The Call

The dwarf, shunning a shield in order to wield a battleaxe for maximum dwarfliness, strode forward across the narrow stone walkway. His brow and chest are stalwart iron-clad walls, standing in defiance of the foe across the chasm. His vision narrows to the far end of the walkway where an ork champion stands, frothing with bestial rage. The haft of the battleaxe creaks as the heavy plated gauntlet tightens around it. A spear, thrown fiercely, ricochets off the dwarf’s helmet, his head tilting slightly to ensure the deflection. As the ork tears toward him, the dwarf shifts his stance to a more martial one as he shouts a taunt toward his opponent. A spiked club swings wildly, looking to find the same mark the spear did, but misses as the dwarf cleanly ducks forward beneath the blow. Continuing his momentum, the dwarf swings his battleaxe upward and cleaves the blade deep into the stomach of the ork. Collapsing on the walkway, the ork’s body slumps to reveal his loot, an unidentified potion, sixty gold pieces, and two tokens that can be traded for gear back in town.

To be continued…

The Call

The Razors Edge The_Many_Faced_God Sigmar