Warcry: The Hunt Pack

Bloodcurdling howls echo throughout the arena as the Huntmaster lets slip his dogs of war. Their quarry for this hunt is the bloodmarked Bronze Myrmidon Prefector Akkan and his blood-stained standard, the testament to battles fought and bouts won. Spectators cheer and yell as the pack of hounds catches the bloodscent of their prey and begin to encircle the warband of Myrmidons. Standing at the Prefector’s side are his Dominar, the Drillmaster and several Iron Legionaries. With shields up and weapons readied, the Myrmidons are ready to defend their standard to the last. In his guttural tones Ul’Karash marks the weakest of the Fleshhounds as the prey of the Bronze Myrmidons, if they can slay the hound before themselves being slain they advance to the next combat as victors.

Following orders from the Dominar, the Breacher and Armator flank the Hunt Pack, looking to take the hounds unaware and pull attention away from the Prefector. The hounds of Khorne rush forward at once looking to overwhelm the mortals, in response the Dominar orders his Legionaries forward to defend against the rush. Two of the Legionaries lock shields into a phalanx while the third prepares to fling his Bolas at the oncoming Fleshhounds. Although possessed of a bestial intelligence, the Hunt Pack alpha innately recognizes an equal in the Dominar. Whether by swaggering stance, barked orders or an aura of Khorne’s favor; the Gorehound knows that the alpha of this pack must die if his is to triumph.

Locking eyes with the approaching hound, the Dominar knows that this foe has been chosen for him by the Blood God. Building speed to engage with the alpha, the Dominar rushed forward to swing with his colossal hammer. Displaying a speed far greater than one would assume for a beast of its size, the Gorehound ducks below the swing and receives only a glancing blow. Locking its jaws around the Dominar’s leg the Gorehound sinks its teeth into the meaty part of the mortal’s leg, crunching the bones of his lower leg in the process. With the arterial blood flowing into its mouth the Gorehound begins to lose itself to instinct wildly swinging its head from side to side, dropping the Dominar to the ground in the process. Elsewhere on the arena floor, the Breacher and Armator rush forward to attract the attention of one of the loping hounds. Sensing the arrival of new prey, the Fleshhound launches itself at the approaching combatants headless of its packmates. Blocking the hound’s bite using his fist weapons the Breacher shoves the hound back and delivers a massive hammerfist blow to the creature’s head, temporarily stunning it with the force of the impact and allowing the Armator to land blows with his paired hammers. The hound stubborn refuses to die and clamps down on the Armator’s arm mid-swing.

Two Fleshhounds begin closing the distance on the Legionaries, the Drillmaster and their quarry with the bloodmarked weakling hanging back, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The Legionaries engage the charging hounds head on, blocking snapping jaws and delivering blunt force blows to the daemonic animals. Swinging her flail, the Drillmaster lands a blow on one of the Fleshhounds breaking the bones of its leg but failing to kill the enraged beast. One of the Legionaries, a fresh-faced recruit, fails to block a lunging strike from a Fleshhound and receives a crushing bite to the neck and collarbone, instantly killing him in a fountain of blood. With a goreslicked maw, the Fleshhound turns its attention to the banner-bearer only to find its path blocked by the Bolas-wielding Legionary.

Seeing the last of the two Fleshhounds engaged with the Prefector and Legionary, the Drillmaster begins whirling her chain to strike a killing blow on the weakling Fleshhound. As she prepares to unleash a whirlwind of blows against the hound, she is completely immolated with flames from the jaws of the Gorehound. With one massive paw on the Dominar’s chest and combustible saliva dripping from its mouth, the hound watches as the Drillmaster’s burning body crumples to the ground screaming in agony. Turning his attention back to the Dominar laying on the ground in front of him, the Gorehound clamps its jaws around the helmet of the Dominar and savagely tears his head off.

Seeing his Dominar and Drillmaster slain, the Prefector enters a rampage state and swings his banner at the Fleshhound in front of him, crushing the skull of the hound with a massive blow. The second Fleshhound rushes forward and leaps on the Bolas wielding Legionary’s back, delivering a bite to the back of the neck, killing the Legionary instantly. The Prefector, still in his enraged state, swings the weightly standard again catching the Fleshhound in the jaw and killing the beast in a bone shattering crunch. Finally, the two bloodmarked combatants face one another. The weakling Fleshhound attempts to leap onto the Prefector, but is met with the sharp point of the standard to its soft underbelly. The Prefector wrenches the standard free, hefts it over his head and with a bestial yell chops the standard down on the neck of the Fleshhound, with blood burbling yelps the Fleshhound dies, failing to draw even a drop of the Prefector’s blood. Seeing their bloodmarked pack mate die, the remaining Fleshhounds skulk away back to their place at the Huntmaster’s side. The arena erupts in cheers as the Prefector raises the bloody standard into the air. “Slaayyer!” “Slaayyer!” “Slaayyer!” the crowds chant as the Myrmidon bathes in their adoration. Ul’Karash raises his axe at the triumph of the Myrmidons, bellowing in the Dark Tongue of his kind. The blessings of Khorne infuse the broken, bloody bodies of the gladiators. Muscles reknit and corpses rise again, their unlikely victory allowing them to fight and to gain glory for Khorne another day.

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