45

45

Three sets of giant hooves stomped through the ground. Lumbering form of minotaurs yet they are easily twice to triple the size. Drakwald’s gigantic trees toppled, rocks flattened as they made their way directly south. Each shouldered monolithic stones with faint traces of magical engravings, a single eye between their massive branched like bramble horns. These Cygors trundled south, against the flow of the winds of magic, to the source of the golden light. Because for the first time of their tormented existence, they see.

___

Mannsleib floats above the cloudy sky. Its waxing gibbous glow faintly. For Morrsleib shows its half grin just beside and turning the silver glow into a pale sickly green. There is no sleep in Drakwald. Thunderous sounds of thousand minotaur hooves stampeded through the forest. Shuffling through the giant trees deep inside Drakwald. Taurox and his most powerful doombulls sprinting a distance ahead from the rest of his tribe. While Huntmarshall’s trap did not kill as many minotaurs as expected, many are still injured and sporting many burn wounds. At most a third is lagging behind due to serious injuries while most still managed to keep up despite their injuries.

“Remember the red and stupid gors that were easily baited before? What you will fight is the same.” Kal remembers what his mother said when he and Druig asked her for advice. And what he sees now clearly reminded him of back then. The strongest ones leave the rest behind, easily baited to leave the rest to be ambushed.

He gripped the new twisted spear his mother lent him. Its blade is red while the handle is bluish purple. Then Kal focuses on one of the dozens Doombull following Taurox. He felt a stinging pain on his hand, part of his stamina eaten by the spear, the blade glows bright red, winds of magic visibly sucked into a vortex at the base of the spear. He thrust. A flash of red lightning, the twisted blade flashed right into the Doombull’s heart. Punching through a clean hole and killing it in a single blow.

“Ha haha haha ha ha!” Kal loudly laughed and led his group of 30 tuskgor raiders away. Taurox roars and now chases after him. The Doombulls and the rest of the Slaughterhorn tribe follows.

“As for you, do not fight Taurox immediately. Instead, try to kill as many other minotaurs first. Let the Fiery Strength mutation I bestowed amplify your strength before fighting Taurox.” Druig stifle some of his disappointment that he is not immediately fight the strongest enemy. But seeing Taurox personally, he clearly felt his strength to be lacking. Gripping the new battleaxe his mother lent him, he undoed the camouflage of his Illusory Feathers. He roars and charges to the middle group of the minotaurs that only have slight injuries. The bulk of the Golden Herd warherd followed behind him while Wolfe and the rest of the werewolves picked the rest of the seriously injured group. Druig cleaved a minotaur straight in the middle. Feeling himself reinvigorated both by his mutation and the battleaxe. His strength increases with each kill and the battleaxe ensures his stamina is inexhaustible with each killing blow.

Both Kal and Druig are only lightly advised and given a clear warning on trying to fight Taurox by their mother. With Druig is the only one that could try to fight Taurox one by one, both decided that this is the best strategy. Kal bait and lure Taurox away. He and his group of tuskgor riders will continue to throw spears and kill the other Doombulls one by one. Druig meanwhile tries to score as many kills to have his mutation going before confronting Taurox.

Chaotic chorus of roars and clashing steel resound throughout the deep forest. The Slaughterhorn minotaurs and the Golden Herd caprigors stood at equal height and fought with equal strength. Outnumbered three to one yet they still fought into a standstill. The golden caprigors many mutations only serves as equalizer. Only Druig and the few dozen golden minotaurs stood taller than the rest and they slowly overpower the rest.

A relatively weak roar broke me from my thoughts. The totems Lak and Mal placed around the Herdstone start glowing, buffing everyone with minor versions of my strength and endurance spell. Another 50% flat increase from my newly created horn artifact. “Walk Between Worlds.” I cast the high magic spell I saw from Miriel back in the Tower of Hoeth. The magic flowing from my Herdstone skipped my need to channel magic and allowed me to cast it instantly.

Like before the world is in slow motion while for us everything is normal. I focus my attention, looking for anyone that shows any sign of power above the rest. I watched in confusion as my lesser daemons and female beastmen slaughtered them. There is no Bray Shaman, no Bestigors, no minotaurs. Most are just small ungors, there’s nothing good amongst them other than just numbers.

“These are the distractions.” I realized and burst up with my wings. Flying east to Kal and Druig as fast as I can.

___

Malagor is ecstatic. The Four Gods all have their attention on him and this battle. And though Morrsleib is not in full, there is no better time for his ritual than now. He took the skull of a priestess of Morr, the God of death. He offered it to Nurgle, who took the priestess' soul, then giving Malagor a special spell as a gift.

He immediately casts it, and the minotaurs of the Slaughterhorn tribe that have been killed start rising one by one. The one that took a killing blow, immediately started rotting, but the flesh mended, and they continued fighting.

Then he took the skulls of a war priest of Sigmar and Ulric, two Gods of war. Offering it to Khorne, to appease his wrath for he has tainted an otherwise good battle with magic. The knowledge that he is not smited today is all he gets.

Next are the skulls of priests of Myrmidia, Verena, and Shallya, the Goddess of strategy, the Goddess of wisdom, and the Goddess of mercy respectively. Offering it to Tzeentch for a spell each. He kept them for his eventual fight with the Golden Daemon.

Finally he took out the skull of the priestess of Rhya, the Goddess of fertility. Offering it to Slaanesh. Instead he gets a curse, The Prince of Excess offended by the paltry offering compared to the others. Then he screamed in pain. An eye, an ear, a horn, a wing, a lung, his dick. Six body parts torn out, forced to live with the pain.

The attention of the Four receded, the laugh of Khorne at his suffering lingered the most, and Malagor cursed. If only he still had the skulls of the priests of Manaan and Taal that he just used. He powers through the pain, piling another hate to the over blessed Golden Daemon as he is determined to kill and collect her skull.