Erik noticed Scaldar’s eyes quickly shift behind him, where Sigrun stood together with her mother and the other womenfolk, before answering his query. If a Vikti, a spokesmen for the Gods and Daemons among the tribes, said it would please the Gods, Ralf would have no way out of the fight.

Well, he could still refuse but that would make him a deplorable coward in the eyes of all Norscans, including his own people’s.

“I believe it is so! And yet, the Gods demand equal exchange for your Trials, Erik. Can Ralf the Aesling bring out something of sufficient value to wager?”

Scaldar made a valid point. Up until now, Erik always obtained everything his challengers possessed but Ralf was not a Frost Wolf and so everything he owned was on the other side of Norsca, bordering the Chaos Wastes. This made the challenge improbable, unless Ralf had sufficient possessions on him.

Lucky for Erik, Ralf put forward just such an item! Feeling belittled and harassed on his honour, the prick loudly put up his wager and accepted the duel, his anger combined with his drunkenness taking away his ability to speak properly.

“Bri- briiing it oonh! Nuot afraid of a dog-fucking Skaeling wolfy! I have a r- ri- Ring, an artefact gifted by my Father! Dad, the King!”

After the challenge was confirmed and witnessed by the entire tribe, there was nothing Ralf’s bodyguard-cum-babysitter could do about it anymore.

Happy at the imminent prospect of carving up a Prince, Erik had his Regeneration work extra hard to dispel the alcohol. It may be a little cheap, but he wanted to get the fight over with as swiftly and efficiently as possible.

Meanwhile Jarl Ingolf was upset. Before the feast, both the Sarls and Aeslings had sent delegates to try and win him over or to have him remain neutral in the coming war, and now he was no longer able to stop his tribe from siding with the Sarls!

Yet it was unclear whether he was actually upset about being forced against the Aeslings or that this just gave him a valid excuse to do what he wanted in the first place.

A space was cleared by moving some of the tables and benches around. No additional sacrifices were needed since the entire festival was essentially one big sacrifice.

Seeing Ralf armed with just a simple one-handed axe, Erik also made do with only the Slaaneshi Messer. The entire procedure from challenge to duel had only taken as long as it took to fetch the weapons.

‘I don’t like him, in fact I hate his guts, and I want to go back to wildly partying as soon as possible.’ – Erik was not in a good mood. His anger had barely abated enough to allow for clear thoughts but his vision was still edged with crimson tendrils threatening to overtake him.

‘Don’t care for anything fancy. Just rush, cut and be done with it.’

At some point, the sound of drums, cymbals and flutes was replaced by just the crescendo of drums and as the upsweeping tones hit their peak, Erik and the young Khornite Champion clashed together.

Ralf was surprisingly fast, but Erik was still far faster. Swooping in low by the ground, Erik evaded the wildly overextended axe and swung his Messer down on the unprotected guts of his enemy.

And through a stroke of luck, Ralf’s overextension pulled him off-balance and enough to the side that Erik only scored a long and bloody streak across the pale skin.

“AAAAHH!” – Ralf screamed aloud, the pain of the deep cut amplified threefold by the blade’s power.

‘Too bad, didn’t get him in one swing. Here goes again!’

Not wasting another moment, Erik swung his weapon back in, going lower this time and aiming for Ralf’s calf.

Blood spurted through the air and before he realised the pain he was in, Ralf was down on the ground. But when Erik moved to finish him off, the Aesling bodyguard called for a halt.

“Stop! Hold your blade! Victory is yours, but let the Prince live!”

Turning away at the last moment, Erik indeed paused and turned to look at the man.

“You realise this is not just a duel, but a Gods-watched Trial, right? Why-?!”

Before he was able to finish berating the interrupting Aesling, Erik felt a blast of heat approach his face as a deep red flame approached from his fallen enemy’s position on the ground.

*Crackle – Fwoosh!

Unable to dodge due to the proximity, Erik was hit full on by the Fireball and thrown backwards.

On the ground, where the unexpected Fireball originated from, Ralf was laughing maniacally, cackling like a madman from the pain of his wounds and the bliss of having taken down his mortal enemy.

Surprised murmurs spread among the crowd, first at the guard’s interruption and then at the sudden counter-attack from a beaten enemy.

Somewhere among them, Sigrun was struggling through the crowds in an attempt to get to Erik.

Dazed from the sudden blast and feeling his skin turned to charcoal, Erik nonetheless stood right back up after he shook off the dizziness.

Eyes calm like frozen ponds, icy blue with an intense sheen to them, Erik calmly retrieved his weapon as the murmurs around him reached a new height when everyone noticed him.

Walking slowly towards the still cackling Ralf, who thought he had won after using his artefact, Erik’s steps held a dreadful sense of inevitability.

Ralf’s bodyguard had been restrained by two of Ingolf’s Huskarls to prevent any further interventions.

When his feet stood near the downed Ralf, Erik stooped down. Taking hold of the pisspot’s head, Erik forced him to look straight into his eyes.

Realising he hadn’t quite managed to turn the fight around, Ralf went silent. Cowed by the utter emotionlessness of Erik’s eyes that looked like they saw nothing but an insignificant pile of shit.

Finally, Erik spoke in an icy calm voice.

“For your insults at my men, I was going to beat you.

For coveting my women, I was prepared to take a limb but taking the situation into account, regrettably leave you with your life.

When you also insulted my blood-sworn brother, openly went after my betrothed and then insulted me to my face, I finally determined to kill you.

And still you managed to push it further, you stinking bag of insignificant goat shit.

In a Trial before the Gods, where all we are allowed to rely on are muscle and steel, you used an artefact. An artefact you had kept hidden on your person and presumable the same artefact you had wagered for this very Trial too.

That adds blasphemy to your crimes, Ralf. And blasphemers… do not get an easy death.”

Erik’s words were spoken calmly, but dripped with venom and internal hatred the longer he spoke. And all Norscans around them heard his words loud and clear.

Realisation slowly set in for Ralf as he imagined the thousands of creative and painful ways he could now be killed. Hackling and struggling to speak, he desperately tried to plead for his life, but Erik would have none of it.

Grabbing hold of the prince’s tongue, Erik cut it off in the cruellest way possible. By slamming Ralf’s jaws shut, forcing him to feel his teeth cut through the tough muscle tissue.

Walking away from the pitiful figure, Erik found a lit torch and a candle. Under the watchful gaze of thousands of tribesmen, Erik then set to work.

First, he cauterised Ralf’s excessively bleeding wounds with fire. Then began the painful process of skinning the blasphemer’s back with the pain-amplifying Messer. Seemingly relishing in the pain it caused, the blade lit up with a purple sheen as it seemed to absorb, drink, the blood coming from the flayed skin.

Cauterising with fire as he carefully worked, Erik noted that skinning a human was far easier yet also more finicky than a troll.

‘Must be due to the difference in toughness.’

After finishing with Ralf’s back, Erik asked for salt to be brought from the kitchens as he began work on the legs.

An hour later, during which Erik relentlessly worked to skin, flame and salt the Aesling princeling’s body, Ralf was nothing but a mass of naked muscles and tendons as he twitched at the slightest breeze.

The Gods must truly have been watching, since Ralf didn’t faint once nor let out a muffled a scream as if he was held down by a greater power.

Meanwhile, Erik also came down from his dreadfully calm state and felt like something had taken a hold of him to execute a determined punishment. There was one final thing he felt he needed to do to finish the prolonged execution: Tie Ralf to a stake and burn him on the pyre.

And the attention from the Gods was made apparent to all when Ralf did not burst into flames or quickly suffocated in the thick smoke. Instead, his tongue grew back and the skin on his throat healed, just to allow him to scream in agony as the flames burned his raw flesh without charring. Only licking, never biting as the flames’ colour changed between crimson, pink, green and blue.

Finally, after the flames eventually consumed Ralf’s body piece by flayed piece, the fire went out like a candle under glass.

~Bleep! – Player Erik obtained additional Mark: Mark of Khorne!

~Bleep! – Player Erik gained Favour! Your patron’s relished in your execution of the blasphemer and praise you for completing the Trials set before you!

Large amount of Favour received!
Favour exchange opened!
Favour shop opened!

Player may now receive Quests from his/her patron. Quests are long-term objectives with grand rewards when completed!

~Bleep! – …

Macrendil-Ysmir

A swift conclusion to Erik's full integration with the Skaelling Frost Wolves. Next up: Brettonia! Raid, Pillage & Plunder!