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Message: <blockquote data-quote="skullsmurfer" data-source="post: 2458187" data-attributes="member: 17151">►2    The little ones cheered at every blow their leader sent his way.  The ranger had his hands full trying to avoid a knife to the back while fighting the big no-man.  The little ones are craven, he's decided to cut off their feet so that their spirits can never make the journey to the halls of their Gods.  The orc tried to skewer him with a spearing thrust.  Ogrod slashed across his chest with his iron knife, but he missed scalping him with his hatchet.  The no-man actually dared to laugh at him.  The ranger avoided another cleaving swing of the no-man's weapon.  Rather than jump back, he stepped to the side and drove his fist into the brute's face.  The orc's helmet flew off, the green skin audience went suddenly silent.        “I kill you!” The orc growled in a clipped version of his people's tongue.  It is yet another insult to avenge.    Ogrod heard the flapping of wings over the constant howl of winter's wind.  First the Bear, now the Raven.  An arrow pierced his back.  Damned green skins.  The ranger roared and redoubled his efforts to slay the big no-man.  The pain faded to a dull ache.  His father once told him that the Bear's gift will consume a man if he is not careful.  Ogrod has just started to fight, he really doesn't think that he could win without the Bear.  With that thought, a wall gave way inside his mind.  Foam dripped from the edges of his mouth.  The no-men are about to meet their end.    The orc was surprised.  The ranger came at him again and again.  Each time it was harder to avoid taking a wound.  The wild man didn't seem to feel pain.  There was no fear in his terrible eyes.  Every time the man struck, he roared.        “Die!”  The no-man screamed.  The invader's weapon blurred as it arced towards the ranger.    His cleaver never hit.  Ogrod's iron knife pierced his heart at the same time that his hatchet clove the no-man's skull and shattered.  The ranger ripped the cleaver from the dying brute's hands and charged the flood of green skins coming his way.  He slew them in twos and threes.  He roared, freezing them in place just before their own master's cleaver sent them to their deaths.  Ogrod heard Raven's wings again.  The strange wolves have started to circle.  The ranger killed the last of the craven little beasts and chopped off his feet.  He looked to the wolves and realized that the fight isn't over.        “Raven!”  Ogrod hollered into the wind.  “Are you still there?”  A flapping of wings answered.  A blue black feather flew into his face.      The ranger took the feather and tucked it into his belt.  Rather than try and keep track of the wolves, he growled, meeting their eyes boldly as they circled.  A large silver backed male halted and growled back.  There is a chilling intelligence in it's gaze.  It barked, yowled, and yapped until the other three wolves backed away.  They speak!  Ogrod gritted his teeth with dismay.  Such creatures do not belong in the fields and forests of his people.    Ogrod met the wolf's eyes and growled again, confirming his challenge.  The beast moved faster than anything the ranger has ever seen.  One moment it was in not ten paces in front of him, the next it was standing on his chest.  The ranger did his best to avoid the scything fangs seeking after his throat.  It is heavy. He can barely move, but move he must.  The no-man's cleaver clanged against the wolf's head.  The blow bought him the chance to roll to his feet.  Ogrod grunted as he regained his feet, he almost died out of base stupidity.    The wolf wasted no time.  The beast used it's superior speed to harry the ranger.  Ogrod continued to leap out of the way, but he knows he can't last long that way.  He roared out of frustration.  The wolf is coming for another pass.  Ogrod decided to stop thinking.  The ranger lifted the foreign weapon and charged.  They crashed.  The ranger gave as good as he got.  They separated and crashed again and again.  Ogrod heard himself laughing.  The wolf is not so sure of it's teeth anymore.  It is bleeding from a number of telling wounds.  The ranger is barely standing, but his defiant gaze gives the beast reason to pause.  Ogrod grinned at the limping wolf.  It's going to die soon.  He dropped the heavy cleaver and drew his iron knife.    The wolves that are watching the fight started to bark.  Ogrod felt a chill now that he understood that they are actually speaking.  His opponent howled.  The ranger roared.  The wolf took a bounding leap and nearly took his face off with a bite.  Ogrod kicked at one of it's wounds as it tried to dash away.  His dagger missed, but he beast got the idea.  One of them is going to die.    The barking made his ears ring.  The wolf lunged, he punched it and tried to stick it.  Again, it dashed away.  Ogrod watched it come again.  He started to laugh.  The wolf tackled him and clamped onto his arm.  His iron knife found the beast's heart.  Ogrod felt hot blood pour over his chest.  He ripped his arm away from the wolf's slack jaws and drank.  The Bear is still with him.  He feels neither shame nor revulsion.  His hand tore through the wound and ripped the still warm organ out.  Ogrod gave thanks to the Gods and bit down on the wolf's heart.  He didn't taste the blood, neither did the meat pass through his mouth.  The offering pleases the Gods, the Bear spirit is stirring his blood once more.  A new strength is flowing through him.  Ogrod kicked the corpse away and rolled.  He gripped the cleaver and roared.  The wolves are coming all at once.</blockquote>

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