Krell brushed quietly through the undergrowth, his face pale with worry and concern over making a noise. You wouldnt see Brulk in the night if he didn't want to be seen, but he was out there. Creeping through the wilds, hatchet in one hand and a broad blade in the other. Snarling something rotten, more'n likely. Krell's knuckles took on a familiar shade of white as they wrapped around his spear, his body bent double.
Krell knew his task, and he could spot the bastard standing a few feet from the campfire. Looked to be taking a piss, he could hear the light slapping of water against mud. He edged closer, and closer, smelling the ale-caused piss. He wrapped his fist tighter around his spear shaft. "Urgh!" Shouted one of the others, and Krell felt his own bladder almost slip out. His task jerked round, cock still in his hands, but before he could act the youngster was on it. Krell had lunged forwards, thrusting his spear out from under arm and cracking his targe straight through the waist. He fell back with a cry, jaw dropping and his eyes going wide.
Krell caught sight of something moving towards him, something fast. He twisted on the spot, his spear caught in his tasks guts. Some big bastard was on him, Krell reckoned him about the same height but more'n twice his weight. Hairy as a bear's arse too, his great beard tickling Krell's empty chin as they struggled. "Fuckin'.. I'll gut you!" growled the other, and he could only shriek in reply whilst focusing on dragging the great lump off him. The big man worked his hands around his neck, large enough to wrap 'em twice over. Krell struggled, one hand caught between their wiggling bodies but managed to lodge his other hand against the mans face, jabbing his finger against the bear-man's throbbing eye.
Spitting, cursing and shrieking came from by the fire, Krell could feel it's warmth on his skin as the blood flow started to cut off to his head. He jabbed against the mans eye once, twice and once more for good measure but those great paw's were locked tight around his throat.
"Fu--.. Fu-.. Fu--.." croaked Krell, feeling his task shift above him. One great paw remained around his throat, and in the other a lump of steel glistened. A crooked looking dagger, but sharp enough for the job at hand. Krell winced, feeling himself pout. He felt the life crushing out of him, and this bastard of a savage smiling down with dark, yellow teeth. He felt his neck starting to crack, felt his veins throbbing in pan--..
Crack. His task went wide eyed and hollow faced, blood running down the fresh gap in his skull. The remains of his forehead were highlighted by the dull peice of metal sticking out of it. Brulk's hatchet. Krell saw two bloodied hands grip around his task's neck, and tumble him onto the dirt. Brulk stood there, the large blood-stone of an eye glistening in the firelight. "Back in the dirt." He muttered, thrusting out his hands and dragging Krell onto his feet. The youngest tumbled back, propping himself up against the piss-soaked tree. "Th--.. Thanks." He fought back for his breath, nodding his head like a rocking horse. "Get yer' breath." Grumbled the one eyed man, prying the misshapen lump of steel from his most recent foes hands. "This crew aint' empty yet. Reckon a few more of 'em out in the woods." He tossed the knife down at Krell's feet, and went back to the campfire to loot whatever he could find. "Can't have enough knives, lad."
