Frozen Hope (Kislev, Open)

The Tzaresa had prepaired for the event that Praag would fall and already chaos was on the border of Kislev.
This land was always the most endangered. When Kislev's defences fell, Chaos broke through directly into the Empire, while not a directly under the influence of the Empire itself, Kislev was obliged to aid its mutual ally less it be caught in a war of two fronts.
Alas, a war was already being fought in the land of the Empire, and now, the cold north was begining to feel the blazing heat of destruction from Praag's burning fires.
Alexov Peyoteri was a hunter of sorts, he was no professional man, no standing guard and his life was about to take a turning change that had never before occured.
While he had lead a rough life, it was peaceful, he had never experienced the true front of war, only the predatory honor of the hunt.
Belev was located in the central most part of the forest of spirits, divided by the river Svarog. Its seclusiveness would make it a place of weaker men, people who were unfamiliar to bloodshead.
Alexov was one of these men, he had familiarised himself however with hunting, and that was his speciality at least.
However, today the forests wildlife stirred in a way he was not used to, it behaved unnaturally, as if something fel came his way.
He specialised himself in hunting with a pistol, not a bow like many of the other boyars. He had been given it once as a young boy by a passing empire mercinary, certain of his impending doom, he gave the lad something of a toy which at the time, Alexov had no idea of its actual use.
Now however, the young blonde haired man stood only a bare eighteen years of age, but he was fine in his appearence, handsome and average in terms of physique. He looked the type of man you would see in a hero, but he was not aware such a man existed, because for today, he was a hunter.
His pistol cocked as he aimed it carefully, tracking a deer through the wilderness. Again, something stirred him, he wondered, what was causing that sound? He dared investigate the source of the strange wilderness screeching.
His tracking skills did not fail him as he was adeptly potent at following trails. These however were not the trail of some deer you would expect to find in a forest, no, someone was here, hunting the game for sport most likley. Angered, Alexov drew his short knife and began to give chase to the tracks.
Naturally the Kislevite winter was furious and today was no exception, though it was not snowing, the thawing cold below his high fur boots was thick. He had to tread carefully he noticed, less he would fall straight into the snow and be dangerously stuck.
Taking a more cautious approach, his boots loudly crunched the more solid patches of snow while occasionally pressing one foot out to test the ground. He moved closer till he began to hear chanting, it disturbed him.
He had gone through these woods a thousand times, he had never seen anything suspicious till today. Today, he saw an altar, a glade in the woodlands, and several men with the fur of animals and their heads worn on their flesh chanting before some dark stone.
The stone was draped in the blood of a recently sacrificed deer, it glowed a vibrant shimmer of pink and purple, there was something eeire about it. Immediatly, he dared to be more curious and approach quietly using the towering tree's as primative cover.
He took closer notice now, as the men began to reach a crisendo of their chanting, their humming grew louder as one would bang bone drums against a bong loudly. They cried up into the air as they suddenly drew to a halt.
Alexov stared a moment as what he saw next would horrify him for the rest of his life. The men began to throttle and scream as they ran around in circles banging into each other. Their fur coats slowly began to graft to their bodies, becoming one with their very flesh, untill they ceased to physically appear as man anymore, but something else, something, beast.
He was a hunter, and he was trained to kill beasts, but this was no ordinary or natural kind of animal. Their feet turned to hooves and their bodies grew fur and rugged horns portruding violently from their flesh.
They let out several guttaral cries as the horrid transformation continued from man to monster. He wanted to do something but he had no idea what to say, who to turn to, he knew only of his uncle Voral who might have an idea what to do. Either way, he could not stay here.
He gripped the strongest tug of snow he could and pulled himself up again, he now ran from those who were hideously transformed. However, one's beastial ear did twitch, hearing the thumping rithum of footsteps. It sensed they had been spotted.
With a loud guttaral cry, they gave chase.
Alexov did run and he would not stop running untill his legs were destroyed from the process. He panted and screamed knowing there was no point pretending he had not been seen. One creature soon emerged as it chased him on two hooves before moving onto all fours, carrying a sacrifical kris.
Alexov fell over a branch and stared wide eyed at the beast as it leapt to him he let out a terrified shriek and pulled trigger of his flintlock. His eyes did shut as he wanted his fate to be swift and painless.
But by the luck of the gods, he was still breathing. Even more amazingly, his foe was not.
"S-shit!" he cried rather panickedly, he wanted to get further now, he had no time to reflect on his deed. Picking himself up, he immediatly dashed as fast as he could from the fallen gor as its brothers did approach it having traveled slower.
One would turn it to face, it had been peirced directly through the chest as it cringed and coughed, it passed the knife with all its might into the hands of one of its companions before its body shakily crashed to the floor.
The gor did stare at the knife, and its brother, as it let out a monsterous warcry Alexov could clearly hear. He wondered if he had just soiled his trousers or if he was simply so terrified he was about to breakdown into a tearful colapse.
No! Focus Alexov! You must be gone from here! He thought hurriedly. He knew his foe would soon arrive and his only cover was the thickness of the woods.
He dashed to the end of the woodland, he only hoped the boyars were there. The boy was either extremely lucky or simply amazingly precise with time as he discovered they were returning home. If he could just reach them, the creatures might leave him alone.
He finally ran to his nearest companion, the sharp witted Volkir an elder boy than him yet still a boy, his short brown hair was covered thick with snow and his hands were drenched in the blood of his pray. Next to him, a carniverous wolf lay dead. He stared at Alexov and shoved him as he ran into him.
"You fool, I could have almost broke your neck!" He cried angrily, his gray-blueish eyes stared at Alexov convictingly, who was taken back by the intimidating presense of his superiour.
"S-sorry" he replied, gulping. "I... I simply wanted to be from the woodland, the life there is timid tonight."
"Yes well" another voice said, as Alexov turned to see his uncle. "You were never one for the big leagues like strong Volkir."
Voral was a tough looking man, even for his weight, he was undeniably big, but his eyes were stern and his moustache wide and proud. He was evidently a smoker, a pipe stuck in his maw as he ajusted the medals on his suit, correcting his fur hat slowly.
Alexov looked at him appologetically, bowing his head. "I have returned with nothing, though I bring you news..."
"Oh?" Voral replied "Speak boy, tell me this news."
"I saw men with strange coats, poachers who felled a deer to a strange stone." He said as he saw the sharp look in both Voral and Volkirs eyes, he halted a moment before he continued. "I was looking for the creature deer that you asked me to hunt when I saw strange tracks. I had assumed something was strange so I dared to follow... then I saw... ...I saw..."
Voral looked at him reassuringly, pity in his eyes that young Alexov's terror. He knew now, the innocence of the young man had died, Volkir remained anonimous before dragging the bear carcass elsewhere, disregarding it as folklore superstition.
Voral leaned closer to his nephew and patted his shoulder. "You 'must' come to my house, now."
Alexov could not want anything else, he looked around tense as he saw shadows in the edges of the forest, he followed his uncle as the shadows retreated, for now. It was still morning, they could do nothing.
Sunset fell as Voral poured him a hot pot and provided some tea. Alexov was thankful as he consumed both politley the man gave him a slow sigh.
"That deer would have fed five mouths Alexov, I am dissapointed you did not persue it instead of the creatures." Alexovs eyes visibly sunk hearing his Uncles words, before Voral patted his shoulder, smirking.
"However" he continued "I also want you to know for telling me what you have, I am proud of you. Honesty merits the strong while deception encourages only destruction. Our fate is sealed to damnation Alexov, I am surprised you did not accept your death, explain to me, why did you run?"
"I hoped..." Alexov paused, seeing the strong gaze his Uncle gave him. "To deliver this vital news to you, when I do not bring five mouths of food, I bring information that could be worth five hundred lives were it not disclosed."
"This is true" Voral was inclined to agree.
However...
He explained to Alexov that the creature he encountered was a beast not from this world, it was a monster from another existance. Alexov naturally remained compleatly unaware of this, he was a naieve man surpisingly, the world was something he knew little of outside hunting and living a quiet life, and having been given a gun from a man of the empire. Alexov was not well aquainted with reality.
It was almost peacefully sad.
Voral had protected him too well, his mother had incisted Alexov know nothing of the cruelties and by giving him no understanding the boy was raised a peaceful young man. Despite this, the time had come to bring him down to the old world again, it was time for him to know the truth.
It was not likley going to be taken well.

In the distance Kaz'alta could hear the battle cries of the other Gor's he already knew what the outcome of their chase had been. He roared in response calling the beasts back to him. To anyone who saw Kaz'alta it would be clear of his rank amongst the Beastmen, he wore white leather armour that hung from his beastly frame, his monstrous goat-like face was also covered with white leather leaving half his face uncovered. He stared down at the sacrificial stone with a deer still atop it, the sun sparkled against the blood of the deer as it trickled down the huge stone ever closer to the ground.

As the Gor's re-entered the snow-laden glade Kaz'alta adressed them in a language incomprehensible to most. It was a strange mixture of beastly roars and growls that came together to form some sort of language. "Brothers of the beast. It's now our time, we shall rise from the forests of Kislev, we shall rally together the surrounding warbands and we shall destroy humanity and claim it's splendours as our own! He yelled to the other Gor's "But tonight men, we hunt, we hunt those who already know of our existance in these woods, we can no let that knowledge spread." He peered down at his men.

As the Gor's started dancing around the rock cheering and dancing as drums were played in the background, Kaz'alta walked to the stone and picked up two one-handed axes. They were huge in comparison to any weapon a man could carry, each Gor stood a full foot if not more than any man, but were clearly not forged like empire weaponry it was a lot more make shift, but still strong. Roaring Kaz'alta began running through the forest towards the hut of Voral.

It was hours after the first time the human had seen him and his kind, and the family would probably be in the middle of dinner. Kaz'alta let out a horrible screeching roar and behind him an Ungor sounded one of the horns carried by the men signalling that the attack was about to begin. Kaz'alta stared as the curtains over the windows of the hut flickered slightly and his men began to take position around the hut. "Leave none alive!" He yelled in a beastly tongue that to the men in the house would just have sounded like another screech.

Kaz'alta licked his lips before suddenly sprinting out of the forest, as silently as was possible with hooves, not roaring at all. As he reached the hut he stood against the wall next to the window sniffing the air, he could smell cooked meat and his mouth began to water. It was time to begin the assault. He suddenly grabbed a nearby Ungor and threw it straight through the window to cause some confusion within the house as Gors around him smashed down the door and began charging through and others leapt through the window to kill the family inside.

Moments before the attack had begun, Voral had already began to hear stirring in the forest, his ears twitched lightly as young Alexov had entered a tantrum like strut, he was confused, the poor boy had no idea what to do.
Voral realised his time had come, but he was not about to let Alexov suffer the same fate.
Grasping him with a firm resolve and shaking him he looked at him with an ice stare.
"I am to die in this woodland, and your information could damn or save Kislev, you must live so that our Cossars to the west might rally into a fighting force."
Alexov looked frustedtedly confused at him. He had been told the story from his uncle now, the story of chaos beast men. Monsters from the the northen wastes who went south to hunt men as men would hunt beasts.
Only so limited with knowladge, Alexov looked at him confusedly. "You said my mother was a huntress, a boyar of the forest."
"I lied, Alexov" replied Voral confessingly. "I lied to keep a promise, to protect you from the truth..."
"Why?!" Demanded the frustrated Alexov, his mind clearly not calm Voral gave him another shake and even resorted to punching his face brutally, reminding him what he had just said earlier.
"Because the truth will destroy a man, Alexov! Now you know the truth, you must leave this place at once!" Alexov gazed at his uncle protestingly but Voral did not allow him to oppose him, Alexov reluctantly yielded.
"Go to Volkir, tell him and his family they must leave by the fastest cart to the river, there you must head upstreem to Dubna, it is far to the west. There you will find a winged cossar named Dutiyrov, he will guide you to Kislev. This news must reach Kislev Alexov, it must be warned of the danger, so that our Tzaresa can prepair her armies for the impending flank assault. Now stop hesitating boy and go!"
Time was short, the sound of rustling and wild animal outside began to echo loudly only a short distance from the house.
Vorals face did sweat, Alexov looked at him as if he clearly knew something.
"What is it uncle, what is wrong?!" he cried loudly.
"They arrive" replied Voral, as Alexov looked out of the window to see shadows in the tree's wide eyed.
Reluctantly Voral grasped the boy and forced him to the door, the confused boy struggled and protested, demanding he could protect his uncle, amused, Voral could only smile at simple Alexov, knowing he was a fool to be so daring.
"Go, Alexov, go to Volkir and tell him of the danger, I will not wait for you any longer."
Alexov reluctantly noticed his uncles sword being drawn, not sure what he would do next, he forcefully restrained himself not to help him and left poor Voral to his fate.
As the window smashed Alexov was already in the northern sector of the town, and as the gor entered Voral bemusedly drank tea slowly, placing a cup down.
"Care to fight?" he gestured, the Gor did screech and lunge at him, despite his size, he would not go easily, he ducked under its leap and sliced upwards, carving its innards open.
The Ungor cried in pain as it twitched on the floor with its gore stained over the floor, the door broke behind them as Voral quickly found more Gor's were appearing from both the shattered window and the doorway.
With no choice, he refused to let them take him alive, he would grasp the oil-lit lantern on his desk and wait patiently. They approached surrounding him, at least five of Kaz'alta's well trained beasts.
He raised his hand to the fire and cut it with his blade, igniting it as he let it cast itself on their fur. They were ignited into fireballs of splendour, in turn, setting the building alight as Voral retreated to the gunpowder room with his sword still ablaze.
He waited as the gor who's brother had been slain rushed at him with its kris. He swung his sword but he was too slow, it slit his throaght.
His eyes wide he felt his blood splattering in a rapid gush. He was not going to survive much longer.
The Gor grinned what its fanged form could and rammed its jaw into his shoulder, tearing into his skin. He let out a horrific scream, but with all his strength left, he raised his sword towards the barrel of gunpowder. The flaming sword ignited the powder, blowing the two into a display of guts smeering the walls before blowing up the northern segment of the house.
It appeared Kaz'altas foolish Gor's had a lesson to learn about black powder.
Alexov meanwhile had rushed to bang the door of his fellow hunter Volkir.
The door remained shut a moment before all the lock mechanisms were removed.
Volkir glared at him coldly "What do you want, runtling?" he demanded, before looking over his shoulder, seeing the fire rising from Voral's house.
Alexov looked at him panickedly as he almost looked tearful. "M-my uncle, my uncle is dead and he incists you help me reach Kislev Volkir, please, I need your help!"
Volkir watched the fire rise, judging the time they had to flee. His eyes narrowed as he spoke to his parents and sister, incisting they prepare themselves. A warriors family, all of them were armed, even the younger sister, Natasha. However, by the time they were, they could already see the beasts approaching.
"Follow me, and do not stall runt" he demanded to Alexov, who complied without hesitation.
They rushed through the allyways as a gor flew between them, parting the two Volkir glared at it.
His father reached the creature with his bare hands, grasping its head, the man was strong. He gave it a brutal twist as he heard the bone snap, its body fell limp.
But as he laughed confidently, another appeared from a wall ledge next to him, grasping him by the face it pulled him over the edge to the horror of Volkir's mother and the rest.
"Papa!" Natasha screamed in terror as they heard horrific mascaline screams and the sound of ripping flesh. The woman could only gasp for the moment as she grasped Natasha and Volkir, pushing them onwards. She looked to Alexov and stared at him, demanding he go onwards.
Alexov did not know what it was like to have a mother, but he nodded none the less, thankful. Volkir gazed opposingly but he saw his mother would not yield as more Gor began to rush through the streets and had clearly taken the town by surprise.
Volkir grasped his sisters arm who feircley tried to stop him, but he was too strong, lifting her over his shoulder for her own good, she cried and screamed at her mother, fading into the distance.
Volkir gritted his teeth, hearing the loud screams of his mother as they gained ground, Alexov wanted to say sorry, but he knew Volkir wasnt going to forgive him anyway.
He had brought trouble, and now he was going to have to atone for it.
They rushed to the small dock as the confused fisherman ranted at Volkir for stealing the oars. The youth brutally bludgeoned the old man, leaving him for dead on this side of the river.
"Why did you do that?!" Alexov demanded, knowing it was brutal and rude. Volkir glared at him and shoved a paddle into his arms.
"Do you want to reach Dubna alive or inside the belly of one of those, things?" he asked Alexov sharply, who went quiet, sitting into the boat, not certain how to row, he simply watched Volkir start.
Natasha looked at her brother with tearful eyes as he let her lean against her for comfort, she was not too young of age, but she was still a youth.
He now had an obligation himself, he had to bring her to Kislev, to protect her, along the way, he would have Alexov tell him what was going on. Then, probably kill him.
For now, they were tied in an unholy alliance, to escape the fate the village was now suffering. Neither man spoke, they only paddled swiftly through the river, to get as far from the village and the forces of chaos as possible.
Its destruction, though sad, would buy them some time.

Kaz'alta walked through the burning streets of the small town as Gors swarmed houses tearing the occupants from their homes and bringing them to the street. Kaz'lata himself had a small cut on his arm where some wood had splintered into him at the explosion of Voral's house. Men, Women & Children alike were being slaughtered around him as the beasts raided the town. Kaz'alta turned around slowly looking at the destruction, the streets were as bright as day even though it was the middle of the night, the raging fires lighting the streets.
Kaz'alta grinned maniacally as the fires raged on and the last families were slaughtered, all were dead and his presence was still a secret or so he thought. Out of nowhere a panting Ungor ran up to Kaz'alta and dropped to one knee. "Sir," He spoke with great pauses trying to cast his breath. "A group of three were seen escaping down the river, we could not catch them." Kaz'alta looked down at the Ungor in a fury, he kicked the run-like man-beast with his hoof square in the face, killing him with one mighty swing of his leg.
"GET ME THE CENTIGORS!" Kaz'alta yelled.

The fires still burned bright as the sounded of shod hooves galloped towards Kaz'alta. A grizzled half man half horse-beast stopped before him, six others behind him. All of them towered over Kaz'alta, but not one would dare oppose him, all knew the danger after one of the Bray-Shamans had spoken out against Kaz'alta and he had had the Shaman killed by crucifiction against a tree. "Follow the river, find that boat and kill those who escaped this place, if you fail... It will be your undoing." Kaz'alta warned them, glaring as the leader nodded turned and the Centigors charged off following the river.

Kaz'alta turned round to see the main street filled with the towns guards, they had seemingly hidden until the attack died down then decided to launch a counter-attack. Kaz'alta grinned at the prospect pulling a horn from his side he blew powerfully into it. Within moments a group of frenzied and incredibly maniacal looking Khorngors circled Kaz'alta, their rabid ferocity was known throughout the world of beast and chaos. Kaz'alta smiled at the now quivering town guard and walked towards them signalling for the Khonrgors to hold back. He approached the guard who seemed to be leading the counter-attack, towering over the man Kaz'alta looked down. He was a burly guard at least six foot and clearly a strong man. Lifting the man by his throat with one hand Kaz'alta looked deep into his eyes and spoke a language the man would not be able to comprehend, but the Khorngors behind him would. "None survive tonight." The Khorngors heard what he said and with large two handed axes ran crazed at the guards slaughtering them without trouble. Kaz'alta purposefully kept the guard captain alive to watch the merciless slaughter of his cowardly men. "You should have stayed to fight when your people needed you." Kaz'alta said putting the man on his shoulder and walking off.

Kaz'alta reached the centre of town where a statue had stood until very recently, now a simple orge sat of the statue that had once made this town proud, the statue lying on the ground destroyed. As he walked toward the large stone cuboid that the statue had once stood on he took an Ungors spear. He rammed the spear into the cement block, creating a large single pole in the middle of the stone. The man on Kaz'alta's back screamed in desperation, as Kaz'alta snapped the spear half way up and used a small knife to sharpen the tip. Taking the man off his shoulder he lifted the struggling human by his throat once more. "You shall stand as testimony to all who try to fight us." He told the man, knowing he would not understand before impaling him brutally, the man screamed in agony so loud that the escapees would surely hear it even down the river. Still half alive the man struggled screaming in pain. "Kill him." Kaz'alta said to a gor as he walked toward a speaking podium that was left for the town announcer.

The mans screams were cut short as a blade was dragged across his throat spilling blood over the stone, the words that marked the stone said "Hero of Kislev." and the once proud statue that accompanied those words was now replaced with an impaled human. Kaz'alta's men had rallied in the centre of the square ready to hear what he had to say. "Tonight we sent a message! A message that will tell all humanity that we are not to be underestimated. For years we have stayed in the shadows of the forest ambushing patrols to stay alive, for years we have been confined to those forests shunned by all mortals, but over these years have we perished?! No! We are still here! And now is our time! Your time! To be known! Your time to be heard! YOUR TIME TO TAKE WAR TO KISLEV AND BE REMEMBERED BY ALL! YOUR TIME TO TAKE WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY YOURS! But brothers tonight we must leave this place, the fire will surely attract unwanted attention. We must move back into the woods and wait for the humans of this land to find this message. And that message shall be THIS IS OUR TIME, NO-ONE FUCK WITH US!" He roared finishing his speech, the beasts roared in approval as he turned and left, drums sounded all around and the beasts ran back into the forests ready for their next move.

Volkir was strong for his age. His girth was no different to Alexov, but he had a griff goatee and a strong muscular figure concealed under a fur coat made of the bears hide.
He paddled hard and strong through the frozen water as Alexov tried his best to match him, of the two, it was evident Volkir was the dominant paddler. Alexov admittedly felt weak for a man should never be absent of a physique.
None the less, what he lacked in physical power he compensated for in layline coordination. He was careful to paddle and steer the oar away from the dangerous rapids while Volkirs side of the oar riding consisted of strong and mighty siwngs often damaging the oars.
Night fell as Volkir rested, using all the fur onboard the ship to bed his sister in a primatively built tent atop the boat. It was not amazing, but it kept Natasha safe and warm.
He eventually rested with his sister, protectivly sitting infront of her with his eyes closed. Like the bear he killed, he was more a bear than a man, though unlike the beasts, fortunatley, he was on Alexov's side, for now at least.
Alexov paddled quietly that night, for fear of disturbing either of them in their sleep, he was getting more used to rowing. He spent more time doing it than Volkir but while his other was at the oars he rode faster through the rapids. Alexov took the situation casually.
He wondered to himself what it would be like to have a family and more importantly, to loose one. His uncle was all he knew as family and now he was gone, he felt alone.
Volkir was the only person from his village he knew now and they have never been the best of friends. Alexov never denied his absense of physical might like his other, he was always the swift-footed hunter by contrast. Volkir had formed a long-rivalry with him, but always been the one to take charge of a situation. Despite this, while Volkir had qualms with Alexov, the latter had no qualms with him in turn. He was glad to have a mighty bear-killer on his side, and at least some form of company to keep his mind sane.
He paused by the shore that night only to cook a fish, he would devour it swiftly but the campfire remained lit.
Alexov had not been trained to learn that lighting such fires would attract attention, though he knew it pushed nature away.
He began to hear the sound of rough hooves in the distance. His powerful hearing served him well, listening for signs of sound. The hooves came in fast clatters, like horsemen, yet there was something sinister about this. There was no sign of a rider's armour clattering above. He sensed something of a herd was comming.
His eyes widened as he pushed Volkir hard and forced his bow into his hand. The young man groaned lazedly and realised what was going on, arming his powerful bow.
Volkirs bow could be considered a small balista more than a bow, it was nearly as large as a small man and the arrows were just as lethal in size. He raised one and notched it, waiting as Alexov pushed the ship from shore and began to paddle along the coast.
The sound had grown more silent, it was likley his predators already seemed aware he knew they were there. They had decided to move at a slower pace to try to catch him off guard no doubt.
Alexov was just a human, with oars held he brushed silent skims through the water, aiming to disorent his opponents, hopefully avoiding a fight all together.
Alas, that was not to be the case, from the distance he could see beast men like he had before. This was the first time Volkir had caught sight of them properly too, both men looked rather worriedly as they saw these new beasts were not like the others.
Half-a man and half a horse they rode in violent thrusts as they caught glimpse of their pray. There were six at least in a small pack, likley part of a larger herd.
Having caught sight of them, one gripped his horn and sounded it, symbolising he had found them, before letting out a beastly roar.
The others all roared as they proceeded to charge. Surpisingly, one of them was armed with a crossbow, and clicked it as they rode towards the two, aiming carefully, they fired a shot towards Volkir's arm. He ducked swiftly and took his first shot with his grandeur bow.
The arrow flew with monsterous power from his barbaric form. The six foot young man let loose what could be mistaken for a light balista round as it flew straight through the chest of one of the centigors. The creature, caught off guard was hurled a good three foot backwards by the power before crashing to the ground fatally.
The others snarled and hissed as they proceeded faster. He primed a second arrow as he aimed it to the kneecap of the next pray. His arrow flew deep into the centigors front left foot and caused it to fall off balance into the frozen and unforgiving river.
Alexov paddled for his life as the crossbow centigor caught sight of him. They primed their bolt as they fired, he ducked swiftly, Natasha screamed seeing the powerful bolt crash into the boat, causing a light puncture, fortunatley, while it remained there it also blocked it.
Volkir armed two arrows at once, and carefully knelt as he aimed them this time. His muscles strained painfully at the force required to use them as he fired both at once. They crashed into a single gor but the one behind it was impaled by the force. The two were rammed into a tree, lifelessly.
The crossbow Gor continued to bombard Alexov as one bolt finally impaled his arm, he gasped as he lost controll of the ship, it was begining to slide towards the shore. Forcing himself to use all his muscle, he continued to steer it to the other side, hoping to get away, but the distance had given the closest gor a chance.
The centigor charged and made a monsterous leap at Volkir, knocking him over and knocking his bow deep into the river. Natasha screamed as it trampled down, causing a crack in the boat, though not enough to break it.
Another hit like that and the boat would however be shattered, with all its might it tried to bring its hooves down but Volkir stopped them dead.
He glared at the Centigor with feral eyes and snarled like the bears of the north. With a roar of human hatred he used all his remaining muscular force to break the creatures upper feet, kicking it into the water.
The remaining gor aimed its crossbow again, firing dead towards Volkir, he could not dodge it as it impaled his stomach, he growled and hit the floor of the boat, crippled.
Alexov knew if he did not make a choice he would loose his comrades and his own life. Forced to grind the boat to a halt he beached it onto the opposite side of the shore, into the thicker and darker part of the forest. The boat crashed against the forest as he drew his pistol and carefully narrowed one eye, firing without thinking another lucky shot. Miraculasly, his luck was begining to seem more like skill, or he was simply being too modest to admit it. The gors neck was slit by the edge as blood splattered from its jugular, it toppled into the icey water screaming as it was dragged away.
They had escaped, but his shoulder lay crippled and Volkirs stomach wounded.
Volkir gripped him with a bear like hold and looked like he was about to break his arms. "You should have paddled onwards, we are not far from our destination! Instead, you waste time saving me and my sister when you could be delivering vital information!"
Alexov looked down and gripped the mans strong arms. "Maybe I am not traditional to our people" he replied. "Untill yesterday, I knew nothing of wars or adventure, but today, I am forced to learn to be a man. I know only one thing of my resolve, which is that my mother wanted to protect my life and so I will protect the life of a Kislevite no matter what the cost."
Volkir, disgusted, shoved him back onto the shore, narrowing his eyes. He looked to Natasha who held onto him protectivly, but also looked softly concerned for Alexov.
"A true man of Kislev, knows that all things have a time to die, you are weak if you try to save what cannot be salvaged. I have got you across the river, now I say our business is done." Volkir stared at him coldly as he hurled him a single bag of fish to salvage supplies.
Alexov looked at him in worry as the man stared at him disregarding. "Go, you foolish idiot, go and be a hero, if you are fortunate, maybe, we shall see each other again in Selkov, if not, may you live longer than I did, though it would be disgusting to see you achieve this."
Volkir shoved the boat away as Natasha looked to him wondering why, Volkir gripped her arm tightly and nodded to her. He turned to Alexov once, wondering if he would see him again, he doubted it, though there was always a chance.
He was a strange boy, but now he was alone, in a dark wild, and with no map to tell where to go next, Alexov was in evident danger.
That however, did not prevent him begining to plan what to do next.