The Pedestrians of the Apocalypse


The march seemed to go on forever. The Troll Country was no playground, and danger lurked on every step. They had to be careful. The four of them were scouting ahead of the group, led by Zraanth. He was the only one skilled at hunting. Khastarax was all about combat, and he had spent most of his youth training and fighting, whileKillog and Ygrad sought to learn the mystical traditions of their people. Zraanth had experience in the wilds, but despite his skill as a hunter, nothing had prepared him for this situation. For now, he was not the hunter, but the prey.

By the time he heard the hooves, it was already too late. His brothers were drawing their weapons. Battlecries mixed with curses in the Kislevite tongue were heard. Those bastards had spotted them a while ago. They were excited. They thought they had an easy battle ahead of them. Which means they didn’t spot the rest of the lads. That should make them reckless. Even easier to kill.

The first rider jumped out of the trees with a scream. Khastarax’s greatsword came down like an executioner’s blade, slicing through the brigandine armor, and chopping the neck of both rider and steed before they even hit the ground. Five more came from behind him. Zraanth shot a desperate arrow, trying to hold them back, but missed. The riders fell hard on them, spears biting Kurgan flesh under the thick furs that covered it. But that was not enough to fell the four brothers. And that was the last mistake these Kislevites would ever make. The dense foliage provided no room to steer the horses. They would never have the chance to turn around for a second offensive.

Ygrad charged a confused rider, who was trying to steer his horse. He fell onto him like a madman, slashing the straps of his saddle and pulling him down to the ground. Killog followed, flashing his sword at another rider, but to no avail. Khastarax raced to join the fray, when an arrow flew over his shoulder, inches above. It landed on the side of a horse, raising it to its back legs. Its rider was surprised and fell off, giving Khastarax an easy kill. The riders were realizing the position they were in. This was no easy fight after all.

One of the riders turned to strike Killog. His spear dug itself deep into the ribs of his opponent, bringing him to his knees. His muffled cry of anguish was probably the only thing that could shake Ygrad’s attention from his prey. He raised his head, eyes burning with mad fury. Blood was running down his jaw and neck. Laughing hysterically, he charged the horseman, his blade sinking to the hilt in his gut.

The other two riders had managed to steer their horses while the chaots were engaged in combat with the rest of the scouts. They had no chance of beating them, and besides, they were not there for that. Spurring their horses, they rode past the four brothers.Khastarax swung his greatsword in a low sweep, chopping the hooves off one horse, but the other jumped over the blade. Ygrad finished off the unfortunate rider, as Killog got back on his feet. Only Zraanth gazed over the horizon at the fleeing Kislevite.

“Those were just scouts. And if that one got away, it means he’ll return with the rest of the army. We need to move. Fast”



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