The Shadow Wolf Sagas: The Whores’s War 3.9

Hello! this is my weekly serial, written raw as a writing exercise.

You can find the first post in the series here.

Last week’s post is here.


Ulfgorr the Werewolf came at us in an explosion of broken wood and monstrous rage. It is one thing to know that such a thing exists, but quite another to be suddenly confronted with one. Especially this one.

In this form, Ulfgorr is even more unsettling than when he walks as a man. His features were part man, part wolf as one might expect, but there was something else in the mix, something nightmarish. He was long-limbed and skeletal thin, covered charcoal fur punctured by spines in places, with claws like curved knives, and a gaping maw full of teeth that were unnatural in both shape and multitude. Only his eyes remain recognizable, yellow-irised and full of madness.

I was dismayed with the speed and power with which he moved, smashing through the doors as if they did not exist and covering half the distance between us before my hands reached my weapons and the words escaped my mouth.


Ulfgorr is feared among my Clan for a reason. He exists for only one purpose; to destroy those who have displeased Rathgrim. Even a Twiceborn champion has reason to be cautious aroundsuch a thing.

I stepped back as he scrambled over a cart, thankfully ignoring Murith. His limbs had deceptively long reach, and his talons scythed toward me, ripping up cobbles. I kept backing up, wishing that I had brought my greatsword. A set of slavering jaws, smelling of blood, snapped shut near my leg. I rolled under a cart. Ulfgorr smashed it aside and pounced. I scrambled away, but he caught me and I was sent sprawling by a blow that slashed through my sturdy kingsmail and raked my ribs bloody.

I smashed into the side of a shed and surged to my feet, but Ulfgorr was too swift. With irresistible strength he massive, sinewy form slammed into me. We burst through the wall of the shed. I twisted desperately, avoiding those reaching claws, turning and slashing at a long forearm with my axe. The blade bit as I backpedaled from the massive clawing form of my foe. I ducked another slash, then another, slammed my hammer into Ulfgorr’s knee and then dove past him, out into the open.

I almost made it.

But he was too fast and too strong. Ulfgorr lunged through the wreckage, growling, and snatched my leg. With a single, powerful motion he lifted me from the ground, dangling my upside down. I kicked and slashed at his arm with my axe, but the beast gave a kind of chuckle and flexed the talons of his free hand where I could see them.

“Garm–” I began to intone.

“Clear!” shouted Murith as she mounted a wagon five paces away, leveling her arbalest at Ulfgorr.

The werewolf looked at the dwarf woman with a puzzled expression. Ulfgarr is not used to being defied. I took the opportunity to swing my hammer as hard as I could, up and between his legs. Ulfgorr dropped me. I hit the ground at rolled, feeling the heat of his maw and the wind of his claws as he close on me. Then I heard the twang of Murith’s weapon.

That won’t do anything, I thought.

Then there was a bright flash, and a rush of heat from behind me, followed by an inhuman scream of pain.



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