Brunner the Bounty Hunter (Blood And Steel)

by Warhammer

  Amongst the rabble of armed night goblins there were four hulking shapes, great greenskinned giants, crude armour lashed about their bodies, massive blades clutched in their monstrous paws. These new monsters squinted beneath their helms as their eyes adjusted to the light, their massive, tusked faces snarling. Beside them, a goblin with its hood drawn back capered, gripping a small staff with jawbones dangling from its tip. Like the teeth of the goblins, the jawbones had been dyed black, and the symbol of the Black Fangs was carried on in the large tattoo that covered the goblin's bare scalp.

  It tittered wickedly, gesturing with its staff. The lumbering monsters beside it snorted in contempt, but strode forward just the same. Brunner shook his head, his eyes straying to the shaman above. The tall goblin had finished its chant and Brunner could see that the round white ball had turned yellow - whatever magical preservation the shaman had worked upon the puffball was dispelled. The fungus was active now, a lethal spore bomb.

  Taking courage from the four orc mercenaries in their midst, the goblins were charging forward, twenty strong. Brunner swore again. They would be on him far too soon, and orcs, he knew, would not go down as easily as their smaller kin. Against four orcs, the bounty hunter did not favour his chances. But they would still be better than the certain death the shaman held in its claws.

  The monster scuttled forward. It was not able to detect sounds very well, but it could sense the impact of running feet; it could see the warm bodies racing about in the darkness ahead. Warmth, like the gentle vibration in the rock, was also a sign of food. The monster increased its pace.

  Its heat-based gaze settled upon the nearest warm body. The monster prepared to attack.

  The goblin shaman cackled, a dry rattling sound. It was enjoying the fear and awe of its fellows on the causeway. The creature paused for an instant to let the terror of its fellows, and the absolute dread of the terrible weapon invigorate its black heart. Suddenly, the warm feeling coursing through the shaman's veins was interrupted by a powerful force that smashed into its ribs. The shaman twisted about, spun by the force of the impact. Even wounded, with a death-dealing bolt in its lungs, the monster maintained a careful hold of the spore bomb, its own fear of the weapon greater than that of its impending death.

  The shaman's thin shriek caused the orcs to look upward. The goblin mystic was lost in a cloud of white gas as a red-fletched arrow pierced the puffball. The white explosion engulfed ten of the nearest archers, their shrill screams echoing across the great hall. The dust drifted outwards, catching a dozen other archers. The goblins shrieked as the caustic spores dissolved their flesh, ate away their eyes and liquefied their bones. Still screaming and pawing at their crumbling forms, the archers collapsed into their black cloaks, the garments filthy with the lethal white powder.

  Two more goblins leapt from the causeway, preferring to topple to their deaths than brave the deadly spores. The other archers scrambled to race back into the upper tunnels.

  The horn-bearing chieftain blew furiously on his instrument, trying to stem the rout. But even as he tried to assert his authority, a well-aimed shot from one of the archers silenced him. An arrow transfixed his throat.

  Some of the goblins were charging toward the rubble where Krogh had fired his deadly shot. The black fanged creatures tittered frenziedly as they advanced, spears held before them, swords and clubs waving wildly above their heads. The goblins were trying to incite a maniacal courage in their craven hearts, trying to convince themselves that they would overcome their foe and take long, bloody pleasure in avenging their fallen shaman.

  A black shape lunged out of the shadows, landing on the foremost goblin, and crushing the creature beneath its feet. The broken warrior squealed in agony as green blood exploded from its mouth. Krogh did not spare a thought for the writhing form beneath him; he lashed out with his sword, cutting the arm from another of the startled would-be attackers. The goblin went down, thin screams replacing its earlier howl of retribution. Krogh turned from the maimed greenskin and lashed out at another of his adversaries, opening the neck of a club-bearing goblin. Only the cloth of the creature's hood prevented the head from flying from its body.

  The tattooed goblin noticed that the attack on Krogh had begun to falter. Snarling at the top of its voice, the goblin gestured at the tattered figure of the bounty hunter, and shook his staff at his enemy. The biggest of the orcs favoured the goblin with another sneer, then barked a brutal string of grunts at one of his fellows. The orc broke off and charged toward Krogh. The others, still supported by a dozen goblins, sprinted toward the other adversary.

  Brunner spat on the floor, shaking his head angrily. 'Sure, send only one of those bastards for Krogh,' he hissed. Raising his crossbow, he sighted at the oncoming brutes. The bounty hunter fired, and the bolt smashed into the helm of one of the orcs. The bolt bit into the metal, and Brunner could see a thin trickle of green ooze running into the orc's face. But the bolt had not punched its way deep enough into the brute's skull; it had not ruined the orc's tiny brain. The orc kept coming, barely affected by a shot that would have instantly slain a human foe.

  Brunner swore. Noticing the laughing goblin boss dancing about behind its orc mercenaries, Brunner fired again. The laughter was silenced as the bolt smashed through the goblin's forehead and the tattooed monster was thrown across the floor. The bounty hunter knew that he should have at least tried to bring one of the orcs down. But knowing that the snivelling vermin that had led them to battle was carrion made Brunner feel a great sense of satisfaction.

  He lifted the crossbow again, sighting on the biggest of the orcs. The brute was at least six feet tall, built like a brick privy. It wore a necklace of teeth about its thick neck, fangs and molars dug from the mouths of past victims. In its massive paws was a crude axe, like a great butcher's cleaver. It was pitted and rusted, crumbly flakes of dried blood crusting its edge.

  If he could kill their leader, it might make the orcs forget their bloodlust and flee. Brunner knew that the goblins would have no stomach for the fight if the orcs were to break. Disdaining to offer a prayer to any god, he took aim.

  The goblin stared for a moment at the splattered remains of the archer. It was one of the night goblins that had decided to jump rather than face gruesome death by the shaman's ruptured spore bomb. The goblin was not bothered by the ugly sight - its red beady eyes were focused on the weapon still clutched in the paws of its dead fellow. It reached down, and pulled the bow from the rigid fingers. Cackling happily, it tested the string, then reached down once more to remove the quiver of arrows from the corpse. With a bow of its own, the goblin would be one of the great warriors of its clan. The goblin had been close enough to the shrouded mutant to know that it never wanted to be near such an enemy again.

  The goblin looked upward as its keen ears caught a sound. Its first thought was that the archers had returned to the causeway and were going to strike down the shrouded beast with their deadly arrows. But it froze in terror as it realised its mistake. The sound had come from beneath the causeway.

  A monstrous creature was gripping the underside of the causeway. It was larger than a bull; its body covered in shiny brown and black scales where its skin was not pale and peeling. The upside down monster maintained its hold on the causeway with eight powerful legs the sharp black claws of each foot sunk deep into the stone. A bloated, fat tail drooped from the monster's body.

  As the horrified goblin watched, the creature's horned, reptilian head turned towards it. A membrane snapped into place over the monster's eerie yellow eyes as it focussed on its prey. As the goblin tried to run, a bright flash of searing energy passed from the eyes of the basilisk to those of the goblin. In an instant the transforming Chaos energies spread from the goblin's eyes to the rest of its body. The goblin's terrified paralysis became permanent as its skin was turned to stone. The basilisk's scaly jaws opened in a hungry yawn.

  The bright flash of light spoiled Brunner's shot. The bolt went wide, speeding o
ff into the dark of the hall. But his misfire was not noticed by his enemies, for their attention was drawn to the source of the unnatural light. The orcs and goblins gawped at the stone goblin, with Chaos energies steaming from its body. A huge shape dropped from the underside of the causeway, falling to the ground with a meaty thud. The basilisk righted itself with a quick roll, then lumbered toward the stone goblin. A powerful blow from its long, fat tail shattered the statue, casting fragments about the hall. Steam rose from the super-heated meat within the stone shell. Once again the giant lizard monster smacked its scaly jaws, and a jagged, barbed tongue flitted from its mouth. It closed upon the nearest of the fragments and began to scrape the steaming meat from the stone shell with its barbed tongue.

  The goblins whined amongst themselves as the predator fed, but the snarls and curses of the orcs stilled their fear. With a great roar, the orcs charged the feeding monster, the brutes thinking what a mighty trophy the fangs of such a beast might make. The basilisk seemed indifferent; it was intent upon its food. Only when a goblin spear was thrown into its side did the reptile look up.

  Brunner continued to feed bolts into his crossbow as he watched the basilisk react to its attackers. Whichever way the fight went, he knew that he would have more killing to do.

  Bruno Brega could hear the shouts and snarls of the battle. He did not know what was going on, nor did he have any great desire to find out. For the moment, Brunner was nowhere to be seen, and that was enough for Brega. The smuggler pulled himself to his feet, gripping a fallen boulder with his bound hands. Brega tested the lashings once again. There was no give in the ropes. He looked around him, sighting Paychest, and the numerous bundles strapped to the animal's back.

  Brega was sure he would find a blade somewhere amongst the bounty hunters gear. He needed something to cut through his ropes. He paused for a moment, gathered his courage, then decided upon his course of action. Swiftly, he moved toward the bounty hunter's animals. As he did so, a dark shape rounded the pile of rubble that Brunner had employed as cover.

  The goblin snarled wickedly as it ran towards Brega. The smuggler stopped, eyes wide with fright as the goblin slashed at him with its sword. In dodging the attack, Brega fell, and landed on his back. The goblin's malicious laughter seethed through its fanged mouth as it noticed its enemy was bound. The vile creature scrambled forward.

  Finding the conflict with the bounty hunters and the basilisk too perilous, the goblin was eager to slake its thirst for blood on a defenceless prisoner. The leering visage of the goblin's malevolent face filled Brega's vision as the greenskin lifted its sword for a murderous downward stroke.

  The basilisk rounded on its attackers, hissing as it drew a deep breath. The goblin that had thrown the spear squeaked in fright, turning and fleeing as fast as its legs could carry it. Two other goblins hesitated, uncertain whether to press the assault or flee as well. Their hesitation made the decision for them. Angered by the wound in its left rear leg, the reptile scuttled forward at great speed. Powerful jaws snapped closed on the foremost goblin while a swipe from one of the reptile's legs tore open the other. The basilisk crushed the maimed goblin under its foot, breaking those parts of the goblin its claws had not ripped apart. The giant lizard lifted its head, swallowing the still struggling form of its enemy whole. Then the monster was among the rest of its foes.

  The basilisk's movements were swift and brutal. The powerful tail lashed from side to side in battering blows that broke bones whenever it struck. As the enraged lizard lumbered amidst the greenskins, its claws slashed and ripped, its fanged jaws closing on green flesh as often as empty air. Mangled goblins were hurled about like rag dolls, their screaming bodies landing in tattered heaps to moan and whine in agony, and to painfully crawl from the rage of their monstrous foe.

  The reptile's rampage carried it through the goblins and their orc allies. Brunner readied himself as the maddened beast came near. He fired the repeating crossbow, and the bolt crunched into the thick bone just above the creature's eye. The lizard reared back from the painful injury, its tree-like tail lashing the ground. Brunner fired again, this time putting a bolt into the monster's cheek. The basilisk's frenzied motion became even more agitated and it worked its injured jaw to try and remove the hurtful bolt embedded in its flesh.

  The basilisk began to bob its body up and down in an angry, threatening display, its breath hissing loudly, wrathfully. Brunner fired again, the shot once more narrowly missing the monster's eye. This time it sank into the flesh of the reptile's neck. The bounty killer swore as he saw the membranes snap close over the lizard's yellow eyes. The terrible Chaos energies were building up within the reptile. Brunner hastily averted his eyes, knowing as he did so that he left himself open to the rending claws and snapping jaws of the beast.

  A thick, powerful axe-blow severed one of the basilisk's rear legs. It spun about, its small brain too angry now to take any great notice of this new wound. The basilisk's attacker lifted his axe for another cleaving stroke, but his piggish red eyes found themselves transfixed by the petrifying gaze of the monster. The orc did not emit any sound as the transforming energies flowed into his body, hardening his scarred hide into a shell of stone, as the Chaos power cooked his innards.

  The necklace-wearing orc was charging the monster even as his comrade was turned to stone. The goblins were dead or running, the other orc lying somewhere, broken by the basilisk's tail. Now the brute's last ally had been slain. The orc roared a throaty challenge through his tusked mouth and ran at the giant reptile. The orc's great weight slammed into the stone carcass of his comrade, toppling its body onto the head of the lizard. The statue broke apart as it smashed into the basilisk's skull, dashing its head against the hard floor.

  The orc did not hesitate, but leaped onto the back of the stunned reptile. The greenskin's sword rose and fell, gouging great cuts into the basilisk's body. The lizard shook its body from side to side, trying to dislodge the clinging orc straddling its back. As the lizard's neck craned about to try and fix its foe with the petrifying gaze, a steel bolt shot out of the darkness, exploding the basilisk's left eye. The lizard rolled onto its back, crushing the orc beneath it as it writhed in agony.

  Brunner watched as the basilisk rolled across the floor and smashed against the archway of a tunnel, its mass dislodging the remaining dwarf warrior that stood against the wall. The massive statue broke apart at the waist, crashing downward. A sound like a hundred thunderbolts roared about the hall as blocks of stone cascaded onto the floor. The massive pillars trembled with the violent impact, and swayed slightly in their positions, like mighty oaks disturbed by a raging hurricane. In the darkness, the echoes of the collapse boomed like cannon fire, carrying the message of destruction through the length of Karag-dar. It reverberated through every chamber and goblin-hole within the ancient dwarf stronghold. The world disintegrated into a grey mist as dust exploded from the destruction, and billowed outward in a gritty cloud.

  When the dust had cleared, the tunnel was lost to sight, now buried beneath tons of rubble. The basilisk had been caught in the rockfall; now the only sign of the reptile was a twitching leg sticking up from the broken stonework.

  Brunner gazed about the hall. Dozens of black-cloaked bodies lay strewn about the ground - some were moving, many more were still. The bounty hunter looked over towards where Krogh had made his stand. A great number of goblin bodies had been thrown about the area, many torn limb from limb. Amid the carnage, Brunner could see a single orc, its jaw ripped from its head, a gaping hole at the centre of its chest. Of the mutant, there was no sign.

  A movement nearby made Brunner draw Drakesmalice from its sheath. Brunner cast his cold eyes on the shape of the orc champion. Most of its bones had been crushed under the basilisk's weight, there was dark green blood bubbling from its mouth, and still the brute struggled to stand. The bounty hunter walked toward the dying orc.

  'Thanks for the help.' Brunner said as he met the angry creature's eyes. The bounty
hunter swung Drakesmalice in a decapitating blow. 'I appreciate it,' he added as the head bounced across the floor.

  Brunner returned to his horses, thankful to find them unharmed, then looked around for Brega. Near to the horses, he found the smuggler's bindings, and beside them the body of a goblin. Brunner examined the goblin for a moment, noting the marks about its neck, the way its tongue protruded from its face. A man without a sword has few options left to him. Strangulation was one.

  Brunner followed faint traces in the dust. He cursed when he saw where Brega had run. The tunnel through which the smuggler had made his escape was blocked by the massive rockfall caused by the basilisk. Worse, it was one of the ones from where the goblins had emerged. Brega had escaped his captor all right by running even deeper into the territory of the Black Fangs.

  With a sigh, Brunner returned to his animals. The corridors and halls of Karag-dar were a near-endless maze. It would take days, perhaps weeks, to find Brega's trail. The bounty hunter knew that others would find the scoundrel first. Smarting with the slaughter wrought in the great hall by the bounty hunters and the basilisk, Brega could expect a very nasty reception from the Black Fangs.

  The bounty hunter shook his head and started to lead his animals back the way they had come. The reward Judge Vaulkberg was offering was only good if Brega was delivered to him alive. It was a stipulation that Brunner always found tiresome, but, under the present circumstances, it had become impossible. Since first taking up his bloody and violent trade seven years ago, Brunner could count on one hand the number of times he had failed to collect his prey. But he was also pragmatic enough to know when it was pointless to continue the hunt. His only comforting thought was that Brega wouldn't be boasting of his escape to anyone... at least anyone that wasn't green.