# Blood for the ... [1000 words-ish)



## increaso (Jun 5, 2010)

Originally posted http://www.thebolthole.org/viewtopic.php?f=36&t=1024 and pales in comparison to the talent there. I hope you enjoy it and I am thankful for any feedback.


*Blood for the ...*

Walach was hung like a piece of meat in the cramped cellar of the keep. Hooks tore through his ankles and held him with feet to the ceiling and head hovering few inches above the floor. His wrists were bound by steel cuffs and his chainmail and plate had been stripped, leaving his muscular yet slender body naked to the air.

His unwitting captor stood before him; the dim light hid all but his broad mass and the glistening double-headed axe in his hands. He was a butcher and ordinarily meat is the currency of a butcher, but he was not interested in cattle or pigs; he was a butcher of men and was not often inclined to take prisoners. Walach didn’t know his captor’s real name, but he knew his titles: The Apollyon; The Destroyer; The Butcher of the Blood God. 

The deep stone structure of the keep blocked out much of the noise from outside of the cellar, but occasionally, from above, there came the dulled sound of cheers and the stomping feet of untamed warriors celebrating their victory. Even so, Walach could hear the butcher’s deep breathes and imagined that that he was perhaps trying to slow his heart and subdue his rage. Walach was pleased that he had piqued this warlord’s curiosity such that he was acting against his feral nature.

When the butcher spoke, each word choked slowly out from a throat accustomed to screaming and roaring in fury. ‘You know why you have been spared?’

In the dark, a smile crept onto Walach’s face and he quickly withdrew it. He was not yet ready to reveal the game. ‘Spared?’ he spat. ‘You did not spare me; in truth you simply cannot kill me, you have neither the intelligence nor the means’.

‘This’, the Butcher slammed the head of his axe against the ground, ‘is Bloodspiller. It was crafted in Khorne’s own forge and it is made for death. I cut you with this and the wound will not heal. Now tell me stranger’, the butcher’s voice raised to a roar, ‘who you are and why are you not dead?’

Walach glared at the Butcher, his eyes locked in contact for several seconds, before he responded. ‘Who I am is not important and I am not dead, because I cannot be killed’.

‘Do not play games with me’. Walach saw the Butcher’s breathing quicken and his fingers flex on the hilt of his axe as his temper soared. ‘Tell me why you are here and tell me quickly.’ the Butcher said.

Walach realised that this Bloodspiller could change the rules of his game and he determined that he would need to give some level of truth to the Butcher if he were to get his reward. 

‘You have seen my hauberk and the beasts engraved on its surface. I am a Knight of the Draco and I have come seeking you’.

‘For what purpose?’

‘I search for a worthy opponent and for something else ...’. Walach let his words hang in the air.

The Butcher grinned and walked up closer to Walach. ‘You think I am fickle; that I will be swayed by your misguided concept of honour. You are sadly mistaken stranger’.

The Butcher took one step back and dropped the Bloodspiller. A moment later he lunged forward repeatedly throwing his fists into Walachs ribs; each hit accentuated by a crack. Walach gritted his teeth as he felt each of these powerful impacts that would have killed an ordinary man. 

After a few minutes the Butcher stopped, his gasping heavy breathes indicating that he had worked himself to exhaustion.

‘Is that all you’ve got?’ Walach looked up at him and chuckled. ‘Shouldn’t I be the one unable to breathe? You may feel pain, but you can’t hurt me’.

The Butcher turned and opened the door of cellar. ‘Insult me if you will, but I am not the one bound and beaten’.

Walach knew that if the Butcher left the cellar now he was unlikely to get what he had come for.

‘Butcher’, Walach shouted. ‘I came here seeking a worthy opponent and I found none. I found nothing but a coward’

The Butcher turned and with preternatural speed he charged into his prisoner, the full force of his body tearing Walach’s feet right off the hooks. As Walach fell to the ground, not a moment of respite was given; the Butcher raised his foot and stomped Walach’s face in to the dirty floor.

The Butcher gripped Walach’s arms and pulled him up so that his face – what was left of it – was raised in front of his own. Walach tried to speak, but his jaw was broken, and all that came out was a muffled groan. The Warlord laughed heartily having bested his foe. He wrapped his arms around Walach in a fierce hug, like a crude mockery of a mother embracing a child, crushing what was left of his torso. Walach’s head lopped so that they were each with mouth to ear and as the Butcher spoke he loosened his grip a little. ‘You have something to say?’

Walach uttered six words. ‘You shouldn’t have dropped your axe’.

Before the Butcher could react, Walach sank his teeth into his neck and drank the thick dark fluid that pulsed out from his attacker’s body. Each gulp filled him with fiery power that he has desired since the moment the winds of the north has whispered of this warrior. Walach felt his jaw click as it corrected itself; his ribs snapped back into place and he contorted in the Butcher’s grip as strength returned to his body and returned to his limbs. Walach wondered whether this blood, of the chosen of the Blood God no less, would be that which would end his blood urge.

The Butcher stumbled and fell back, his legs giving way to the weight of the leech attached to his throat. As the warlord fell Walach released his hold and leapt back whilst effortlessly shedding the steel bond from his wrists.

The Butcher fumbled for Bloodspiller, but on reaching for its hilt and gripping it firmly, he found that, no matter how hard he tried, he no longer had the power to lift it. 

Walach laughed long and hard.

‘You are pathetic’ he said. ‘You’re god demands that you spill blood’. Walach shook his head slowly. ‘What a waste. I will deny your god this one last indulgence by ensuring that not a single drop of your blood touches the ground’.

The Butcher climbed to his feet and raised both of his fists high in the air. ‘Blood for the Blood God’, he screamed in impotent rage.

Walach pounced and gripped his mouth to the Butcher’s throat. No, my foolish warrior, your blood is mine.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Hi*

Vampire meets Blood Warrior. Nice. I enjoyed it. The story flowed well and was pretty decently written too. Good post. :shok:


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Excellent work I say. An engaging story that's well-written and enjoyable to read. It has a good flow and the pace keeps the reader (myself :biggrin hooked. Keep up the good works bud!

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate

As a P.S. sidenote, your work does not pale in comparison bud. It IS excellent work. Aye, there are some damned fine writers there but you're not so bad yourself! :biggrin:


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## increaso (Jun 5, 2010)

Thank you for your feedback (and rep), much appreciated.


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