the Lost tale of Hunter Corhath PART 1

Darkness loomed over the temple

the adventurers had successfully sneaked into the camp several days ago, what now seemed like weeks without the light of day. The Temple was adorned in rich golds and vibrant blues. It was this Tzeentchian bastion that the adventurers had found themselves sneaking and planning.

Treasure, it was about treasure, Hunter thought to himself. Our lives hang by a thread...over riches. Hunter was getting restless, he stuck with this group because they got into some good fights, but most of the time he sat frustrated as they plotted.

"Southerners." He muttered in his native tongue, Hunter decided he wasn't going to pucker down for any longer, he figured that he looked they wouldn't pick him out, most of these "followers" were Northerers anyway. And even if he was spotted, he would get a good fight.

He strolled over to what seemed like a Tavarn, and sat down. The tall man behind the counter stared him down. It had been a while since a fellow Norsemen, he had gotten accustomed to being the tallest man around, so it came to some surprise when Hunter had to raise his bearded chin to meet eye contact.

Hunter slammed down a couple gold crowns, grunted and pointed to the ale. To his surprise the barkeep spoke to him in Norse.

"where's your manners boy, use your words or i will make you use them"
"right then some ale!"

It was good to be reminded of home...

A bell tolled , as it rang a single voiced was heard.

"the greenskins are coming!"