Lone Wolf

The hounds howled into the night, their cries heard long and far away. It was a beautiful night, not that Moira the Unrelenting, Spear of Fenris, She-Wolf of Crag Mourning and Guardian of the Gate of Blades cared. It was just another night, the icy chill did not bother her, the majestic full moon did not interest her. For a fleeting moment she was reminded of home, of cold and unforgiving Fenris. She instantly quashed the thought with a burning hatred of the foe. Her pack had been slain and she had been left alive. She drew from that shameful notion, using it to fuel her fury and dark brooding thoughts. She had pondered the battle as she waited, going over it with perfect clarity, her enhanced mind allowing her to not forget a single detail of what happened just a few days ago, a decade or even a century for that matter.

She forced herself to think back to what had happened, she forced herself to once more relive the death of her Pack.

+ + +

They had all barked with laughter as they saw the Blood Claws race ahead to get to grips with the foe, some of them would survive and learn a valuable lesson. Moira and her pack were positioned on a hill, tasked with holding the right flank. Casting a shadow over them was venerable Father Sven Wolfclaw, an ancient Sky Warrior encased in the sarcophagus of imposing dreadnought armour. He impatiently flexed his great claw, his booming voice betraying his eagerness to fight.

'It brings back memories, to be young and stupid again!'

They all shared the sentiment, wishing they could join in with the foolhardy rush. But, experience had taught them that patience and standing fast were just as important. Without warning Father Sven opened fire with his assault cannon, firing a long burst into the approaching foe. The first few ranks were easily scythed down, but as was always so with the Star Beasts, more would always step forward to replace their casualties. He fired several more long bursts, foregoing the prescribed bursts of fire in favour of sating his urge to inflict death and mutilation upon the enemy. He had slept for too long and ached to show the pups that he could still kill like the best of them. After a prolonged burst the weapon fell silent, it's red-hot barrels still whirring.

'Ready pup.'

Moira looked at fellow pack member Wulfgart, ignoring the degrading name he always called her by. She racked the slide on her bolter, not bothering to check the chain sword at her side. She knew it was there, ready to be called upon when the time came. But for now, there was shooting to be done.

'No worries newborn, I'll be sure to leave some for you to play with.'

Wulfgart barked a laugh at her remark, clapping her on the shoulder. He too racked the slide of his bolter, looking to the approaching horde with an eager gleam in his eye.

'Let them come. Let them come! Come Star Beasts! Come and show us what you are made of! All-Father and Mighty Wolf Lord, watch us reap a fearsome tally today!'

Moira ignored the shouted taunts and oath of her pack member, instead she was sighting one of the larger beast amidst the sea of smaller, pulling the trigger after some adjusting. Her bolt hit it straight in the armoured crown, the beast going down, the corpse lost amidst the living sea of chitin and claws.

'First blood to Moira!' roared Jorgen as he opened up with his own bolter, the rest following suit. The roar of their bolters blocked out the screeching of the beasts, filling Moira with a wonderful sense that she always felt when vanquishing the foe with her bolter. She used to think that killing with chain blade, fist and tooth was satisfying, until she received her bolter, a venerable piece of wargear that had been crafted just for her. The body proudly displayed the name of her former tribe along with a rune of true marksmanship, which had yet to let her down. Her pack mates often boasted that were the chapter to hold bouts of marksmanship instead of brute force then Moira would certainly receive much acclaim. She received the honourary title "Spear of Fenris" for felling an enemy traitor commander with a single bolt from extreme distance. But while marksmanship was fine when fighting against organized foes, the approaching horde demanded a less strict approach. Moira joined the rest of her pack as she too fired full-auto from the hip, calmly spraying clip after clip into the horde, relishing the twin-thunderclap of each round that she fired. For almost ten minutes they held back the Star Beasts on their side through sheer fire alone. But they were closing in, inch by inch, slowly gaining a foothold to the hill.

With a howl of joy Moira emptied her bolter into the horde for the last time, her other hand already pulling her chain blade free from her belt. She was certain that the rest of her pack were doing the same right now, going for blade and pistol, the one thing all Wolves excelled at. A lesser Star Beast reared its head at her, bringing four talon-like arms up to strike her. With a roar it revved into life and in a wide arc it hacked through her opponent.

She had the weapon for most of her life and like her bolter it was something special, something personal and tied to her past as a mere mortal. Its teeth fashioned from the teeth of the Kraken she had slain as a mere girl, granting her not just a fine trophy, but also the rare honour of being visited by the Sky Warriors. She was almost dead then, but she clung to life tenaciously, she remembered it all too well as she lay there on the deck of her tribe's longboat. Her father had knelt down besides her, a fierce pride in his eyes that made her smile despite her grievous wounds. The tribe parted as heavy footfalls resounded over the deck. For a moment Moira thought that the Great Wolf had come to claim her soul for the Underworld. Instead she was confronted with the ancient and scarred face of a Sky Warrior, who held a strange magical device over her for a moment. He seemed to nod and turned to her father, proclaiming that she would be taken by the Sky Warriors and the All-Father. She was taken to Asaheim, realm of the Gods and there, she was turned into a Sky Warrior herself. Upon surviving the ordeals and receiving a suit of armour she was presented with the chain sword, a gift from the Rune Priest she had impressed when she had slain the Kraken. Many lives had been taken with it and as Moira lunged into the horde with reckless abandon she knew many more would be taken before she was to be claimed by the Great Wolf.

The hill turned into a scene from a slaughterhouse as the pack, assisted by Father Sven, carved their way through the horde. Their initial reaction was to charge in, but they soon stood shoulder to shoulder, hacking and blasting away at the hated foe. Brother Sven anchored their defence on the right, his massive Wolves Claw with built in flamer reaping a fearsome toll on the foe. But as the Star Beast had oft shown, it had a feral cunning that could surprise any warrior.

The ground heaved beneath her feet for a moment before crumbling, taking Moira down into the hole. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, wasting no time in showing the treacherous beast the error of its devious ways as she punched the thorax and head until her fists punctured the chitin and pulled out vile organs. Desperately she tried to climb back out of the hole, unable to get a good purchase. Up top she heard a loud explosion, followed by anguished howls from her pack. She let out an anguished howl of her own, fearing for the worst.

Howls could be heard over the cacophony of the Star Beasts, a moment later followed by the crack of bolt pistols and the whine of chain swords hacking into chitin. The surviving Blood Claws set on the horde like possessed of old legend, hacking and slashing a path to the fallen squad. But it was too late, venerable Father Sven had been destroyed, swarmed by the smaller beasts who hack at anything they could damage. Whether they hit something vital or Sven detonated himself was unknown. The rest of the pack lay where they had fallen, enemy dead laying in piles three high around them. After some shouts the Blood Claws found the hole into which Moira had fallen, working together quickly to get her out. Their feral grins and proud looks quickly vanished as they saw Moira's reaction to the fate of her pack.

She stood alone amongst the remains of her pack, fury bubbling inside her. Fury at what the foe had done. Fury at the loss of a venerable ancient. Fury at her own stupidity that led to her survival. She let out an anguished cry to the heavens, swearing a fiery oath of vengeance as others of the Great Company came close to see what had happened. They all solemnly parted as she made her way to the rear, seeking out her Wolf Lord and the Rune Priest.

'Another who has sworn the oath,' the Rune Priest let out a weary sigh. 'This campaign has been anything but glorious so far for many of us. The young reap a fine tally, but the enemy reaps a bloody tally of us as well. It is a shame, the All-Father always looked upon you with great favour and pride. Yet I will not deny you that what is your right. We are done here, did all we could for this world, we are needed elsewhere soon.'

Moira said nothing, vengeance was on her mind, the thought of gaining glory in future campaign lost on her. She looked the Rune Priest in the eye.

'I have always respected your visions and your castings, but this is something I must do, for good or ill. My pack demands justice. I need this as well. I must redeem myself.'

'So be it Moira the Relentless,' He said with a proud voice, jangling a small, age worn satchel that always hangs on his belt. 'Before you go, doomed one, let me cast the runes and see what has been foretold.'

Moira bowed her head, she would not ignore whatever portent the All-Father might show her. The rune priest scattered the runes, quietly reading their portents. After a while he gave her an encouraging nod.

'There will be others out there with the same goal as you, seek them out. With them you will give voice to the cries for vengeance of the fallen. With them you will bring glory to the All-Father and the Pack, or you will perish.'

+ + +

The hounds stopped howling, something was wrong. Moira sensed as much, there was something in the air. She got to her feet, her left hand unhitching the chain blade from her belt, the other checking the action of her bolter. There was something out there, faint and unseen, but it was there. She stepped out into the open, watching the two large hounds slink back into the cave with tails between their legs.

'Show yourself,' she growled angrily, her agitation growing at the cowardly hiding of the foe. There was a soft hiss coming from behind her, making Moira tighten her grip on her weapons with a feral grin. 'Sneaky bastard.' She whirled round, her bolter spitting death. But as expected nothing was there. She heard something behind her again and as she turned she caught a glimmer of her foe. Stalker beast. Spook. Lictor. Despite her earlier brooding she was in her element now, relishing the situation she was in, regardless of who was the hunter and who the hunted. She grabbed a flash grenade, lobbing it in the direction it went, hoping that the supposed trick that Wolf Scout Eingar taught her would work. She shielded her eyes as the device went off, turning night to day for the briefest of moments with the searing light of a supernova.

As she blinked away the after image she could see her foe now, its chameleonic scales overloaded by the sudden sensory overload. It was a strange creature, looking not much like the other Star Beast, but on the other hand sharing many of their traits. It had six limbs, only the second pair of arms were massive claws mounted high on its carapace. The head was different as well. It did not have any visible fangs, or even a mouth for that matter. Instead it had numerous tendrils or tentacles of sorts, each moving on own accord. It was an ugly monster, Moira could understand why the locals and Guard were so awed and afraid of this beast. Instead of fear, something alien and unknown to her, she barked a laugh in praise of Eingar, raising her bolter.

She wanted a fight, deciding to wound the beast. Moira aimed, blowing away part of the hoof on the left leg, making it stumble. It let out an angry hiss, turning to face her for the first time. There was a sickening crunching sound coming from the chest of the thing, followed a split second later by a pair of hooks shooting from it attached to long tendrils of muscle. Moira dove aside, rattling off a burst with her bolter that took the beast in the chest and shoulder, the strange claw almost completely blown off. It was angry now, or agitated, as it roared loudly, possibly to warn or alert more Star Beast. Despite herself she smiled a feral grin. Her blood was boiling and both her hearts sang. She cast her bolter aside, breaking into a run with her blade in both hands, its teeth running at the highest speed. With a howl she jumped at the Stalker beast, narrowly dodging the remaining stalk. The beast tried to grab her but she pressed on, fending off its claws with her own weapon, sheering off a few digits in the process. It was truly a foul creature, its vile tentacles trying to envelop her face as a last ditch attack. Moira gave it no such chance as she brought her chain blade up, the weapon meeting little resistance as it went through the chitin and the neck. Disgusting ichors sprayed everywhere, turning the surrounding snow and Moira a sickening purple.

She paid no heed to the disgusting mess as she snatched up the severed head, thrust both arms into the air and threw back her head, giving voice to a wolf howl that resounded through the night. The hounds joined her howl, having sensed that the danger had passed. It was not just in celebration of her kill, but also a shout to others like her, telling them where she was. Lastly, it was a warning to the foe and a challenge..

Come and get me.