Righteous Slaughter

Created by Morgrimm, Son of Ashgrimm

With multiple heavy blows, Grulmog’s axe finally cut through the silver armor of the Stormcast before him, causing them to crumple to the Slayers bare feet. “Remember the dead of Karak Edur!” he spit at the dead Stormcast, frothing at his mouth, pure hatred burning in his eyes.
A jump, another cut, and some mustached Freeguild weakling grasped at his throat, his lifeblood bursting forth and soiling Grulmogs fiery red beard, which filled him with grim satisfaction. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see his brothers in arms, thunderous warcries on their lips, the runes engraved on their bodies shining in bright golden color, charging into the loosening lines of cursed Sigmar´s minions, slaughtering and slaying all those that crossed their bloody paths.
Grulmog did not stop to watch, no, all that mattered to him right now was his own, deadly work. He ran towards his target, a gargant, and disposed of other enemies left and right with quick, deadly cuts. After cleaving a Stormcast´s helmet in twain, he had finally reached his quarry, and hacked away at the gargant´s achilles tendon, reveling in the ear-shattering cry of pain that came from above. With a quick jump, he evaded the gargant´s giant club, unable to refrain from grinning at the sight of two freeguild men who did not. He cleaved the gargant´s thumb from his hand, then buried his axes deep into his arm.
With the help of two of his comrades, the gargant finally fell.
Grulmog looked towards the top of Scarras walls, where the other defenders stood. They cheered at the Duardins sudden advance, at the bloodbath they created.
“Get down here!” he screamed at them. “This is where the true battle is fought! They will not even breach the walls!” He laughed, but it was bereft of humor, a laughter born from rage.
Just then, the tall shield of a stormcast Liberator shoved him to the ground. Her spear pierced the dirt dangerously close to his head, and only his honed reflexes allowed Grulmog to roll away from her next hard stab.
Throwing himself against her in a bull rush, he took a painful wound to his right shoulder, but he threw the Liberator enough off balance to be able to cut at her torso. That damned armor, however, held.
She tried to bring more distance between the both of them, but he would not do her this favor. The slayer stayed close up and personal. Channeling his rage, his vicious axes were brought down upon her again and again, and although his nose was bloody because of a well-timed shield bash, in the end, her head was cleanly removed from her shoulders.
Grulmog spit on the corpse, then threw the helm with head against Scarras walls; he would make sure that it would join the city´s decorations.
Breathing heavily, he regained his bearings, looking for his next target. There were still many Stormcast left to kill.