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post #2 of (permalink) Old 05-18-11, 08:00 PM
The Hammer of Olympia
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Tyr had the full attention of his younger pack brothers as he told them war stories of Hecutor. He was currently at the part where he, Alrik and Morgun had defended a Comms room from inumerable traitor guard before finally breaking their enemy's back as the rest of the pack met up with them with the Inquisitor.

"That's when four Ogryn made their way through the broken blast doors, uglier than Alrik himself, and yes that is possible." he nodded his head to emphasize this before continuing, "They shot at us wildly as they ran into the room, their human allies filling with courage as they saw this and coming back at us with more energy, but we would not have it. We charged at the beasts, howls upon our lips as we cut into them, and they cut into us," he pointed at the huge mass of gnarled scar tissue on the right side of his chest where the Ogryn had torn into him with its massive blade.

He went on to tell about the battles after the rest of the pack had met up with them and their second encounter with the traitor legionaires and finally reaching the final battle aboard the Fist of Russ with the deaths of a few of the legionaires and the escape of the sorceror. "Traitors have no backbone brothers, remember that, they are so weak willed it is disgusting." he leaned in close to the fire so that it lit up his face, "But there is no better feeling then pounding a traitor into the dust and killing them so deep that they feel your hatred for them even after they are dead. You know what I do to traitors and cowards?"

He punched his left hand into his bionic hand as leaned back and looked at Hrothgar who was sitting to his left before saying, "I break them." he stared at his pack brother with a serious face for awhile as a silence came over them all, he strung it out as long as possible before breaking into a large smile and slapping his packmate across the back as he laughed, "Come Alrik you can talk just as much as I can, tell them some stories to ease the pain of looking at your face." he chuckled at his little joke as he crossed his massive arms across his even larger chest as he thought about returning to the Fang.

It was very close, not over 24 hours away, he fancied he could smell the mead and roasted meat in the dining halls. His mind fell back to when he had been cornered on a cliff face by the mighty beast they had been hunting, he was most certainly not the best cliff climber of this he was certain, there was usually never enough space for him. He had had no room to move and knew himself dead had Keris and Frostulfr not come to help him so that he could pull himself higher up onto the cliff face. One of the few times he had thought himself fat, he had told himself to not eat as much when he got back to the Fang but he knew it wasn't going to happen, he would have eaten that whole razor-ursid if his brothers had allowed him to.

He flexed his right hand and looked down at the bionic replacement, moving each finger seperately and then together. He could see part of the scar tissue on his chest and thought about all the scars that their pack now had, they had truly been through much at Hecutor and that campaign had scarred each of them in a different way. Many of them bore blatant physical scars from that campaign, him, Alrik, Iorek, but all of them had been changed mentally. They had lost a lot of brothers to the traitors including their own pack leader Kjarl. At the thought of his old pack leader Tyr fingered the necklace around his neck, his lord had given it to him from Kjarl's own personal armory and it had meant more to the large wolf than Blackmane could have ever imagined.

It had numerous runes of protection and bravery on it but one large one stuck out the most and was set right in the middle, the rune of the guardian, this coupled with Tyr's belief that he was here to protect his brothers and his lord had given him much inner strength and he had yet to take the necklace off after receiving it. Without realizing it his normal hand came up and he touched the large burn mark that covered the majority of the left side of his face and then the scar on his chest. He had suffered grievous wounds on Hecutor yet when he had received them he had thought almost nothing of them, instead using them to fuel his hate for his enemy, now he realized how close to death he and many of his brothers had come to and come out on top.

He smiled at the thought, that had to be one of the reasons Lord Blackmane liked fighting alongside them, they had the luck of an older pack but the burning vibrant and sometimes hard to control fire of the younger wolves, he fancied that they reminded Blackmane of himself when he was young....er. He was getting anxious now just sitting here around the fire, he wasnt showing it but he didnt like waiting here and then heading to the Fang in the morning, his breathing quickened a little bit but not too much as he sat and listened to the rest of the pack talking.

Here is the beginning of my fluff for my Iron Warriors Eighth Grand Company https://www.heresy-online.net/forums/...ad.php?t=51842

"A fortress is a living thing: the commander its brain, the walls its bones, the sensors its eyes and ears, the troops its blood, their weapons its fists. This tells us two things: If one organ fails, the whole dies. And if the whole dies, no single organ can survive alone."

Last edited by BlackApostleVilhelm; 05-21-11 at 06:17 PM.
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