Bo Soren, ‘The Axe', Space Wolves watch-pack

background: https://wh40k-de.lexicanum.com/wiki/Bo_Soren

It was as if the world were ending. The Bloody Sunset of legend, the end of things, the wolf eating its own tail, the end of the great cycle, to be followed only by the cold moonrise of the afterworld. Faffnr had been forced to tie the whimpering shipmaster to his seat. Bo Soren, known as ‘The Axe', had stood watch day and night over the Navigator's socket-pit, blade ready to administer mercy.

The men with Kleve and Gantulga stood aside, and the pack of Space Wolves was revealed. They crouched rather than bowed or knelt, hunched and huddled in their armour and pelts upon the black and white paving. One was sharpening his war-axe with long, steady strokes of the honing flat. All of them had removed their helms, but they still wore their tight leatherwork hoods and masks, fright-masks curled in perpetual snarls, worked with figures and spirals. Their eyes shone yellow

‘Fenrys Hjolda,' said Guilliman. ‘You are far from home.'

Their leader rose out of his squat, unwrapping the fur cloak he had gathered around his forearms, and allowing it to fall loose.

‘Not your home, Jarl Guilliman,' he said.

‘Let me know you,' said Guilliman.

‘Faffnr Bludbroder,' said the Wolf, ‘and my pack.'

‘Ten of you. A squad.'

‘A pack. In fealty to Sesc Company, of the Rout, of the Vlka Fenryka.'

Guilliman glanced at the warrior sharpening the axe. Apart from Faffnr, none of the Wolves had risen or shown any deference.

‘That axe looks sharp enough to me, brother,' said Guilliman.

‘No axe can ever be too sharp,' the man replied without looking up.

‘Bo Soren,' Faffnr growled. ‘Ask forgiveness for your tongue.'

The Wolf looked up at Guilliman. He bared his teeth.

‘I recognise my failing and will be sure to correct it,' he said.

Faffnr looked at Guilliman. ‘Bo Soren can be insolent,' he said, unapologetically.

‘Bo Soren is a Space Wolf,' said Guilliman.

‘You make a good point, jarl,' said Faffnr.

‘Of all today's visitors, you intrigue me most.'

‘Are we not welcome to your hall, Jarl Guilliman?' asked another of the men.

‘Hush your noise, Herek,' said Faffnr.

Biter Herek let out a low, bubbling growl.

‘You are all welcome to my hall, Faffnr Bludbroder. What intrigues me is that everyone else sought a safe haven. From the flight data of your vessel, I see that Macragge was your intended destination.'

‘It was.'

‘We rode out the storm to get here,' said Biter Herek.

‘We have a duty here,' added Bo Soren.

‘A duty?' echoed Guilliman.

‘Bo Soren has a big mouth,' growled Faffnr.

‘Necessarily, for he has a great many teeth to fit into it,' said Guilliman.

‘Dogs must always wait at the doorpost,' Gorod rumbled out of the depths of his Terminator plate, ‘until the master lets them in. Good dogs, that is. Good dogs stay at the edge of the firelight, waiting for scraps, until they are allowed near the hearth.'

Faffnr turned his head slowly and stared into the Cataphractii's gargoyle visor. His eyes were unblinking. One of his men leaned forward and whispered something into the pack-leader's ear. A half-smile crinkled Faffnr's lips, exposing one fang.

‘No, Bo Soren,' he said. ‘I can't let you do that. Though it would be funny to watch.'

‘Satisfied?' asked the Lion, tossing the axe back to him.

‘Honour is satisfied, lord,' Faffnr assented, catching it. He nodded and backed off, waving to his pack to do the same. Holguin and Redloss both grinned with unbearable insouciance.

‘Then tell Bo Soren to guard his manners, Faffnr,' Guilliman said over his shoulder without looking back.

‘I will, Jarl,' Faffnr returned. Guilliman heard a hard slap and a muffled curse.

Konrad Curze came out of somewhere. It was not exactly clear where. It might have been a shadow, or a fold of drapery, or even merely a tiny crack in the wall. He manifested. He was monstrously vast, a black shadow, power claws unfurled like the flight feathers of a raven. His hair was a halo of filth. His mouth was impossibly large, a yawning, blackened maw that stretched the thin white flesh of his angular skull as though it would split it. His right cheek was slashed to the bone and clotted with dark blood.

The Wolves went for him without hesitation. Their blades were thirsty.

Only Faffnr stayed his place, loyal Faffnr, covering her, defending her with his blade and body.

‘Run now,' he told her.

‘I can't run,' she said, barely able to get up.

‘Hjold! You'll darn well run if I tell you to run, female!'

A blur. Bo Soren swung his axe, but it was stopped dead by curved talons. Shockeye Ffyn lunged with his longsword, but cut only smoke.

Gudson Allfreyer came at the beast, but was smashed aside, spitting blood and broken teeth. Mads Loreson tried to swing, but was blocked by the reeling Allfreyer.

A primarch. A squad of the Legiones Astartes. One locked room. The same locked room. How would history repeat itself? How would it be revised?

The Wolves were the Emperor's executioners.

But Curze…

Malmur Longreach, spear thrusting, and Salick the Braided, axe low, attacked together. One struck home, for blood spattered the floor and the furniture around Euten, but both were knocked aside. Kuro came in, Biter Herek, then Nido Knifeson.

Blades hammered off armour and drew flinty sparks from whirling claws. Curze grabbed Salick by the throat and threw him across the chamber into the wall. Biter Herek buried his axe in the depths of Curze's darkness. Blood sprayed. Mads Loreson went down on one knee, clutching at his torn throat, trying to stem the blood gushing from it. Kuro Jjordrovk sailed across the chamber and demolished a chair and table as he landed.

Curze was laughing. His pale, harlequin face was split by a maniacal grin of delight in bloodshed. He threw Shockeye Ffyn through the chamber windows, which detonated as one sheet like a glass bomb. He kicked Biter Herek to the ground and cracked his skull with a vicious, armoured, driving elbow. He took Gudson's sword away, broke it across the Wolf's back, then drove the broken blade into Bo Soren's cheek.

!soren discuss