" Feel the reckoning of Sigmar, let he show you mercy for I shall give you none! "<br/>That was the last thing a wildman in the forest heard before his face got turned into a pastry mess against the ground. The skin and skull showed no resistance as the warhammer pushed through it and into the ground beneath. The scenery in front of you is a grim one, the thick forest being adorned with blood splatter and dead corpses of it's inhabitants. Each one carrying markings of being gruesomely mauled or seared, some even mutilated. A good five men lied around in a gory mess that was gonna become a haven for flies by the night. In the middle of the mess there was still a half breathing wildman, his hair was long so was his beard, his rugged leather clothing was flimsy and his sword was shattered in pieces. He was stained with blood and a broken rib was scratching against his left lung from the inside. A huge boot pushed it's way against his ribs. The man above was heavily armored, wearing symbols of hammers, skulls and the Twin Comet. He was bold and he looked grim showed no sign of hesitation to push his boot to crush the poor man below him.<br/><br/>" Your brothers have fallen, your sword is shattered. You are nothing but a broken corpse, cling onto the  flame of life as it flickers in the wind.<br/>Be grateful, for Sigmar have blessed me great benevolence and mercy against those who are deemed it.<br/><br/>There's still hope for you. Tell me the location of the nearest village and I shall give you a second chance of life. Would you not pick the righteous path, then by Sigmar I shall hunt you down and punish you in ways you would beg on your knees to be scent to a witch hunter. "<br/><br/>The tall man, sporting at least one meter and eighty centimeter. His face was covered in red stains of blood, so was his armor. His left gauntlet was even dripping of it. However, the circlet on his head remained unaltered. The golden symbol of the Twin Tailed Comet was glistering against the sunrays sipping through the branches in the forest. His warhammers were of finest craftmanship, symbolic skulls on the sides and one of them being spiked on the head of where skulls and bones were pointed at. The man under him was breathing heavily in agonizing pain as he strained the best he could to point with his left arm the direction to the village.<br/>Displeased, the Priest of Sigmar pressed his boot and twisted it alittle.<br/><br/>" How far!? What's it's name!? "<br/><br/>The wildman screamed in extreme pain, cringing his limbs trying to protect himself from more suffering. He was overpowered, he knew it this was the end of him when his band tried to kill the lone priest and he turned one into a crisp and another flying away from a single blow. Another press came from the boot as the priest's patient was running thin. The wildman spoke.<br/><br/>" Gaugh!.. A.. About a yard away!! Is ca-AAAaa- called... Dullark! "<br/><br/>The priest stared down on the wildman, as to see into his soul to see if he was lying. This was not something a Priest of Sigmar was actually capable of.. But he sure had the looks as if he could do such a thing. He raised his foot from the bandit's chest and opened up holy book of Sigmar attached to the keychain along the right side of his belt. Chanting the words in it in old Emperic tongue. The yellow light blessing the wildman as he felt the pain of his body running out from him. His body being healed as wounds closed and bruises mended. The priest, Reinhart, closed his book and let the book slid down to his waist once more.<br/>" Blessed be he whose prayers are answered by Sigmar himself. Now go, find the path of righteousness. Protect the human race with your life as yours was just bought from the jaws of death by a servant of Sigmar. Now you must pay your debt.<br/>I will also take your horse."<br/><br/>The wildman looked both amazed and scared. He made it swift to raise up and run away from the sight of the warrior priest. Now it was up to the savage if he would do his deed or give up his second chance in life by returning to his bad roots. Reinhart did no longer care for the man as he looked on the pale white horse tied to a tree twenty feet away. Taking pity on the creature being misused by such corrupt men he walked to it, untying the reins from the bark and mounted upon it. Patting it's mane and kicked it off to run against the location that the wildman had told him a village should exist.<br/>It shouldn't take long to get there by horse. Hopefully before night. The cold winds of the North are unforgiving.<br/>He wanted a place to stay for a while, to wash off his armor and face from the blood covering him. Hopefully the village would be a hospital one and not a marauder camp.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>