Holmgang - Part II

Part II


Arnskar was off to see the Allfather. Watching one of his pack mates die was a bittersweet moment for Goddvar. One less warrior to get in his way on the path to glory, but one less brother to share mjod with back in the hall. Goddvar grabbed Arnskar's bolt pistol and Raerek loaded up on spare grenades. They vowed to avenge his death. 

Goddvar and Raerek stalked down the battle worn corridors that served as the underground complex to the rebels. Goddvar only stopped when he caught the scent of his pack mates in the distance and heard the distinct clack of bolter fire. Their pace quickened as the scent turned from anger to the smell of fear, their armored boots thundering loudly against the metallic floor. 

As the sounds of bolter fire intensified, the pair could make out howls and shouts. Some sounded like war cries, while others mullings of pain. The two Astartes moved effortlessly through the dimly lit hallway, vaulting over obstacles with ease, as adrenaline pumped through their body at in human levels. As they sprinted they checked their ammunition, grenades, and power pack in their chain weapons. Witchsplitter, Goddvar's chainaxe, hummed almost happily in his armored grip. The chainaxe was an unusual weapon of choice for a new recruit. Legend says, the relic of the Vlka Fenryka's past, it chooses the warrior who will wield it in battle. He could almost feel the machine spirit inside, he felt its desires. He understood all too well what that feeling was. It was a thirst for battle. A final glance between them ended with a nod and then they were around another corner facing a horrid scene. 

The pack huddled against the sparse cover at the base of an upward ramp. He spotted Skon attending to Odir who's left arm was missing from the elbow down. Bornir fired with dual bolt pistols towards a sight that made Goddvar's blood boil. Traitor Astartes, the arch traitor, and as his infused mind recalled information crammed into him at his creation, they were the Alpha legion. 

Within seconds of coming to this head, Raerek charged forward with a fearsome growl, Goddvar was at his heels firing wildly into the mass of cultist and traitor marines at the top of the ramp. One bolt round caught a rebel guardsman in the shoulder, spraying shards of bone and gore on the Alpha legionnaire behind him before he slumped to the ground and proceeded to slid down the ramp on his own ooze. 

"Thirteen!" Goddvar shouted not caring if anyone heard him or not. He squeezed off more rounds towards the enemy before rolling into cover next to Skon. He studied Odir intently. His super human body had already stopped the bleeding and sealed the wound. However, even Astartes suffered from the loss of a limb. If he survived, he would be gifted by the Iron Priest with a new, mechanical arm, so that he can continue to serve the chapter. Skon tried to keep the warrior down as Odir tried to rise. 

"Stay down damn you, you will only get yourself killed, Odir, " Skon snarled. 

Goddvar had a different plan. He grabbed Odir under the left shoulder pad and hefted him up onto the ferrocrete barrier that served as their already fading cover and slapped a bolt pistol into his remaining hand. "You can't die if you are hiding like a woman!" 

Odir grinned back at Goddvar, in his deep voice that was typical of the mountain men on Fenris he added, " By Russ, good thing I have a spare." 

Skon scowled as he spun Goddvar around with a powerful grip. "You will never do that again, Crow!" His canines were showing in a growling expression as he called Goddvar by his old tribe's name. 

Goddvar said nothing, he knew what he had to do next. All his many months of trials and training, Skon had outshone him. Goddvar wanted to prove he was the best in the pack and worthy to lead them to future glories. He would write his name across the galaxy in the blood of the enemies of the Allfather and Russ. Starting here. 

Goddvar whirled around from Skon and leapt with his powerful legs over the cover protecting them. He let out a mighty howl and charged straight up the ramp at the enemies, dodging bolter and autogun fire. Not much room. Thought Goddvar as he did his best to avoid the all to lethal bolt rounds. Within seconds the pack behind him had raced forward in a fury of renewed excitement. Heedless of their personal safety they went into a berserker charge. Raerek sprinted to Goddvar's side, gushing out torrents of flames ahead of them. Two cultist were caught in the blast and rolled screaming down the ramp. Goddvar's jump carried him over one of them, through the dissipating fire cloud, and onto the landing above. To his amazement the Alpha legionnaires were falling back into a widening room which appeared to be some sort of warehouse. 

Without thinking, his instincts took him diving for cover as he spotted a heavy bolter open fire on his position. Bolt rounds traced the ceiling millimeters from where he just was a moment ago. The rest of the pack piled into cover around the bulkhead that served the warehouse room. One of the Blood Claws, Logar, pointed out across the large room with a wide eyed stare. Glancing around the open blast door, Goddvar caught a glimpse of madness. There in the far eastern corner was a heretical ritual being performed. Slaves were being tossed into some kind of swirling vortex of violet tinted energy. All while out of a similar storm, came a fresh new wave of Alpha Legionnaires. 

"Sorcery!" Cursed Thjard as he made a sign for aversion against magic across his chest. 

Eyeing Skon, Goddvar knew he must act quickly before he took the glory from him. Witchsplitter screamed to life with a whine of its motor. The chainblade flicked still wet gore in every direction. Every fiber in his body tightened in anticipation. For he had little chance to make it through that door, but he knew that a glorious death awaited him. Just before he surged forward, a powerful hand pulled him backwards. Goddvar was face to face with Freki Bloodpack, the old Wolf Priest whom, up until now, had all but disappeared. 

"Do not be a fool pup, you will get your chance to die soon enough. " Freki's voice was harsh and purposeful. His black clad hand pointed towards the reforming line of Alpha Legionnaires. In that instance, the powerful energy portal surged to life and spewed forth hideously gruesome creatures. Their long black horns gleamed as brightly as their molten swords. Goddvar sensed everyone's shock. Even the old priest had a scent of uncertainty about him. 

"Maleficarum..." Freki's voice trailed off into a chant in high gothic, the language spoken in the Dark Age. One second later, the priest was bolting into the warehouse, fire erupting from the heretic's cover. Bolt shells and plasma blast ricocheted off his conversion field producing blinding flashes of light. The daemons charged forward, barreling towards Freki. 

This was his moment to shine. Goddvar raced to Freki, not stopping until he right in the path of one of the charging warp beast. Its sinister sword came up to crash down on Goddvar's head, but he was too fast. A slight step to the side sent the beast almost doubling over with its momentum. Goddvar made him pay for the mistake by burying Witchsplitter in the back of its head. The daemon burst into a shower of blood. It smelled fouler than anything Goddvar had smelled before. 

The rest of the pack was in the melee now, growls and snarls could be heard over the hisses and curses of the charging cultist. Following them were the Alpha Legionnaires, who would soon find out that it is unwise to charge the Vlka Fenryka. All around him, the sounds of battle were drowned out only by his own blood thirsty thoughts. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.. Twenty! He counted in his head as he tore through the meager force of cultist. Witchsplitter found its mark on several traitor marines as well, splitting heads, rending opening chest, and cleaving limbs from broken bodies. Blood and gore splashed all over Goddvar, from head to toe. The more he fought, the easier it became for him to just keep going. Something deep inside him began to creep its way out. Like an internal engine that existed solely for war. He had been bred for this, no, born for this! He was an Astartes and he knew only one thing. He knew war. 

Bornir was choking a cultist in one hand and punching through the chest of a daemon with the other. He then threw the cultist into a charging Alpha Legionnaire, stunning him before Bornir was leaping on top of him. The two grappled briefly, Bornir drove his combat knife into his foes head through the soft tissue under his chin. The traitor convulsed for a few seconds then laid motionless. As Bornir rose, one of the maleficarum appeared behind him, sword raised. 

"Bornir!" Goddvar shouted as he instinctively catapulted his axe through the air. With perfect aim and speed, the relic chainaxe hit home square in the back of the daemon. The daemon dropped its sword and screamed into the air. Bornir, regaining his composure, wheeled around and sent fist and knife in a flurry of powerful blows into the creature's chest. It too exploded into a fountain of blood as it died. 

"I owe you. "The soft spoken Bornir said as he tossed the axe back to Goddvar. 

Goddvar shook his head and lunged back into the fight. Freki, Skon, Kori and were contending with the last Alpha Legionnaires who had backed themselves into a corner. Like caged animals the legionnaires charged forward. The first one to strike was Kori with his bolt pistol. The round nailed its target in the left shoulder, which was followed up with a chainsword driven into the traitors chest. Skon, with calculated ease, dodge the initial attacks from his foe. He waited for an opening and struck like lightning, driving his powersword under the left arm and out the right side of its neck. The slick black blood boiled off the crackling energy field surrounding the power weapon. 

The old priest struggled against his better equipped foe. The chaos champion assaulted Freki with two crackling powerswords. Their short blades gave him speed and agility versus the Wolf Priest's battle hardened fighting style. The priest dodged, ducked, and rolled away from the onslaught. For what seemed like an eternity, the Alpha Legionnaire drove him back, while his pack mates contended with the daemons still pouring through the portal. 

Goddvar rushed to help Freki, but a daemon's sudden appearance in his path stopped him. Witchsplitter once more whined to life and bit deep into the beast's sternum. Both hands ensured it severed the top half of the daemon off. Finishing it off, another appeared in his way. Goddvar disposed of it too. To his right he saw Ingil get gutted by three daemons overwhelming him and winced as he saw Odir surrounded, his one good hand still fingering the trigger of his bolt pistol. 

Nothing else mattered except Goddvar's need to kill. The force inside him that he felt before once again gave him strength. His super human senses sharpened and suddenly time seemed to slow down. In that same moment, he heard a cry of pain. A sharp spin to his left and he caught a view of the tragedy. One blade stuck through the chest of Freki Bloodpack and the champion brought back his other blade for the finishing blow. In the next instant, Freki's head was severed from his body. The bloody lump of bone and flesh clattered across the ground, leaving a blood soaked trail. The Alpha Legion champion ripped out his other blade from the corpse and with a powerful kick, sent it reeling backwards. 

The best and most experienced of them had just fallen almost effortlessly to this foul champion of all that is chaos. Goddvar's temper flared, his canines flashed a fierce snarl, and he lost control as he and Witchsplitter recklessly charged into the battle. As he charged he cried out in an unintelligible blabber that frightened even the champion. The beast was released.