturn, and angry than regular Dawi.� The sled was slowly starting to wear down the three slayer crew with its awkward weight.

“This big fellow is Tur,� Lorruuq introduced Sqalliq to the largest Dawi he had ever seen. He stood almost five and a half feet tall, on par with most human males in the Empire. And his shoulders were at least three feet wide. His biceps were the size of Sqalliq’s thighs and his pectoral muscles were massive and well defined. Beneath his skin individual striations of muscled fiber could be clearly seen. Tur’s head was shaved bald except for a small braded pony tail in the very back of his well muscled head. “Tur is the strongest Dawi any of us have ever seen. I have personally seen him wade into Torin during a sparing session and pick up Torin one handed and throw him more than fifteen feet away.�

Tur reached across Lorruuq and took Sqalliq’s hand into his massive grip. “Good to meet you Sqalliq. I suggest you redouble your efforts over the next several days to accomplish all of your tasks,� said the huge dwarf with a voice so filled with base from his large chest that it was hard to understand him. When he spoke it sounded like an avalanche had let loose and was rumbling towards you. He talked slow as if he thought of every word he was going to say and then said it.

“Tur I have already set my goal on net letting down my squad mates anymore,� the three nodded at that and Lorruuq chuckled quietly beneath his large beard.

The slayers made their way down below the snow line into the evergreen forest that filled up the steep walled narrow rocky draw. The slayers the day before had felled several hard wood cedar and softer wood spruce trees, stripped their limbs and cut them into manageable logs between three to four feet long. The two sleds were loaded up quickly by the twelve slayers and then they set off back up the mountain.

As they traveled up the mountain in the snow the clouds opened up and a heavy snow began to fall. With in an hour visibility was reduced to the white snow covered ground in front of them. Pulling the loaded sled of wood that now weighed in excess of five hundred pounds each was wearing down the four ‘mule’ slayers. Their squad mates that had been guarding them fell in behind the heavy sleds, placed their javelings on top of the wood and started pushing on the hand rails to help their ‘mule’ teams handle the load.

The joking from earlier in the morning was done with as the sun overhead rose to the middle of the sky. But they couldn’t see the sun because it was hidden behind thick dark grey clouds that were dumping nearly an inch of snow on them per hour. All of the slayers were heaving with the effort of breaking the trail through the snows newly formed drifts, keeping the sled on the track that they knew with their innate ability was below their feet, and with just keeping some forward momentum going while heading back to Icefang Camp. To make matters worse the wind was increasing reducing their visibility even more and taking away their ability to communicate. By two o’clock in the afternoon Torin figured they had made it half way back to the camp. On a normal day they would have been half way back down the mountain for their second load, but today was not a normal fall day.

Sqalliq felt his sled get heavier all of a sudden. He continued to fight forward for purchase while turning around to see what had happened. He could make out Torin’s still shape looking behind him in the gathering fall blizzard. He was about to turn around and continue pulling when all of the slayers heard a muffled deep toned horn blast come echoing up the stone walls of the mountain in a hauntingly morose long winded tone. In unison every slayer in the twelve member squad stopped pulling or pushing the sleds, dropped the rope they were tugging on and turned in the direction of the blast that was coming from behind their avenue of march.

The squad quickly fell back on Torin’s location. Torin looked at Jokkon and yelled to him across the three to five feet that separated them in the howling snow storm as the rest of the squad circled close. “Did that sound like a Slayer Horn from Gnashrak’s Doom Hold on the eastern end of Peak’s Pass?�

“Aye, that be one of their wyvern war horns from that slayer camp,� yelled back Jokkon. Sqalliq all of a sudden gained insight that Torin looked up to and highly respected the older slayer. “But why would they be here in this weather?� The other slayers eyed each other and Sqalliq noticed that some were getting red faced, glazed eyed, and slightly frothy at the mouth. “Torin, they only blow their horn’s when their doom is neigh,� finished Jokkon.

“Aye,� yelled Torin. “Drop your cloaks and shirts slayers. Wood can wait for after this battle if there is one,� he yelled as he stripped to the waste and lost all of the material that an opponent could grab onto him in battle. His skin goose pimpled quickly as his shrugged off a shiver. He dropped his cloak and woolen shirt in a small bundle behind the nearest sled. He then retrieved his two javelins, turned and jogged off down the snowed over trail that they had just pushed their sled up.

The rest of the slayers were quickly shedding clothes and water skins to catch up to Torin with their weapons at the ready. Jokkon took some extra time because he pulled out an eight foot long black lance that had some three skulls attached to it and some black cloth that he unfurled in the howling wind. The skulls included an a dark elf skull still in their helm, a huge orc’s skull that had an axe cut slicing it half way through from the top front, through the nose and into the upper jaw causing the orc to lose most of its front teeth. But obviously it lacking its front teeth was the least of its problems. And the last skull was affixed on the old Dark Elf lance through the bottom of the skull where the spinal cord came out and a hole was punched through the top. The two horns on it declared it to be a skull from a minotaur, probably a Doom Bull judging from the size of it.

Chukku jogged past Sqalliq with a large copper horn looped over his shoulder. Sqalliq found himself between Tur and Lorruuq with another slayer behind them. He figured if it came to it that they would make up the third line of the small block of slayers that were sprinting down the mountain looking for an unknown danger. Sqalliq thinking about the oncoming potential for combat felt the butterflies appear in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he was getting into, he was still very sore for his initial trials and training. He hadn’t mastered his axes yet especially not in a two weapon fighting style that it seemed the rest of his squad favored. But he felt his options waning when he heard the third call come from the horn come screaming up the mountain. It was clear as crystal now, echoing off the steep wooded walls of the draw they were barreling down hill in search of the horn blower. They were seeking doom.

Chukku looked to his right at Torin as he raised the horn to his face while asking permission to sound their presence. Sqalliq nodded only once as he continued to sprint down the steep mountain. Chukku slowed slightly raised the shiny copper horn to his lips and his cheeks puffed out as his face turned bright red. A thunderous horn blast escaped from the horn held by the slim stringy slayer it lasted for a good thirty seconds and when it went silent Chukku sprinted to catch back up to Torin and his command group. Sqalliq heard the horn echo once as it bounced of the rock face far away. Heard it twice as a bloody figure emerged from the foggy wall of snow in front of them.

The figure was bleeding from several arrows through their grey woolen cloak. The slayers didn’t stop but continued to barrel down the mountain as the last echo of the Chukku’s horn call from Torin’s Terrors bounced off the mountain. Sqalliq had only a split second to blink his eyes as a mass of goblin wolf riders and wolves burst into view among his squad mates. In the next split second his squad and the wolf riding raiders were locked in a dance of death in the snowy hell of the fall blizzard high up on the mountainside.

A snarling wolf broke through the scattered slayers in pursuit of the grey cloaked figure. Torin spun around tracking the wolf with his eyes as he fended off a spear from another wolf rider with his flashing short swords. He noticed instantly that only Sqalliq was in position to save the figure. With his left sword he pointed at the figure and the charging wolf rider, in the next split second he was fighting off both the wolf and the spear of the angry goblin that was assaulting him.

Sqalliq sprinted towards the figure as the wolf and goblin closed the distance. His axe’s were gripped tightly in his hands. As he neared the figure he noticed that it was short and slender and missing the orange beard that slayers and Dawi were most readily identified by. He only had a split second to make eye contact with the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen before he roughly shouldered the cloaked figure into a snow bank. The wolf was very nearly on him, the rider’s spear was leveled to charge the cloaked figure that was no where there anymore. Sqalliq leaped towards the goblin over the wolf’s lunging snarling teeth filled mouth. The spear cut a line down his chest to his left thigh as he felt blood flow from the painful but shallow wound.

He twisted in mid leap as a frenzied hatred for all things green submerged his conscious mind beneath his animalistic urges to kill and to survive. With his left axe gliding along the spear he pivoted in his lung and swung his right axe at the back of the goblin’s head, being rewarded with seeing the top of the pointed eared green skull explode away from the rest of its body in a black spray of blood and brains.

Sqalliq landed in the snow from his headlong dive at the goblin wolf rider. He rolled once and came up in a shower of white powder letting out a ragged yelled war cry. “Icefang!�

He spun around looking for another opponent but was surprised to see two spinning axes on delicate gromril chains come flying towards him from the most beautiful Dawi female he had ever seen. He only had a split second to admire her. Her hair was cut in a long mohawk with a braided pony tail that looped over her shoulder and around her neck twice. She wore light deerskin pants of flat woven leather strips interlocked with small gold studded icon of Grimnir and the Dawi deities. Her top was a tightly woven leather sports bra that kept her athletic but shapely breast from moving around to much. She had the most delicate blue tattoos over her body in long flowing bands but unlike most slayers hers had a blue and black border of roses and thorns working into her perfectly tanned skin. Around her waste was a thick belt of gromril with a gold buckle attacked to the belt was the chains that led to thick gromril and leather bracelets on her wrist with large holes for the chain to pass trough as they played were played out during the doomseeker’s death dance.

He ducked backwards by bending at the knees and waist. He lost his balance and fell onto his back in the snow as the flying axes continued to pass over him. He was showered with red and black blood as a goblin wolf rider and wolf was cut to pieces and flew over his now prone body in an attack that they never completed due to the female doomslayer from Gnashrak’s Doom Hold.

Sqalliq was amazed to see her spin while extending her arms and grasping the chains in her heavily ringed hands. The axes made a cracking sound like a whip when their forward motion was stopped abruptly and then as the pivoted her body and moved her arms the axes went into counter rotating circles on each side of her body. The axe in her right hand made a high pitch eerie whistling sound and the left that spun slower sounded more like an owl’s hoot but it was a continuous note as she continued its vertical spinning.

“Get up and quit gawking,� she said in a commanding tone while scanning the battlefield. “There’s still plenty to kill,� she finished as she ran back into the melee that the other slayers were in. Sqalliq noticed the two goblin arrows sticking out of her right shoulder and another in her right thigh that seemed to only be a flesh wound. With the hooting and whistling axes getting louder from coming closer the remaining six wolf riders bolted as she neared the skirmish. It seems that they knew what a doomseeker of Gnashrak’s Doom Hold could do to them in battle.

The thirteen slayers secured the perimeter and checked on all the goblins and wolf riders inside their circle. Torin tapped Sqalliq and the female doomseeker on the shoulder as he inspected the perimeter. They followed him into the middle as the other slayers closed the circle’s boundaries. Jokkon was in the middle with the three skulled standard on the Druchii lance.

“Jokkon bandage them while we talk,� said Torin to the other slayer in a respectful tone. He then turned to Sqalliq. “Sqalliq you did well back there. Once you are bandaged claim the goblin’s head to add to our wall. Today you are a true slayer, no one will call you initiate anymore.� He slapped the young troll slayer on the back in congratulations. “However, you will still have to undergo more training in weapons and how we fight. But no more initiate chores for you. The other barracks will be stuck doing all the cooking for a while.�

When he finished he turned to the thorn and rose tattooed she-slayer. “I am Torin Kegspliter, Giant Slayer of this troll slayer squad from Icefang Camp. How may we be of assistance to our Doomseeker Sister from Gnashrak’s Doom Hold,� queried the giant slayer as Jokkon was wrapping some strips of white linen bandaged over Sqalliq’s long but shallow wound. Blood was flowing down his chest to his leg every time the young slayer’s heart beat.

“I am Fyrmaul Qwyqangst and I come with a message for Qwudd Dragonslayer, commander of the Icefang Slayers,� she said in a soft but strong voice. “When I and my companions set out we were twelve slayers and three doomseekers. For the three days my fellow slayers and I fought our way through the longer trail below Peak Pass, for we were forewarned that Peak Pass was blocked by a force of Ogres with some newly captured slave giants,� she said through gritted teeth at the end. “We come seeking assistance. A goblin that we captured has confessed to us that the goblins of from the Blasted Waste are in alliance and headed this way. Our hold is the first to be attacked, which brings joy to our hearts in our quest for salvation. But the Ogres and Giants in the Peak Pass are to seal us off from re-enforcements and supplies.�

She paused and gritted her teeth as Jokkon started to work on her wounds. He cut the arrow head off that was protruding from her leg and then removed the arrow. Quickly he and Sqalliq bandaged her leg as she continued to talk to Torin. “Our hold is smaller in number than yours because we are the training ground for the doomseekers of Karak Kadrin. We beseech you and your hold to pass notice of our plight to the Slayer King and to aid us by destroying the Ogre and Giant force in the Peak Pass. If you can do that then we can attempt to lift the siege of Gnashrak’s Doom Hold together.� She stopped as Jokkon put his left hand on the arrow in her back.

“Miss, this is gonna hurt like you wouldn’t believe,� said the older slayer that acted as Torin’s Terrors healer. He grasped the arrow with his right hand and started to push it forward through the upper part of her chest looking for a space between her ribs in the front. “Sqalliq brace her shoulders boy, she won’t be able to hold on for long.� Commanded the healer as the young troll slayer grasped her delicate shoulders in his bloody, raw and sore hands.

Sqalliq looked down into her eyes as she gasped for breath while Jokkon continued to push the arrow through. Her eyes were tearing up, she broke out in a sweat. Sqalliq saw her bit her lip enough to make a small stream of blood come out of the corner of her mouth as her forehead crinkled in agony. Finally the arrow poked though a couple of ribs right below her collar bone.

“Its through Jokkon,� he said in excitement as he forgot his own pain.

“Snap the head off so I can pull the arrow out.� He snapped the arrow head off with his hand and watched the as the arrow disappeared out of the front of her chest. As soon as the arrow disappeared fresh blood stated to pour slowly out of the wound. Jokkon tossed Sqalliq a wad of linen. “Push it on the wound to stop the bleeding,� said Jokkon as he continued to treat the wounded doomseeker.

Sqalliq applied pressure with the flat of his hand just above her right breast. He heard her inhale sharply and looked down at the wound and the heaving skin just above her leather bra wrapped breast. He took a deep breath because he had never touched a woman in that way before. He quickly looked up into her face and saw an amused painful smile on her perfect lips. They parted slightly so he noticed her red rimmed teeth from the blood and her small bite mark on her lip. She chuckled slightly at his discomfort. “Your not much of a ladies Dawi are you,� she joked. And as she laughed Sqalliq felt the skin and breast beneath his hand jiggle and he was even more uncomfortable now than he had been while running Thane Rock around Icefang Camp twenty six times two days before.

“No Ma’am,� he stuttered his reply at long last as he looked beyond her at his squad mates. Chukku was making a grabbing motion with his hand and a kissing face. Tur had a smirk on his face but was trying to ignore his slender prankster beside him. Sqalliq looked back at Fyrmaul. “I never had time to court a young Dawi Dame before my failings put me on my current path.�

Jokkon waved his hand away and started to tightly bandage her chest wound. She put her bandaged right arm up away from her body to make it easier on the healer. She rested her right hand on top of her reddish orange hair as Jokkon worked quickly and efficiently to tightly wrap her last wound. Her pose make Sqalliq look at her slender athletic feminine figure. Her thighs were large but he could see the individual striations of her well formed feminine slayer hardened muscles beneath the woven leather and gold icon britches. She wore deerskin boots over small delicately formed feet. Her stomach was flat and he could see every muscle in her abdomen. Her ribs were clear to see and her chest wide with muscles and ample athletically formed breasts. When she turned to let Jokkon tuck in the ends of the bandage, Sqalliq observed her well muscled ripped back and shapely rounded buttocks. She was easily the most beautiful Dawi Dame that Sqalliq had ever seen. Her skin while tanned had a thin spider work of scars from previous combats. She looked at him over her shoulder with a sigh which made her breast heave out and upwards even more. “Well, remember young Sqalliq. You’re a slayer; you’re not dead yet.� She laughed a very sexy laugh and then grasped her side in pain from laughing.

Torin brought her cloak over and handed it to her. “You two lovers ready to get moving,� he said brusquely. Chukku brought over a fur wrapped object for Sqalliq with blood leaking out of it. Another slayer in the squad gave Fyrmaul a chopped sapling staff to use as a crutch. She hitched her doom seeker’s chained axes to her belt, put on her cloak and took the proffered staff.

In a short while the slayers had gathered their cloaks, furled their standard, and resumed their trek up the mountain while being assailed by the first blizzard of the year. It would take the rest of the day to push and pull the two sleds of wood up to the camo. Little did the slayers care that behind them following in their wake the goblin tribe was tracking them back to their base at Icefang Camp. At midnight the goblin big boss looked down from a small rise at the smoke coming from the camps eight fire places. The snow and wind were still blowing but not nearly as bad as it had been during the day.

Meanwhile inside Slayer Hall the four giant slayers, Qwudd, Berriq, and Fyrmaul gathered to discuss the current situation that the two distant slayer camps found themselves embroiled in. The rest of the slayers of the hold gathered in the hall as well listening to the talk at the head table. Not since the Storm of Chaos had the head table seated more than Qwudd.

Qwudd motioned for Sqalliq to come over to him from where he sat at Torin’s squads table. The conversation at the table died down when he approached. “Torin was telling me that I might have been wrong about you in my initial assessment. I thought you were soft and fat but he told me about your steadfastness in battle with the raiding wolf riders. Good job,� said the older scarred slayer. “Though you are a full fledged slayer you will still be trained and will continue to work off your punishment. However my assistant is the newest full fledged slayer in Icefang camp. You will report to Berriq each day he will assign you chores beyond what your squad leader assigns you. But tonight you will serve us and may join us. Berriq sits to my right and you sit to his right,� finished the Dragon Slayer pointing out an open spot on a bench.

Sqalliq quickly sat down at the table as Qwudd spoke to Fyrmaul. “So you were telling us about the siege. Please continue,� finished the Dragon Slayer.

“Aye, we have seen portions of three tribes so far. From our interrogation of the goblin captive it leads our hold’s Demon Slayer to believe that the goblins are seeking to expand. Because Grimgor Ironhide didn’t use them during the Storm of Chaos their numbers have grown and nothing makes a goblin braver than having several score of their brethren behind them. To date we have fought the wolf riders, some regular foot goblins, and have seen some purple clad night goblins in the distance. The other forces we have observed include trolls, squigs and snotlings. We were surprised to find no orcs masterminding the harassing assaults but their numbers are much reduced from Grimgor’s folly and they are fighting amongst themselves.

“The only reason we haven’t been attacked yet is they know that our hold has numerous doomseekers,� she continued after taking a pull from a pewter mug of Bugman’s XXXXX. Berriq it seemed was sparing no expense to entertain and to break up the monotony of the winter storm keeping the slayers inside. “Our hold is much like yours but we have six squads of ten or more doomseeker trainees with several doomseekers per squad. Our Demon Slayer Snulli Grotblight coerced the plan for the ogres mercenaries and giants out of the captive. Unfortunately it was a lethal questioning session.� She finished off with a cruel smile. When she looked around the table her manner was all business until she arrived at Sqalliq. With him she paused and took another pull on her ale, when no one else could see her she gave him a quick wink and she watched as Sqalliq blushed a deep red.

“Snulli’s plan was to hold our hold until re-enforcements from Karak Kadrin could arrive. He assumed that some or all of your slayers would be willing to engage the ogres and giants up in Peak Pass before joining the forces of Karak Kadrin in lifting our siege. I and my companions were to be under Qwudd’s command until the siege was lifted, I will honor that commitment no matter the decision reached by this counsel,� she fell silent and returned to her bench seat. She and the rest of the slayers took a long draft of their ale while they all pondered the news and decision.

Qwudd set his empty mug down on the table. “This is a tough decision but here is my plan. In the morning Gordooq’s squad will set off for Karak Kadrin to summon some re-enforcements. Malfyq and his squad will maintain this camp, we will need four guards, two at the gate and two roving to fend off those wolf riders. I will lead Torin’s and Burrin’s squads along with Fyrmaul to engage the forces in the mountain pass. Gordooq if you finish passing the message to the Kaaz Zruum he will send us help and inform the king. If you move quick enough link up with Malfyq here and then meet us at the base of Split Rock Falls. There we will mass our forces and then relieve Gnashrak’s Doom Hold.� Qwudd looked around to his five dragon slayers of which Berriq was the fifth. As he stared into their eyes they each nodded assent to his plan

When Qwudd settled on Sqalliq he smiled a devious grin on his scared face. “Looks like I get to join in the hunt for that giant of yours,� laughed the old slayer with a mad glint in his eye.

“Yes master Qwudd,� replied Sqalliq.

Qwudd looked around at each of them again before issuing his last commands. “Berriq, ensure each squad has the rations. Pass out the skis and snowshoes, for those that haven’t used them before give them a brief introduction. Everyone can have one more mug but rest is essential.� He stopped and looked at Malfyq. “Get your guards posted after their last mug.� He stood up as a mug was presented to him from an initiate. “Slayers of Icefang Camp,� he addressed the slayers in Slayer Hall. “Drink well, hone your blades, sleep well for tomorrow we seek combat with the Giant in Peak’s Pass.� He raised his mug in cheer and then drank it down with out stopping. When he was finished all of the other slayers cheered and then finished off their ale.

The five giant slayers of the hold set about ordering their squads to make ready. The twelve slayers in Torin’s Squad packed ruck sacks with bandages, jerky, dried biscuits, beans and oats and a bed roll. Each slayer received an issued pair of snow shoes and Torin took Sqalliq outside with his and walked him around the camp once until the new troll slayer was used to the contraptions.

After that the camp bedded down except for Malfyq’s squad which started lighting pots of oil at intervals along the wall an the gate opening. The blizzard returned in the early hours of the morning with more snow and wind. In the distance the slayers of Icefang Camp heard the distant howls of the wolf riders reminding the slayers of their presence and so ended Sqalliq’s fourth day as a slayer.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning Sqalliq awoke to Torin kicking his feet as he shivered in his bunk. “Breakfast in five minutes, we’re setting out in half an hour.� He continued walking through his barracks waking the members of his squad.

Sqalliq felt all of his wounds that he had accumulated in the last five days and wondered, and not for the last time, if it would ever get better. Breakfast was quick with some boiled oatmeal, bacon and ham grilled, and lots of hot coffee before the forces of Icefang Camp set out.

Sqalliq and his chums from Torin’s squad set out with snow shoes on their feet heading along the trail that would lead them to the giant in Peak’s Pass. Gordooq and his squad headed up the mountain leading to Karak Kadrin and the slayer king to let him know of the impending hostilities between his out lying camps and the forces of the Orcs and Goblins. Burrin’s squad fell in behind Torin’s and the raiding force set out with Qwudd and Fyrmaul up front with Torin.

The first day of the trek down the mountain hurt Sqalliq’s thighs and calves as he was learning the ropes of the snowshoes. The wide slow deliberate steps was like doing squats and leg presses in an unending succession. Finally as the sun set behind the mountain to their west they reached the valley’s bottom and set up camp in a snow blanketed pine thicket. No fire was lit that evening as they two squads of slayers ate cold biscuits and jerky, drank some ale. Before bedding down Torin and Burrin drilled Sqalliq and the initiates with great weapon and two weapon fighting style.

After a grueling hour of drilling Torin’s squad settled into guard duty for the night. Sqalliq drew first shift with Torin and they discussed the advantages of the various types of weapons favored by their green skinned foes to the east. They were relieved by Tur and Jokkon later and so ended Sqalliq’s fifth day as a slayer, but at least today he had managed not to get injured for the first time in his short slayer life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The eighth day dawned as the slayers from Icefang Camp surveyed the Giant Hunter’s camp below them. The Ogre hunter had managed to bag themselves a slave giant from the pass and had managed to starve it during its first days of training and breaking.

The giant slayers, Qwudd, Fyrmaul and Sqalliq were looking down on the ogre’s camp of the giant’s former lair. There was a small sheltered area at the top of Peak’s Pass that the giant had pitched a hide tent in. Out side was a pile of logs for his fire pit. Nearly twenty feet away was some stacked frozen bodies of dwarves, slayers, and human caravan guards that the giant had preyed upon and then let freeze to see it through the winter. The arrival of the Giant Hunter and supporting ogres had disrupted the giant’s plans for the winter. Several dead ogres and gnoblars were scattered over the site in various poses of death that the giant had put them in during their initial engagement.

Qwudd counted less than ten ogres and the giant as they observed the site from the rise. “Burrin your job is to handle the ogre bulls. Torin and his squad plus myself and Fyrmaul will go after the giant. After that we consolidate and take on any survivors.�

The other slayers looked at the bald scared Dragon Slayer. He was looking for suggestions or recommendations. All he received back from his companions was confirmation that they were in the early throws of the berserker fury that troll slayers were notorious for. When the silence finally drug on long enough Qwudd looked them each in the eye. “Lets get it done.� They all crawled backwards away from the ridge line and headed back to their units.

With in minutes all the slayers gathered around Qwudd. He looked at them one at a time. “Over that hill there is a giant and several ogres. Hopefully in an hour or less the battle will be done. Grudges erased. I hope some of you are successful in your quest for absolution. May death find you swiftly, with an axe in your hand. Lets go,� and with that the two squads formed up and headed up to the rise.

The twenty eight slayers went up the hill. Sqalliq was near the back of Torin’s Terrors because he was the newest member. He looked at Burrin’s Bashers and noted that the great weapon wielding slayers had a glazed look to their eye, the faces were turning red as they worked themselves up mentally.

The slayer forces of Icefang Camp crested the hill and three dwarven horns signaled their attack. In the next instant Sqalliq was left standing alone on the rise as he watched the Ogres dashing about below as they kicked off sleeping skins, grabbed weapons and formed up. There was only five remaining ogres alive and one of those was holding onto a large iron chain and whipping the giant into standing to face the slayers running the three hundred yards to the encampment.

Sqalliq clenched his axes in his now sweating hands and sprinted to catch up to his squad. He found himself falling into the second rank of six slayers with Torin and Qwudd in the center of the first rank. He looked to his left and noticed that Fyrmaul was pacing a few yards away covering that flank and that her axes were already spinning on their thin gromril chains.

She looked at him with rage on her face. “Look at the foes, club head,� she yelled at him as she suddenly darted ahead. Her axes were changing their tones in their circling paths playing her battle hymn with their whistles as she altered their speed and angles.

With in moments the Torin and his boys had closed the gap with the giant and the Giant Hunter ogre that was in command of the giant. As the slayers neared the giant it lunged out on its chain and smashed the squad with its cedar club that impaled and smashed hunters on its shortened sharpened tree limb points that it had stripped from the trunk. Sqalliq only remembered the club screaming in from his left as he and others were knocked to the ground several yards away.

He laid on the ground for several moments trying to grab his breath. At some point the thin air of the mountains finally made it back to his lungs and vision finally cleared when he looked up he looked at his left arm and chest and notices that he was bleeding from several deep cut inflicted on him by the sharpened cedar spikes, of which one was still stuck in his chest. His left arm was nearly useless but he managed to recover his axe and look it around his weakened wrist.

He rose to his feet looked around to see two unconscious members of his squad bleeding in the snow. Burrin’s Bruisers were engaged with the Bulls and the Ogre Bruiser that was smashing slayers around with a large metal rod. The Terrors were surrounding the giant but what impressed Sqalliq was the fury that three particular slayers were displaying. Fyrmaul was in between the ogre hunter and giant lashing out with her humming axes at both of the larger beast.

Torin was nearly blood red in the face, frothing at the mouth and was laying about with his lightning quick short swords. He smashed the giant on the back of his hand as he was preparing to grab on e of Torin’s slayers. The giant pulled back the bruised hand and Torin stepped between his legs flicking out his swords in quick succession to slowly wear down the giants strength and health.

But in contrast was Qwudd engaging the hunter with his now blood red glowing axe. He was as calm as a black smith meting out calculated hammer strokes on a piece of metal being formed on the anvil. He knocked aside a spear strike and then jumped the chain that the hunter swung at him. For the old dragon slayer this was just another day at the office. He was totally devoid of expression or emotion.

Sqallig started to walk as he felt fury rise up from his gut. His buddies were fighting and dying doing his qwest. Finally he could take no more. Slowly he stalked into the fray.

The giant was huge and angry it had had enough of the annoying stinging thing flaying his calves he bent his knees and jumped up. When the giant hit the top of his jump he bellowed a yell that shook snow from the sides of the pass and sounded like an avalanche in his pained rage. Another slayer pushed the giant slayer out of the way and was crushed to death because of his sacrifice, hot thick red blood erupted from the dead slayer and splashed all the troll slayers in the melee.

Torin looked at his slain comrade and raged. “Kill ‘em!� He lunged back into the fight his blades moving like lightning each hitting the same spot one right after the other like a drummer laying down a marching cadence.

Sqalliq found himself beside Tur lashing out with his axes. In his anger he didn’t even notice that he had started to use his axes like those used by mountain climbers. Every time he sank the blade in with one arm he would aim the next one a little higher and climb up. His left axe was much weaker but he continued to advance up the giant’s leg.

He went to swing again and was surprised in his rage to find that he could no longer breath and then discovered that the giant had plucked him off of his leg with his left hand and was holding him out at arms length over his head. “What?� Queried the surprised slayer in the next instant he was hurled with all the giant’s might into his squad mates. He was buried in the snow once again unable to breath and feeling more pain than he had ever felt in his life. He rose up moments later to discover that the battle had moved further away. Tur and Jokkon were beside him but both were bloody and unconscious. Sqalliq felt like he was nearing his end as he felt right leg to discover that the standard from Jokkon had shattered at his impact and impaled him in his right thigh.

He pulled the broken standard out of his leg and looked at the battle field. His squad had been reduced to only six. The giant was bloody and slowed. The bulls fighting Burrin and Berriq and the other squad had been reduced to one bull and the bruiser.

Sqalliq saw a small ledge leading up the side behind the giant and shrugged off his pain and put himself to the task of getting to the giant. He had had enough. It was pay back time. Too many of his squad were down for him to let this go on longer. For the first time in the battle he was calm, the fear and terror of the ogres and giant was gone. He could hear everything as he crunched through the snow towards the ledge.

In moments he had flanked the giant and approached him from his back right as his squad kept the giant distracted. The giant swung his club back smashing the rock and snow right above Sqalliq showering him with rock shards and shattered ice chunks that bruised and cut the Sqalliq’s tortured bleeding body. When the club went screaming towards his mates Sqalliq launched himself onto the giant’s back. His left axe buried itself into the giant’s back near but missing his spine. His right one landed up near the giant’s unprotected neck and a fresh gush of blood sprayed out as the giant bellowed in pain. Then Sqalliq’s weight hit the giant and it lost it’s balance. Sqalliq climbed and continued to swing his axes in a rapid beat as he climbed. He felt himself riding the giant down as his left axe hit the giant’s left side of his tree trunk thick neck his right axe bit deep into the right side of the giant’s neck as arterial blood gushed out of the bone deep strike.

They were falling and then Sqalliq was flying as the giant snatched threw the young slayer with his left hand. Sqalliq was content as he flew head over hills through the air towards the opposite side of the pass. As he spun he saw that his mates were thrashing the prone giant then all went black as he hit the deep snow drift covering the granite sides. He thought no more and felt even less as all went black. For Sqalliq the battle and earthly concerns were over with, he embraced the darkness. His pain subsided and he exhaled into the cold bloody snow.

As usual feed back be it positive or negative is always appreciated, especially when worded politely. Don't make me get my axe out.

[Thunderer]

Now to change it up a bit:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The three goblin warlords Git Git, Gotsnot, Rudfang, four other warbosses and the ogre giant hunter Krushun Mountainstalker sat on the distant rise looking at the smoking slayer hold of Gnashrak’s Doom Hold in the distance. For nearly a month the rock hard slayers had beat back the eight tribes of goblins that had been sent against them. Slowly but surely the slayers were being reduced in numbers but the greenskin horde had taken many loses as well.

The wolf riders of Git Git’s Fangrunner tribe were growing tired of waiting. They had pursued the messengers deep into the mountains to the frozen encampment and nearly killed the last doomseeker of that expedition after running down her slayer guardians. They had then conducted a running battle with the force from the frozen camp to the very gates of Karak Kadrin before retreating back to their current location.

Git Git looked over at the fat Rudfang of the Flamefang tribe. “Ye’s boyz nedz be fir’in more arrers at demz stunties Rudfang. Yer yeller ladz hazn’t beenz doin’ theyz job while me and me riderz were maraudin’ in dez mountainz,� barked the wolf skin and scalped slayer hair covered Git Git.

Rudfang stood up from the fire with great effort. “My boyz be getting’ the job done. With the ogres and giants of Gotsnot’s tribe we should be ablez to break the wallz soon. Itz just demz doomiez be so ‘ard to shoot with demz whippin’ axez and wallz. When the shamanz get done with their rantin’ and ravin’ durin’ the no moon time we will crack them. Three more dayz and that hold will be ourz,� said the fat goblin looking at the other warbosses gathered around the fire. The other five nodded and looked to Rudfang.

“I’llz summon up the giantz’s that I’d been savin’.� He looked around at his cronies. It had been his plan to bring the Goblin Great Alliance together in the first place. His two giants and numerous shaman had mad him unstoppable so far. His only opponent was the missing night goblin great shaman that was leading the ceremonies to Mork and Gork to unite all the shamanic powers for the last push to break the walls. That shaman had been working with the other in the seven other tribes to usurp his power, he just knew it in his wicked little bones. “Whenz the fingle wagglers are ready they giantz’s will be herez to stomp and bawl demz orange haired freakz into the ground.� He laughed and the other goblins laughed weakly and then stronger as they looked to their fellow warbosses for support and actions.

Rudfang looked around his cronies and felt power coursing through his veins as their actions emboldened him. “Ladz gather the boyz and keep them fired up. Serve dem whiskies and shrooms to keep their heartz ‘ard. We’ll finish dez blokes in a couple dayz and den dem wallz will shield us for few dayz while we plunder and refit with demz stuntie axes of glittersteel. Den we move into the mountains and seek the stuntie glittering caravans.� He laughed and then tossed another log on the fire.

Mean while down below in the besieged keep of Gnashrak’s Doom Hold Snulli Grotblight looked through his telescope at the hill and knew that he was seeing the leaders of the siege make their plans. Snulli was a big powerful demonslayer that commanded all the slayers that wandered through this way seeking absolution. His force used to encompass five squads of slayers with each squad having three doomseeker trainers. Seventy five slayers garrisoned this fort during its peak now there were only twenty slayers and five doomseekers left. His giant slayers were all dead as was his dragon slayer assistant. He knew things were grim but he couldn’t help but feel that he had killed many more gobbos than they have killed slayers.

He had patiently awaited his daughter Fyrmaul Qwyqanst’s return, but it seemed that she had failed in her mission to summon help from the closest slayer camp of Icefang Camp or from Karak Kadrin. He had discussed with his boys torching the hold, its food, fuel, and poisoning the water well and then breaking out when their numbers were reduced to just ten. They were getting there slowly, now every day they were losing more.

A light rain started to fall and in the rainy gloom he lost sight of the opposing generals as he heard more arrows come in from the night goblins and goblins surrounding his once grand keep. He sighed and ducked back indoors as the arrows plinked in around him. The end would come soon, he could feel death’s embrace closing in on his hold like a money changer clearing the counter of coins. This hold was now a tomb.

He went down to his Slayer Hall and tapped the last keg of Bugman’s XXXXX that the hold had. “Drink up lads and remember our freed chums. Their debt is paid, pain is no longer their companion. They know the freedom of woes that only a cold stone tomb can bring. Drink and be merry,� he raised his silver covered ogre skull mug from one of his first kills. “Hopefully tomorrow we will all die under a mountain of greenskin maggots swinging our blades.�

His wounded, tired and doomed slayers hoisted a mug and let out a shout of “Huzzah!� as they remembered their departed squad mates. A few of them were already frothing at the mouth at the thought of the oncoming end. The slayers of Gnashrak’s Doom Hold were awaiting their end.

Sorry gents trying to move the story along and develope a bit by trying some different things and I know some of you were growing tired of the Sqalliq only view of the story... questions, comments, and concerns appreciated.

[Thunderer]

Day twenty one dawned with low slate grey clouds hugging the mountains over Icefang Camp. The temperature was below freezing in the gusting winds that picked up waves of snow and blew them from one spot to another in swirling mobile white walls that totally obscured the assembled army of Karak Kadrin moving to relieve the siege of Gnashrak’s Doom Hold.

Qwudd talked briefly with the other thanes, lord, runesmith and slayer leaders. Soon the various drums, horns, and standards of the units were sending signals. In short order the iron shod boots of the army of Karak Kadrin were sending echos of their stomping reverberating down the clefts and valley in a slow steady cadence.

Torin nudged Sqalliq and his squad. “Lads, we’re moving out fifth in the order. Two columns,� said the giant slayer shouldering his huge pack. Each of his guys were carrying spare weapons, clothes, tent, wood, oil, dried food for nearly a month. They also had their sled packed tight with other supplies for healing and large cooking pots. “Lets go,� he said quietly as they fell in to the army marching out of the now muddy and tent less courtyard of Icefang Camp.

Sqalliq started out in the middle near Tur but with in a few hours he was slowly falling back as his wounds were sapping his strength. The Army of Karak Kadrin set a grueling pace. There was no breaks as this was a forced march from dusk to dawn. Occasionally a slayer or dwarf would break ranks to relieve themselves or adjust their packs. After a bit they would sprint to catch up with their units.

Near lunch time Sqalliq was watching the rest of the army pull away from him steadily as he continued in pained silence. There was no concern for a lone wounded slayer. If he died marching or in battle the Army of Karak Kadrin would mourn him not, he was dead to them already.

Ever so slowly the wind and snow picked up. Nearing dinner time the sun was obscured and the winds reaching gale force. It would seem that the second blizzard of the year was upon the mountain screaming its displeasure at the granite sides and hard as stone inhabitants of the mountain that chose to carve their hearths and homes out of the heart of the mountain.

Sqalliq squinted his eyes behind his cloth visor with long narrow slits that kept the snow out of his eyes. He felt his beard freeze and watched slowly as his world was reduced to a narrow white tunnel of vision directly ahead of him. He endured the pain and loneliness carrying Brud’s Axes in his gloved hands at the ready as he had been taught by Torin. The hours passed and at some point near midnight the winds started to subside. An hour later he stomped in painfully to the cold camp made by the Army of Karak Kadrin and their allied slayer forces from Icefang Camp.

He found Torin sitting acing back down the trail as he arrived at his squads camp. Torin approached the shivering exhausted wounded slayer with a steaming pot from a small portable oil burner used in the mines to cook small meals. He led Sqalliq to a spot and helped him shrug off his frozen clothes and pack. “Sit here Sqalliq and drink this,� he said wrapping the young slayer in his sleep roll and Torin’s extra blanket.

Sqalliq started to eat the contents of the pot and had never tasted anything as wonderful as the honeyed coffee with pieces of dried biscuits floating in it. He at the liter pot and discovered some chopped up jerky on the bottom that was easier to eat after having been cooked for several hours.

Torin looked at him when he was nearly finished. “Each of your mates had been waiting for you to get here. Sleep young Sqalliq, well wake you when it is time to march,� with that Torin returned to his bedroll and huddled under it as he watched his squad mate Sqalliq sink into a deep unfeeling shivering sleep and so ended day twenty one for Sqalliq on his slayer journey.