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» Нажмите, для отображения текста «They spoke of Russ himself, not the blessed Primarch Russ, but the black haired, flame eyed warrior who was more wolf than man. They spoke of his rough manner and intemperate heart, of his wild oaths and petty rivalries, of his melancholy nature and his merciless rage. 'He drove us all to distraction,' Bulveye said ruefully. 'I remember one time when he'd got Horus so worked up I thought they were going to come to blows. The Allfather got between them, and Leman punched him full in the jaw.'
Ragnar's eyes widened. 'What happened then?'
Bulveye laughed. 'The Allfather hit Leman so hard he was unconscious for a month. Spent the rest of the campaign flat on his back aboard the battle-barge.'
One of Bulveye's pack leaders, a warrior named Dagmar, shook his head and chuckled. 'That was the quietest month we ever had,' he said, and his companions laughed along with him.
'Leman didn't speak to the Allfather for almost a year, but eventually they came around,' the Wolf Lord said with a grin. 'That was how they were, like a jarl and his sons, always squabbling about one thing or another, but they never forgot the ties of blood and kin.' Bulveye paused, and his smile faded. 'Well, not until the end.'