The Wrath-Gors quickly clashed with the attackers.
Though these mutated Gors, now loyal to the Blood Mother, lacked the mindless bloodlust of typical Khornate berserkers, their passion for battle and utter disregard for death remained unchanged.
Unlike common Beastmen (save for those of Tzeentch), their tactics were surprisingly clever; they didn't just rush in with brute force, displaying a tactical intelligence that defied the Chaos-born average.
Fortunately, the attackers were the elite of their generation.
The leader, a "rabbit-girl" who had discarded her mask to reveal a pretty, flushed face and long, twitching ears, moved with lethal grace.
Her lithe, shapely body wove through the Wrath-Gors, her twin daggers dancing to parry heavy axes and longswords, leaving crimson gashes across the monsters' hides.
She alone—a single rabbit—held back three massive Wrath-Gors.
"Hold them off! I'm going for the Spawn of Evil!"
The rabbit-girl parried an axe blow, her daggers crossing in a shower of sparks, and shouted to her companions.
An instant later, the blunt end of a Gor's axe-handle slammed into her side.
Her face went pale, and she coughed as she retreated frantically, barely escaping the melee.
Without even catching her breath, she forced her trembling legs to sprint toward the inner camp.
Her allies doubled their efforts, desperately throwing themselves at the Gors to prevent any pursuit.
Al, who had just "soloed" the Beastlord hours ago, was busy running for his life while mentally screaming for divine intervention.
Blood Mother? You there? Help a brother out!
He ran blindly, having no clue where he was going.
"I've got you! You're mine!"
The rabbit-girl was gaining on him, her long ears pinned back by the wind, her ruby eyes glowing with a predatory, fanatical excitement.
She had ditched her bow and quiver during the fight, and one of her daggers was gone.
She was down to her last hope... or she would use her teeth and claws!
Her face was flushed an unnatural, feverish red; that previous blow had done internal damage, and she was running on pure adrenaline.
"Aah!"
Al tripped again, slamming hard into the dirt.
Goddammit! Why do I always trip when a woman is chasing me?!
"Now!"
The rabbit-girl's eyes lit up. She lunged forward, her body carving a graceful arc through the air.
But a throwing axe caught her in the back before she could reach him.
"Pffft!"
She sprayed a mouthful of blood across Al's back as she crashed beside him.
Even then, she dragged her broken body through the dirt, throwing her last dagger at Al with trembling hands.
The blade thudded into the ground inches from his thigh.
With that final, failed effort, her strength vanished, and she slumped into unconsciousness.
Al let out a shaky breath, looking at the "Wrath-Gor Bro" who had just saved him. His eyes were moist.
I'm never calling you guys 'trash mobs' again!
Footsteps sounded behind him. Al froze.
He slowly looked up and met the gaze of Celestine, who stood there holding a gleaming shortsword.
Being hunted by his own mother twice in one day?
Hell no!
Al tried to scramble away, but Celestine just stood there, motionless.
His panicked flailing looked pathetic and absurd in the face of her stillness.
He ran a few steps, realized she wasn't following, and stopped.
The woman was just staring into space, her expression a mix of horror and hesitation.
Wait, she doesn't want to kill me anymore?
She accepts me!
She loves me!
Mom, I'm hungry!
His mind raced through a series of delusional leaps, but he wasn't crazy enough to go hug the knight's legs.
He kept his distance, nursing a tiny spark of hope.
At least it was a start. Or not.
The Wrath-Gor that had saved Al caught up.
Initially, it wanted to take the rabbit-girl's head, but seeing Celestine standing there with a weapon made it perceive her as a threat.
It let out a low, warning growl for her to back off.
It knew she wasn't an enemy yet, but you couldn't expect a Beastman to show "chivalry."
Celestine misread the growl as a precursor to an attack.
She stepped forward, naked and defiant, her warrior's pride refusing to yield to a servant of Chaos.
The Wrath-Gor, its logic drowned by the scent of blood, took the movement as a challenge.
It raised its axe and charged!
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Al screamed, but it was too late.
The Gor swung.
Celestine moved with a fluid agility that should have been impossible for a woman who had just given birth.
She ducked under the axe, sidestepped a tail-swipe, and drove her shortsword downward.
The blade sank deep into the beast's neck at the perfect moment of its overextension.
The Wrath-Gor collapsed, twitching.
Al watched his "savior" get butchered by his mother. He felt a mess of conflicting emotions.
He wanted to be angry, but looking at Celestine—covered in blood, breathing heavily, her golden hair matted—he couldn't find the spark.
She turned her head, looking at him with eyes full of complex pain.
Okay, definitely not going to yell at her.
He backed away, terrified she'd change her mind and finish the job on him next.
Just as he was wishing for the Centigor's protective embrace, a thunderous roar echoed through the forest.
A blur of crimson speed descended like a vengeful god.
Alina slammed her giant hammer into the earth. The ground buckled, sending a shockwave that knocked the wind out of everyone.
Al covered his ears and ducked.
The unconscious rabbit-girl coughed up more blood from the vibration.
Alina stood over them, her hammer held low, her face a mask of cold, teeth-gritting fury.
She saw Al was safe and relaxed slightly, but when she saw the dead Wrath-Gor at Celestine's feet, her eyes narrowed.
"So, this was your plan? Followers of the World-Shepherd?"
She gripped her hammer until her knuckles turned white.
A group of Beastmen draped in grass cloaks and wooden crowns emerged from the trees.
There were degenerate Minotaurs, Gors, Rabbit-men, and even a sharp-eyed Troll.
These "Elite" Beastmen, led by a Shaman, looked miserable as they moved to retrieve their fallen comrades and de-escalate the fight.
"I swear by the World-Shepherd: I, Thal Greenleaf, knew nothing of this folly!"
The leader, a Shaman with three curved horns, held up his stone staff to show he wasn't a threat.
He walked calmly through the circle of Wrath-Gors into the clearing.
"Greetings, mighty daughter of thunder, Alina the Crusher."
Alina bared her teeth, hot steam huffing from her nostrils.
A heavy, suffocating pressure filled the air; it felt as if a dragon's heart was beating inside the Centigor, screaming for slaughter.