The air was choked with smoke
and ash as the flames from the bonfire rose high into the night sky. Dozens of
shadowy figures wearing animal skulls on their heads danced and cavorted around
a hulking form chained to an iron post in the center of a deep pit. Thick, iron
manacles were clamped securely around the creature’s wrists and ankles and
bolted with heavy chains to the iron post behind it. The creature’s skin was
grey-green and it stretched over a nine foot frame of corded muscle. Two huge,
bony tusks almost nine inches in length gutted from beneath the creature’s
upper lip that pulled the creature’s mouth into a rictus snarl. The creature
had long black hair that hung loosely about its shoulders and his claws where
black talons. It had small, hard bony horns and protrusions starting from the
ridge of his nose and traveling up and along his eyebrows and terminating at
the temples in large, bony horns. The creature’s body boasted additional horns
and ridges along his arms, hands, elbows, shoulders, knees and down his spine.
The creature stood there silently, its muscles straining against its bonds and
from beneath its horned and ridged brow its baleful, blood red eyes glowed red
in the firelight as they stared at the dancers with undisguised hatred.
The glade was surrounded by the ancient trees of the High Forest as the
Hunter’s Moon sat high in the autumn sky and bathed the entire landscape in a
pale, luminescent glow. Several stone menhirs bore elven inscriptions and runes
that were covered over with symbols drawn with thick, black blood. These
menhirs along with other crude carvings of predatory beasts formed a circle
around the pit and bonfire. A stone altar rested atop a small rise that
overlooked the stone ring, the surface covered in dried blood.
The cultists beat hide bound drums in a frantic staccato rhythm that
echoed across the glade, the dancers and celebrants weaving and moving along to
the odd halting cadence. A male figure wearing a headpiece adorned with the
antlers of a great stag entered the clearing wearing the hide of a displacer
beast across his shoulders. His face was painted black and his hands were
covered in clawed gauntlets that gleamed in the firelight as he approached the
pit. In his wake trailed two more similarly dressed individuals, a man and a
woman who wore similar headdresses and red stoles. As the trio approached the
drums fell silent and the cultists quietly began to form ranks around the pit.
The man stopped short of the pit and gazed down at the hulking figure
within. He smiled a feral grin and spoke in a booming voice, deep and resonant.
“Brothers and Sisters, we are gathered here tonight in celebration of
our Lord’s holiest of holidays. The Hunter’s Moon rises high in the night sky,
signifying for the High Hunt to begin!” The man’s voice boomed across the
glade. “Each year we honor the Ravager by finding a suitable vessel to be our
sacrament to his most holy of rites!” The speaker continued, “Behold! Our
brothers and sisters have brought us a very rare treat indeed this year. A
horned troll! This vicious and cunning specimen will provide our congregation
with much enjoyment!” The two acolytes that accompanied the man bowed and
nodded appreciatively at the speaker.
The speaker turned from his congregation and once again faced the troll
in the pit. “Beast, do you understand the tongue of man?” he asked.
The troll stood to his full height and stared silently back at the man.
The man continued “Beast, know that you are the chosen quarry for the
High Hunt, our Lord Malar’s holiest of holidays. You shall be released and you
shall be hunted for a day and a night until the moon meets its zenith tomorrow.
If you survive and evade the High Hunt, you shall be given a boon.”
The troll finally broke his silence and in a voice like rumbling thunder
asked “What is your name human?”
The man puffed out his chest and declared proudly “I am Huntmaster
Gaeros Valkith, Beastmaster of the High Forest and Lord of this High Hunt. I am
the Lord of the…”
“That’s nice” the troll interrupted with his rumbling voice, “I just
needed to know who I am going to kill first once released.”
There was a shocked silence from the gathered group until the Huntmaster
began to chuckle. The chuckle then became a raucous laugh as Gaeros howled “You
think you can kill me?” He flung his arms wide and spun to face the gathered
group, “He thinks he can kill me folks! What do you think about that?”
The amassed group began to howl with laughter as Gaeros turned back to
the troll and took a step forward, “You want to face me eh? You think you can
slay Gaeros Valkith?”
The troll said nothing and just stared at Gaeros.
Gaeros turned to one of his acolytes, “clear the circle then release the
Beast.”
The cultists withdrew from the glade and formed a ring around the perimeter
as two of the acolytes moved to the pins on either side of the iron post and
began to unbind the troll. As soon as the first pin had been pulled from the
trolls binding, he surged forward in a lighting quick rush toward Gaeros. Black
talons ripped through the flesh of the Huntmaster’s torso and hurled him
backwards several feet as the troll launched his first attack. Gaeros landed
with a heavy thud and laid still. The troll looked triumphant as he met the
gazes of the cultists at the forest edge, challenging them to act.
The look of triumph faded from the trolls face as the Huntmaster slowly
rose to his feet and faced him. The jagged wounds the troll’s talons had caused
were quickly closing and Gaeros stretched his shoulders and neck before asking
the troll “Is that all you’ve got?” Gaeros then finishing stretching his neck
then settled his feet before launching into his own attack. The troll reacted
quickly and smashed his left fist into the Huntmaster’s face while his right
hand eviscerated the Huntmaster’s midsection. The Huntmaster once again fell to
the ground and the troll gave him a vicious kick to the ribs which sent the
Huntmaster’s sprawling some several feet away. Wary, the troll circled his
fallen opponent ready to attack again at any moment. The troll watched as his
opponents wounds began to rapidly close and a smug look appeared on Gaeros’s
face as he hefted himself to his feet and the Huntmaster said “I tire of this
charade. I think it is time for you to know what you are truly up against.
Behold the gift of the Beastlord!”
Before the troll could attack a piercing howl erupted around the
perimeter of the glade as one after another the cultists threw off their robes
and their bodies began to twist and grow into nightmarish shapes of beast and
man. Gaeros’s once again began to laugh, his body swelling and growing larger
than the troll. The Huntmaster’s face elongated as his features began to take
on an ursine cast. After a moment the Huntmaster had taken the form of a
massive werebear and was looming over the troll. The werebear lunged and scored
the troll’s chest sending blackish blood spraying across the glade.
“So tell me great warrior” the were-bear growled. “What is your name? I
would like to know whom I am killing this night!” The werebear then swiped two
more deep gashes into the troll’s chest before its massive paw of a foot kicked
the troll with a crunching snap across the glade, slamming him into a stone
menhir. The world spun for a moment as the troll attempted to get his bearings;
the wounds in his torso were slowly mending as he rocked to his feet
unsteadily. The troll staggered and fell against one of the carved stone
statues of a snarling werewolf. When the troll leaned on it to gain his
balance, the statue moved slightly. Again, the deep mocking laughter echoed
behind as the troll turned to face his ursine opponent.
“Our little friend here looks winded already!” called Gaeros to his
assembled flock. “Here I thought a horned troll would be a challenging opponent
for our congregation but it appears as if I was wrong.” Gaeros’s comments
elicited a chorus of laughter from the assembled congregation. White hot fury
boiled up within the troll lending his limbs strength as he grabbed the stone
wolf statue and in one complete motion hurled the block of carved stone dozens
of feet across the glade. The statue slammed into the broad chest of Gaeros and
crushed him to the earth. Not waiting for his opponent to once again rise, the
troll tore off running through the glade towards the moon.
It took a moment for the action to register with the werewolf cultists
then as one the pack loped from the woods and began to converge on the fleeing
troll. Fueled by his growing rage the troll lashed out with his claws and
gutted one werewolf while smashing another with this fist as it got to close.
Blood, fur and teeth flew as the troll fought his way through the converging
pack of werebeasts. After a few moments the troll realized he was being
corralled and the werebeasts were pushing him towards the massive bonfire
roaring behind him.
A feral, guttural roar echoed from the far corner of the glade as the
broken stone statue was hurled off the raging form of Gaeros. The werebear’s
eyes shone with murderous intent as he fixed them upon the troll fighting his
pack. The troll looked at the werebear then at the bonfire. Deciding he did not
wish to battle the bear again, the troll ran and hurled himself directly into
the bonfire. There was a shocked silence from the pack as the lumbering form of
the troll disappeared into the flames. Seconds later a howl of agony filled the
glade as the burning form of the troll tumbled from the roaring conflagration
and ran directly into the woods beyond.
“After him!” roared Gaeros and as one the pack began to pursue their
quarry.
The troll crashed through the High Forest, his smoldering body trailing
smoke in his wake. The intense pain of the flames burning his skin was the only
thing keeping his anger in check lest he turn and engage his attackers. Limbs
tore at his face and skin as the troll barreled through the dark forest. The
troll ran for what felt like hours until the moon began its descent and he
burst out of the forest undergrowth and beyond the tree line. He could hear the
baying of wolves in the distance which prodded him to continue to run across
the open field. Within moments a manor house came into view, smoke drifted from
the chimney and a tall gate surrounded the estate.
The two human guards at the gate saw the smoldering troll rushing at
them and began to lower their halberds in defense. The troll let out a blood
curdling roar and he could see the look of determination falter on the guards
faces. The two guards dropped their weapons and ran panicking to the house
where they entered the manor and disappeared inside. The troll reached the gate
but was winded and began to falter, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The
troll forced open the gate and squeezed his tortured frame through it before
loping towards the manor house porch.
Moments later several shapes burst forth out of the forest undergrowth,
their howls piercing the night. The werebeasts saw the troll and charged across
the field, their red eyes glowing in the darkness. The troll forced the door to
the manor house open and squeezed his frame inside before slamming the door
closed behind him. He looked around to see the two guards, swords drawn
standing behind a table turned over on its side guarding several human females
and children behind it. The troll roared at the humans and they fled in terror
out the back door of the manor house. A fire burned in the hearth to the side
of the room and there was silverware and plates scattered all over the floor
from the hasty construction of a barrier using the table. The troll grabbed a
large wooden bench and braced it against the manor door. Seconds later the door
buckled as a werewolf hurled itself at the doors frame. The troll looked out
the window to see a dozen werebeasts circling the house intent on catching
their prey. The door buckled again and the troll held the bench in place
bracing it, moments later a furry form burst through one of the windows and
crashed into the room. The troll spun swinging the bench like a weapon and with
a resounding crack slammed the werewolf’s head against the wall leaving a
crimson smear. Another werewolf jumped through the window and landed on some of
the silverware on the floor. The werewolf let out a cry of pain as the silver
knives and forks on the ground seemed to burn his skin much like flame had the
trolls. Scooping up a silver knife, the troll grabbed the werewolf by the neck
and rammed the knife into its chest and tore open the creature’s torso in one
vicious swipe. The blood left on the knife blade began to bubble and burn as
more wolves began to circle the window opening.
Roaring in rage the troll hurled the eviscerated carcass through the
window and watched it land heavily in the yard. The werebeasts all gathered
around their fallen pack mate as the troll ran over to the fire and grabbed one
of the black cooking pots from the wall. The troll placed the cooking pot into
the fire and began to quickly grab all of the silverware lying on the floor.
Once the troll had two handfuls worth, he tossed them into the pot and watched
the silver begin to melt down. As he did this another werebeast crashed through
the front door and roared a challenge at the troll. Before the troll could
react, the creature hurled itself forward with its jaws snapping inches from
the troll’s throat. The troll’s hand closed around the creature’s neck when another
of the werebeasts ran into the room and tried to hamstring him before the troll
kicked the creature solidly in the ribs. The werebeast went crashing against
the wall as the troll snapped the neck of the beast he was grappling with.
After tossing the creature’s body out of the manor house, the troll hefted the
werewolf body that he had smashed with the bench and wedged it in the window to
prevent additional entrants.
The troll went to the bubbling pot of silver and then took a deep breath
and stuck his fingers into the molten, bubbling silver. A howl of pain tore
from the troll’s lips as searing agony shot through the troll’s hands. The
troll withdrew his hands and looked about, silver dripping down his clawed
fingers. He shoved his hands into a water barrel in the kitchen and the hiss of
steam erupted from the water’s surface. The pain and agony refused to subside
but when the troll withdrew his fingers from the water, all of his claws were
incased in a layer of silver. Through the haze of pain clouding his vision, the
troll looked out the window and grinned.
The troll flexed his hands, the action causing fresh waves of pain to
shoot through his hands and arms. From deep within the troll began a growl, his
anger at the night’s events cascading through his thoughts. Being drugged while
hunting and captured, the humiliation of being chained up like a wild animal,
the taunting from the werebear; all these thoughts burned through his mind. The
werebear made him feel something he had never encountered before, an emotion
that made him feel weak. The troll had run away, he had been … afraid. The
notion of fear was alien to him; being exposed to it and made to feel weak was
an anathema to who he was. The troll felt a spark of anger, of rage, ignite
within him. This spark was quickly fanned into a flame as the troll fed emotion
after emotion into it. The pain, the hate, the … fear, all of the emotions went
into feeding this flame. The anger made the troll’s exhaustion and pain
evaporate, fury fueling him in his call to action. With a roar so primal and
feral that every werebeast outside cowered, the troll burst through the manor’s
wall and unleashed a storm of violence against the unsuspecting pack.
The troll’s silver encased claws tore through beast after beast. Rending
and tearing, the troll’s fury was fueled on by his complete surrender to rage.
Howls of fear and screams of pain were a melody to the troll’s carnival of
violence as his silver encased claws tore a werebeast in half showering him in
a crimson spray of gore. The werebeast pack sensing the tables had turned began
an all-out attack on the troll. The hunt had changed from a leisurely kill to a
fight for survival, their survival. Claws raked the troll’s hide, blackish
blood spilling all over the ground but the troll did not feel it. Berserker
rage had consumed him entirely as he engaged in his wanton slaughter.
One werebeast leapt into the air only to have its head torn from its
shoulders. Another werewolf and a wereboar charged the troll’s flank only to be
ripped to shreds seconds later. Bodies were piled around the troll as the pack
began to thin out quickly. It wasn’t until a rage-filled howl erupted from
beyond the tree line did the pack break off their attack on the troll.
The werebear emerged from the tree line, a metal necklace bearing the
symbol of Malar hung from around his neck. The werebear approached the scene of
carnage; the smell of death was heavy in the air. The troll stood silently in
the middle of the courtyard, the moon light illuminating his form. The troll’s
hair was unbound and hung about him in a wild black mane soaked with blood.
Rivulets of blood drizzled off the trolls claws and chin as he stood there,
chest heaving with each painful breath. The troll was completely encased in
crimson blood and gore; his claws shone silver in the moonlight. The werebear
looked around and saw the score of fallen cultists. Members of his pack forever
silenced during the High Hunt by this hellish troll.
The troll lifted one gore covered hand and pointed his silver claw at
the werebear.
“You die next” the troll said before he charged Gaeros.
The troll sprang into action, his silver claw tearing great rents in the
werebear’s hide. The werebear howled in pain and countered by tearing a chunk
of flesh from the troll’s side. Thick black blood sprayed everywhere as the
troll staggered from the attack, the werebear then hooked a paw under the
troll’s leg and hurled the troll into the air several feet away. The troll
crashed to the ground, his wounds slowly mending as the werebear howled in pain
and outrage.
“You dare blaspheme the High Hunt with silver?” the werebear raged.
The troll slowly got to his feet. The troll held up his hand to the
werebear allowing the moonlight to reflect off his silvered claws. A feral grin
split the troll’s face as the look of outrage was obvious on the werebear’s
ursine features. The insult was too much for Gaeros and the werebear let out
another roar and charged the troll.
Rather than attempting dodge the oncoming attack, the troll instead
counter charged and slammed headlong into Gaeros. Silver shod claws tore into
the werebear’s neck and chest as Gaeros howled in pain. The troll’s smoking
claws glistened wetly before it again began a flurry of attacks into the
werebear. The troll dodged a swipe from the werebear and then slashed both
claws down hard on the creature’s forearm sending Gaeros’s paw flying into the
night air. An all too human howl of agony tore from the werebear’s throat as
the troll roared in satisfaction. The troll slammed a clawed hand into the
werebear’s chest and ripped one of Gaeros’s lungs and hurled it aside. The
werebear fell to its knee, his breath labored and a wet sucking sound was
coming from his chest.
The troll climbed on top of the werebear’s back and said “You wanted to
know my name before.” The troll plunged both hands into the werebear’s neck and
began to twist the creature’s head. The troll leaned in close to Gaeros’s ear,
“I am known as Kronar and I bring you death!” After a moment there was a
sickening pop and a wet tear as the troll tore the werebear’s head from its
shoulders and held it aloft to the gathered cultist.
“I AM KRONAR!” the troll roared.
The gathered werebeasts all tensed to avenge their fallen Huntmaster
when an inhuman roar filled the air. Everyone looked around and saw a massive
ethereal sabretooth tiger appear and pad over to stand before the troll. There
was an aura of power that surrounded the beast; many of the werebeasts took a
step back as the massive sabretooth padded by them. The symbol of Malar was
glowing upon the creature’s flank and it’s eyes glowed with a bright crimson
light. Kronar locked his gaze with the ethereal creature and the sabretooth
regarded the troll for several minutes before turning into a grey mist and
encircling the troll. After a moment the mist absorbed itself into the troll
and Kronar’s eyes glowed with a fierce crimson light. The wounds on Kronar’s flesh
instantly knitted and all traces of fatigue faded from his body. Kronar’s
vision was clearer than it had ever been before, his senses seemed heightened.
New strength flowed through his limbs as his muscles flexed involuntarily and a
low menacing growl began to resonate deep in his chest.
One by one the cultists in their werebeast form looked at one another
then at the tower beast of rage standing atop their former leader. The cultists
each fell to their knees and bowed prostrate before Kronar, each of them
reciting the mantra of the Hunt. Kronar just stood there, watching the
remaining cultists kneel before him in worship. One of the two lieutenants of
Gaeros stepped forward, the woman wearing the antlered headdress. She slowly
reached down and took the bloody medallion that had belonged to Gaeros and
offered it to Kronar. The troll reached out his clawed and took the symbol from
the woman. Kronar studied the medallion for some time before the woman spoke to
him.
As Kronar studied the medallion a chant could be heard coming from the
assembled cultists, the low sonorous chant filled the night air.
“You have bested the Huntmaster of our pack. By right and might you are
now the leader of the Hunt. An emissary of the Ravagar has marked your
ascension with its presence. You truly are the chosen of Malar.” The woman
spoke.
“Malar…” Kronar replied thoughtfully his voice reverberating deeply
within his chest.
Kronar cast the head of his adversary to the ground and lifted the
necklace and placed it around his neck. “Yes…it appears I am your leader now
doesn’t it…” Malar looked once again at the symbol of Malar and grinned.
So began the chronicles of Kronar the Destroyer, Red Talon of Malar.
