In Warhammer Fantasy as my ERP Character

46

Another flash of red light, another hole punched through the heart of a Doombull. Yet it kept chasing as if it was just some flesh wound. Kal has used the spear six times. Four Doombull died as normal. However, on the fifth or sixth times, the spear failed to kill a Doombull in one hit. In fact, he sees the hole sealed by green pus as the surrounding wound turns black as if necrosis and rot is settling in. Already his body grew heavy in fatigue. Stinging pain on his right hand as it felt like lead, screaming for him to let go of the spear. He and his group of Tuskgor riders have killed a dozen of Doombulls in total, baiting them and throwing spears at them. But still a dozen left and Taurox unharmed and seemingly could chase them till the end of the earth or the Tuskgors they ride collapse out of exhaustion first.

The same thing is happening within the battle of the two main groups. Minotaurs keep fighting even when their arms or legs are chopped off. An axe cleaved deep on one of the minotaur’s right shoulder blades into the torso, few others had swords or axes stuck deep in their heads and necks, yet they kept fighting on. Druig even find a minotaur he have cut in half, still moving with just the upper torso, biting and chewing the legs of their enemies. Pungent rotting smell came off from every wound on the Slaughterhorn minotaurs body. 

Many of the golden beastmen gag and cough at the rancid smell, their immaculate body mutation that amplifies their body reflex and senses now working against them. Patches of green rot even start to form on their bodies, slowing them down even more. Wolfe and the werewolves are driven into a maddened frenzy. Clawing and biting everyone close to them. 

They made blood rain from both sides and even themselves, which pleased Khorne enough that he blesses them from what Malagor has paid. The residual divine power of both Ulric and Sigmar, corrupted, twisted, and poured upon them. The werewolves swelled in size, like blood poured upon gold that the color of their fur shifts. Their claws and fangs elongate and burn with daemonic flames. Chief of the blessed is Wolfe, his size more than doubled, his size equaling even Taurox. His fangs and claws elongated eight times, burning with daemonic flame. With his claws he diced and roasted the infested minotaurs and former friend alike and with the fangs that will never fit in his mouth again, he feasted on anyone in front of him. Wolfe howls into the sky, deafening all other sounds of battle. Pushing away all winds of magic. So haunting and loud that the battle ceased for a while. The golden herd retreats a few steps in awe and fear. Taurox answered the howl with his own roar of challenge and the Slaughterhorn cheered on a new champion of Khorne.

Taurox ceases chasing Kal, turns back and rushes to a worthy enemy. Wolfe too savaged through anyone on its path to Taurox. Druig, knowing any plan and preparation are useless at this point, issues his own roar and cleaves through and follows suit. A battle of a Champion of Khorne, a new Champion of Khorne, and another one with the same potential. Three beastmen with two being half-brothers. They have all of Khorne’s attention in this battle. A warning He sent. Let no wretched hand tarnish this fight as he will smote any that meddle. This, of course makes Tzeentch want to meddle even more, but he has his own show to look forward to. So he won’t, unless he changes his mind.

Wolfe and Taurox met first atop a small hill. As Wolfe charges, Taurox brings down both of his rune twin-axes with all his might, sundering the hill side. But Wolfe managed to stop mid charge before Taurox brings his strike down and with the axes on the ground, he uses it as a stepping stone, like a jagged spear he lunges up, aiming to bite Brass Bull’s neck. Then Taurox brings down his head as he rams the jagged mouth, breaking a few fangs. He immediately jerked his head to the side, his horn aiming to the wolf’s eye as he heft the twin-axes up. Wolfe manages to duck but is thrown over as Taurox hefted his twin-axes up.

Druig finally arrived from the side, brandishing his mighty greataxe as he swung at the bigger minotaur. Taurox turns and swings one axe down and another from the side. The Brass finally meet the Gold. Druig’s greataxe shatters one of the Taurox’s twin-axes but noticeable cracks also appear on his own greataxe. The sound the two axes met are like the ringing of thousand steels. The contest of weapons made Druig’s swing off the mark and strike Taurox’s left chest as Taurox's other axe also strikes Druig’s right flank. Molten blood flows from each of their wounds. As Druig pulls out his greataxe, a brass fist comes crashing down on his skull. Knocking him down to the ground with such a force that shook the forest. The rune axe poised for a killing blow and as Taurox swings Druig shot up, his golden horn struck the brass bull’s torso. Sparks fly with the clashing of two unstoppable forces. The swing went wide and Taurox lost his balance. Druig pushed through, trying to wrestle the bigger bull to the ground. But Wolfe finally returned to the fray, charging into the wrestle. His bite into Taurox's neck stopped again by the Brass Bull’s elbow and his claw dug deep into the Golden Bull’s shoulder.

Off balance, the three fall down and stumble into the sundered hill. Weapons escape from the two minotaurs' grasp. Brass hoof struck red fur, golden fist pummel the brass’ molten wound, burning jaw to golden’s wing, horn met horn, burning claw grazes brass neck. The three finally reached level ground. Molten blood flows from Druig’s head and his many wounds, Wolfe’s lower jaw dislocated and a visible cave in on his chest, but molten blood sputters from Taurox’s neck as he is finally wounded. The surrounding battle makes space for the three champions.

The three moves. Taurox shoves his left hand into Wolfe’s unhinged jaw as he leapt. Druig put all his might into his fist, aimed at the neck. Taurox right’s fist swung to met Druig’s own. The Brass met the Gold for the second time. A dull and loud thump like a muffled thunder followed by a shockwave. This time the Brass fist punched through, striking Druig’s head and threw him away by the force. Taurox pulled his left hand down, gripping Wolfe’s jaw as he pulled him along. The berserk wolf claws in wild abandon but Taurox shrugged the wound on his body and his claw cannot reach his neck. With his right hand free, the right hand gripped Wolfe’s spine. With his hand gripping Wolfe’s jaw and spine, he lifts him up, roars his triumph and brings the two hands together. Snapping the werewolf’s spine in half with a sickening crunch. He throws the werewolf to the side, Druig already comes charging, his golden horn shines with the two moons light. But with his attention now undivided, Taurox hands grips Druig’s horn and halts him in place. Then with his hand gripping Druig’s horn, he throw the Golden bull into werewolf’s chest. The golden horn pierced the already caved in chest with ease. The Brass Bull Pulls the Golden Bull by the horn and before Druig could try to fight back again, Taurox brings down his mighty fist to the Golden Bull’s skull for the second time. Knocking him down to the ground and breaking the horn in his grip.