flying from his fangs in gray tufts and blood spattering
from a dozen wounds, leapt ferociously from the cage.
The huge beast rent orc flesh mercilessly as the warriors
struggled to close the gate, keeping the frenzied pack at
bay.
Several more orcs ran shouting into the cavern,
short swords and clubs whirling threateningly above their
heads, drawing the worg’s attention from their downed
brethren. They circled and then froze, momentarily
trapped directly in front of Wank’s hiding place. The worg
lunged amid them and they scattered feverishly. He
pounced after, already blooded and not about to be
calmed until once again victor or vanquished.
Two of the reinforcements went down, one’s
throat torn open and the other’s belly ripped wide, while
the third cowered in a corner on the near side of the worg
pens. He shook his sword before him like a wind-whipped
tree branch.
As the beast got low on its haunches and readied
to pounce, Wank drew two daggers he had appropriated
from the stores of a lesser shaman. The half-orc emerged
slowly from his niche, not wanting to alert the beast. He
leapt silently to the worg’s back, stifling a menacing growl
as he slammed both blades in up to their hilts.
The mad wolf’s neck swung ferociously around,
Wank clinging in vicious glee and rigid fright by daggers
and knees, unable to let go! Too damn afraid to let go!
Only when the wolf was a pile of quivering, blood covered
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