The Saga of Sigvid Stormbrow

[Grimtooth]

The hearth of the great hall contained the dying embers of a fire that softly illuminated the figure seated before it. It was the silhouette of a man cloaked in furs that sat on the lone wooden bench before the flickering glow, but the sheer size of him shattered any premise that he was a normal human being.

 

Long braids of grey hair hung from his head to his shoulders, framing a leathery skinned faced set with jagged scars. The haunting blue eyes set below his stony brow looked down at the small collection of soft river worn stones in his overly large hand. As he turned them over slowly with his fingers, examining them as he had countless times before, his memory traced back to a lifetime centuries in the past;

He had grasped the child-gift with his trembling infant hand, but it had never been his destiny…………..

[Grimtooth]

Sigvid had left early that morning with the other young hunters to check snares for prey and for any sign of the migratory elk that would stock the great hall for the upcoming long winter. What had started as an otherwise routine day for them had turned serious when fresh tracks of a small herd of the animals had been detected. A scout had returned out of breath in excitement and exertion recalling the details of where they elk had bedded down for the afternoon. Sigvid smiled to himself at the scout’s report. The herd was not as large as scout told them. This was a fact that Sigvid could just pick from the younger boy’s mind with ease. He could sense that no bad intent was behind the small white lie, but just the excitement of youth adding exaggeration to the hunt.

 

As had it been for as long as he could recall, small little insights into his kinsfolk’s thought and emotions sometimes flooded into his conscience at times. Sometimes by happenstance, other times by his own concentration. He had never thought anything more of it then his closeness to them as his brothers and sisters of Clan Stone Claw and thus had never spoke of it. Other times, he would just know within his heart if his snares and traps had been tripped and if prey awaited him. He placed these hunches on the fact that he was a hunter and knew the habits of the animals he hunted so well. Of these abilities he gave no outward sign. His observations of the clan’s shaman, their rituals, and of the schooling of young men who were marked by the wyrd held no desire for him. He was the only son of his father, a father who held a position of honor in the chieftain’s war council. His footsteps would follow those of his father; he would be a great hunter and then a great warrior. The life of a priest; locked in solitude studying the stars or casting the rune stones, held no future for him.

 

The young hunters quickly formed a plan and set off at a brisk pace that would bring them upon the bedded elk, downwind and within cover of a small draw in a half hour. As they approached the draw, Sigvid could sense the presence of the flankers as they crept towards the napping animals. The flankers would spook the beasts by beating their spears against their shields and drive them into the draw. The ambush of the other hunters would easily bring down several elk that would have them being praised with song and mead in the great hall tonight.

 

The game call of his brethren brought Sigvid from his thoughts of celebration and signified that the flankers were in place and ready. A loud howl from the right kicked off the hunt. The flankers stood from their positions of concealment and began to sing a loud drinking song of their elders as they began to beat on their shields with the shafts of their spears. A loud cracking of branches and hoofs beating upon the frozen tundra revealed a small herd of the elk now rushing toward the draw.

 

Sigvid sized up what would be his first kill of the day and prized trophy, an immense bull with a huge rack of antlers of which one point had been broken leaving a sharpened jagged edge. This bull was a fighter and this rack would be hung in the great hall with honor brought to Skarl and his father. As if linked in thought, the bull turned, caught the eyes of the young hunter, let loose a bellow, and lowered his antlers to charge. A sharp grin rose as Skarl tasted the rage and anger from the bull as if a scent that was carried upon the wind to him. He crouched down, spear in hand, bringing it to his shoulder and began to leap forward in one fluid motion; drawing the weapon back to cast into the animals breast.

 

Suddenly Sigvid was frozen in place as he was blinded by a bright flash of light! The hunt, the charging elk, the yells of his brothers; everything faded from reality to be replaced with the sounds of screams and scents of burning flesh and spilt blood. Eyes glazed white, muscles rippling and bulging in strain against the mental onlslaught, Sigvid saw his father lying dead, bodies of an unknown enemy around him and his mother laid across his chest sobbing in grief. A faceless enemy grabbed his mother cruelly by her hair and tried to pull her to her feet. She resisted, but not out of fear, but out of feint as the meat carving knife she had been hiding flashed from beneath her and gutted the unsuspecting victim with a single stroke. Before she could turn and run, her body was run through with a half dozen crude spears held by laughing, faceless warriors. His vantage point widened, now looking down on the ruins that had one been his home. Shelters were on fire everywhere, the great wooden hall being the largest. Men lay dying or already dead, and women and children, bound at the wrists, were herded towards the livestock pens.

 

A quickly as it began, it was over. The fresh icy air of the tundra cleansed his mind and Sigvid blinked away the last vestige of destruction from his sight to only see the charging bull less then twenty feet away. His numb, lifeless fingers dropped the hunting spear in recognition that it could not be cast soon enough to elude the razor sharp spear points of the antlers. However, the memory of his slain parents, the destruction of his home crashed to the forefront of his mind. Power unbidden grew from his chest and radiated to his arms causing the muscles to first tremble in strain and then adapt to the newfound strength. Not knowing what was happening, unknown instinct dictated the young man's actions. Crouching again, Sigvid brought his hands up and together as if in prayer completing the path of power that had extended down each limb and a loud crack emitted from the contact although he had barely touched them together.

 

The charging bull, a mere few feet from the young hunter, crashed headlong into an invisible barrier. The great trophy antlers splintered and shattered as the force moved through them. Bewildered eyes filled with shock and then blood as the force barrier carried itself through the animal, breaking bones and crumpling the once great beast to the ground at Sigvid’s feet. There was no last shuddering breath, there was no twitching of dying muscle; the massive bull elk was just dead.

 

Without a backwards glance at the awestruck brothers that had witnessed the event, Sigvid picked up his spear, turned towards the direction of home, and began to run.

[Grimtooth]

Sigvid had crested the lip of the valley that sheltered his village from the harsh winter winds for all his life, his heart racing in his chest and the blood pounding in his ears from the frenzied run home. Plumes of black smoke rose from countless fires. The ruins of what had been the great hall now lay in collapsed burning timbers. Everywhere familiar bodies lay dead or dying. The dead of the invaders obviously having been carried away by comrades, his kin left for the carrion birds. Movement to his left caught his eye as a group of raiders clad in the armor and garb of the Dragon Blood clan walked into view from behind a shelter engulfed in flames. Cold fury rose in Sigvid chest as what had to be the rearguard of the raiders kicked through the ashes for loot and searched bodies for souvenirs. Animalistic rage tempered by the training at the hands of his father ripped through his emotions at the sight of the men who had done this to his brethren and at the desecration of their bodies. Behind him he heard the pounding feet of his hunting brothers finally catching up to him and without turning to confirm that they were with him; he let loose a howl of anger and charged down the hill into battle.

 

The Dragon Blood clan raiders heard the howl and turned readying their weapons to only see a young boy on the edge of manhood charging them from down the valley side, followed by others just cresting the hill. The raiders had just annihilated their long time Stone Claw enemy and now faced with a charging hunting party of children made some of them laugh. Laughter turned to a groan of pain as one of them stumbled to the ground, a hunting spear jutting from his chest. They had not even seen the lead one cast his spear and yet as he ran full speed towards them, he bent to snatch at a double-headed axe lying on the ground to replace his now absent ranged weapon. Two others now fell to thrown spears from the rest of the hunting party; however these were not thrown with as much power to mortally wound them. Experience saved six of the raiders but only by moments as they recovered from the initial shock to meet the youth as he crashed into the group.

 

Sigvid had seen his spear embedded in the raider before he had even thrown it. He only had to draw back his arm and let loose knowing that it would find its mark. Weaponless, he had bent to grasp the handle of the axe, only hoping it would be in reach, when it suddenly leapt into his hand. Crashing into the men, Sigvid became a predator unleashed. Those that had braced themselves for the charge were the first to die to the biting edges of the axe as each swing of the axe met an enemy body with a sickening crunch of ribs and organs. One raider feinted to the side, thrusting his own spear at the youth’s midsection, only to be parried by the axe shaft and instead score a slash at his hip. With the sudden pain as a catalyst, Sigvid felt the power within him build to a crescendo once again and course down his free arm to his hand which reflexively opened towards his attacker, palm open. The air shimmered between them for a moment before coalescing in razor sharp ice crystals. The raider only had a moment to stare in awe before the flesh was flayed from his face in ragged chunks of gore from the propelled ice shards.

 

A hard blow to his back, threw Sigvid forward and he rolled with the hit to come up to his feet away from his attacker. The shield that had been strapped to his back had saved him from the death, but now slid from his shoulders shattered and useless. A warm gush of blood ran down the small of his back from the partially deflected wound. A large man grinned with a sick smile in anticipation of the next killing stroke at Sigvid. Taking pause to look for his pack mates, despair at their fortune took his breath away. These raiders were hardened men, and the hunting party was mere playthings to them in real battle. The balance of the fighting was now tipping in favor of the Dragon Blood clan as they recovered from their initial surprise. He saw two blood brothers taken down by one of the men wielding axes in each hand. Another brother he saw run through with spears by two raiders that had expertly bracketed and separated him from his brethren. The raiders were now playing with the boys in separate fights across the area. Visions of triumphant revenge drifted away as Sigvid witnessed the slaughter of his brothers and was replaced by the cold realization that all he would be able to do would be to take as many as them with him before he died.

 

A quick glance at the advancing man, Sigvid envisioned his axe hurtled towards the man with all his strength. A second later a blur of flashing steel split the grinning face in twain, blood splashing from the wound in a great fount while the man staggered forward a step or two more before the body realized it was dead. Plucking a spear from the ground, the young hunter cast his glance around for a new target of his death pact. He caught sight of Hrolf in combat with two raiders while another four stood by ready, watching in amusement, waiting for their turn. Hrolf, a close blood relative of Sigvid, had been trained alongside him in weapons and combat since his own father had died in the Battle of the Twin Wolves, but that was not nearly enough for what he now faced.

 

One of the raiders lunged forward with his sword tip, piercing Hrolf’s thigh, but nothing more. Hrolf, realizing the attack for diversionary, reversed his spear stroke and thrust it into the unprotected neck of the other man that had been counting on the youth to go after his initial attacker. His skinning knife left his other hand in a quick flick and buried itself to the hilt in the thigh of the original attacker as he stepped forward in an attempt to save his already dying friend. Laughing at the now wounded man at his ineptitude of being unable to kill a boy, the other men joined to finish the defiant youth. Sigvid saw Hrolf manage to block the first incoming blows from the men, but the spear strike that skewered him high in the chest was unavoidable. Sigvid watched as Hrolf sunk to his knees, leaning forward against the spear shaft still held by the Dragon Blood raider. A grimace of pain crossed his brother’s face as the man twisted the shaft in his hands to torture him a little more before granting him death.

 

For the last time that day, the power within Sigvid reached a crescendo. This time however, it grew from a previously untapped fount of power within the youth. Visions of before his birth flooded into his mind; his mother pregnant with him, standing under an eclipsed Wolf’s Eye. The strangers that had come afterwards, giants in grey smoke colored armor adorned with rune stones and talismans of great power. The larger of the two, wyrd power emanating from him in waves and flame red hair framing his wizened face, kissed his mother’s palms and promised that when the time was right, they would return. Tears of joy ran down his mother’s face and his father trembled in quiet solace, tears not befitting his pride yet gathered in the corners of his eyes for his unborn son. These visions along with a multitude of others too fast to describe or recognize flashed across eyes glazed over white seeing nothing but seeing all.

 

Sigvid’s steps grew heavy! Power from the ground itself fused his leather clad feet to Fenris and drove up through his legs and into the core of his soul. Overused muscles and pained joints locked and adapted to the infusion of power, as if designed for that very purpose. Arc light danced across the shaft of the spear and settled in an unearthly glacial blue glow on the iron point drawing the attention of the raiders surrounding Hrolf. With a flood of conscience knowledge, Sigvid knew the spear would not be cast. He knew the spear would not touch flesh. With a howl that mentally shocked the fascinated raiders, Sigvid thrust the point of the spear into the rocky earth, parting the solid stone as if it were the flesh of a fattened herd animal, burying the spear halfway up the wooden shaft.

 

Where the ground was pierced by the power infused spear point there was explosion of sparks, dust, and stone. The raw power of Fenris itself, coursed up from the ground, into Sigvid, and then back into the ground through the spear turned conduit. Jagged sharp edges of stone ripped from the earth like jagged teeth of a wolf, starting at the spear and racing towards the now fear filled Dragon Blood clan raiders. The men dropped their weapons and screaming to their gods, raced away from the great jagged toothed stones winding a path towards them. As they split into different directions, so to did the power coursing just under the surface of their feet. A vicious smile rose to Sigvid’s lips as a final pulse of power rose from the ground through his body and shot out along the rocky veins. Stones sharper then any steel weapon made thrust up beneath the fleeing cowards. Legs were ripped from hips, groins were pierced, and men disemboweled at the power unleashed as stone sabers speared up from the earth. The screams of the men carried across the valley, but as suddenly as they were released from lips already blue with shock and pain, so did they subside into gasps and whimpers of the dying

.

Sigvid weaved on his feet with exhaustion, physically but moreso mentally. He forced his eyes to focus on where Hrolf now kneeled, awestruck at the devastation his pack brother had released on their enemy. He had already broken the shaft of the spear where it met the iron point, but the frothy blood at his lips indicated that the injury would need much more attention. Sigvid walked wearily towards Hrolf and helped him to his feet and moved him away from the carnage and sat him near one of the still burning shelters for warmth. The others hunters were gone, as were his kinsfolk; lying dead among the ashes or whisked away as spoils of war on the waiting ships. He stood to check on Hrolf and caught the wary look of fear from his wounded brother’s eye. Not the fear of death, but the fear of him.

 

 

 

The immense figure stood at the crest of the valley looking across it at the sole survivors of the Stone Claw clan gathered next to a small wind swept fire. The wind whipped his wolf cloak around his armor clad legs and despite it being close to freezing, the black suit of armor easily protected him from the biting cold. He turned his wolf skull fashioned helm to the side and addressed the figure walking up to his side,

 

"Well they are where Njal said they would be. Didn't expect to see that type of display though."

 

The other giant only grunted in reply. He leaned against a staff of ornate design on which was cast a multitude of runic signs, similar ones adorning every available space of his gray armor. Wolf teeth and rune stones strung in a necklace hung from below his twin forked braided gray beard and waves of potential power emanated with his very presence. His enhanced eyesight saw the boys huddled together and with a soft yet powerful voice he spoke,

 

"The rune stones said there would be two, and two is what we find. Let us fetch them before the second one dies and we prove them wrong."

[Black2Jack1]

Wow, nice looks to be a future rune priest!

[Requiem of the Wolf]

Wow, nice looks to be a future rune priest!

Very nice so far. Keep up the good work Brother,this tale looks to be developing nicely.

[Grimtooth]

Thanks guys. I am at lunch right now but got the muse by the neck and he is whispering into my ear about the next part.

[Grimtooth]

Added the last part of the Saga of Sigvid Storm Brow.

[mitchell93]

Wow this is good.

[Grimtooth]

Thanks to the mod that cleaned up the thread for me!

[Warhorse47]

Whoa, another great tale!

[Grimtooth]

So I decided with each saga that I create for my main characters, that I will end it with a build plan to follow. I hope to incorporate my build plans into my blog when I get the time to upload a ton of pics I have taken and whatnot from all my work (rhinos/Long Fangs/characters).

 

So my build plan for Sigvid is going to make him a Rune Priest among rune priest. Being born under an eclipse, his parents being visited by what is hinted at as being Njal, and the presence of the wolf priest and rune priest on the day of his choosing being foretold by the runes makes me want to set him apart as being destined for the ranks of a rune priest.

 

Now in my story, we see the rudimentary beginnings of Thunderclap and Murderous Hurricane. We also see a somewhat uncontrolled use of Jaws of the World Wolf. No gaping chasm opening up to swallow the raiders, but use of the ground as a weapon.

 

So bitz wise,

 

1. I want to use the missile launcher, palm out hand to represent him casting a psychic power.

2. I am going to stick with him armed with a spear type force weapon. Spear of Fate from Everquest will be my inspiration with some wolfy bitz.

3. Rune craft over a great deal of his armor.

4. Sticking with a younger head for him. Being recognized so young by elder rune priests, he would excel under formal training and be much younger when placed with a company.

[Grimtooth]

Sigvid knew this would not be like other battles against the Tyranids his bretheren had face before. Genestealers and hormagaunts of the swarms they had faced before easily fell before his psychic powers and the firepower of the Long Fang brethren he accompanied into battle. However the crashing of undergrowth and the immense forms his enhanced eyesight were able to pick out moving through the darkness led him to believe that this battle would be as he had seen during his mentorship with the Ultramarines of Macragge.

 

His mind was troubled by scouting reports that among this brood stalked the lictor mutant known as the "Deathleaper". His time spent with the heavy weapon specialists of the Space Wolves had taught him that such foes of stealth and cunning specifically would target the long range firepower to silence it early and prevent the devastation they could deliver. The deep organic musky smell of the Tyranids moving into position permeated the air and would allow such an enemy to remain undetected until it decided to attack them to which the Long Fangs heavy weaponry would be useless in such close quarters.

 

To his flank he heard the engines of Rhino transports roar into life in synchronization to the chime of his chronometer signifying the start of the offensive. A moment later the staccato of massed bolter fire drowned out the revving engines of the armored transports. From his comm, a voice almost drowned out by the bolter fire, reported the situation,

 

"+++Sigvid, we have massed gaunts practically in our lines with Terv hiding in their midst. Request that you acquire target at position 9086790893.+++

 

Sigvid acknowledged and turned to the heavy weapon specialist already loading the anti-armor munitions that would punch holes through the monstrous creatures thickened carapace and prevent it from giving birth to more gaunts. Despite the darkness, both he and the Long Fang pack could pick out the immense form of the Tervigon among the smaller xenos.

 

Suddenly the ground trembled beneath them and a piercing psychic scream drove him to his knees. Gripping his runic spear and attempting to calm the tide of ethereal pain rushing through his body, he sought to regain his composure. One of the great beasts was very near, casting the vast conscience of the Tyranid Hivemind like a deafening, smothering blanket of psychic interference across the battlefield.

 

Before them, the ground erupted in a shower of rocks and dirt. The flash of chitinous armor emerging from the ground and flash of immense scything talons revealed itself in the darkness before them. Sigvid recognized the hooded and spiked carapace from knowledge gained via the tutelary engines of the Ultramarines long history against such an enemy. It had not been the lictor variant ordered to suppress their heavy fire, but instead a Trygon Prime had been ordered to tunnel towards them.

 

Across the great monsters back deathly energy pulsed across row upon row of sharpened bone spines. Sigvid shouted quickly for his brothers to seek cover before the beast flexed forward discharging the bio-electrical embued bone spikes into the pack. Hiren dropped immediately, one of the projectiles jutting from his chest and discharging the lethal current through his body. In response, twin vapor contrails following krak missiles streaked forth from the remaining pack members, blasting two gaping wounds in the Trygon's segmented body but only appearing to anger it.

 

With the overbearing presence of the hive mind crushing him, Sigvid felt the rising beast within howl in fury at the mental assault. Through slitted eyes, he staggered to his feet. The beast before him reared up to full height and roared a challenge and in that instant, Sigvid glimpsed the exposed nerve plexus beneath the armored maw. Leaping forward with a snarl of anger, he drove the point of his runic spear with deathly accuracy. The iron shaft buried itself in the vital opening under the snapping jaws of the Trygon but did not fell the xenos and once again only served to anger it even more.

 

Twin scything talons snapped forward towards Sigvid, one ripping into his abdomen and the other bisecting his chest. The sudden immense flash of pain ripped through his conscience and for once in the centuries since he had become a Space Wolf, the beast within howled and recoiled from the grievous wounds as well. However, within the shock of such pain came a sudden burst of clarity. The shadow of the hive mind was forgotten, erased in the pain induced euphoric state as his body dumped pain reducers and adrenaline into his blood stream.

 

A bloody smile crossed Sigvid's face as the full pyschic might of the warp was once again at his fingertips. A grunt of pain and power unleashed from the twin gaping wounds of his ravished body and lanced into the spear embedded within the great beast. The Trygon collasped, all life suddenly drained from it's movements. The ichor gleaming carapace armor dulled as the great powers of the warp leached the very essence of the beast to feed the gibbering denizens of the warp.

 

A groan escaped his lips, followed by a flood of blood. Sigvid dropped to his knees, a low growling stutter issuing from his wounded body as he tried to laugh at his luck. His wounds would heal, he could already feel himself slipping into the Red Dream, and this battle would be added to his saga.

[Grimtooth]

So I wrote this saga to represent my last battle against some bugs. I have references to Sigvid having Saga of the Beastslayer with time spent mentoring with the Ultras. Also, Shadows of the Warp was a huge deal in this game and my opponent used Deathleaper to reduce my leadership.

 

The point of the game this saga represents is right when the Trygon Prime deep struck. He wiped out my pack leader and in my next turn I had Sigvid leave the Long Fangs to be able to assault. I did two wounds with krak missiles leaving 4 left and assaulted with Sigvid. With rerolls I ended up hitting 3 times and needed a 6 to wound. I rolled one 6! I then needed to roll 8 or less on 3d6 due to Shadow of the Warp and Deathleaper leadership deduction. I rolled an 8!!

 

Trygon Prime instabgibbed!!