# Land of Nagash (Fantasy RPG ACTION THREAD)



## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

As you can see I changed the name of the RP from a fantasy rpg to lands of Nagash.

there are going to be about 30 other treasure hunters including us who will not be actual RPers who I as the GM will control unless theyr part of your command (if your a captain) there will be 4 each with 10 men so first 4 ppl who sign in who want to be captains win the position (can only be human, elves or dwarves as captains, no ogres or goblins as captains)

Jonathan looked up he was the captain of the first company of treasrue hunters, there was an ogre in his group 'that one would come in handy' he thought as he observed the other members of his group with his piercing gaze there were all types of creatures and men in these groups, he saw elves, dwarves, ogres, goblins and the most numerous... humans. "What a ragtag band of things we have here" he said shouting so all in the camp could hear. The camp was situated closely to the desert wastes of the tomb lands, this area was know for orks so there was still dangerous things to watch for...

OOC: when I said what a band of things we have here its intended for someone to say something about it. good luck hardy adventurers!!!


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir stood and talked with some other elves when he heard Jonathan shouting some thing about ragtag band, he didnt even bother to listen.
''Ragtag, if some one is ragtag here its the humans''


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

Chuckling, Mordeth simply added "Agreed," to the elfs outburst. Humans were really petty creatures...


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot scratched his bald head and looked around. Goblins, an ogre, a blasted slayer(who to be honest gave him the creeping willies), some elves, a smattering of humans and various others. He had no idea what he was doing here. Well, that wasn't quite true. He was trying to keep one step ahead of the damnedable witch hunters.. He knew the best way to do that was to throw his life into peril and stomp off into the hot desert. Von Vandersnoot sighed and looked to his staff. 

"Well?!", he shouted to the staff, "Do you two have anything to say about this?"

The heads began once again cursing in orcish and elvish. "I thought you'd say that. But I agree. These should do nicely. Loverly little play things..."

Turning to the leader, he called. "Well...the heads say they're alright with them!"


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan chuckled to the necromancer "your insane my friend, but your skills are quite admirable, to raise the dead to serve your will? ahh what a gift." Jonathan said in all seriousness.

OOC: now I'm waiting for everyone else to post up so we can get a move on.


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

"Raising the dead? Oh, so we have a necromancer too?" Mordeth said, just a hint of respect in his voice.
"Some day, you know, the dead is going to take their revenge against you for using their bodies. Just wait..." as he said this, he grinned, showing his pointed teeth to all who watched.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir turned to face Von Vandersnoot.
''I wonder why i did not become a mage instead of a warrior''
He then checked his bow and wondered if he should use his bow more.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof roared in the face of one of the human.
"NEVER TAKE FOOD OFF MY PLATE! YOU GOT THAT!" He bellowed and the Human squealed and quickly nodded his head before running off. After that Tezrof quickly reverted back to his usual, jolly, mood. "So then." He asked the group leader "How long till we set out? I'm getting hungry for treasure. . ."


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Shifting around, Gunni Gorbbisson stretched a meaty arm around his back to scratch at a bite. Problem with coming south would be the fact that he was a bit of a meat feast for the thumb sized Sand flies.

Hygiene wasn't the most important thing to a Slayer, unless he was travelling to Karak Kadrin, of course. Then, he'd make sure that he wiped the grease off his hand. His last quest for death had taken him up over the Worlds Edge Mountains, where he went with a few of his maniacal death seekers to end an attack from a small army of Trolls, sheperded by a Sorceror of Chaos, who remained hidden after the Storm of Chaos. Those Icy hills had required a layering of Troll Grease on some chosen areas to keep the wind out. Wearing a Loincloth, while being true to the Slayer Ethic, was not the most practical vestment.

Scratching at a louse in his groin, he yawned loudly. "Ach, where, by Ungrimms Balls, be mah bloody breakfast? Ye ken, Ah cannae be expected ta bloody fight on an empty stomach? Ah did sign ye contract, which, Ah remember, seemed ta say about three square meals on each and every day. Or d'ye want me ta make that a grudge - Ah ain't been killin for a few hours now. Mah hammar grows thirsty."

Saying that, having another itch in an inappropriate placed, stood up, adding a further 4 inches onto his height, strolled over to a package mule, and picked up a keg attached to it. It said "Bugmans XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX" on the side. One whiff was potent enough to knock out a horse for several hours, although usually, a horse had to be standing next to a dwarf to smell it, the combined smell usually required the aid of a vet to help the horse recover. Punching the mule in the mouth as it started to buck with fear at the smell, it keeled over. Catching it, the dwarf unstoppered the barrel, lifted the mule up, and drank half the barrel in one go. Putting the unconcious animal back down, the dwarf looked over to his fellow Mercenaries, then his hand dropped and he snored. He didn't collapse, he just stood where he was, eyes open, albeit unfocused, and glassy, but sleeping nonetheless.

The dwarf was well and truely known to his companions now.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Smirking after hearing the outbursts from the ogre and the slayer, Jonathan laughed and adressed their questions "Ogre we set off in a few hours we should get aquainted before we all go trapsing off into the desert, and someone wake the dwarf so he can get his damned breakfast please..." 

OOC: ill wait another day for everyone to get into the action thread, then im starting the adventure if your there or not, tell me if you disagree with that.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir laughed att the slayer.
''And i thougth the dwarfs could drink much more than that''


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## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

Da grand kunnin', well snecky, an' intelligant Goblin boss Snignam went walkin' round da uvver advan... tings dat search for stuff. Only bein' up to da hips of da other ones he had to avoid gettin' stomped on by all da stupid hummies and wimpy pointy ears. Exposin' 'is pointy teef Snignam spoke all shouty-like.

"Oi! All youze git liste' up. Whose wants da most kunnin' and fighty goblin boss with dem?"


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

A Tilean Mercenary drew the short straw, immediately getting a push towards the Orange haired Sociopath by his fellow gentlemen of fortune. Giving the sleeping orange ball a prod in the belly with the haft of his halberd, the Dwarf awoke with a start.

"Y.... Y... Youra... Youra breakfast... Little one... It'sa... It'sa ready..." Sniffing deep with the aroma of roasting Boar, the Dwarf sighed contentedly.

"Aye, laddy, that it be. Bu' Never. Ever. Call me ah "little one" ever. Agin. Ya ken? Or Ah'll find a use for ya head as a scrubbin' brush. Now scoot, manling."

Sitting down by the fire, where several others of the Hired thugs were having their breakfast in the shelter of a Caravan, he sat down on the opposite side of the log they were sitting on, his pure bulk, 250 pounds of solid muscle lifting the 4 men into the air, sending them to lie in a crumpled heap on top of one another.

Reaching into the fire, the grease from his previous hunt bubbling in the intense heat. Picking up the boar in one hand, he ripped out a chunk of its breast, fat dribbling down his chin. Looking over to the elf, he noticed the smug face, and remembered something he had heard in his half drunked stupor.

"Elf - mah kin have had trouble with yours in the pahst. Now, it wouldnae do for a sweet lass, such as yahrself to be on the wrong end of mah hammer. Watch yahr mouth, before Ah put my fist up so far up your arse yahr'll be tasting cra-"

Before he finished, he heard the startled yelp of a mercenary behind him. Looking round he saw a Bretonnian fancy man drop his hammer - the studs glowing White Hot, as the runes blazed an angry red. Stopping, the man looked at his hand with horror as his hand started to blister into great weeping... well, blisters.

Chortling, he turned away, shouting over his shoulder "Aye, son. Ah'm a dwarf. Ah don't ahpreciate mah belongin's and ahffects , being pilfered. Thar be Runes stamped into that weapon which be ahs dangerous to me, ahs to be mah foes. Still, ah'm a dwarf. Manlings, and Lady-elfs like yah other sorry souls aren't ahs tought ahs me. Harharhar! And Gobbos? Ah can't say Ah've tried it, bu' Ah've heard that Greenskin jam tastes mighty good."

[OOC - When will we find out the leaders/Sergeants? Or more to the point, who is in who's band?]


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

Almost a bit disappointed that his fangs hadn't impressed a soul, he soon realized why. A goblin wasn't the most ordinary sigt around here.
He walked casually past the Goblin, making sure he stepped on him, not too hard of course. It would not do to kill such a treasure as someone to push around real good. Mordeth couldn't help smile. This trip could get reeeeeal funny.


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## Captain Galus (Jan 2, 2008)

Peering out from between his cowl, Roman Brandon surveyed the coalition of treasure hunters he would accompany. Humans, elves, dwarves, even an orc...and a vampire. In his experience, none were inherently trustworthy. To be fair, Roman had to admit with an invisible grin under his protective cowl, neither was he. This colorful assortment of foolhardy adventurers all came here seeking whatever riches they could get their hands on, and that made them predictable; Roman, however, was after something very specific.

But that train of thought is for another time, thought Roman; right now, I need a drink. He makes his way over to his horse and grabs one of his water skins, takes a conservative swig, and replaces this container with the rest. His horse, which he procured from a stable in Al-Haikk, had a light brown coat and blonde mane; perfect for the kind of environment in which he now found himself. Horses themselves, unfortunately, are not suitable to said environment, and thus Roman realizes his need for a more robust beast of burden. His green eyes search the camp for anyone with an extra camel as he replaces the cowl protecting his face.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot stopped arguing with his staff long enough to note the vampire had wandered off. His flashy smile hadn't been all impresive as Eric had seen his fair share of blood-suckers. "Not all of them vampires", he thought to himself with a chuckle. He found that the desert was as miserable as he expected it to be. He sighed as he flicked yet another sand flea off his arm, sending it in the general direction of the slayer. By heavens did that dwarf stink. So much so that von Vandersnoot didn't feel quite so self-concious about his own reek. That in itself said something. It took something truly filthy to beat the stench of a necromancer. He idly wondered if that's why the dwarves were always calling on Grungi. "Must be the dwarven god of hygenie", he muttered to no one in particular. Bringing his pomander up to his nose, he took a deep breath of the citrus-scent held within. "Ahh...refreshing!"

His attention was drawn to the sound of a high pitched and poorly spoken squeel. He watched with growing amusement as one of the goblins began to shout and was then promptly stepped on by the vampire. He laughed out loud, stirring the chattering skulls back into their diatribe. He nodded sagely and said, "Yes, yes, I agree I agree. The little green blighter would make for an interesting foot stool if it weren't for the blasted keening. I'd have to stitch his lips shut once I resurrected him lest I have to put up with his constant blathering like I do with you two. Which reminds me, who's turn is it to play back scratcher? I swear to Sigmar if these blasted fleas don't get me the flies will!" 

The skulls continued on, cursing Eric. "Ahh..a wonderful idea! I shall fix this problem now!" Swirling his staff over his head with a flourish, von Vandersnoot began chanting in the dark tongue used by necromancers. Bolts of black lightning began arcing off his body, startling everyone in close proximity. As he finished the chant, he let out a high-pitched ullulating cry of "DIE!". The sand around him vitrified as the dark magics he released made contactwith the ground. "Success!", he cried gleefully as he looked at all the dead sand flea and fly corpses littering the ground. "Take that you little biting bastards! Hehehehehe!"

A thought came to him. Bringing his staff around, he spoke to the skulls. "Do you think I can bring them back?", he cried with an insane cackle. "Let's find out!" Waving his hand above the little dead annoyances, he once again began chanting. "Why haven't I thought of this before? Heheheheh!" He watched as the insect bodies began to stir. "RISE MY MINIONS!" Unexpectedly the sand around him exploded in plumes as the skeletons of long dead explorers rose up to greet their new master. "NO NO NO! Damnit, you're stepping on my minions.", he screamed to the newly risen dead. Muttering, he looked to the chortling skulls on his staff. "Shut up!", he cried. With the snap of his fingers, the skeletons fell to ground once again in a loud clatter. "Hell's teeth. Now I have to find more fleas and flies to kill." With an exasperated sigh, von Vandersnoot began his search for more minions...


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

The sand erupted in a commotion of skeletal figures. "By slaan---!" Jonathan screamed nearly letting the name of his master slip as the barell he had been standing on rose from the ground as did dozens of dead. 'Were they under attack? he had heard stories but never thought they were true.' He jumped from his perch and landed on ones head and it collapsed as he decapitated another, then they all collapsed. He turned to adress the babbling necromancer and rolled his eyes, "what the hell?" he said with a chuckle "You are quite comically insane you know that?"


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

Kicking a newly risen dead from his way (he had heard the necromancer say the spell, so he wasn't overly surprised) Mordeth (or was it Gareth? he wasn't always sure who he was any more), made his way towards his tent. He was bored, stepping on the goblin had certainly been fun, but it had passed quickly, and so he had decided to clean his various weapons. His clothes might fall in rags around him if they wished, but he'd be damned if he let his weapons be left to rust and decay.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir was surprised to see his plate of food rise on top of an undead.
''What the???'
He drew his sword but before he could hit the skeleton hit collapsed.
''Necromancer please dont rise dead when i am eating''


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof Skinflayer walked through the camp, seemingly unaware of all the brief appearances of the Undead, while finishing off the raw sheep he had been eating for breakfast and sat next to the Dwarf.
"Your a feisty one." He commented, and then "if your ever find yourself falling behind feel free to take a lift on me back. You too Gnoblar." He gestured to Snignam, grinned and belched, hoping he had already made some trustworthy friends. . .


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: I said I'd start today so I'm starting sorry whoevers the last one to not sign in.

Jonathan set his barrel back down and rose his voice above the noise of the camp. "Dear adventurers, you have signed on for treasure and treasure we will find" he said to raucous applause. "Now friends pack up your things and load the caravan, for we have stepped into the lands of Nagash and the treasure of a nation will be yours!"


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## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

Da stupid non-dead git had stamped on Snignam. Furiously he grabbed 'is hood and straighten it out. He cursed 'im under 'is breeth.

"Iz gonna get myz revange on youze. Just youze wait..."

Den dat even more stupid Ogre 'ad to insult him!

"Iz gonna get revenge all youze gits. Even if I'ze don't knowz 'ow yet."


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## Maiden_Ante (Oct 5, 2008)

Erik had kept out of the usual fights and fiery discussions. He preferred to keep an neutral face towards his travelling partners, they could all have reasons to stab him in the back. Especially this time, when the expedition band was a strong variation of races and warrior types.
A necromancer, a Goblin, some arrogant elves and a dark, clothed type who looked like one of those big city-assasins.

_The treasures we're going after must truly be awesome_, he thought. _Even the elves have heard of the relics of the Dead Land._

The observatory wolf was sitting on a fallen tree, thinking of the vampire in the camp. Untrustworthy types, he knew. Then the man that'd presented himself as Jonathan shouted out into the camp that the trip was on.

_Finally_, he thought and rose up. The camp had grown quiet, and the air was filled with the expectation to begin the hard and dangerous journey.


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

Knowing full well that most of them would die on this trip, Gareth/Mordeth found no point in clapping his hands for some human.
Starting to pack what little he had, (which easily fitted inside his small bag), he sincerily hoped they would travel at nigth. The day would be bad for the living, for him it would be like hell.
It was not that he was very weak to sun or water, or almost any of the things said that vampires be weak against. But it did make his skin itch, and exposed too much to direct sunlight could eventually start to hurt.
holding his parasoll he went out from the tent that was taken away by some humans.
And so it began.

OOC: day or night?


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Gunni looked at the Ogre with a mix of incredulity and hot-headed anger at being insulted - the offer that he should ride at all made him angry. Still, he was useful to be around. Between them, they would be able to shift many of the heavier obstacles that would be present in the fabled Pyramids. And then the thought that he'd be able to use him to carry the trea... No, no, no. That wasn't the way to treat a fellow mercenary, not at all.

The bastard would steal the gold. 

Still, it'd give me a reason for something to hit.

The Ogre would become useful, although it was against the Dwarven ethic to consort with such creatures. Still, had his cousin 4 times removed on his Mothers side, the legendary Gotrek Gurnisson made living history with Felix Jaeger. As sagas unravelled in the Slayers head, of heroic deeds, and a glorious death, he soon remembered that both were pretty much penniless.

"Harhar! HarHarHar! HarHarHarHar!! Ogre... Ye ken, ye have a point there, bu' I think Ah'll pahss. Still, comrades in arms?"

While he waited for the huge creature to answer, Gunni picked up his "ahffects", his hammer, and his beer carrying mule. Standing the beast up, he caught it as it sagged again. Getting a flask of water, he squirted it into the beasts face, then kicked it up the arse. That got it right as rain. Laughing again, the dwarf picked up his hammer, and began to walk back to the Ogre, making a detour so that the Goblin walking away from squeeking to itself walked straight into the prodigous stomach and chest of the dwarf. 

The poor thing bounced off and rolled head over heals as if it had just been hit by a Cannonball. Chortling, the insane Orange ball stomped off.


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## Captain Galus (Jan 2, 2008)

Roman observed the small goblin with subtle interest. In his experience, the little things had egos vastly disproportionate to their size, and the less-than-warm reception it was getting by the rest of the camp certainly wasn't inflating that ego. Roman meant to watch the goblin a little closer than the other members; goblins were indeed small, but underestimating them was possibly an embarrassing and fatal mistake. Perhaps, Roman thought, the abhuman would be a handy ace in the hole. Despite Roman's lean frame, there were undoubtedly places ahead that he wouldn't be able to squeeze into, and having an ally in such times with the ability to do so would be a huge boon.

Roman opened one of his saddlebags and removed three strips of dried venison, his personal favorite field ration for one specific reason; it never went bad. That, and it was damn tasty. He strode over the the small goblin, helped it to its feet, and proffered the three strips of dried meat with the greeting; "You look a bit hungry, goblin."


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Eric raised his head as he heard Jonathan make his speech. "Well that settles it", he thought, "I'll never get to raise my undead horde of sand fleas and flies now." Turning, he made his way back to where he'd left his traveling bag and retrieved it. It was rather light as being a necromancer he had little need for food and water. He could draw sustenance from any living thing with a quick spell if he needed refreshment. He noticed the vampire scratching uncomfortably at his exposed skin. Knowing that the poor blighter was probably starting to suffer from the rather harsh attentions of the sun he rummaged around in his pack. He found a medium-sized jar and took it out. Carefully opening it, he sniffed the contents. He almost gagged at the retched stench but it was what he was looking for.

Von Vandersnoot made his way over to the vampire and offered him the container. "Take this for your skin", he said cheerfully. "It reeks to high hell but it will keep your skin from burning. Just don't ask what it's made out of..." 

The skulls chattered incessently as he waited for the vampire's reply. "Hist you two! Such rudeness! Can't you see I'm speaking? I expect as much from the orc, but you dear Manarion? Surely a cultured high elf such as yourself has more manners than a common guttersnipe!"


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: it was night but now its morning and we'll be setting off.

Jonathan awoke, he was confident he would be protected his guard always watched over him, since he was a child, and that one never really looked like he needed sleep, well he was posessed his master had sent him to watch over him, course he had a daemon name too it got quite confusing... "So how goes it Azael" (his daemon name you wont see me calling him this with any1 within close proximity) He replied in his usual tone when talking (only talks to me hes a mute to everyone else) a hissing voice of a snake. 

'Very good sir, I cannot wait til we kill some of these scum slaanesh would enjoy having their souls for playthings... of course after you and me are done with them." Remember we are here for the "treasure" Jonathan said with a wink... maybe a few along the way. I do want to give "Azghal here some nourishment" Jonathan said as he drew his Daemon sword (It looks normal)

Jonathan took a step out of his tent into the blinding light, and smiled and stretched. Everyone appeared to be getting up as well looks like they had all made friends allready, "good, friends are useful.." he muttered to himself as he signaled for the horn blower to do what he did best blow the horn and wake everyone else up...


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir woke upp when the horn lower started to blow in his horn.
''What is it morning alredy'' he then stretched and went to find breakfeast.


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## Maiden_Ante (Oct 5, 2008)

Daylight was upon them again, and Tornkvist arose from his blankets layed out on the ground. The camp was awaking, and he sighed as he watched the small tricks and jokes the party was playing upon one another.

Then he saw the vampire. He stood as stiff as a rock, getting some goo smeared on his skin by the Dark Magic practicioner. Disgusting, Erik thought and sat down on the ground, in front of an fireplace set up by someone, to eat his breakfest.

After breakfest, Tornkvist walked around the travellers who wasn't still consuming their morning meal, and tried to evaluate them.
He felt compelled to get some respect from those who looked most honest, so he went to the Slayer first. The hair-dyed dwarf looked tough. As do all dwarfs, though.
"Good morning, Slayer" he said with a loud voice.
"Mornin', ragged one" the dwarf replied with a grin. "Arn't ye' humans 'fraid of me? That's the expression I've got so fa'".
Erik grinned back. He was starting to like this dwarf already.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

''Hey ogre do you want my breakfest, i am not very hungry?''
He then waited for the ogres reply. He had a feeling that this 'trip' would
be funny. A ncromancer, a half-dead vampire, a slayer, a goblin, some elfs, a ogre and a bunch of humans.
He then laughed silent.


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

OOC: TY 

IC: (last night) Pleased that somebody understood his needs, Gareth accepted the jar. It really DID smell awful, but luckily he had long ago learned to close off any smells he didnt want to smell.
"Why, thank you my dear friend! This is a most welcome offer, truly. Walking in the sun would have made this trip hell." 
Considering for a moment or two, he added "If you ever need anything, remember I'm in your debt." 
(Next morning) Aaah, he was feeling great today. The salve the necromance had given him was truly a magnificent thing. Sure, people did shy away because of the smell, but then again it might have to do with him being a vampire.
Looking for the dear goblin to push around a bit, Gareth set off, feeling cheery. On impusle he grabbed one of his old ragged parasolls from his pack.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof Skinflayer looked confused as Smignam walked off angrily as he actually believed he was a Gnoblar. He shrugged and a huge smile spread across his lips as one of his fellow adventurers offered him his breakfast. He took it without argue and said while he was eating "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will never forget this act of kindness. . ."


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

"Arrr, tis good t'be movin' at long last, bu' Ah fail ta see why we be takin' so long. Ah came for gold, or a good death. Or a good death surrounded by mah gold. I ain't seen nuthin', Manling. Maybe Ah should take your gold?" Said the Slayer. A good death in his eyes did not include being slain by a Damn Sorceror's minions (Why will the dead not rest? They died their deaths, let them enjoy it for ever) who he seemingly had little control over, a bloody lady-elf, with his pointy chin, no beard or belly, or "BLOODYY FLIES!!!"

The Dwarf had just bent over to pick up a Silvery vambrace of Dwarven origin off one of the Skeletons, when a Sand Fly, the size of a finger zoomed headfirst into the Dwarfs nether regions, and taken a bite. Howling in anger, the dwarf aimed a gigantic fist at the offending area, before taking stock of the potential results.

He settled for a quick scratch, finding the insect and grabbing hold of it. While everyone else turned back to get on with their work, and the slayer no longer centre of attention, he put it in the Lady-elfs tent. _Inside_ the Bug net. Oh this dwarf was bad. Very bad.


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## Maiden_Ante (Oct 5, 2008)

Erik had to withhold a laughter when he watched the dwarfs' mischiefs.

He walked on, now to the dark type looking like a professional killer.
"Good day, cloaked one, how goes it?" he asked, with an honest and intentionally stupid look on his face.
The man didn't answer.
Erik returned to the campfire, looking around for Jonathan. He wanted to know the planned hierarchy.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir wandered along the camp and thougth about the necromancer.
''I think i must ask him to learn me some basic spels'' he said silently.
And he had noticed that Tezrof was very happy having some extra breakfest.


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## Captain Galus (Jan 2, 2008)

Roman's knowledge of their destination was scant at best; that's the way the Brotherhood operates. He'd never met whoever had originally requested his services; instead, the request worked its way through several agents until it reached someone with Roman's qualifications. Once the objective was met, Roman would return to the face-to-face agent and send confirmation back through the channels to whoever had unknowingly employed him. Grabbing a small bag of valuable gems and trinkets, Roman approached the tent of the camp's leader, Jonathan. Roman assumed a neutral aura, loosening his stride and posture so as to make conversation with him less strained. Most people were unnerved at best when in close proximity to him, and while intimidation had it's uses, Roman refrained from employing it as a tactic outright until he was sure it would be effective.

Two guards stood outside the tent, which communicated volumes to Roman about the camp leader. These two didn't look particularly loquacious, so Roman settled on the direct approach.

"Tell your employer I request an audience," Roman said.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Eric nodded sagely and patted the vampire on the shoulder. "No worries my friend! If you need more, let me know. I'll have to find a few ghoul testicles and some zombie fat and a few herbs to make more but with things the way they are who knows! Oh wait..I did mention not mentioning what was in it. Terribly sorry old chap!", he replied gleefully. Waving goodbye to the retreating vampire, von Vandersnoot found his way to the morning campfire and plopped down. The wretched skulls had kept him from getting much sleep the previous night as they'd spent most of it arguing about the ethics of forcing lizard men and skaven to mate and the resulting children. That had been a hoot. He knew full well everyone within ear shot had either vomited or laughed themselves to death. Well, not quite to death. If they had, he would have been rather busy raising up a new set of minions to serve him on the long, and, most likely, boring trip.

Still, when the morning horn had blown, von Vandersnoot welcomed the coming dawn once more with his usual habits. He'd relieved himself somewhere near one of the elf's tents as he really couldn't be bothered to wander off too far into the desert. "There's snakes out there", he muttered to himself. He didn't like snakes. He also really didn't care if the slithering blighters were poisonous or harmless ones. All of them had the same surname..snake... Why didn't he like them? He wasn't so sure. Probably something from his forgotten childhood. Maybe something he'd eaten the previous week. He found remembering to be too tedious beyond recalling the proper words for incantations and curses. He only bothered then because he'd be damned if he ended up the victim of one of his own horribly evil spells because he'd been lax in the proper pronunciation of some word that had more syllables than he had fingers and toes. For some reason he found himself looking down at his toes. 

It was so much easier to live in the moment than to waste time pondering the greater meaning of life, love, the persuit of happiness and the reasons behind the dicotomy of the human soul. Eric smacked himself in the forehead. His mind was rambling again. "Got...to...think.... What was I doing again?" Realizing he was still standing outside the tent, he gave a quick shake, dropped his robes and wandered off whistling innocently to no one in particular.

After his morning rituals, he'd followed the smell of cooking food and ended up where his wandering mind had started..by the campfire eyeing the cook and waiting for his turn at some vittles. He knew he didn't really need to eat but this morning he felt like having some eggs and some sausage and maybe some biscuits. He knew it would all taste the same. He'd long ago lost any sense of taste. If nothing else, he could use his wild imagination to fill in the tastes. He sighed. "Oh to be able to taste a nice juicy steak or some baked pork." He quickly wiped away the drool that had started to flow from the corners of his mouth. Still sacrifices had to be made. 

In becoming a necromancer, he had given up many things, not just his small grasp on reality. Insanity had it's perks though. Few people bothered you if they thought you were crazy. This hadn't always been the case though. He fondly remembered the many fools who had come to him in the past seeking training in the dark arts. He'd killed them all of course. "One could never be too careful in this day and age", he tutted to himself. Spies, turncoats, stool pidgeons and whatever other cleverly worded phrases that one could supply to describe those back-stabbing goblin fondlers who had a tendency to attempt to gain one's trust and then turn them in to the witch hunters came to mind. 

"Blast! Does anyone have any marmalade? Some butter?" He found his cries fell on deaf ears as the cook merely snorted and ladled some gruel on top of his eggs and sausage. Von Vandersnoot cracked a smile. "AH! Gruel! A man by my own cold, black, dead, rotten heart! Sigmar be praised! Finally someone who grasps a true culinary delight as breakfast covered with bubbling, tasteless gruel!" Taking his plate, the necromancer made his way back to where he's stuck his staff in the ground. No one had bothered touching it. He doubted anyone would take the damned thing even if he gave it away. "Damnedable chittering skulls! Worse than a pair of game hens playing peaknuckle!", he muttered. He sat down by the staff and offered some gruel to each of them. Satisified neither wanted any, he tucked in. He noticed side-long glances and disgusted faces. He wondered if he was slurping too loud. He shrugged and continued on. He hoped they'd start soon. He really didn't want to spend all day in the hot sun in the same place they'd been yesterday..and the day before..and..wait..no..the day before he'd been somewhere else. Where though? "Hmm." Shrugging once again, he finished his plate and waited for someone to get this steam-engine wreck moving.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan walked out of the tent, "hmm yes, you called? if its about what time were to leave thatd be now" he smiled and said as he walked away and called to the rest of the camp "pack up your shit you damn goblin kissers! we got an adventure to be heading for!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Its the morning and I said sunset! I'v given you all enough time to get your things together! We leave within the hour!" he yelled again. Then walked back to the assassin looking character, guard in toe as he always was. "Was this your question good sir? or did it concern something else? I am all ears ask I beg of you"

UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! as you can see were startin to move and the next time I post if my conversation is over we'll be in the middle of the desert looking for treasure and glory! good luck hope I dont have to kill you


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## Captain Galus (Jan 2, 2008)

"What is our intended destination? I wish to know what you know," Roman said, "more specifically, what can we expect to find?"


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

Mordeth was rather pleased with himself. Roman's tent had been a treasure cove of certain things he had a liking for. Money, gems and of course, weapons, but he left those were they were, and only took some rubies he found in a pouch.
Funny enough this place seemed utterly free of personality, almost as if nobody really lived here. Even a small tent like this could usually tell you something about the person, but the only thing he could find here was a sense of detail. There were no heaps of things he had seen other places, everything was rather nice and tidy.

Not really interested tough, he just left the same way he had come (the back of the tent to avoid the stupid guard) and went to look for some beautiful girl. He was a tad bit hungry, and females tasted better than males.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

"Ahh my good man our destination is on this map" Jonathan said pulling out a map and unrolling it, "What we can expect to find is treasure, maybe a few booby traps."

Later that day the caravan was on its way crossing the dunes, then a rumbling shook the ground and a sinkhole formed in front of the column with a horde of skeletal creatures emergin from the depths were 2 phalanxes 6 wide and 10 deep, 2 massive tomb constructs emerged behind the lines, and in front of them all was a sorcerer riding a chariot with a sickly green light surrounding its hands... 

"What the..." said a startled Jonathan, then getting his nerve back yelled "Well adventurers time to test your mettle!" as he rode his horse, guard and the rest of the company following behind him, to smash the undead.


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

"Ogre - ye with me? These Bone Giants need to learn again what it's like to feel pain! We'll work t'gether - after all, it wudne do for ye t'be killed in tha first fight! Harharhar!! Hi-ho, Hi-ho, it's off to war Ah go, Ah slay all day, bu' Ah get no pay..."

So saying, without waiting for the reply, Gunni charged the massed ranks of Skeleton soldiers. Spinning his hammer, he roared an oath of vengeance, while his Hammer glowed an ugly red in the prospect of battle, the daemons inhabiting the oversized hammer possessing the already frothing Slayer.

Roaring an oath to Grimnir, he leapt high into the air, in front of the first Bone Giant, hammer raised for the first strike.

[OOC - Rep to the person who recognises the song tune, despite the lyric change!]


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Vaz said:


> [OOC - Rep to the person who recognises the song tune, despite the lyric change!]


snow white?


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan drew his daemon blade and launched himself over the undead horde Azael at his side as always, his path was for one of the giants but he'd have to fight through the skellys first, 'no problem' he thought as he swung his blade and struck one of the undead leaving a molten streak and severing its head from its shoulders the daemon blade capable of cutting through anything, he laughed as he struck them leaving piles of bones in his wake heading for the constructs...


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## Maiden_Ante (Oct 5, 2008)

Erik was withstanding the heat like a true hardened Middenheimer. It wasn't pleasant though.

They were crossing some dunes when suddenly, a skeletal force appeared.

The wolf threw down his package and removed his two-handed battlehammer from his back, where it had been hanging underneath the packs. He took a firm grip of the shining weapon of Ulric, and ran towards the right skeleton phalanx.

He could see Jonathan, Gunni and the Ogre charging into battle, with several others after them.

Now it was time to face the foe head on. Like a true son of the Wolf God. With a battlecry he charged the skeletons, nimbly avoiding their spears. He swung a large, circular blow that would crush several skeletons if it hit properly.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: Im going to be gone til Sunday so dont kill all of them, especially not the sorceror and my tomb construct (leave one construct and theyl all collapse if you kill the sorceror thats why cause I wanna kill the construct )


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## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

*At da nite*

Snignam waz just thinkin' up his kunning revanges, when da stuntie crashed into 'im. He rolled over several times, he bein' knocked flying by 'im. Snignam had a problem with dem stunties, more precisely dey had a problem with 'im. Iz first boss had neglected to tell 'im dat stunties didn't like gobbos, an' dat nearly got 'im killed. Snignam enjoyed breakin' up dat gitz lock on 'is squig cage.

Some 'ummie lookin' ting, though it was hard to tell with all da different types 'ere, offered 'im some food. He scoffed sown da first strip, while it weren't da tasty fungi of his native cavez it was da best 'e'd get here.

"Thanks for dat 'ummie. I was 'ungry."

Being knidy small like Snignam wasn't hungry enough to eat it all, so stored da rest in the folds of his cloak. Looking round Snignam saw mischief everywhere. It would soon be time to start lying, stealin', and tricking. But he didn't yet know enough about dem. Dat ummie dat feed 'im would get off without anything.

*Da mornin'*

Snignam wandered up to da kooks food.

"Dis ain't fit for a squig! Iz not eatin' dat."

Realisin' he might need 'iz supplies for later Snignam nabbed a few eggs, being sure to rub some of his grubby sleeves over da food of anyone who 'ad attacked 'im.

*At da moment*

Da sun was too bright for Snignam. 'E was a Nite Gobbo, an' he didn't like dis hot and bright place. Den it became worse. Skelintons burst from da ground. Jumpin' back, well quite a distance, Snignam got out 'is trusty net an' sword.

Swingin' da net over 'is head he angled up da first non-dead, and began to hack at it through da net.

"Waagh!" cried Snignam rather quietly, as he pulled out da shield, pulled da trapped skelinton to da ground an' stabbed it through da skull. Suddenly 'e realised dere were more skellintons. Grabbin' 'iz net he made a tactocil wuthdal... a all smart like runnin' away to da rest of da group.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof heard what the Dwarf said and roared just before charging into battle. As he charged he simply trampled over many Skeletons before he reached the Bone Giant Gunni was attacking. He drew his mace in his right hand and his Cathayan longsword in his left before leaping at the Giant and smashing him repeatedly. He rugby tackled it to the floor and, dropping his weapons, grabbed its wrists in an attempt to restrain it.
"Hurry an' finish it Little One" He roared "I can't hold it much longer." As he finished speaking fear washed over him as the Bone Giant started to lift Tezrof's tremendous bulk into the air. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Tezrof had followed the Dwarf, and as he reached the Undead skeletons, the longer stride of the Ogre had overtaken Gunni. His Bull like Charge saw Skeletons crumple into piles of bones as they connected with the gut plate and mace of his comrade.

Such was the height of his leap, he could see all that was going on, the runes on the hammer blazing angrily as his hatred became a part of the hammer, the weapon an extension of his body. As he landed, he brought the hammer down in a blistering arc, a trail of red lightning causing flickering after images in those who looked at the hammer. Unfortunately, the dead were immune to this effect, and it would be down to pure old hammer work.

The shockwave caused by the head hitting the sand knocked over several skeletons. Sweeping the head round, he caused more of the bones to collapse. Seeing his avenue to the Bone Giant close as skeletons surrounded him, he swung his hammer again, this time, creating a vortex which scattered those nearby enemies, and he sprung up again, leaping 20 ft into the air.

He saw Tezrof shouting something at him, but the roaring of battle was in the Slayers ears and he could not hear, neither could he shout a reply. Launching the hammer downwards, just as Tezrof was thrown off by the floored giant. As one huge hand reached down to pick up its dropped sword the height of a man, the hammer connected with the undead creatures chestplate. It staggered back, a silent roar coming out of it's jaws.

As Gunni landed, he stretched out his arm, and the powerful weapon return to his meaty fist.

His eyes glowing as the daemons in his hammer overtook his defenses, feeding off his hatred, the Dwarf seemed to grow, ever more huge, the already bulging muscles becoming the size of an ox, and his skin began to take a ruddy colour, as Blood Vessels popped. Looking into the eye sockets of the Giant, he charged, as the distance decreased, time seemed to slow down.

The Giants fist slammed down, Gunni swaying out of the way, almost a casual riposte smashing the hand clean off the joint, and bringing the hammer back, just in time, although with faster speed than ever thought possible, he blocked the blow from the Wickedly curved sword.

Straining against the construct, the Dwarf pitted his daemon enhanced muscles, already prodigous, with the Black headed hammer, blazing with black fire, and crackling with crimson lightning, and Pure clean, dwarven runes shining like beacons, against the undead strength of the bone giant, with its sorcerously enhanced sinews and muscles, almost pushing the dwarf into the sand.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tezrof barrelling in again, the mass of the Ogre proving the tipping point in the battle. However, as this unbalanced the Giant, and Gunni tried to take advantage, some preternatural skill of the giant in its previous life, or maybe a sorcerously gifted hand caused its hand to flicker out, the sword would have decapitated the dwarf had it not ducked, the deamons aiding him against this foe. As it was, the blade sliced across the dwarfs chest, and continued up to his face, taking out the Slayers Right eye, and hideously scarring the already not pretty face.

In retaliation, the dwarf smashed his hammer into the throat of the now prone Giant, and setting to on the rest of its body. However, it was not done for yet, the notorious toughness of a giant living was legend, but in death, the lack of feeling pain meant that paltry hammer blows would do nothing - only complete destruction...


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof picked up his mace and moved to the Bone Giant, mercilessly beating at its chest. He was greatly impressed by the damage the Dwarf had, and still was, inflicting upon it but was shocked out how it kept coming back for more. He put his mace away and started to grab the skeletons all around him, hurling them at his foe. He only realised an instant to late that he had picked up Gunni by accident and could not stop himself in time to prevent the throw. Tezrof could only call out "Whoops!" as he sent the Dwarf hurtling towards the angry Giant. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Suddenly, Gunni felt as if his blows were no longer connecting on the Bone Giant, and as hatred lost its place to puzzlement, he became more aware of the surroundings, when he felt himself thrown with such force into the now kneeling Bone Giant, who looked up, just in time to see a Ginger Cannonball connect with its forehead.

The dwarf hit the baking sand, the sand instantly burning his belly. Standing on his bare feet, the worn callouses on their soles immune to the 50 degree heat. Rushing at the Bone Giant, he saw that it had started to fall apart, the arms and legs hitting the floor, just as he reached his Hammer. Suddenly, the head hit the floor, a red splatter where his head had connected with the giants. Realising that he was wounded, he touched a hand to his scalp. Seeing the bloody mess and splinters of bone, he pulled the quickly congealing blood clot away, then he realised he had one eye.

"Harharhar - Ah beat a giant in a headbuttin' contest! Arrgh, but that be a tale t'be tellin in tha taverns!" Gunni then keeled over, blood loss concussion, and lack of food finally taking its toll.

[OOC - more people to post please? Don't want it to seem like it's a 3 person play =D]


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

OOC: sry, has been unable to post these few days. and will be until friday, i think.

He was sweating. He was hungry. And his eye hurt!
The lady he had tried to seduce and let him drink from had been rather angry with him... He woke up in the gutter behind someones tent, rather bashed up.
Now the skeletons was going to feel his pain!
Running in supernatural speed, he quickly passed the ranks of skeletons, hitting several with his bare fists, smashing them to pieces, he reached the bone giant and simply smashed its leg off, using his speed to give the blow momentum.


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## Captain Galus (Jan 2, 2008)

Roman found himself surrounded by skeletons after exiting his tent to see what the noise was (although he had a good idea to being with). Someone had pilfered a few of his things, nothing he couldn't live without, but his longsword had seemed to run off so he was at a disadvantage at the moment. The first skeleton charged him and swung down with its antique sword, but Roman caught its wrist with his right hand and spun inside the undead's guard, flipping the animated construct forward and snapping its arm from the socket. Now in possession of a appropriate weapon, Roman waited for the next undead thing to charge. Unfortunately, they all did.

Roman caught the first skeleton in a rotating closeline, decapitating it easily. He hammered his fist into the skeleton immediately behind it, cracking its ribcage and staggering it. He then executed a high, wide swing with the sword and caught three skeletons in the arc, "mortally" wounding all of them. Still, five of the things left. Roman felt the caress of a blade down the small of his back, but avoided any serious harm thanks to his catlike reflexes. Using the momentum of the dodge, he slammed his right elbow into the undead's skull under the jaw, causing the jawbone to explode and the skull to crack right down the middle. Continuing the move, he swept two skeletons' feet out from under them then finished the last two standing off with a few quick strikes of his sword. Roman then swiftly decapitated the two downed skeletons.

Roman dropped the near-worthless blade and rushed to see if someone needed help.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

The trip had been rather uneventful until the horde of skeletons had errupted from a huge rift in the sand. Eric found himself puzzled as he watched the undead warriors' slow march across the desert towards their merry band of travelers. He thought hard for a second. He looked to the chattering skulls and asked, "Did I summon them?" His question was answered soon enough as he saw a fellow user of the dark arts speeding across the desert on the back of a chariot. "Well...not my fault then", he blathered cheerfully. 

His pleasant mood soon changed as the first of the skeletons made their way towards him swinging corroded bronze swords and axes. Von Vandersnoot no longer smiled. The pleasantness was gone and in it's place rage bubbled to the top. He stood to his full height, the perpetual stoop gone. His black eyes began to glow with hell-fire as the anger filled him. He slammed his staff into the first of the skeletons, the power in the weapon cutting the cord of necromatic magic that held the pile of mouldering bones together. Raising his staff above his head, he called out in the black tongue of Nagash, dark energies swirling around his wiry frame as they reached towards the heavens. The blackness surrounding him became so thick the sun was blotted out and the winds began to howl. With a snarl, he finished weaving his spell of destruction. 

Waves of necromantic magic flowed from him. Those skeletons closest came apart in a clatter of bones, resting in the sands from which they came. A small spark of sanity wiggled it's way into his brain as he let the spell take it's course. If he were to unleash the full might of this spell, those living near him would die as well. While he could claim no fealty to them, it would be rather rude of him to go about killing those he had found himself thrown in with. Reining in the spell, he turned the dark tides towards the coming hordes of skeletons. Even before the spell's energy had dissipated, von Vandersnoot was already chanting his next curse. Those skeletons that had been torn apart by the ravages of his first spell rose once again, this time under the control of von Vandersnoot. 

He slammed his staff into the ground before him and began waving his hands in an intricate pattern. His orders were simple. Kill those who stood against him. His small force began growing as he uttered the invocation of Nagash again, calling forth those skeletons that had been defeated by the others into reanimated life in his servitude. He sent them forth into the serried ranks of undead to battle against their former master and his army. A mirthless smile crept it's way across his face. It was time to show this charlatan the true might of a follower of Nagash. Calling upon Sigmar to aid him, von Vandersnoot let fly bolt after bolt of black energies as he made good on his promise.


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

His mood was better now. But what was Gareth in him was sleeping. Good. Much funner as Mordeth. Maddening fun. Destroy. Kill. Unkill the undeads. Or maybe undead them. Or just destroy. 

Laughing, Mordeth used his fists, blocking and breaking rusty blades with his palms, whirling around the skeletons, sending bony heads and legs and other parts of their worn bodies around. Or maybe parts of their skeletons. But they were skeletons. What should he call their...bodies?

Puzzled, he stood wondering about the fact a bit. And looked in some amazement (and a little surprise) at the sword lodged trough his heart.
"bad luck, little skeleton, I'm gonna undead you now, hahahaha!" Mordeth said, eyes glowing red, and waved. the skeleton disappeared in a flash of bright flames, leaving ash and a small circle of glass on the ground.
"I know! Lets see if we can find any females here. I'm hungry!"
Looking around, he figured there were none close to him.
"Hehe, well they got to have some. How do they live if not?"
Fnittering he rolled his eyes.

"Wait a minute, they are dead right? Then why are they living?"
"Ah, good question. Simple answer. They are undead."
"Undead? Stupid name. How about no-lifers? much better."

Setting of at a walk, the rusty sword still lodged where his heart should be, and, waving his hands and ranting nonsense, left behind him a trail of melted sand.
Maybe the necromancer knew if there were any females around? He should know... he raised them right? Then he should know their parents too...
"Hehehehe...." 

But then again, maybe not.

Air glistening around him with power, in bright and dark colours of all shapes and forms... shapes and form? Was that it. No matter.... Mordeth turned on his heel and went towards the necromancer, now freezing the wandering bones, leaving them as clumps of ice.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof Skinflayer looked worryingly at the Dwarf. Two Skeletons started poking him in the side with swords and he roared "I'm Thinkin Dammit!" and swatted them away. Finally he came up with a decision and picked Gunni up and attached him to his belt. With that done Tezrof roared again and, gripping his mace with two hands, charged back into the combat sending a flurry of Undead flying through the air. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

[OOC - thanks, I guess, Solitaire =P

And Mordeth, I think that NoiseMarine wants the Necromancer - you've only taken the leg off the Bone Giant as well. It ain't 'dead' yet! Don't be greedy, haha!]


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

OOC: Hmm, forgot the bone giant... and I don't wanna kill the necro. Just now my char is more insane than him. (psst. you may have noticed, i like split personalitys, opens up a whole new set of actions my char can make.)

Glancing upwards as a looming shadow blocked out the sun, he saw a big, shiny sword descend on him.
"Nice," he said, as he was slammed in the ground, blood spurting from a wound that went from the neck to the stomach, almost splitting him in 2. He could also hear bones cracking.

'Damn. Now I have to wait before i can ask the necro my question about the moving bones.'

He couldn't move. It hurt as hell, but he didn't really notice that, lost in madness as he currently was. 
The Bone giant moved on, and so did the nearby skeletons, thinking him dead. And, he would have been. Had he been alive.

He shut his eyes as his body began to slowly regenerate. This would take some while, maybe even days. 

Thinking 'damn' again, he fell asleep, snoring silently. The morning would be hell for Gareth. And so, it would be for him, Mordeth, too... If they awoke tomorrow at all.

OOC: back to post on.. friday or saturday, pick me up, put me in a wagon, and move on


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## Maiden_Ante (Oct 5, 2008)

Erik was crushing skeletons as he went by. They were slowly diminishing, even if he got small cuts from their rusty spears. He saw the vampire being split in two.

"Great" he thought. Now he wouldn't have to worry about that bloodsucker to stab him in the back.

He had now plowed into the middle of the phalanx, and was swinging his hammer wildly in long circles. He was becoming tired by all the fearless skeletons casting themselves on him. Making a tackle towards the end of the phalanx, he rushed out of it and gasped for air.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir drew his sword and took his shield and started to charge the skeletons, he het the heads of 3 with his first swing and bashed one iwth his hield and continued to destroy skeletons, then he saw the vampire being smashed by the bone giant.
''Bad luck but he is not going to die''


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

The prattling von Vandersnoot was gone, the shield of insanity that kept his true self at bay lifted with the threat to his life. In his place, Karric Grunvald, desciple of Deiter Helsnicht, Keeper of the Lore of Death, Hand of Darkness strode through the raging melee scything through the skeleton warriors who stood in his way. The tattos covering his head and the rest of his body began to glow with an unearthly light as he chanted the name of Nagash. Each seeming innocuous scribble was in fact the dark teaching of the first and most powerful of necromancer's, Nagash. On his flesh were the dark words written down in the nine dark tomes of the dread sorcerer lord and passed down to those who had followed in his footsteps. The power he held over the undead was great as few could match the centuries it had taken to master each and every spell the dread Nagash had created tattoed on his body.

Each skeleton he destroyed he immediately brought back to life and sent it into the battle that raged around him. They were few but they would make for a good diversion and he cared little whether or not they would 'survive' the conflict. As he came across the fallen vampire, Karric reached down and waved his hand over the undead warrior. Dark words poured from his mouth as he worked his dark magic, cauterizing the wound so at least the fool wouldn't die. Satisfied the vampire would live, he moved on. He had no time nor inclination to help any more. He had business to attend to. He would not allow another user of the dark arts to live while he drew breath. While those around him smashed and slashed and cut at the undead, Grunvald simply waved his staff, cutting the connection between the skeletal minions and their master. 

As he controlled the swirling vortices of dark magic surrounding him, the small hammer sigil of Sigmar began to glow brighter and brighter, it's surface becoming a hot brand that marked Karric's chest as it burned through the robes seperating it and his chest. Part of him wondered if the holy enchantments were holding against the evil energies he had summoned up. He prayed fervently that the wards held. He would need the sigil to bring back the blissful forgetfullness that kept him from having to face the terrible thing he had become.


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Feeling his Tattoos burn Blue with purifying flame, and the hair on his body begin to stand on end, Gunni woke with a start. The he felt a blow on his head. And another. And another.

That bloody Ogre had stolen him as a piece of meat, attached by Human gutstring to his belt, his head hanging dangerously low to the gigantic rear, against living adversaries, the stench was scary enough when they had to face the front of the Ogre. The Dwarf nearly passed out again.

Feeling hungry, he bit through the tough sinew binding his feet while flailing around with his fists. Soon the ginger slayer was through and landed on the sand again. He had lost his axe, so looking around, he saw the 2 metre tall sword that the Giant had dropped. Picking it up, he found it was perfectly balanced. Stuffing the stringy meat sinew in his mouth, he began to chew, hungry as he was, and started to lay about the skeletons, turning them to dust with wide sweeping attacks.

His wards burned again, the stone in his blood repelling the effects of magic being unleashed, as well as the sacred tattoos. Then he remembered his hammer was magic. Willing it to come to him, he stretched out his hand. The hammer came flying like a meteor towards him, cartwheeling through the air, smashing skeletons and narrowly missing the Greenskin throwing his net over a dead skeleton. Well, the skeleton was no longer 'alive', it was 'dead'. Just dead, not undead.

Seeing out the corner of his eye a purple blast, he saw the Necromancer. Hatred blazed in heart, and remembered tales of a necromancer, tattooed like a slayer, except in words of forbidden lore, not of victories and oaths of vengeance, who assaulted an outpost of Dwarven Rangers, who he had overseen once in his previous life, before joining the slayer cult.

Everytime his hammer struck, the daemons in his hammer recalled the memories, the images striking like lightning. The foul creature, in its weakness had given itself over to weakness in its search for eternal life, a lich, a creature whose souless soul resided in a rotting body, a hated enemy of the slayers, ananthema to both Dwarven life, and that of the Brotherhood of Grungnir. He saw the foul creature attack alone - it had been one night in a storm, when the lone man had staggered through the threshold, guided by the rangers, who gave pity. The following night, the man had attacked, the gay behaviour he had shown the previous eve forgotten, as magic flayed flesh from bone, as muttered incantations reincarnated those slain to attack his brother Dwarves. Flexing his bicep, he remembered the oath he had made to hunt down this vile creature. Now he was a slayer, it would be the perfect opportunity...

Nobody would know, if the Practitioner of the Dark Arts was to meet an untimely end in this swirling melee. Roaring with hatred, and a howl of happiness as the daemon of Khorne manifested itself once again, vision narrowing, the scent of blood on his nose and tongue, albeit dead, the metallic, cold tang to it disgusting to him. But Blood was Blood after all.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir destroyed some more undead when he saw the necromancer doing his magic.
''Thats avsome, i want to learn that to''


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: alright sry about the delay progress reports came and i didnt do to well, and to top it off got suspended as soon as i walked through the door 

Jonathan ran through the melee after dismembering the bone giant and taking its soul to an even worse afterlife than the one it had been currently experiencing, he saw the necromancer walking delibrately toward the undead sorcerer, "Hahaha!" he screamed as he sliced another one in half.

"Something amuses you master?" Azael said as he ran beside his lord
"Nothing my friend, its just this necromancer thinks that he can compete with the likes of a prince of Slaanesh! I will show him whos the better!" he yelled as he ran toward the chariot and jumped sword raised as he seemingly flew through the air.

The sorceror raised it staff to try and fend him off sending a sickly green bolt towards him, protected by his sword he absorbed it and crashed on top of the undead, he heard its scream its protest at him as he brought his sword to bear and cleaved its skull in two.

Getting up and laughing as he saw the other necromantic constructs begin to fall apart, the battle finished, he moved on to claim the souls of the few mortals who lay dead on the battlefield and accept any questions that needed asking. "Victory is ours!" he screamed to the others, "Now thats either a tomb or just a hole but we should look a little bit dont you think?" he said pointing to the chasm the undead column had emerged from as he sunk his blade into the chest of a dead man draining his soul.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Completely ignoring the cries of victory Tezrof simply roared in shock and horror.
"I dropped tha little'un." He squealed as he realised Gunni was no longer attached to his belt. He lurched around the battlefield as he searched for him but tripped over the Bone Giant and landed face first on the ground. He got up to see that he had landed on Mordeth. "I flattened the Dwarf." He cried out "Though he looks a bit slimmer..."

Tezrof backed away from the 'atrocity' he had caused and stumbled as he accidentally fell down the hole the skeletons had came from, and fell into the dark. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Cursing as the bones collapsed around, the daemon began to withdraw from visible presence, in case it should be revealed before its time. As Gunni returned to the surface, he realised that he had lost it. He would not be able to attack the Wizard now.

He was now one of the fabled Giant Slayers, one who had fought as a Slayer long enough to earn this rank. If he returned to Karak Kadrin, he would be chosen to lead one of the regiments of rank upon rank of orange haired hatred.

Blinking, he noticed the Necromancer in the harsh desert light, the split personality mirroring Gunni's own possession, and feeling the hatred that had brought the daemon to the fore once more during the fight. However, the beast inside had more than enough guile to remember to stay hidden. However, the blue tattoo's covering his arms were now red. Blood red. 

His cornrows and beard were now the ruddy colour of Ruby Gromril, hewn from the seam that had been visible during an ancient war with Chaos, when they infiltrated the ancient caverns, the blood of Dwarven warriors staining the mineral. This seam was favoured by the slayers, the brutal deaths of their kin, and indeed, to help purify the tainted metal that had been the former head of his hammer, this metal had been wrought into the metal. 

His knuckles were hardening into horns of hardened, clotted blood. The blood that came from his body during the fight, the numerous nicks and cuts he'd taken were healing immediately, becoming scar tissue. His eye was lost, but his cut was just a pure jagged line of thick scar tissue, but Gunni could see as well, if not better than before. The daemon possessing him and the weapon was helping the wielder. He realised that he could taste and smell the blood in the air from the few unlucky mercenaries who were slain, in addition to the age old sun bleached bone and gold of the skeletons. Every sense was heightened to unimaginable levels. The still liquid blood had all run onto his arms, which solidified into lumps of bony blood, hard as nails, protecting him from the odd cut. He was becoming a killing machine. The Slayer knew that Hakkar, or Khorne as the Empire of Man called him, was the Beast of Destruction, the Chaos God of Blood and Skulls. However, there was worshipping, and there was turning his power against him. 

Then, seeing the leader of the expedition, he saw the sword that he had wielded with skill and guile that spoke of almost lady-elf-like ability. Surprise at first was superceeded by a snarl of hatred. The Prince of Pleasure, who believed that bedazzling the enemy was the way to defeat an enemy, instead of outright honourable combat. The Dwarf knew that there were not his thoughts. But an ally who relied on trickery could not be trusted. They were as bad as girlelves, and something which shared his feelings was an ally. Again, Hakkar would be perverted to aid the dwarven cause.

Turning around, he heard a strangled roar, what seemed halfway like a sob and a cry of surprise, and saw that Tezrof had fallen down the hole which was the entrance to the subterranean caverns. 

"Tezroffffff!!!!" A voice more Bestial and dripping with the promise of violence that was not Gunni's own came out of his mouth, and so saying, he forgot all the intents of violence in his head, and charged after falling Ogre. The fat one had saved Gunni's life, in between the fits of exhaustion and bloodloss, and that was a debt to be repaired. Muttering oaths in dwarvish and the syllables of Deamonvoice, he vowed to save the Ogre, or die trying. Jumping in, he brought out his hammer, and the crimson and purple flames lighted the descent. It was a short one, merely 20 metres, but seeing the stunned Ogre lying on a pile of sand, he looked up and saw mercenaries peering into the hole.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan scowled, recognizing the work of Khorne, the blood god and anathema to the ways of the prince he would have to watch that one.

He peered into the hole to see the dwarf and the ogre he had heard called Tezroff. Azael walked up beside him, "Master i trust you have noticed the intent of the short creature" he said as he halked a gob of phlegm into the sand "simply foul"

A brettonian man walked up beside him, "Si--" he half said as he was shoved down the hole, of course it looked like he had tripped. Jonathan watched it with a grin hearing the crack of bone as the mans neck broke, "The dwarf is a slight setback this goes exactly as planned." He said slyly. "Good dwarf, do you require some assistance with climbing out? The ogre looks to be quite a burden after all." He said laughing.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir saw and heared the ogre fall into the hole and then he saw the dwarf jump after.
''Crazy dwarf'
He then noticed he had an wound on his left arm and that his shield was broken.
''When did that happen?''


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Karric had watched their mercenary band's leader, Johnathan, kill the undead sorcerer with a flourish of his sword and merely nodded. That the creature was dead would be enough for him. With the undead foe defeated, Karric allowed the skeletons that had survived to once again rest, the sound of their clattering bones lost in the sweeping winds that blew across the sun-baked desert.

"One less dark thing to infect this world with it's evil", he whispered under his breath. 

The irony of such words did not escape him. "If only they hadn't killed her..." The thought came unbidden to his mind. He found himself thinking back to better times, before he trod the path of the necromancer, when he had been but a young lad. His life had been so much simpler. He had been accepted to the College of Magic and the love of his life had accepted his offer of marriage. Those days had been filled with so much happiness and joy. "Damned fools..damned small-minded fools!", he mind roared as he thought back to the night the raging mob, their anger fueled by the misguided hatred of the town's priest and his words of condemnation, that had taken her from him. They had refused to listen to reason and they had paid the price. "If only they hadn't killed her..." 

Idly, Karric stroked the small amulet hanging from his neck. Once the flow of dark magic had petered out, the wards protecting the Sigmarite sigil went back into dormancy once again and the hammer had cooled enough to touch. It was the only possession precious to him. It was all he had left of her beyond the fleeting memories that flitted back and forth through his mind, slowly evaporating as the passage of time wore them away. Melancholy set in as the curse of remembering took it's toll. He would have to summon up his alter ego soon lest his thoughts turned down the darker path that had led him to make those regretted decisions of his youth. There had been a time when he had wished it could be so simple as to be consumed by the hatred that had welled up in his heart. Hate was easy. It crushed conscious and love and any other emotion that did not feed it's all-destroying evil. 

For a time he had. Darkness welcomed him like the open arms of a whore, offering delights beyond the ken of mortal man but only at a price. Karric paid that price, willingly walking the path of damnation and in his wake had left a trail of death that meandered it's way from the far off shores of Norsca to the hot and humid jungles of the New World. His name was spoken in fearful whispers in more lands than a man could ever see in several lifetimes and he had relished every moment of it. And then one night as his hordes of undead burned their way through some small hamlet unworthy of rememberance he found himself face to face with what he had become. Realization had hit him a hammer and the fog that had infected his brain lifted. "She looked so much like her", he thought as he remembered the young lass who had rushed from a burning thatched hut, her crying babe cradled in her arms. 

That day he had walked away from the path, vowing that he would no longer allow the evil that he commanded to hold sway over his black soul again. He had simply dismissed his horde and wandered off into the darkness. He released his grasp on the icon, allowing it to rest once more against his chest and shook the maudlin thoughts from his head. Taking up his staff, he turned from the past and strode back into the present. 

As he moved towards the chasm that now stood open to the blazing sun and shifting sands of the desert, he had noticed the suble movements that had seen one of the Brettonian fops sent end over end, head first into the great hole. Few things escaped one so ancient. A scowl found it's way onto his face as he watched Johnathan laugh. "He will bear watching", he noted, as he silenty began reinforcing the dark wards he used to protect himself from harm. 

Grunvald made his way to the gathering group of adventurers as they took in the opening that lay below. He had seen several in his many lifetimes and still felt a small amount of awe as his eyes took in the craftsmanship covering the outter walls of the tomb. He also knew full well that no tomb was left unprotected. Booby traps, sorcererous wards, and possibly more undead waited below in the cold darkness. "It would behoove you to enter with care", he said in passing as he made his way around the outer edge of the chasm to a spot that would make his descent easier.

Stopping, Karric turned and pointed to one of the many mercenaries standing nearby. "The vampire is over there. You will take him to one of the covered wagons and see that he is undisturbed. Make sure he is out of the sun." With that, he continued on.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof sat up dizzily and looked about. He had landed on his head when he fell which combined with his massive bulk equalled one big headache. An unpleasant side effect was that he had forgotten everything from picking up Gunni to falling down the hole. He scratched the painful bump appearing on his forehead and said "Err I guess we're movin further in tha tunnels? Anyone need me to catch them on tha jump down? It's big jump." As he finished talking he saw the man who had 'accidentally' fallen and without a moment of hesitation started devouring him greedily. . .


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan began the short climb down and jumped down when it was a short enough distance and landed, Azael at his side as always he nodded toward the pair already down there, and smirked when he noticed the ogre eating the dead man, and looked over to see the rather insane necromancer descending slowly but surely, then looked up to the rest of the men, "Well?" he said in a commanding tone "What the hell are you staring at? the ogre wont eat you alive!" he said looking over to the ogre with a smile.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir laughed att Jonathans comment about Tezrof.
He then started to climb down and was there very fast.
''A cave, wonder if there is any gold in there''


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

"Mercenary", Gunni addressed Jonathon. "There will likely be treasure down in here, likely a small amount of wealth as well - Ah'd hazard a guess and say there be supplies, bu' ah wudne count on it." The growl was notable in the force, the daemon threatening to resurface - the she-elf would not proove to be much trouble, his dwarvish heart and daemonic soul telling him that it would proove no match for fiendish strength and dwarvish metal. However, with a great effort of will - born of a lust for gold that a possession could not halt or hinder - Gunni Gorbbisson was able to keep it mainly hidden - particularly the accursed daemonic familiar. The Slayer knew it was nearby - his daemonic senses tingling with the perfumed reek that set mortals so at ease in his presence. Naturally the dwarf had not been fooled, despite the creatures musk.

"However, Ah've heard 'bout these vile skeletons - they like t'be... tricky with there designin' o' these ancient places... As if they knew Ah'd be here for their treasure. Much o' this gold has the smell of that found in Dwarven mountains. Ah'm here to return it to its rightful owners. And take the rest as... interest. Still, these traps and tricks are nigh impossible to spot - my superior engineerin' an' stoneworking knowledge, Ah am a dwarf, Slayer or engineer, matter not... Best if Ah go first. I can find the safest route, bu' Ah could do with a few bodies. Some o' these traps do tend to go off unexpectedly. They can... help. Then, Ah'll set up some defences, protectin' us while we be excavatin'".


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

As Karric slowly made his way down, he began the process of calling his other self back to the fore. He stopped half way down the wind-swept slope and grasped the medallion that hung from his neck. Bringing it to eye-level, he quietly counted down from ten, allowing the mental wards he held in place to bring von Vandersnoot to the fore. At the count of one, von Vandersnoot shook his head and looked around him quizzically. He let the sigil drop back to it's place on his chest and scratched himself "Where am I?", he asked the now silent skulls. It was all they needed to start once again in with their nigh-constant chattering. "Hell's teeth! You two are as useful as tits on a boar!", von Vandersnoot snorted. "Ooooh..a tomb! I must see this!"

Von Vandersnoot stooped over, leaning on his staff and continued downward to the chasm's sandy floor. Once there, he saw the rather foul-smelling slayer attempting to convince Johnathan that he should go first. Something inside him told him to be wary around the party's leader so in his typcially insane fasion he began chanting, preparing wicked little curse that he could unleash on the man's gnadgy bits should he find need to disuade him from acts of violence. "Peas they'll be hehhehehhehheh!"

Tromping up to the tomb's entrance, von Vandersnoot found himself entranced by the magical wards set in place to keep it safe. Nodding to himself, he snorted derisively. "It's warded", he called to no one in particular. "Rather nasty ones from the looks of it. I'd hate to be the poor damned soul sent in first.", he chortled merrily as he kicked one of the stones making up the open doorway that led into the murky darkness. "You mouth-breathers may want to find yourself a sorcerer of some kind. From the looks of it, a user of the darks arts. Chaos sorcerer perhaps. Maybe a dark elf caster. Barring that, you might want to find yourself a rather powerful necromancer. Oh..and a torch. Can't have someone twisting their ankle now can we!"


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

"well then have at it" Jonathan replied to the necromancer, "Yes your profession is quite obvious" he said as he signalled to a squad of men to take the fore. "How long will this "deactivation" take?" Jonathan said walking over to the sorcerer with his always chattering staff.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof Skinflayer devoured the corpse in his usual way. He flayed the skin off it then ate the gooey centre. After that he barked commands at the people still up top and they threw down the bodies of the adventurers killed in the battle as well as getting two of them to heave his sword down as well. He put the bodies in the food sack on his back and slid the longsword into his jewel-encrusted belt.

With that done Tezrof skipped to the entrance of the tomb and, without thinking of the consequences of potential booby traps, strode through. . .


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan burst out laughing as the ogre was shot backwards, landing in the sand not looking to hurt, "Someone else go through I want to see what happens to a human..." he said as he grabbed one and threw him into the entrance and barely got out of the way as the human was launched into the ogre...


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

"Ahhh, this be what Ah be telling ye aboot, Mercenary. This time, Ah'm goin' through!"

So saying, the Slayer charged - going through the barrier, his sheer strength of will, and magic wards, both daemonic and dwarven protecting him. Then he stopped, feet windmilling wildly, bare soles digging through the soft dry sand. Seemingly he gave up, and letting himself relax, turned round in mid air as he was catapulted out, his hammer striking the warded gates. Evilly glowing runes bruised the air, Flames and lightning shooting out, and the hammer connected with an explosion of sand blasted rock and dust. The ruddy metal had destroyed the sigils guarding the entrance way.

Gunni hadn't stopped there though. Flying through the air fast as a Cannonball, the Dwarf realised why some Dwarves had enjoyed the exhiliration of flying gyrocopters, when smacked with a clank into the gut plate of the Ogre.

Getting up, he dusted himself off. "Sorry, friend, Ah hadne seen ya there. Still, ye an Ah have some gold t'be haulin'"

So saying, there was another crack, similar to clay breaking, which echoed all around the room. The ground was shaking, sand shifting to reveal the grinning skulls of long dead soldiers, ressurected to fight once again. Turning round to tell that damn Necromancer to stop messing around, summoning his undead mosquito's (they were bad enough in life) again, he saw something that made the dwarf feel what humans might have called fear. The he remembered, he was a Dwarf. This was merely anger that such a think had escaped his notice. The Jackal headed living statue was loping up to the group, bringing its blade back in preparation for a killing strike.

"We're under attack again! T' ye stations, t' ye station, Damn ya all t'hell, lady boys and ponces the lot of ya. Kill t'bastards! Agin. Whatever - Atttacccckkk!!!!!

Charging towards the Ushabti, he saw a small phalanx of 8 or so constructs form up behind the leading one. Then he noticed that those statues in the alcoves were no longer there! It was an ambush! The first false godly imaged statue struck a Estalian cavalryman in the back, the huge cleaver it had wielded two handed scything through the air so quickly the head seperated from the body a second after the stroke.

The smell of blood had brought Hakkar's demon to the fore again - with a bestial roar of "For Grimnar and the Blood God!", the Slayer cannoned into the statue as skeletons rose up.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan snarled truly enraged this time showing showing an array of sharpened teeth and a long tongue almost letting his true form escape he surpressed the rest of it. "What are you all looking I assume none of you are witch hunters! Have at them!" Jonathan said as he and his ever present bodyguard charged into the fray as he leaped into one of the columns of undead. "I dont see a sorcerer! Karric!" he screamed, "see if you can discern a way to put them in the ground the whole tomb has been awakened! And this is one of the fabled cities of the dead!"

OOC: all RPers I'm planning on having all of us splitting from the main group sacrificing them and getting our treasure, unless its to early, I would like feedback on what you think about that course of action.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

OOC-Just to let you know I'm a bit under the weather now. Chest cold or infection or both...nothing good I should say. I might not be around too much over the next few days as I try to get over it heh heh heh. I will try though.

Von Vandersnoot slapped his forehead in exasperation. First the ogre..then the dwarf. Rolling his eyes, he snorted. While it had been amusing to watch them flying hither, thither and yon as they attempted to breech the spells of protection laid around the tomb's entrance, it was getting the party nowhere quickly. He wondered vaguely if all dwarves and ogres suffered from the same mental maladay that rendered them stupid. "Anyone else care to try? Or should I just deactivate the blasted things? Eh? Anyone? I thought so..." 

The sound of screaming and dying once again filled the sun-blasted air as yet more undead rose up from the ground as the little rolling ball of funk that was the slayer bounced into his over-zealous eating machine of a friend in the form of the rather large ogre. "See..this is why you let the magic-wielder cut the wards... SEE? I swear! Between the two of you your mental prowess wouldn't match that of a brain-dead ox on weirdroot!"

He turned to their leader and spoke. "I can probably stop them but it will take a small miracle. Our rather foul smelling dwarven friend here has damaged the wards protecting this sanctuary. If I can repair them and then deactivate them the undead should return to their restless sleep...until some other dumb sod trips a trap that is... That is unless you want this Karric fellow to do it for you?" Seeing that there was really no time for an arguement over who got to do what, Eric started chanting in the black tongue, tapping his staff seemingly at random across the stone that made up the entrance. "Hmm..need some more mojo it seems..." He turned to one of the mercenaries nearby and grasped him around the throat. With a quick slash from his staff, he sent the man's blood squirting across the rocky-face of the tomb. It seem to be enough. His sorcererous eyes could see the wards slowly dying out. Realizing he still held the struggling man, he carefully deposited him down on the ground with a small apology. "Sorry for that!", he crowed, "A little blood was needed and sadly very little flows in these ancient veins heh heh heh!" 

It was still a mystery as to whether or not it had been enough to send those dead still down in the tomb back to their resting places. He idly wondered if it really mattered. Part of him screamed that he should be busy subverting whatever will controlled the massive ushabti and the stumbling hordes of undeath deeper in the tomb. "Of course!", he cried as he once again slapped his forehead. "I've got to stop that..it smarts", he muttered as he rubbed the forming mark. 

Turning to the shuffling ushabti, he began uttering another curse in the dark language of Nagash as he tested his will against whatever malevolent creature now controlled these undead minions. The link between minion and master was weak. "Almost too weak", von Vandersnoot muttered to himself. It was if that which gave them power was either far away or it's power was in a flux. His spell to gain dominion over the undead champions was working. He could feel their dark will bending under the powers he unleashed against them and slowly turning to his own. Feelings of victory turned to consternation as as the spelled reached the height of it's power, the ushabti simply fell apart, as if the strings keeping them erect had been cut. Von Vandersnoot vainly attempted to raise them once again but to no avail. He was at a loss. He knew full well his mastery of the dark arts were matched by few. Even in his state of insanity(which to be honest was a given as he WAS a necromancer), he had the ability to turn the dead to his will, including animation. 

With the ushabti and the wards taken care of, von Vandersnoot promptly plopped his arse down onto the sand and began scratching his bald scalp. "The wards are gone now", he said in afterthought, "but we may have bigger problems. Something is down there. It could be a tomb liche...nasty buggers those. It might also be another sorcerer. Though, I doubt that. The one you bested above should have been the first of retainers for whatever creature resides below. There is power down there...ancient power. I'm quite at a loss as to what it is in all honesty but I do know that it is still weak. I fear it's power will grow soon though. It'd be best if we get a move on before it can truly wake all of those poor wretches that slumber here. I should probably lead the way down as well. Lest we run into any more wards and our short, fiery-haired stump of a friend manages to stumble into another blasted trap."

With that, Eric stood and dusted the sand off his jet black robes. "Ugg. This sand is ruining my fine vestments. It cost a fortune to make these things." Striding to the entrance, he called up a ball of green bale-fire to the top of his staff and wandered in.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

((OOC: I'll go with whatever you think would be best. You are the Games Master after all.))

Tezrof was taken by complete surprise when the wards hurled him through the air. He was just getting his bearings when the Dwarf slammed into him. Tezrof was not harmed however, his Gut Plate protecting him, and then heard Vandersnoot compare him to a dead ox. He was about to confront him when the skeletons rose out of the ground.

Tezrof charged towards them and smashed about 10 of them into the ground. He then turned towards an Ushabti and propelled himself towards it with all his strength. They were about to collide when the Necromancer's charms caused it to collapse meaning Tezrof hit the wall behind it face first. He howled as the bump on his forehead doubled in size and turned towards Von Vandersnoot.
"First you compare me to my breakfast and then you make me hit my head! You're gonna deserve this!" He roared and moved to punch him. Unfortunately on the way to him Tezrof tripped over an Ushabti which made him hit his head again although this time on a very pointy rock. Luckily it failed to break the skin though his bump further increased in size as he fell into unconsciousness. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

"Wellll, we won't be goin' hungry, at any rate" Said the Slayer, returned to his sane, well, Dwarven Slayer sane, state of mind, looking at Tezrof. 

"Mage - Ah 'preciate your magics, bu' I need to fight. Ah hold people to their word, as I hold mine. Ah was promised Treasure, 3 Square meals a day, and somethin' to fight! I've had precious few of any of those! Still, I don't suppose you mind restin' in that coffin d'ye?" said Gunni, leering his leer, eyeballing the injured Vampire.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Dissappointed at the undead falling back to their graves he looked toward the comotion of the clumsy ogre, dwarf, and Necromancer.

"Calm down Gentlemen, we all have a common goal theres no need to come to blows" Jonathan said smirking at the unconscious ogre. "Now lets get the treasure shall we? 3rd and 4th squads up front, 1st and 2nd take the back, me and my friends will take the middle, unless you can spot some of the traps and wards for us good dwarf and Sorcerer." He said motioning his hands and stepping aside to let the column pass through.


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

'Cough, clough' 
"Careful, dwarf," Gareth said after coughing, "I have soon regained my health, thanks to my regeneration and the necromancers very helpfull spell. You don't want to cross me."

Upon saying that, he flicked his hand and heated the ground under the slayer, making it slippery glass.

'This is torture. Stupid Mordeth for leaving me in this sorry state.'

Returning to his brooding, for that was what he had been doing ever after he got hit by the giant sword, Gareth filled his imaginations of what he would do to those who dared cross him.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

''Gareth you better get back to health fast or we don't leave any treasuers for you''
Mormacir then laughed silently beacause he did know that Vampires regrenate wery fast.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Slowly Tezrof's eyes flickered open and he looked about him. After getting up he glared at Von Vandersnoot but made no attempt to confront him as that could jeopardise the mission and his gold with it. When it was their squad's turn to move forward Tezrof's long strides soon found himself at the front of the line. He looked back and slowed his pace so the others could keep up with him, eying Jonathan at the same time. _"There's something not quite right about him."_ Tezrof thought, though he made no mention to anyone else in fear of them betraying him at the last moment. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Getting up off his scorched arse, the Dwarf turned round with a snap. "Careful, Bloodsucker. Ah do not appreciate the ahffects of ye spell. Wearin' a wee little cloth next t' burnin' glass will make mah bum go red. Red means Ah get angry. Ye dinne want t' make me angry, ye ken? Ye may find y'sels lost in this 'ere dungeon. Y're a fair fighter, Ah'll give ye that, bu' ye'll still need me t' watch ye back. Ye not that good."

Picking himself up, Gunni grasped his hammer, and slammed it into the glass. Slithers exploded everywhere, one piece slicing through the cheek skin of the pale fleshed Vampire, although it drew not blood. The smell of rotting flesh caused the daemon inside roar with anger at the desecration.

"C'mon, wizard. Ah don' like it, bu' we have t' work t'gether. You disable the wards, Ah'll destroy the runes. You help me, scratch mah back, so to speak, and Ah'll, er... think abou' helpin' you if things get lairy. Bah Grimnirs left testicle, working with lady elves, bloodsuckers and sorcerors... what would mah old dwarf say... Backstabbers the lot of..."

So saying, chuntering on, oaths, curses, and ramblings pouring out, he set to work demolishing the first of the archways, when a mountain of sand and rubble fell on the dwarf, the roof weakened by his loud voice and stomping footsteps.

"Bugger this." came the muffled retort.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Smiling watching as the dwarf was covered in sand and almost falling over laughing as it triggered a trap sending a large bolt into a man going through 5 before stopping from hitting the ogres gut plate and ringing off, He screamed "Whats the matter! Keep your asses moving up there! Dont have me get my ogre friend to throw you down the hall!" Tentatively with an evil look toward the dwarf for setting off the trap they moved onward slowly but onward...


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

''Do you mean me by lady elf then you are wery wrong and can't see a thing, slayer''
Mormacir said in an angry tone to the slayer.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: calling you a bloodsucker Flerden, also your posts dont contribute much to the rp, could you try to make them a bit longer.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot was well on his way down the hallway when he heard the slayer babbling something about not like this or something along those lines. Frankly, he didn't care. He knew it was imperative that they made it down as quickly as possible less whatever lay in wait grew too strong. He alone could truly grasp what would happen if they were to come face to face with one of the ancient undead and how much power such a creature could call upon. The thought sent shivers down his spine. Eric could call upon terrible powers himself, though where he had learned it all he wasn't positively sure. He knew one thing though. His powers would pale in comparison should they face a full-fledged tomb liche. They were unto walking gods of death and their mastery of the necromantic arts were without par. 

Behind him, he could hear the dwarf bashing away at the stones making up the facing of the tomb and he vaguely wondered why the stinky little fellow bothered. The wards were inert and safe for now. A loud twang was all the warning he had as a rather large bone-shard bolt went flying from behind him. Muttering a prayer to Sigmar, he trudged on. He cared not who was hit, though from the sounds of it, it had made quite a stir outside. Turning back, he called through the falling sand, "No wards so far. Mind your step! There seem to be some traps set around here. I'd mark them but alas I have no chalk. I leave it up to everyone's better judgment. Oh..and if you were smart, you'd follow my footprints in the sand. Guaranteed to be safe...well..mostly at any rate!"

Trudging on he came to another door. Looking closely he could see fragmented wards. Something was amiss. It was if they'd been broken by someone or something. He wondered if someone had been there before. Taking great care, he began unweaving the broken charms to make sure they'd cause him no trouble. As he finished, he was rewarded with the sound of clicking...followed by another click and another. "Bugger.."

The door swung slowly open to reveal a room full of mummified corpses. Pale green witch fire flared to life around the room as long-dead torches caught ablaze. "I might require some help", Eric called loudly as the first of the mummies began to shift from their resting places.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

OOC: Ok i'll try to make them longer.

Mormacir heard the bolt coming and easily moved out of the way. He did not care who was hit. He then ran upp to the Necromancer and prepeared for figth, he slayed the first mummified corpses. ''Can you stop them necromancer, or do I have to do it?'' He then realised the other would be there soon to. ''Oh wait i dont have to do it my self''


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

rising from the cart, slowly because of the wound, Gareth made his way down the catacombs to where the rest of the group had gone. Quite a few corpses littered the ground, testimony to how stupid many humans were.

"Hey, you people are blundering around like you have no brains. At least show some care when opening doors..." His voice faltering as the necromancer close to wrenched the next door open, revealing a room filled with mummies.
"why do i bother?" He said while walking slowly to the back of the group. He would let the others take care of this figthing.
He almost wished Mordeth would resurface. While spinning mad, he had tremendous skill in magecraft, an art Gareth had only a small grasp over, no matter what powers lay hidden in his body.

Kicking the goblin, whom he found was located right in front of his foot (before the kick), he sent him scuttling almost to the front, right in front of a mummy... altough the stupid undead clearly didn't notice the small creature, only waving its arms after Flerden.
However, this act of frustration made him feel a little bit better...

OOC: Flerden, THIS was a post  buahahhahaaaaaaa!


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof guffawed when the bolt bounced off his Gut Plate. He preceded to picked it up and started using it as a tooth pick. he saw the mummies attack and reached round to pick up a boulder he had just passed. Unfortunately he grabbed Gareth by accident and only realised his mistake a moment too late. Tezrof could only utter "Whoops!" as Gareth was hurled into a mummy.

Eager to fix his error Tezrof jumped over everyone in his way and landed on the two mummies (and an adventurer) next to the Vampire. Next the Ogre viciously punched two more of the Undead back before drawing his sword and spinning in a circle, ripping many more to shreds. He carried on like this until he was too dizzy to continue and fell over backwards, right on top of Gareth. . .


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir saw the goblin flying att the mummie but the mummie did not se the little goblin so it continued to attack him instead of the greenskin. 
He easily killed the mummie, then he saw Tezrof throwing Gareth rigth att the mummies, he then ducked when Tezrof jumped Gareth and backed away when Tezrof started to spin around. When Tezrof did fall he ran to protect Tezrof, and Gareth who was beneath.
''Can some one come help me get Gareth from beneath Tezrof?''


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot watched with growing amusement as the fight played out. Part of him was screaming for them to continue on but he couldn't help but laugh. The ogre was having his hand at a good smashing but the one called Mormacir seemed to be having a harder time. Eric noticed that he favored one of his arms as though it was injured. Something about him breaking his arm, he remembered. "Ahh yes..when the undead giant was running amuk!", he said to himself. Looking back, he wondered vaguely if he should point out that mummies had a rather emphatic dislike for fire of any kind but held his tongue. 

He'd always hated people who belabored well-known points and he was not about to become one of those duly noted know-it-alls. He'd had his fill with those sorts. Granted, 'those sorts' had been witch hunters hell-bent on turning him back to the light of Sigmar but Eric's faith in his god had never wavered. Sigmar was the light to his darkness. Again he found his mind wandering. "Damnit man..back to the task at hand. What was it we were thinking about!? Skulls! Do you know?" The skulls only continued to chitter on inanely, leaving von Vandersnoot still confused and becoming rather hostile. The sound of shuffling and moaning caught his attention. Fire and mummies..that was it. Yes. He was holding his tongue on that subject. "Still..it would finish them off quicker", he muttered aloud. 

Pointing to one of the mercenaries standing behind him slack-jawed and doe-eyed, he yelled, "FIRE LAD! Use your damned bloody torches on them!" The poor sod's fearful look was replaced with the grim face of someone who had a job and a purpose. Eric nodded sagely and stepped aside as the fool went charging in, flaming brand in hand. He stepped aside again as the lad's head came rolling out with a bounce. "Hmm..."

Sighing, he called up the black fire of Nagash and began blasting the room. While the room only held eight of the dried out pieces of flammable jerky, it was a small room so technically it was full of them. He wondered why he was pondering his earlier thought. It had no place in the heat of battle! He chuckled at the pun as it ran through his mind. A loud high pitched squeel brought his attention back to the task at hand. His spell had singed the poor goblin as he ran around with his net looking for a good target. "SORRY!", he called, "Don't worry my wee little green friend! I'm sure I have an oinment for that!"

The flaming mummies began to keen a deep, resounding call. "Alright lads! Have at them quick lest we find ourselves hip deep in more of these walking candles!" A resounding crunch filled the small ante-chamber as the ogre fell on the vampire. Mormacir was asking for help in saving the vampire from his rather ill-fated choice of locations. Any fool knew that when an ogre fell you made sure to be at least a good eight or nine paces away from the gigantic milk-sops when they decided to take a dirt nap. Turning to what was left of the poor mercenary the ogre had orginally landed on, Eric happened upon a wonderous idea. Chanting out a spell of reanimation, he brought the poor squashed soul back to un-life and set him to the task of removing the vampire from what looked to be the ogre's rather large(and even at this distance, horrible smelling) arse.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: Oh im sorry are you the GM? sorry if I've taken a lil while on the actual updates.

Jonathan saw the mummies shuffling and moaning pitifully with their empty eyes, He drew his sword and instead of charging in he ordered all of the other soldiers to charge in and earn their pay, "Move it you bastards!" he yelled as he followed them in killing where he went and taking the souls of the deceased.

When the shambling creatures all lay dead he noticed a golden statue shine in an alcove at the end of the chamber, and watched as a soldier ran and picked it up. He felt a massive tremor run through the room and the floor start to crack beneath their feet and spikes rise from the ground impaling a few unfortunates and the soldier who stood transfixed holding the statue fell through the ground and Jonathan heard a scream as the mans trance abruptly ended.

"GET THE HELL OUT YOU WORTHLESS FOPS!" he screamed as men started falling through the floor and he saw the ogre along with the vampire called Mormancire, goblin, and the dwarf slayer along with more than half the men fall to their likely deaths. He smiled as he saw the dwarf look him in the eyes with a look of utter hatred and laughed as he saw him fall...

He couldnt keep back his smile as he faced Azale and said, "my friend this goes better than I could've expected." low enough so not even the elves could hear. As he turned around and started killing the mercenaries letting his true form slip with a small pair of horns, long tongue, sharpened teeth that would make a vampire blanch,red eyes, and covered in his daemon armour as his sword also turned into its horrific true form and a claw sprout from the other. Then stopping at the necromancer, the vampire called Mordeth, and the few surviving men, only the dark elven corsair and an ogre left (not Tezrof). "Its time we continue..."

OOC: All of the normal soldiers you fell with are dead, with maybe a couple left for fodder. I left a couple for my group to even out the numbers seeing as only me and the necromancer made it out.


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

Right after he kicked the goblin, Gareh felt a huge hand grab him, and suddenly he was flying head first into the mummies, sending a score of them tumbling to the ground. Then, just as his confused (and now half mad) mind understood what had happened. a shadow descended upon him...

Groaning as the immense weight of Terzof the ogre crushed him to the ground, he realized he could do nothing to come clear. Both his arms were locked, and he couldn't see anything, so he was unable to use any spells without risk of severely hurting himself.
Then again, being crushed by an ogre wasn't pleasant, so he was just getting ready to cast a small fire bolt, when suddenly he saw light, and felt a lurching feeling in his stomach.

Flailing his arms a bit, he looked around, and noticed 1: that he was falling, 2: that alot of the others were falling too, and 3: that his arms were free...

Now Mordeth would show them true superiority...- he tought as he turned into an immense bat-like creature (more like a daemon, but hey, he wasn't picky) and quickly dived towards two of his 'comrades', cluthing them in his claws while flapping safely down to the ground.

A meter or two above the ground he let go, before he landed and transformed back.

Looking at his rescued comrades, he noticed to his dismay it was the vampire-hater, the ugly dwarf, and the goblin, who obviously had clung to the vampire-hater's leg...Flerden he tought he was called.

There was a huge dump as something landed behind him. Looking over his shoulder he saw the ogre, and what seemed like one of his 'nameless' partners, an elf archer. Both seemed to be alive.
Looking around the small cave they were in, he noticed a lot of peculiar tunnel-openings, decorated with blazing runes. Healso noticed the many broken bodies of unlucky explorers that had fallen to their deaths along with them.

"Well! What now?" he asked.
As nobody seemed to answer right away, he answered his own question rather happily.
"I think it's time to eat, my friend!" he said as he spotted a dying treasure-hunter lying some feet away from him.

Walking briskly over, he muttered " No hard feelings," bit into the poor fellows throat, and drank, refilling his strenght. 
While he did this he saw that the others were stirring slowly, rising to their feet, looks of surprise still on their faces.
Had they not been moving he could have taken them for dead, for all the corpses around them had the same surprised look as they had.
He laughed a bit, still drinking, which made the blood in his mouth bubble forth a little, dripping down his jaw and neck...

OOC: So... we split up, and try to find the treasure, both teams? or will your team take us for dead, and move out, hoping to find another catacomb?^^
Enlighten me.. haha


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof was so dizzy he was unaware of falling until he actually landed. Slowly, he stirred and saw Mordeth draining the blood out of the corpses. As he pulled himself to his feet the Ogre started to pick up the bodies that failed to react from a nudge from his foot and put them in his food bag. He left a few on the ground for the Vampire to eat and kept one in his hand to eat himself. Tezrof ended up eating three bodies and when he was finished smiled weakly at the others. This adventure had just got harder. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

The fall had been brief. He had been happily smashing the hammer into the head of a Mummy, when the floor collapsed. Halfway down, a great taloned foot grabbed the Slayer by his cornrows and beard. Looking up, he saw the Vampires bestial features look down in disgust. The orange haired dwarf would not suffer this indignity. With a bite (he was hungry), the Bat Daemon let go of him, and he continued to fall. Gunni had fallen on his head - no harm done then.

Hatred bubbled up through him, the possessing Bloodthirster present in the weapon letting his feelings overcome him, lending strength to his body. They were trapped. The skeletons on the floor would not be helpful. Still, despite having to work with all sorts. The Lady-elf, despite the high pitched voice that a girl-dwarven child in a choir would have struggled to made professing that it wasn't, would be useful for some of the more Agile traps, while the Ogre would provide the Sheer Ox strength, strong enough to break down Pyramid walls. The Goblin had prooved useless so far. It would give them meat for a few hours, anyway. The Assasin had been the quiet one. Sitting at the back, tending his wounds.

He had proved to be a valuable fighter, and his leadership had seen him take the fights they had been in calmly, killing easily, while the dwarf had the sheer power, and the Vampire the experience. Together, they would form the 6 hunters. Banded together by need and comradeship, wanted or not, they would have to find a way to get out, get the treasure, and kill that bloody Slaanesh worshipper.

"Ogre, ye and me, we need to work t'gether on these walls. By the sound of it, Ah reckon this is the one which be leadin' t'the passageways." Cocking his ear beside the wall, the Ogre punched the dwarves head into the stone wall, and it promptly collasped. 

Turning round, the Ogre sheepishly looked at his feet and shuffled around mumbling something about "Working together".


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## thomas2 (Nov 4, 2007)

(OOC- Thanks for keeping me in with references to my character! BTW, what do people think of the goblin speak for everything? It's not always easy to do, or read, so I'm wondering on peoples opinions.)

*A bitz of da whiles agos. Actully I waz lots of whiles agoz, but what stupid gitz would carez about dat?*

Snigman realized dat 'e'd reached da ouder adventacers. Dem skeligtons waz in fors zit nows. 'Is net waz still a bitz tangled so he'z gots iz shield an' stabby ting.

"WAAAGH!"

Da attack of dis first skeliton lodged itselfs in 'is shield, but Snignam pulled 'iz shield away, an' rolled under the not-deads legz, an' span to cut through itz spine. Da top bitz of his body fells forward, in a clatter of bones. Runnin' at 'im Snignam got ons da still moving bones, and cut off itz 'ead. Grabling its skull though da eye slots he lobbed it at anuder one, da skulls meeting a splinterin'. Cacklin' with joy Snignam looked for more ta kill.

Dat neromancur was doin' some magick. Snignam didn't like magic users, deys were puny an' da grenskin ones blew ups. A lot. Neverdaless it waz very effective, an' deys were winnin'. Dat stupid vampire had been cleaved through. _He's be deadz after dat, wait he'z non-deaded so 'e'd be re-deaded, or un-deaded, or someting he won't like. Dats enough._

One of da skeletons near Snignam stirred.

"Oh noes youze don't I don't care what side youze on."

Chucking 'iz untangled net Snignam was narrowly missed by a flyin' dwarve hammer.

"Oi, watch were your magican dat!"

Dat ogre dat thought 'im a gnoblor fell down a hole, with da dwarve goin' after 'im. Da leader of the expedition went up with a ouder, who fell. Or waz it trippin', someting Snignam waz good at. _He'z even better dan youze. Avoid dat dangerus 'ummie._

Snignam went an' started lootin' da bodies for any fud or stuff he could sell fur teef. He noticed da ouvers were going into da hole. An' someone had taken da body 'e was lootin'.

"Oi, where's youze taken dat?"

"The ogre wants it. And I'd appreciate it if you referred to me as 'sir' you stinking goblin."

"I'z may be stinkin' but youze aren't worth being a sir."

Da 'ummie remain quiet an' continued haulin' da corpse. Snignam waited for 'im to climb down, an' disturbeed a load of rocks, an' sand on iz 'ead.

"Iz da biggest boss of da, um, onez, twoz, two of us!"

As he was ready to talk back da dwarve said someting. At da same time stuff came to lives, and a big statue ting killed da guy.

Snignam watched a laughed. He waz glad he'd missed dat fightin'. Az it finished Snignam got down, an' saw how dey waz planning to get ins. He was glad to see da dwarf slip overs an' get burried.

He waz glad as deys went into da cave. He waz a Night Gobbo, cave born (however gobins do dat) an' raized. Hiz tunnel an' cave vision waz better dan normal light, an' in such a sunny place it was a real problem.

Snignam waz able to clearly see the dead-raiser let lose a load of mummamies. Runin' forwards he wanted as place in da battle, as dey looked wells easy. Then da stupid vampire, whoze 'ad healed way tooz fast for da bosses likin', kicked 'im. Dat vamp waz really askin' for someting to happen to 'im. Da mummies he landed near waz attacking someone else, so he'z looked elsewheres for a fight.

Findin' a spare mummy Snignam threw 'iz net over its, an' it return it smashed at 'im with its 'ands. Against a normal foe dat would have pushed da rather blunt talons of da undead into da foe, but Snignam waz so light he was just thrown around with only 'iz cloak a bit scratched. Coz of da net he began circlin' round da mummy in a bumpy orbit. 'Earin' da necromancy mans ting about fire he'z nicked a torch from a adventurer, shortly after torn apart, when going past, an' when da irregular orbit got 'im close to da mumy he stabbed with da torch, it going up in flames.

Flickin' off 'iz net Snignam fell of da burning ting, only for da spell-casta to set 'iz robes alight. Runin' round an' screamin' Snignam den stopped, dropped, an' rolled. Da fire 'ad been put out, but 'iz robes were turned to rags an' he had a bit of a burn wound on 'iz side.

Suddenly da floor collapsed, an' Snignam fell. He realised 'e'd have to do someting, or 'e'd die. Pullin' back 'iz hood he saw a jut in da wall, an' chucked 'iz net at it. But with da burnin' it failed to stop 'im. He saw a leg, an' grabbed it. Suddenly dat leg stopped falin'. Snignam looked up. A vast bat. It could only be dat annoyin' vampire. Or some sort of daemon or ouder undead stuff. But dey would help any of dem. Stupid, annoyin' vampire 'e now owed. Tankfuly honour wazn't a priority for gobins. Da bat ropped dem near da floor, so Snignam was stills alright, though da burn wound was troublin' him.

Dat vampire was drinkin' blood. Snignam realized he waz 'ungry, and got some of dat food da assasiny tipe gave 'im.

Den he realised it. He waz trapped with a annoyin' vampire, a drawf an' a stupid ogre. 'E'd have to make best use of 'iz traps and tunnel experience to survive with such uncarin' allies.


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

OOC:  Vaz, how unkind you are... xD Btw, if I were to drink blood from already dead beings, I'd die... it'd be like eating ash...
And Thomas, I really like the way you write, it really makes the whole character (and story) better


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

NoiseMarine said:


> OOC: Oh im sorry are you the GM? sorry if I've taken a lil while on the actual updates.


OOC: No, I'm not. I don't see how a small room with some mummies qualifies as an update. It was something to keep the story moving and people active until you decided to update us. From now on I'll just follow what's going on. It was not my intention to usurp authority and I apologize if I seemingly stepped on any toes LOL.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Shogun_Nate said:


> OOC: No, I'm not. I don't see how a small room with some mummies qualifies as an update. It was something to keep the story moving and people active until you decided to update us. From now on I'll just follow what's going on. It was not my intention to usurp authority and I apologize if I seemingly stepped on any toes LOL.


OOC: I'm not really mad, and I admit I may have been slow on some of the updates, and your one of the biggest contributors to this roleplay. Anyway you provided an opening for me to advance the storyline. :good:


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

The man was dead. Mordeth stopped sucking blood right away, but still he got the taste of burnt ash in his mouth, and a very unpleasant feeling washed over his body.

"Gah... hate when that happens, yes, we do..."
Glancing at the ogre stuffing his mouth, he shuddered.
"Ugly brute... eating corpses, what a distasteful sight that makes." 
Muttering to himself a bit while the fresh blood flows in his veins, giving it time to work its refreshing effect, he looks at his 'companions', groaning as he sees that the necro isn't there. "Well... thats one soul I certainly am going to miss...Altough, if he HAS a soul I'm not sure of...ah well... neither do I, for that matter," He chuckles.
"Well, lets go, lets go," he says, and heads for the first and best tunnel... thet shows to be a painted wall.

A spot of blood from his face clinging to the black paint, he falls back, and lies there wondering what sort of foe painted walls to confuse enemies, while slowly licking the blood of his lips.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot had been casually throwing fire around the room roasting the mummies when all of a sudden he noticed that all the undead were finally dead again. "Well lads, looks like job's a good 'un", he hooted as he finally got a good look at the antechamber. While he took in the room, one of the mercenaries made a break for it, running through the charred smoking remains of what had been most likely some Khemrian noble to the far side. Set into the wall there was a small alcove and in it, what looked to be a priceless statue made of solid gold, covered in lapis and rare gems. The fool pounded his way up to a small idol and proceeded to grab it up. 

Too late came the warning Eric was about to shout as the room began to shiver and shake like a night goblin who'd imbibed too much fungus brew. The floor cracked and heaved as the ancient booby trap did it's work. Hearing Johnathan's cry of warning, Eric stepped back out of the room as the floor caved in. The slayer, the ogre, the goblin, and the vampires along with some of the surviving mercenaries all disappeared in a gout of dust and ash, their cries of surprise filling the antechamer as they fell. 

Peering over the edge, he caught what looked like the vampire Mordeth(or was it Gareth..von Vandersnoot was mildly confused on that point..it seemed the poor lad suffered from split personalities. Being of a sound mind himself, Eric could only feel pity for the poor blighted soul. I mean really..who could live with split personalities...the thought boggled the mind...) changing into a giant bat and saving of all things the two foulest smelling members of the group. Eric tutted. He'd have let the blasted goblin and slayer fall to their dooms. Anything that reeked that bad had no right to be walking around above ground. Of course, he was forgetting the ogre. He wondered how he could have forgotten such a stinking wretch but he had. He blamed the sudden shift in events. "Sometimes when startled a man had a tendency to overlook or forget things he knows", he muttered to himself with a curt nod. 

Turning he found himself face to face as it were with a rather different Johnathan. It seemed that their leader was hiding a secret from them. A rather important one at that. His eyes narrowed slightly as the skulls atop his staff began a strange chattering. "Daemonic possession?", Eric asked as he found himself looking deeply into the beast's dark, blood-red eyes with great interest. "I must say that it really doesn't suit you. You look as though you were rolled down the ugly tree using your face as a battering ram through each branch, my dear fellow! Surely it would be best if you lost the horns and the tongue lest you scare some poor wandering child out of their skin", he called with a chortling laugh. Inside, Karric stirred and a warning filled Eric's mind. "Don't trust him...". Von Vandersnoot quietly rewove his protective spells of warding. Even his staff made to protect itself, it's ancient powers recoiling at the corrupting touch of chaos.

He enjoyed surprises but this one was dangerous. Quite dangerous. A follower of the Dark Gods was never to be trusted. Their words were honey-covered lies, meant to cajole a soul into complacency until the beast struck, unlike the words of an honest necromancer like himself. He could feel the staff reacting to the closeness of the dark magics that fueled the daemon inside Johnathan. It was an ancient weapon, grown from a cursed seed planted in soil that had seen only war and death and blood. It was semi-sentient, filled with the souls of those it had slain and powered by the black winds that flowed from the blighted northlands where the followers of the Chaos Gods made their home. 

Necromantic magic was not so different from that used by the sorcerers whose patronage belonged to the old gods of death but it did not like competition. Nagash's followers knew that there could only be one true wielder of the dark arts and it was those who gave their souls to the Unliving God of the sands. Of course, von Vandersnoot recognized only Sigmar(and sometimes Morr, depending on his mood) which in hindsight probably put him at odds with his chosen field of magical expertise. "Oh well", he muttered with a shrug. "It will be as it will be." Noticing they were staring at him he cleared his throat. "Let's be on shall we?"


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: actually Captain Galus's character will be in my group

"No my friend, gifted is what I like to call it." Jonathan said with a laugh. "Now lets be on shall we?" he said as he began to lead the way then taking a step back beckoned one of the only remaining human mercenary to lead, up front atleast... he then noticed another room with an altar in the middle with a seemingly newly killed man on its obsidian surface. 

Jonathan pushed the shaking man in and beckoned the necromancer forward, "Here mate, and take a look at this altar. It may lead us to the tomb lich and the true treasure of this ancient place."

OOC: group 2's updates will be in pink :laugh:

You walk into the next chamber, deciding on heading for the source of power in this ancient place, as its the most likely way to find your riches. There is a massive obsidian circle in the middle and a seemingly fresh corpse in the middle in Nekharran dress, you walk forward and the body begins to rise green fire glowing around the "mans" eyes and hands. He blasts one of the few surviving human mercanaries turning him to nothing more than a dried corpse that rises again... What do you do?


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Shaking his head, Gunni walked on, heavy stomps of the Ogre following him. The Vampire had slipped into the corridor - the smell of ash to the dwarfs senses the only reason he knew the bloodsucker was ahead.

The Goblin followed the dwarf out - beady eyes flickering in the darkness. It was unfortunate that the only one who couldn't see so well in the Dark was the Ogre. A dull crunch as its head connected with a low archway just reinforced that idea.

Shaking his head, Gunni walked along the corridor, following the Vampire, stopping when his sense of smell realised they had walked into a chamber of the dead -the embalming oils pungent on his tongue, the dwarf licked his lips in anticipation. Suddenly, a burst of green flames blinded the slayer momentarily, as one of the corpses rose up out of the coffin.

A ball of the green fire sped towards a fellow mercenary, the blast enveloping him, his shrieks pitiful as flesh sloughed from his bones. As the flames dimmed, the burnt man turned towards the few adventurers, and they saw the grinning skull of a skeleton leering at them in the eerie green light of the enchanter.

With a grunt, Gunni summoned the daemon from within, his body turning red as blood rushed to its surface, as rivulets ran down from his eyes. Hefting his hammer, the dead Tilean mercenary was smashed into the ground, splinters of bone shattering across the room.

"Vampire - you deal with undeath - Kill that bastard! When its dead, no more will rise! Ogre, with me - but don't stand on me! Elf, ye and the Grobi work together. Ah'll think ye can manage that, can't ye? We'll hold off these Skellies, while Mordeth does his work!"

So saying, as the clatter of skeletons echoed in the corridor, he heard the heavier tread, and clack clack of a dread guardian.

"Tomb Scorpion!!! That bastards mine!"


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Mormacir sudenly felt the floor faling away and himslef faling down, he landed on and dead mercenarie so he survived the fall, ''Thanks mate''. He then followed the rest of the group to the tunnel.
When the mercenarie died of an green bolt he drew his sword and preapered to figth undead. When the dwarf said that he then and the goblin had to work together he just let out an sigh. He then kicked the goblin att the undeads and the goblin hit the head of an undead. The undead collapsed. 
''I think i am going to start to play in blood bowl''


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## Mordeth (Aug 26, 2008)

OOC: Don't you people read my posts? For one, Flerden, I CARRIED your char down the fall, that means saved him. secondly, I cant have walked into corridor before you Vaz, cause I tried to make you laugh by letting my crazed char crash into a wall. So stop god-modding me please, only GM can do that. 
Thirdly, there are no coffins, and no dead men, or scorpions, yet. Its only a seemingly just dead man, who rose from the bare ground, blasted a mercenary, and from there you are right. If a scorpion comes, make it so it comes from a new corridor so we get some hint of a realistic story here.
Fourthly, just try to read all the posts from here on...

IC: (Having crashed into a wall, Mordeth had picked a new corridor at random, (Being very careful so this one wasn't painted too,) and walked briskly into it, hearing the others follow.
His nose had gotten a bad blow in his most unfortunate encounter with the wall, so he didn't notice the smell of dead before he was almost right on top of the seemingly dead man.

Stopping straight, looking at it, he merely lifted an eyebrow as it rose and blasted one of the mercenaries, resurecting him at once.

"Great," he said in a low voice as the dwarf bluntly killed the dead thing.
"Now I have another problem to solve," He continued, completely ignoring the dwarf. "How can you kill an already dead thing? It just doesn't make sense..."
While pondering over this he failed to notice the giant bony scorpion that walked (or crawled) rather noisely towards him.
The scorpion rose its tail... and plunged it down!
And hit the ground as Mordet stepped forward to look at the splintered dead mercenary. Turning at the sound, he merely said "Oh hello there," and avoided some more blows of the tail.
"Now maybe you can explain how we can kill dead things?" he asked it, and then made alot of arguments for himself, pretending (Or maybe believing) that he was discussing this with the scorpion, all the while jumping up and down and to the sides to avoid the beasts frantic tries to hit him.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot snorted at Johnathan's request to examine the altar standing in the middle of the room but stepped in anyways. Looking around the chamber he discovered much to his feigned amazement more sand... Sighing, he began furiously dusting off his robes. As his robes swished back and forth he noticed what looked to be fine lines carved into the stone's face. Stooping down, Eric gently blew the sand from stones he was standing on and peered closer. "Hmm...", he found himself saying. Ancient staff in hand, von Vandersnoot began a low sonorous chant. Upon it's completion he slammed the staff's butt-cap against the stone floor, calling forth a powerful gust of wind to clear away the annoying granules of sand so he could get a better look at what he was dealing with. He coughed loudly as the sand swirled around him. "Next time stand you daft fool before you cast", he muttered to himself in exasperation. 

Stretching across the floor he could see what seemed to be a spell circle of some sorts, terminating at the center of the room where the altar stood. "Now this is curious. This seems rather out of place here...", he muttered. Eric strode to the altar to take a closer look. "Interesting.." He ran his hand over the vitrified surface, the rough texture making small cuts across his palm. He felt a strange pulling at his hand. It was as if the altar was seeking to pull more blood from the tiny slashes. 

Turning, he beckoned Johnathan over. "Look at this", von Vandersnoot said as he planted his staff into the stone and pulled a small dagger from beneath his robes. Dragging the blade across his hand, he slashed open a deeper wound from which blood flowed freely. Gingerly, he let the blood pour across the obsidian face of the altar. "I have heard of such cursed stones but only used for the worship of the old gods.", he noted, noticing that the blood was greedily pulled in by the altar's seemingly insatiable thirst. He reached the bloody hand out and grasped the remaining mercenary who had survived the killing spree Johnathan had embarked on but a few moments ago and chanted. The incantation was a minor one used to pull the life force from another to heal himself. The man would be light-headed for a few moments but soon would get over it and more importantly, von Vandersnoot wouldn't be bleeding all over his precious robes. Once finished, he looked over the body on the altar's top. 

"Is he one of ours?", Eric asked absently while he examined the pale corpse. It appeared as though the body had been ensanguinated. The flesh was a pasty white and black veins stood out against the taut skin. No blood could be seen surrounding the body and he spied no killing blows or slashes in the man's flesh. He made to turn the body over but found it resisting his attempts. Taking up his staff, he pushed it under the dead man's back and, with a heave, levered up the corpse, sending it topling over the edge of the altar with a strange sucking noise. "Most interesting", he found himself saying. "Look at these markings. These aren't Khemrian. See the swirling pattern? The lords of these dark lands preferred pictoglyphs. These remind me of barrow-tombs found in the blighted northern wastes. I dare say we might find something interesting inside this. It is unwarded as far as I can tell but it is emanting some kind of dark energy. It seems as though it's coming from inside the altar rather than the altar itself. Can your daemonic eyes discern anything more?" 

Stepping aside so Johnathan could take a look, von Vandersnoot walked around the altar to the body. It's back had been eaten away. The chewed, jagged edges of white bone shone brightly against the dark reds and purples of the man's internal organs. Leaning closer he could see that there was in fact no blood in the corpse. "The altar must have sucked it all out first and then began eating.. Mayhaps it happened during the feasting? Hmm...terrible way to go. I dare say this poor chap had a very bad day.", he said aloud. Reaching down, he turned the corpse face up and looked into it's dead, staring eyes. Eric chanted a minor spell of reanimation in hopes of divining more from the corpse itself. From what he could tell the throat was still intact so there was a chance it would be able to speak...


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## Captain Galus (Jan 2, 2008)

Their leader's rather interesting personality quirk wasn't much of a surprise to Roman. He'd had dealings with those types before and could recognize their telltale habits and mannerisms pretty fast, and he'd had Jonathan pegged from the start. Having said that, Roman was now keeping an extra eye on him nonetheless.

The altar in the middle of the room was drawing the group's collective attention, and Roman seized the opportunity to grab a quick glance at his map. Pulling the aging papyrus from his pocket, he discerned that they were now in one of the sacrificial tomb-chapels, of which there were two more. Beyond that, the map wasn't so helpful. He tucked it back into his pocket carefully; the Brotherhood would expect it returned, of course. He'd thought about sharing the map with the group, but decided against it. Progress would be slow, to be sure, but decidedly more dangerous for those without a map and the danger was what these adventurers were all here for, weren't they?


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

"Hmmmmm...." Jonathan said stepping forward and bending over the altars surface. "Interesting..." he said. "I recognize this magic... this tomblich seems to have enlisted the help of the dark gods... this altar contains the marking of all the gods... even Khorne." he said spitting the word out.

_"Bachnazz ellzkhazzeet uchnoshirrrr!"_ Jonathan screamed at the altar slitting his wrists simultaneously and fell on the altar writhing in ectstasy as the runes across his body and armor glowed a dark purple and he went into positions that should've broken every bone in his body, it sure sounded like it.

After the gruesome display he got back on his feet even more severely mutated then before, and the runes on his armor and sword glowed and the altar seemed drained, he set upon the lone surviving human mercenary and ripped him to shreds drinking his blood, and devouring him body and soul. and then stood up licking his lips and smiling. "This is the chamber of Slaanesh... my lord and lover..." he said with a grin "shall we continue?"

You have killed the undead sorcerer and you notice the skull rune of Khorne glowing on the stone floor, an unwordly force draws Gunni forward to the symbol...

ooc: your going to do exactly what I just did Vaz, if you want to of course. :biggrin:


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

((OOC: I'm gonna be away till Tuesday so won't be post, sorry))


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

[OOC - sorry to hear that, Solitaire, get back soon, and enjoy yourself 

And sorry, Mordeth, I hadn't truely understood what had happened with you  late night reading does that to you. You... erm... time passed, and you agreed to Scout out for us  Haha, I'll make sure I understood what you wrote next time - no godmod intentioned]

The daemonic roar bellowed out of the Dwarfs mouth, bloody spittle flying everywhere. The Ogre behind him joined in, the deep growl echoing around the room. An arrow whistled overhead, slamming into bony bodies, pinning the skeletons to the floor, splintering arms and jamming joints. The goblin had charged and hacked away at the fallen skeletons, chattering heads rolling across the floor.

The Bullcharge of the Ogre slammed into the small skeleton line, blocking the direct route to the only other exit to the chamber. Bones and wood splintered into thousands of pieces, knife-like shards nicking the skin of the daemon-berserk slayer.

Bloody throth erupted from Gunni's mouth, as he stepped lightly across the Ogres back, the leap taking him clear over the Skeletons line, as Tezrof lay about him, his huge Cathayan Longsword sweeping back and forth, Skeletons dying in droves. Seeing the Vampire dance around the Tomb Scorpion, toying with the beast instead of finishing the fight, the dwarf's level head surfaced only to tell the Vampire to finish slaying the Liche. Getting an evil look from the bloodsucker, it none the less launched itself at the priest. Satisfied, the daemon resurfaced.

All of this was apparent to the dwarf as he flew through the air, time moving slowly. As he landed, the pincer snapped, closing on thin air, and time sped up. Ducking beneath the other pincer, he slammed his hammer forward, the blow crunching on the head of the construct. The creature spasmed, claws snapping back and forth, only the daemon enhanced reflexes of the slayer saving him. As the construct died, the stinger came flying forwards, the venom dripping off the razor-blade point causing the sand to hiss as it touched the pool. The stinger slammed straight through his shoulder, too quick for the Giantslayer to dodge. The venom immediately began coursing through his veins, causing his heartrate to slow.

Falling to his knees, the dwarf saw the Ogre finally finish the skeletons around him, aided in no small part by the deadly accuracy of the elf and frothing lunacy of the Night Goblin. Mordeth, the Vampire had slammed into the priest, the rotting robes, a rain of punches of superhuman strength pummeling its face into a mushy pulp.

The world slowed again - his heart beat nearly stopped. Cursing the world, and uttering oaths, he had achieved his death. Then the daemon inside roared again. He would not let himself be shown up in front of an elf and a grobi by dying. Staggering up, as blood flowed heavily from the huge puncture wound in his shoulder, the dwarf found himself in front of the altar. Lying forwards on the stone surface, he saw that one of symbols was calling out to him. Hakkar was calling him.

As the dwarfs lifeblood spilt out, a bestial roar, far more violent, and far more threatening that anything mortal could issue ripped its way from his throat. His blood seemed to take on a new form. The drops of blood from all across the room began to form together, into little pools, then into puddles, and finally it made its way back to the altar.

Gunni's hammer glowed an evil red, black flames illuminating everything in the room in a grayscale, but showing the beat of the hearts like a lighthouse shines in the dark, pulses of blood red emanating from their bodies. The pool of blood slowly crawled up the altar sides, defying gravity, and slipped onto the body of the dwarf. Howls of pain echoed all around the room, horrifying the elf and sending the goblin to hide behind the Ogre. Only the vampire was unnaffected, without a heart beat, there was little that a blood seeking slayer could scare the centuries old killer.

The blood was boiling - bubbling as the dwarfs blood bound the wound above the dwarfs heart, cooling to form a ruddy scar, in the dread sign of Khorne.

Collapsing with the effort and bloodloss, the dwarf slumped, not even the titanic energies of the possessing daemon could sustain him. Falling to the floor, he got a facefull of sand.

* * *

After the fight, the daemon was once again residing in the hammer, not present in the dwarf. As he sleepily arose, he had no recollection of what had happened since before the fight. Smacking his lips noisily, he stood up, unsteadily, and looked around the room. The Goblin wouldn't meet his eye, and the elf sneered down, hatred etched upon his girly features. The ogre looked quizzically at Gunni, then return to crunching open the bones to get to the sweet marrow inside. Only the Vampire was indifferent.

"So when are we eating?"


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

The body had yielded no information. It had simply screamed loudly until von Vandersnoot had cut the cord of necromantic magic holding it to the living world. He had hoped to gather further knowledge of what had happened but it was for nawt. The dying moments of the corpse had been so brutal the only thing that had remained of it's blighted mind had been the agony of it's death. 

Turning, Eric found himself watching the scene play out before him with rapt attention. He had never seen someone under the throes of a mutating change driven by a seemingly chaos-infected altar before. The man called out in the dark language of the chaos gods, slit his wrists and then proceeded to jump on the damned thing as though he were riding some Tilean whore. The sight wasn't all that pretty as Jonathan writhed and wriggled across the altar's top, screaming in ecstasy, if he had to be honest with himself. As the fool finished, he stood and then killed yet another member of the ever-diminishing group. Something deep inside von Vandersnoot was vehemently disgusted. "Such a waste", he thought to himself as he turned from the now inert altar. 

Something caught his attention as he made to leave. It was as if a tiny voice whispered to him, calling him. Looking to the skulls with a questioning look, he asked, "Was that either of you?" His only reply was silence. Silence was bad. Silent was something the skulls rarely were. Their inane chittering was a by-product of the creation of his own skull staff. While wandering the wastes, he had come across a necromancer by the name of Kemmler..or was it Gemmner? Keggler? No..he was sure it was Kemmler. Well, as sure as he could be about anything. That one had truly been insane but his dark staff had caught the attention of von Vandersnoot, though he couldn't recall the event clearly. In the recesses of his mind he knew he'd met the man but it seemed as if he'd been someone else when he had done so, which was surely a sign that he was going mad. He sighed. His mind was like a trail through a dangerous swamp, a mire filled with pitfalls and trails that led to nowhere. 

Giving up any real hope of figuring out anything, he moved for the doorway. Again the whispers came. This time he knew that they'd come from the altar. It was disconcerting to say the least. Von Vandersnoot had little regard for the dark gods of chaos and he wondered why an altar to them would bother trying to reach out to him. 

"Trap", his mind said immediately. 

It was a possibility. Given that the altar was covered with the runes of even the Blood God himself, in all likelyhood, it was a snare set to drain some poor magic user of his powers or worse his life. If it simply wanted his sanity, Eric could easily part with that. He'd had several centuries to lose his sanity, find it again, lose it again, and on and on. Such was the curse of living so long. Well, such was the curse of anyone who touched the dark winds of magic, he corrected himself. A man could live a very long time and retain quite a large modicum of sanity as long as in doing so he avoided things that could affect his grasp on reality. But, the use of the dark arts had a tendency to cut away at the right-thinking part of a man's soul, infecting it with madness and debauchery(something he was noticing increasingly in their daemon-possessed leader) until it finally winnowed away all thoughts of sanity and goodness. 

He found himself sighing again as he made his way to the altar. Peering closely he could see below the dead markings of the old gods that there were indeed Khemrian pictographs. It was as if they'd been sealed under the dark scollings of chaos, hidden until the chaos had been exhausted to the point it could hold them back no more. Most disconcerting was the fact that the pictographs themselves were glowing. Granted, only one with a connection to the winds of magic could see the light coming from deep inside the altar but that the wards were two-fold, chaotic and necromantic, caused von Vandersnoot to continue carefully. Running his hand across the altar's now smooth surface, he could feel something deep within it's obsidian shell. It was neither living nor un-living, more like the automatons he himself could create with his dark magics. 

Sudden he realized the reason for the double wards, both chaos and Khemrian. The altar wasn't just a place of sacrifice but a chest and locked away deep inside it's stone sides, something of dark importance. Bringing his staff above his head, he chanted the oldest and darkest of the black words of Nagash. Words mortals were not meant to hear. Had the poor unfortunate mercenary not been killed by Jonathan's bloody rampage, upon hearing the words Eric spoke now his heart would have shriveled in his chest. The room became dark as night as green bale-fire burned it's way across von Vandersnoot's staff. As he finished the chant, he slammed the burning staff into the altar rending it asunder as his dark magics blasted away the enchantments holding the ancient box together. 

The chamber slowly began to lighten as the dark energies Eric had called upon dissipated. Using his staff, he pushed aside broken shards of vitrified sand until he found what he was looking for. He was rather disappointed as he reached carefully into the remains of the altar and pulled up what looked to be something wrapped in old cloth. The rotten fabric tore as he grasped the small package. As it fell away, he gasped. Hidden in the folds was a skull. Across it ran the black marks of Nagash. Small silver nails had been inserted into the eye sockets along with the ears and another stuck between the front teeth of the jaw which had been wired shut. 

"Impossible..", he found himself stuttering. 

Many dark legends spoke of the wrath of the followers of Nagash. His vengence was said to be terrible, in life and in death. Whoever this poor soul had been, he or she had suffered a terrible fate. They had not been granted the right of passage into the afterlife. No...they had been punished and punished severely. Their eyes had been put out, their ears had been punctured and their tongue had been pierced with silver nails, damning them to wander through the afterlife blind, deaf, and mute. On top of that, they had been damned into eternal servitude to whoever had marked the skull with the age-old enchantments of the Unliving God of the sands. 

Taking great care, Eric began to slowly remove the nails piercing the skull, each burning his fingers as he touched the sacred metal. He knew here is where the whispers had come from. The soul had been trapped inside, imprisoned for no telling how long. As the last nail came out, the runes scribbled across the skull began to glow with an unearthly light. The jaws began to gnash together, tearing the fine golden wire that held them closed. An evil laughter began to emanate from the the skull as dark swirling energy began to form around it. 

Seeing that he now had another gibbering partner to listen to, von Vandersnoot gleefully slammed the skull down onto the top of his staff, it's screams of anger filling the room as it once again found itself imprisoned by yet another user of the dark arts. "Oi...hush you. Meet your new friends, Manarion the Pure, high elf sorcerer of..where were you from again? Sod it..it's not important. Oh..and your other fellow inmate, Gorsnag the Butcherer."

"He's not much on witty conversation, if you catch my drift", von Vandersnoot whispered conspiratorialy to the latest addition to his staff "Try to get along and play nice now will you!" While it had been sheer coincidence that he'd found yet another skull for his staff, he could feel the energies inside the weapon growing. The skull had been someone of great power and now that they were shackled to the will of the staff, and more importantly the staff's wielder, von Vandersnoot, he felt a warm fuzzy feeling on contentedness flow over him as the power washed through him. Facing Jonathan, he chortled, "Oh well..seems we both found a good use for the altar! You said something about continuing on didn't you?"


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonatha smiled at the comment and replied. "Yes we do..." As he set off again down the next hallway ushering Azael up front.

His keen ears picked up something, "THE DAMNED DWARF! THAT SHORT BASTARD IS STILL ALIVE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs as he charged down the hallway seperating Azael and himself from the others in the undecipherable maze of tunnels. 

Gunni hears my scream of rage and you and the rest of the adventurers carry on into the darkness to reconnect with the rest.

OOC: group 1 I'm gone from you and I'm heading toward group 2 to kill them, now group 1 and 2 will find eachother, I wont tell you what I'm planning just yet.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Few things truly surprised von Vandersnoot but seeing their leader Jonathan pound down one of the myriad of twisting tunnels screaming something about the 'damned dwarf' gave him a slight start. Vaguely he wondered why on earth the man..well..man and daemon would really want to find the rather stinky little fellow. It wasn't as if the reeking slayer was missed. He turned to Roman and asked, "Did you find anything odd about that?" In the back of his mind, he was starting to question whether or not he would have been better off staying in the Empire, one step ahead of the witch hunters. "Probably'd been safer", he sighed to himself out loud. 

Eric paused, setting aside his staff. He sat down and began rummaging through his knapsack. "It's in here somewhere", he muttered to no one in particular. "Now where did I leave it..." The sound of clanking crystal vials and the various other minutia one would expect to find in the possession of a necromancer could be heard as von Vandersnoot dug deeper and deeper into the pack's recesses. "Ahh..found it!", he cried suddenly, bringing out a rolled sheet of old, water-stained parchment. "Now, let's see if we can shine some light on where exactly we are", he said with a wink to his silent companion. 

Carefully, he removed the narrow red satin bow holding it closed and set the piece of paper down upon the floor in front of him. Reaching over, he brought his staff close and began chanting. The parchment began to slowly smolder until it caught ablaze. Patiently, Eric waited until the fire had cosumed it completely, leaving only a small square of ash before him. As the last of the ashes burned out, he threw a handfull of sand and bits of masonry found around him on the parchment's remains. He began to chant again, slowly and softly. Once again, fire appeared, burning the offerings of earth and stone placed on the ashes. This time, however, as the fire burned the parchment appeared in the place of ash. "Now if only I had something of the others... Oh well, beggars can't be choosers", he said with a toothy smile as he held up a map where once had been blank parchment. 

Peering down at their newly conjured map of the tomb, von Vandersnoot could see that the maze of tunnels went on for quite a distance. "Shame I didn't think of this earlier", he said as he slapped his forehead. "Things would have certainly been easier!" Ascertaining their position, he ran his finger across the crinkled surface of the map and nodded. "We need to continue on this way", he said to Roman. "It seems as though the tunnel below the trapped room led to another room. From there, if they aren't being led by that blasted slayer mind you, they should find themselves here and if luck prevails, that is where we shall find them." 

With that, Eric stood and brushed the sand from his garments. "I believe we should continue on lest we miss them. A group would certainly be better than two should we happen across any more of the tomb's inhabitants." A slight wave of vertigo passed over von Vandersnoot, forcing him to steady himself against the tomb's wall. Standing straighter, he turned to Roman and in a cold voice said, "Let's continue on." A scowl cut it's way across his face as he strode on deeper into the winding maze of tunnels, stroking the Sigmarite sigil idly with his hand.


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Seeing that his fellow adventurers were rested, nd had eaten at least some food from their backpacks, Gunni got up, viewing the only remaining entrance with a wary eye. 

Together, Tezrof, and the Dwarf had managed to maneuvre some of the Heavy Boulders from when the floor, or rather the roof as it now was to the party, to block any sneak attacks from behind. No-one knew much about the shady assassin character - he had kept much to himself, but had been deadly with a blade. Reminiscent of Tilean swordmasters, picturing their style in his mind. But there was something more dangerous in his ability than their pansy flicks and tickles. Yes, the dwarf thought, best to be safe than sorry.

However, it meant that the only way out was onward. Reasoning suggested that if they were going underground to treasure, then those who would be coming down to find it would have to go through the dwarf.

Hearing a faint echo, the sound indistinct, but the daemon inside him recognising the deceptive lull of Slaanesh in the tone, his blood began to boil again.

"They are coming. Shall we fight? Or shall we die like rats? They betrayed us. That cursed Slaanesh sorcerer, an' his Necromancer. They were in league together, the Assassin as well. They knew full well what would happen, so stayed back; fought like cowards, did they, oh yes. But ye, ye lot fought. Fought bravely and with steel in ye hearts.

Ah Confess - Ah didne like all of ye at first, and while ah might not like ye kin, ye lot have proven yesell's. The forge of battle makes a stronger bond than blood or race. Together, Ah say, we kill these Bahsturds, and get our gold. Make them pay. Ah ahm a slayer. Ah have no need for treasure. But there blood will satisfy. Johnathon is mine."

Without waiting for reply from the others, he strode into the darkness of the tunnel, the daemon in his hammer growling as if some great guard dog, hackles raised while the master was angry. Dragging the hammer behind him, the head of it dripped molten red iron, when it hit the floor, the drops bursting into boiling blood.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot didn't like the situation one bit. Their leader had abandoned them to go find the dwarf slayer and from what little he could gather, kill him. It seemed rather odd that Jonathan had carried on as he had and then disappeared to slay his prey. Eric knew something was amiss. The tomb, the group, and even their leader. None of it made sense. He understood that there could be bad blood but he was mystified that a seemingly innocuous set of events had led their party of adventurers to this junction. He knew not why Jonathan wanted the slayer dead but that he did confused the necromancer. 

In his mind, he played the events back and forth. He could find no reason for ill will between the two and yet, there seemed to be something that had set their leader down the path of murder. He did know one thing for sure. All of this madness did not bode well for those still stumbling around the dark corridors of the ancient tomb. "We must find them and find them soon", he said to Roman. "I have little in the way of trust for our 'leader' and I feel something else is going on here we do not know. That in itself is unsettling. I don't like being used as a pawn in someone else's game."

All around him he could feel a great confluence of dark magic and not all of it came from whatever being made the tomb it's resting place. The walls practically hummed with the powers of Chaos that were also in play and it worried von Vandersnoot. The air crackled with the insidious taste of evil energies and he was finding it hard to come up with a reason to continue on deeper into the winding, sand-covered tunnels. He could feel the magics tugging and probing his sorcererous wards in place to protect him. It was as if something were testing his defences, trying to guage his power. Until now he had worked to keep his powers at bay. He knew he would need any advantage he could get and he found no reason to tip his hand, revealing the extent of his true powers. Turning to his silent companion, he spoke. "Roman, I feel the situation is rapidly degenerating. I believe that we can no longer take the word of our leader at face value. I wish to know where your loyalties lie. Can I trust you if something were to go awry?"

He waited patiently for Roman to reply. Knowing that any advantage would be helpful, Eric reached into the folds of his robes and removed a small silk-wrapped object. Slowly he removed the cloth covering it, taking care not to touch the item. He held it up by the thin gold chain attached to it, revealing a golden medallion criss-crossed by the marks of Sigmar and Ulric and offered it to Roman. "If it is a sign of trust you need, take this. This will protect you from most evil magics, including those of necromancy and Chaos. Be wary though. Should you be a practioner of such dark powers or in league with them, it will strike you dead where you stand. I will require it back once we are finished with this foolishness."


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan stalked down the hallway, following the dwarfs scent his guard Azael behind him, the looked upona grotesque room filled with trinkets and the walls severely mutated all the dead inside were twisted into grotesque shapes, Tzeentch? he thought, not for me... "Carry on Azael..."

What would be called Jonathans nose sniffed, "You smell that? The dwarf he stinks of Khorne." he said spitting out the last word with acidic bile. "Keep quiet..." Jonathan commanded as he rounded the corner, seeing the group heading down the hallway he shrunk back and hissed "The ceiling... climb" Jonathan whispered as he took position and started to follow the group silently, almost there he thought, almost there... 

Then Jonathan smelt something farther down the hallway, worse than the dwarf and it almost made him pass out, "Nurgle he hissed... Atleast they cant smell us..." he hissed.

OOC: Other members of your groups are intended to use the altars in the rooms for Tzeentch and Nurgle. k:


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

((OOC: I'm Back!))

Tezrof was shocked at how the Dwarf acted upon the altar and attempted to distract himself by licking up the Slayer's blood which had splashed across the floor though if anything it made him think of it more. Eventually the Dwarf finished his writhing and once he recovered they set off again. Tezrof was greatly touched by Gunni's comments of their friendship and vowed to stand by his side as long as it was appropriate.

As they walked through the corridors Tezrof absentmindedly strode ahead of the others. He wondered into a dark room without noticing while still a little way ahead of the others and by accident he tripped over something jutting out the ground and stumbled. A bit miffed he raked his sword and his mace together and used the sparks to see. He jumped in the air in shock as the sparks lit four torches around the now visible altar. There was a body on it. Without thinking Tezrof picked up the body and ate the head in one bite. It was unusually crunchy and his jaw dropped when he looked down; the neck was full to the brim of maggots.

The Ogre's scream ricocheted through the tombs as he shrieked and hollered, furthermore it was only now he noticed the putrid smell and vile, slimy texture of the air around him. Despite this he was still somehow drawn to the body and within seconds he was swallowing down more of the corpse. He ripped open his food sack and saw the bodies kept in it were also wriggling with worms and maggots and yet he didn't hesitate to begin feasting upon them.

He felt something else now inside of him and he knew what it was. It was the horrors of Nurgle, and the body had held Its power. Tezrof looked to where the sky would be and roared his allegiance to the Plague Lord. His Eternal Allegiance. . .


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: sorry!

Jonathan listened, hearing the ogre scream his allegiance to the repulsive plague lord Nurgle, he scowled, and headed down the passage way across the ceiling. He slid across the ceiling watching them closely deciding when best to slide in, he saw the slayers ears perk, Jonathan decided to jump then and there, him and Azael screeching like Nanshees as they descended.

Jonathan skewered the elf and Azael landed on the ogre and sprang off its shoulders and sliced off the Goblins nose and a hand as it tried to protect its face. Jonathan and Azale were gone in seconds the Slayer chasing them down the hallway.

OOC: you can stop chasin us if you like Vaz or you can stiuck with your group. Also Shogun Nate your group is intended to use the altar of Tzeentch, either you or Galus can use it.

OOC: also Im going to start killing off the people who havent posted for awhile.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot shrugged, rewrapped the icon and stuck it back in his robes. "Guess that's a no", he said as he turned back towards the tunnel ahead and began to make his way down. He clutched his staff tighter and made sure that at least one of the skulls was facing the man at all times. The preternatural powers of the staff not only enhanced his necromantic powers but also warned him to danger should it approach. He didn't know how the skulls did it, he only knew that they did. He believed that it was due in part to the steps taken in making the ancient weapon. The man Kemmler had said it would warn him of sorcererous spells and lurking enemies in addition to it's ability to hold the swirling winds of dark magic and aid him in their use. 

As he continued on, he studied the map. Ahead was a small alcove similar to the one that had kept the strange chaos altar. He made his way to the entrance and stopped. Carefully, he studied the open entrance and the room beyond. No wards could be seen but the altar once again was suffused with the dark energies of chaotic magic. Stepping in, he closed on the brilliantly colored altar. It's surface was covered with thin script of gold and silver, marking swirling symbols of power. Electricity arced across bright gems worked into the scroll-work shown in the pale light of torches. "Tzeentch", he spit the word out in disgust. He doubted any of the other dark gods would have gone to the trouble of inlaying so many potent symbols of magic. He looked to Roman and snarled, "Stay outside lest you wish do die, mortal."

Bringing his staff above his head, he began chanting once again in the most ancient and dark tongue of Nagash. His voice rasped the harsh, deadly curses of the first and most powerful of necromancers as called on the age-old dark magics sealed within his staff. The altar began to react immediately. Bolt of charged energy flowed it's shining surface as the inimical magic within attempted to halt von Vandersnoot's, surging against his protective wards. The sigil on his chest once again began to glow, slowly becoming brighter and brighter as the room was filled with evil magics. On and on, Eric chanted, his hand carving the signs of Nagash in the air while he moved his staff back and forth over the altar's top. Once again, the room grew dark as night as the powers he called upon welled up. "It will take much to destroy this one", he thought to himself. "It must be destroyed!"

The chant reached it's apex and Eric smashed the butt of his staff into the altar's surface. The weapon acted like a lightning rod, funnelling the swirling vortices of dark magic that he called upon through the shaft, straight into the altar itself. Howls of pain and rage filled the room as the curse of unmaking slowly tore the altar apart with black sheets of coruscating energy. Cracks spider-webbed their way across the surface and bright blue light filled the room, blinding the necromancer. A great roar resounded through the chamber as whatever held inside the altar was destroyed by Eric's spell-weaving.

Shaking his head to clear the spots dancing across his eyes, Eric found the altar sundered in two as his vision returned, and once again, a small wrapped object lay in it's ruined remains. He knew what he would find. Slowly, he pulled the swaddled article from inside and unwrapped it. In it he discovered yet another skull. This one, however, was burned and shattered, the silver nails melted in the resulting blast of blazing energies puddled in the ruins of the altar. Growling, he tossed it aside. The feeling that something was wrong with the situation filled him once again, this time with greater urgency. Reaching for his staff, he found himself pondering the altars and the events that had taken place so far. He was quite surprised when he discovered his staff had somehow literally rooted itself into the altar's remnants. It was if the changing energies released upon the altar's destruction had breathed life into the old wood that had made the staff. The skulls had also changed. Flame wreathed them and ragged bits of flesh hung from their chittering faces. Their voices now boomed with power as they cursed the necromancer in their respective tongues. 

"Most interestings", Eric found himself mumbling. Reaching into his robe, he removed his glyphed dagger and began the job of cutting away the roots. With each swipe, they sprouted again, each thicker than before. His anger grew with each failed attempt to free the staff and in his rage he uttered a black curse, withering the roots and blackening the wood of the staff. Taking his chance, he grabbed the staff and wrenched it from it's resting place. He could feel the change wrought within the weapon. Darkness came over him as powers greater than he had encountered before attempted to smother him with their evil waves. Eric stumbled, fighting against the flood of dark magic flowing through him. He could feel the anger flowing through the staff. What had been rent asunder now unleashed it's rage on it's destroyer. He knew that he needed to gain control somehow but he was at a loss as to how he could do such a thing.

He staggered to the closest wall, his feet dragging furrows in the sand as he fumbled his way across the room. A small spark of hope flared as his hand found the cold stone surface. Somewhere there had to be a ley line of sorts, a ward or charm set within the walls to harness and control the dark magics that flowed through tombs such as this. Preservation choked out all other thoughts as he groped for something, anything to which he could release the gathering powers that attempted to swallow him up. Just as the darkness was overcoming him, he found it. A small trickling stream of energy. He could feel it flowing deep in the walls, making it's way into the very depths of the tomb's dark heart. 

Pressing his forehead against the stone, he unleashed a torrent of dark magic into the rocky face. He found the pressure threatening to split his skull like a ripe melon bleeding away, following the line of power buried deep inside the wall. Relief flowed over him as he found himself able to stand once again. The raging energies had left him but the power that had touched his staff still remained in both him and his weapon. Stepping back he turned and once again took in the room. The magics had branded him with their mark. His sorcererous sight was much more powerful. He discovered that in it's wake he could trace the swirling lines of power that made up the ancient tomb. His relief turned to horror as he noticed the amount of energy that now flowed through the walls, cascading down towards the tomb's dark depths. He cursed himself for a fool, realizing that in saving himself he may have inadvertantly given whatever made this it's resting place the power to re-awaken itself. 

Leaving the room, the strode past the waiting Roman without pause. "We must be on now! Time is of the essence! If we do not move now we may find ourselves faced against a time-less foe!"


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## Captain Galus (Jan 2, 2008)

OOC: snap Nate i didn't have time to reply lol

"Our dear leader cannot be trusted, I believe," Roman said to Von Vandersnoot as he strode by. "I've had dealings with his type before and I'd sooner trust a brick to fly than a Slaaneshi. Unless I miss my guess, and incidentally, I never miss, he's probably hunting us right now."

Roman withdrew the papyrus map from his pocket and presented it to Eric, "I lack any solid leadership qualities; this will undoubtedly serve you better than I, as I have it memorized. As of this moment, I take my leave; may whatever god you pray to grant you luck."

With these words, Roman disappeared down a dark corridor behind the party.

OOC: Roman is going to start looking for the artifact the Brotherhood sent him to find. He is a master assassin and is quite at home in cramped, dark corridors so I think Jonathan (NoiseMarine) would have a very difficult time locating him even if he knew he left the party...just in case you think Roman is some kind of sickly gazelle Noise lol


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Captain Galus said:


> just in case you think Roman is some kind of sickly gazelle Noise lol


OOC: do I strike you as that kind of person? :laugh:


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

"Jonathon! Get back here! Murderer! Traitor! Bastard! Goblin Fiddler!!! I'll kill you, you bastard, and make that bloody daemon pay as well - You cannot escape me. I am the hunter, and I have your scent. You shall pay! Blood for the Blood God, Skulls for Skull Throne!"

The bloodsense was raw in his nose, and Gunni could sense the daemon rising again. Blood Vessels popped, and muscles bulged. The slayers hammer itself felt different - the daemons warping influence turning one side of it into a bladed axe head.

"Your head is mine, wealking." Skidding into a long hallway, the corridor too long to avoid a hammer throw, with no escape on either side. Launching the hammer-axe with all his might, the weapon itself roared a Bestial growl, the low bass of it causing cracks in the wall. As Jonathon reached the end, he turned to taunt the dwarf, but saw the hammer axe flying straight at him. It would be too late to avoid the blow. The dwarf was running after the weapon, even before it hit the target, but his weight set off the traps that the dainty slaanesh worshipper either saw or avoided, and poisoned darts poured at the dwarf.

In this split second all was apparent. As time sped up, the invisible daemon leapt in front of the hammer axe, the bladed edge burying itself up to the haft into where the torso would be. 

The arrows pierced the daemon possessed slayer, but dwarf toughness and daemon blood saw the Blood Gods champion shrug off the poisoned arrows like rain.

The horrified cultist having realised his patron daemon was striken fled down the tunnel. Grinning evilly, Gunni stalked after him.

[OOC - your daemon doesn't have to be dead/banished, I'd prefer it if it wasn't a well - I was thinking you get Azrael, and during some epic final battle (=D), I get a flesh hound or some such, the two fight etc?]


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

OOC: That's ok bud! I would have waited longer but I wanted to post some more heh heh heh. 

Von Vandersnoot watched the man walk away, disappearing down a side tunnel, leaving him alone. He was used to a solitary life. He had spent most of it surrounded only by the flesh golems he created to complete the menial tasks he had little time for. With events taking the paths they had, Eric knew that he would need to see to his own protection. Jonathan had proven to be as mentally stable as a flagellant and the others, minus most the vampires, the goblin, and Roman, weren't much better. 

Looking down at the fragment of parchment that Roman had given him, Eric could see that it was a partial map of the tomb. He wondered how long the man had had the item before he stuffed it in his satchel and continued on. It didn't matter. The man had shown that he was no fool and probably trustworthy. That alone was enough for the necromancer. He hoped the man would find whatever he was looking for. He idly wondered why he cared. His hand found the sigil hanging from his neck and he stroked it once again. He knew it was probably her. She had been kind and caring and sometimes emotions he thought he'd lost to the centuries of darkness would wiggle their way to the fore. Sighing, he let the hammer fall back to his chest and began to ponder his next steps. Now that he was by himself, Eric back-tracked to where they'd entered. 

In the cool air of the falling darkness, he could make out the corpses of those mercenaries that had fallen in the fight. Raising his staff, he called out to them, weaving a spell of reanimation. Bodies bloated from the desert heat stirred, slowly standing and shuffling towards the necromancer. He was tired of this game. Below was something of great worth it seemed and yet everyone had taken off on their own quests. He, however, knew what needed to be done. He would wipe the darkness from the face of this world using the evil powers he commanded. Those that stood in his way would be destroyed, those that joined would be spared. "No more of this", he snarled into the wind-swept night. 

He chanted louder, calling upon those undead that they had fought against earlier to heed their new master. The sound of rattling bones could be heard in the still gloom as they made their way to Eric, the green bale-fire animating their bodies casting an eerie glow. As he summoned each and all to him, he began the final cant of binding, which would seal their alliegience to only him. With his army complete, he strode back into the waiting darkness of the tomb, his minions slowly shuffling behind him. 

Taking up his map, he found the quickest route to the deepest center of the barrow. Marching on, he made his way into the depths. "Soon....soon...", he said to himself. "This will end one way or the other."


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan scowled as he saw Azale get slammed with the hammer-axe and get thrown against the wall, breaking his neck with the impact, he slid down the wall and as the dwarf ran down the hallway ready to retrieve his weapon Azale picked himself up tearing the axe out of his chest, smiling he threw it down the hallway in the direction the dwarf had came and laughed as it sailed over the little beasts head and slammed into the ogre as it peeked out of the room. 

Jonathan walked to within 10ft of the dwarf and smiled "I have plans for you little beast..." he said laviciously as he turned and bounded down the hallway 10ft at a time, seductive laughter resounding off the walls as Azale cracked his head back in place and followed with a wink. Gunni stood there seething then noticed daemons and undead emerge from the walls of the corrupted tomb...


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof roared in fury and attempted to swipe at Azael with his sword but he reacted to slowly even with his new Chaotic powers. He saw Gunni give chase and turned the corner to follow when the Dwarf's Hammer hit him in the Gut Plate. He smiled as he didn't even take a step back, testimony of his increased resilience, but his smile soon turned to a scowl. He had trusted the Dwarf as a friend yet he had thrown his Hammer at him for seemingly no reason.
"Enjoy spending time with your new 'friends'." Tezrof roared at him, referencing the creatures surrounding him, and threw his Hammer back at him. Next the Ogre drew his weapons and smashed them into either side of the wall before ripping them out again causing the doorway to collapse and trapping Gunni, Jonathon, Azael as well as all the other undead.

Tezrof's appearance had changed; his skin was now covered in white patches and his long beard had turned from a snow white to a mangy grey covered in a blanket of filth. Most obvious was how he was now surrounded by a few hundred flies, no doubt originating from the maggots he had dropped on the floor earlier. Tezrof turned back to the others and, noticing how some of them were injured, guffawed with laughter "I've treasure to find so either follow me or stay here and rot like Nurgle's enemies." After speaking he smashed through a wall with his mace and strode through the hole he had created, letting his Chaotic powers draw him towards that which he sought. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

[OOC - I haven't forgotten or abandoned this - I may be a few days behind until I can sort my computer out - spilling coffee on a laptop is not the best idea.sorry =[ ]


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: solitaire I ran off so you didnt have any time to hit me, also Azael threw the hammer at you.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

((OOC: I know but when Tezrof looked round all he saw was the Hammer flying towards him so he assumed it was Gunni. Also he threw the Hammer back at the Dwarf not at you or Azael. Sorry for all the confusion.))


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: im still waiting for some people to post their reactions to what's going on...


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: guess its time for some people to start dying, the goblins lived far longer than he should have.

Jonathan was behind the other group (group 2) he charged into their backs and finished off the goblin and a few of the human mercanaries, he dived through the daemons and chased the ogre down its path of destruction, he and Azael jumped upon the foul smelling beasts back and sprang off of its shoulders, it took the bait and gave chase. Jonathan slammed into the shady character called Roman and stumbled.

Jonathan was back up in an instant now the ogre, roman, and the dwarf all following him, cattle.... he thought, as he stopped in a round sacrifical chamber with a gigantic altar in the middle and a throne at the far end, with the tomb lich sitting upon its black orifice, Jonathan noticed the necromancer, Von Vandersnoot standing at another entrance....

OOC: hope you all like the reunion. :biggrin:


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

[OOC - it might be a bit smaller than usual - this post was typed using the on screen keyboard =D]

Gunni was well and truely in the throws of possession now - his blood was flowing from several nicks on his body - it quickly coagulating into bony spikes on his arms. His very body was a weapon.

A daemonette, all legs and wicked claws darted aaround him. Anticipating her movement, he caught her throat - diamond hard nails Black as coal pierced her throat. Emittingv an unearthyly scream, she exploded into ichor as he slammed her head into the stone wall. A bestial howl erupted from his throat - the dripping menace and threat of bloodletting banishing the few remaining deamons back to their decadent domain.

Following the corridor to the end, he found himself facing that damn Necrmancer again. Looking over the ogre he saw the huge creature himself had begun to show the outer stages of possession.

Would ogre and dwarf, plaguebearer and bloodletter, Nurgle and Khorne stand and fight as brothers, one last time? Death and Slaughter?


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## Captain Galus (Jan 2, 2008)

"So you knew?" Roman asked the image.
"Are you surprised? Trust is not in your nature, Roman," said the image.
Roman crossed his arms peered out from his cowl at the image of his handler. Most people would be averted to the being who now floated in front of him, but Roman's constitution was much stronger that most.
"That mean's the artifact wasn't here to being with. Where is it?" asked Roman.
"I suppose I could tell you, but that wouldn't be any fun," his handler said with a visible wink.
"I don't have time for your games, Kyrra. Where is it?" Roman persisted.
The Dark Elf sighed, feigning exasperation. Sometimes, Roman wished he had been burdened with a different resource officer, and sometimes he'd had the opportunity to arrange for a new handler, but something about the Dark Elf was terribly interesting. A singular something; Roman was revolted by her presence and most everything about her.
"There is a daemon bound to a sword, a minion of Slaanesh, that the client wants returned to them. My understanding was that it would be in the temple; clearly, this is not the case."
"So it would seem. I have a good idea where to find this daemon, however," said, Roman, reaching for the obsidian stone that contain the magic necessary to communicate with Kyrra.
"Retrieve it then, and return. I will be waiting," said the image, right before it faded.
Roman turned, and deposited the stone inside his tunic. He removed a small leather strip from his tunic and rubbed it on a small throwing knife; the Slaaneshi relished any sensation, even pain, and that made them extremely dangerous in battle. The only real way to fight a Slaaneshi is to remove their ability to feel...at all.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof smashed through three more walls when suddenly he felt the Chaos within him warning him. An instant later he felt two people land on his back and then jump off. He roared and swung his weapons at them maniacally before pounding towards them. He was just about to catch them with his long strides when he realised that they had all been drawn into a large chamber. He howled in fury and turned to Jonathon.
"You try to trick ME? Tezrof Skinflayer! You have no idea who you are messing with!" Saying no more Tezrof launched himself towards the Slaanesh follower weapons in both hands. Intent on his destruction. . .


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Von Vandersnoot found himself staring into a rather large, cavernous chamber, lit by bale-fire torches and light gleaming from yet another altar situated in the center of the circular room. Upon entering, he could feel the great confluences of magic meandering their way from the walls to said monumental altar. On the far side, he could hear the sounds of scuffling and turning, he watched as Jonathan entered from another of the entrances running along the walls encircling the tomb liche's throne room. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the others that had been seperated earlier by the trapped altar stomped in after the Slaaneshi worshiper. He noted that some were missing from the group. 

He moved aside to allow his raised minions to enter, the sound of their clattering, shuffling pace filling the eerily quiet room with the sounds of the risen dead. His lips moved swiftly as he rasped a low, sonorous mantra, calling upon his dark magics once again. With his sorcererous wards renewed to their full extent, he slowly marched further into the room. Behind him, the animated skeletons and zombies filed in, surrounding their new master. Inside, Karric had been preparing for this moment since Jonathan had left he and Roman behind to chase after the dwarf. He had kept to the deepest recesses of his brain but prepared to come to the fore at a moments notice. His powerful mind made it's way out, taking over possession of his body once more. 

Karric did not know what was going on, but finding himself here he knew something dark was on the horizon. The flaming skulls on his staff began to keen, preparing themselves to protect their master from harm should a threat arise. On seeing the tomb liche sitting in his throne, the inscribed skull began to spout curses of the darkest nature, it's angry retorts sounding from the stone walls with an evil clatter of gnashing jaws. Karric could feel rage bubbling from the staff itself. Looking around, he could not tell if he had been too late. He prayed there was still time to stop the ancient liche from reaching it's full power. 

As he made himself ready, Karric made no move to rejoin his companions. He could taste the taint of chaos, thick as blood and rot it was, swirling through the stangant air of the liche's abode. Before it had only been the sickly-sweet touch of Slaanesh but now the foul reek of Nurgle and the tangy, copper of the blood-drenched followers of Khorne could also be found permeating the walls of the tomb. With the altar he had destroyed befor, that made the powers of the four foul gods of Chaos present here.

He looked to see if Roman still lived. He hoped that the warrior had survived his trek into the tomb's depths in search of whatever he was looking for. His aid might prove useful should the situation turn worse. Things were turning grim as he watched the others move towards Jonathan. He felt no compulsion to aid the chaos worshipper. "Mayhaps they'll kill themselves", he snorted to himself. With that, he waited to see what would happen next.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Jonathan charged through the room skirting the walls, Azael in toe, "Come you fools! Be my sacrifices, I will ascend!" He screamed as he leapt to the throne on the lich, vulnerable as it was he ripped a emerald wreathed in flame from its chest and the skeletal thing fell to pieces.

Jonathan leapt upon the altar and consumed the soul of the sorcerer, placing the stone on his chest, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy and his tongue lolled out, arms extended he burst into flames and a dark shape began to expand in the green flame. The flame fizzled out and what stood there was no longer Jonathan but a daemon prince massive in proportion with 4 arms, each armed with a weapon from claws, to swords, to whips, with the name of Asdrubael, Herald of Ectstasy.

"Now come into my arms..." he purred in a seductive tone, that made some of the band begin to step forward, he saw some stop and shake their heads... "Ahhh.... Children then you shall die... come Azael lets deal with this rabble..." he purred leaping into combat, "You will be the first souls that I will consume in my eternal form..."

OOC: Hope you like the turn of events :biggrin:


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

"You will be the first souls that I consume in my eternal form..."

Karric heard the words the now daemon prince Jonathan had spoken and snorted. He had heard similar in the past, many times over. They had died and he still remained. Karric was a survivor. He had felt the daemon's call deep in his soul but he had seen more centuries than many and had faced many foes in that time. Daemons paled to the true terrors of the ancient dragon-kind or the power of the Slaan, both enemies he had battled in the past. His wards blazed across his skin as they countered the daemon's siren call. The winds of magic swelled over him like a tidal wave due mostly to the great confluences of power flowing through the walls of the tomb. These granted the necromancer with powers beyond that which he could call on under other circumstances. 

Taking his staff, he swirled the magic weapon above his head and began chanting. He brought the staff down with force, smashing the butt-cap into stone floor with a loud crack. To those looking, it would seem as if his spell had failed but it was far from the truth. His spell radiated through the stone, allowing him to see the full extent of the lines of power flowing through the ancient tomb. With a snarl, he cut the streams of power flowing into the altar. It was a dangerous plan. Without an outlet, the energies would dam up, creating a blockage from which they would need release. They would build and build until they exploded forth and destroy the tomb and all within. Karric found himself caring not if he lived, only that these monsters surrounding him never see the light of day again. "Redemption..." The word came from nowhere, bouncing back and forth through his mind. Could this be how it all ended? In one final act, could he truly redeem seven centuries of sin?

A strange calm came over Karric as his raspy voice called out in the dark tongue of Nagash. He knew that this was his time. His words poured from his cracked lips, willing the former tomb-liche's guards to life under his command. From the walls, they pulled themselves. Mighty ushabti and the mummified servants of the tomb's former lord raised their weapons in salute to their new master and made their way to him. With a wave, he sent the small undead horde into battle against the daemon prince and his minion. He followed behind, calling on more and more power as he chanted another dark curse. Pointing his staff at Azael, he unleashed a torrent of magic taking the form of a black-fired, screaming skull. Dark energies tore across the thing's body, withering his flesh and sapping his strength. Turning to Jonathan, he blasted him with waves of dark lightning, scourging the daemon over and over. He knew it would much more to end the daemon's existence. He hoped the others would come out of the stupor seemingly holding them back and join the fray...


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

"Haha, you think your spells can hurt me little man? I will show you true power I am the master of this tomb!" Asdrubael bellowed.

Jonathan screamed as he charged through the melee, none of the undead could stand his presence they either fell apart or the ones that refused fell to death again at the ends of Asdrubael and Azael's blades. 

Azael seemed devoid of energy however and was hard pressed to counter the magic and fight the undead, but fight he did relishing every sensation.

Asdrubael found himself in front of the necromancer Vandersnoot, the undead couldnt stand to get near him, Azael sheltered underneath his masters shadow so his strength could replenish itsself.

"Your staff is nothing!" Asdrubael screamed as he swiped it from the necromancers hands, relishing the pain it brought, "Hahaha nothing little man! You are nothing! I know your desire! Redemption, you shall not have this you will die before before your wish is complete, and I will live forever, this is a shell nothing more I am eternal! You wont even kill this form!" He screamed in his beautiful voice as he impaled the Vandersnoot through the chest with his own staff. He brought his mouth to Vandersnoots ear and whispered, "Mortal... Slaanesh will eat your soul..." he said tearing him in half and tossing his 'remains' behind him.

Asdrubael pulled the staff out, it was covered in a black blood like ichor the heads atop it were babbling insanely, the staff began to crack, purple lightning dancing across its surface, Asdrubael threw it down the hall where it exploded, a cloud of smoke, sand, dust, and debris came flying from the tunnel, and the tomb gave a great shake, the walls began to crack and boulders began to fall from the surface. 

The destruction of the place gave a sorcerous discharge, purple, green, red, blue, and black lightning began to sance across the room ans strike anyone who got close to the wall, Asdrubael watched Azael get hit in the chest by a discharge of purple lightning and mutations wracked his mortal shell, tearing skin and breaking bone as he laughed enjoying the sensation of his mortal shells death...

OOC: this would be a good time for that battle Vaz... If you have any objections to how I did it Nate PM me and it will be discussed.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

OOC: No..that's fine bud. While I don't like having my character ripped to shreds like he was nothing at all, I'll continue on. Next time though, you might want to discuss things like this with the players beforehand. Especially so if you plan out a RP thread where you go godlike on us poor mortals lol.

Karric felt pain for the first time in ages. It was almost a welcomed feeling. The glowing warmth of agony...the cold embrace of death. He smiled as his life-blood flowed out across the floor and at the same time cursed what would happen next. While he had lived, he knew joys and agonies but now in death he would know the terror that he had feared for all these long years. The daemon had been right. Mortality had been his weakness but now he no longer would suffer from such frailties that came with the flesh. He looked at ragged tear where Jonathan had ripped him in two. A smile crossed his lips.

As he died, a wracking cough escaped his lips. It grew louder and louder until it became a dark, evil laugh. Bale-light shone in his eyes as with his hands he wrote out his last curse, the one curse he had wished to never use in his long lifetime. The swirling blood-runes began to glow as the power unleashed by his sundered staff joined with the screaming energies seeking to rip the tomb asunder. With the last scrolling line finished he spit out the nine ancient words Nagash himself had used upon his first death, Karric allowed himself to finally pass on into the other world. However, Slaanesh would be sorely disappointed should he think that he would be getting Karric's soul.


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

[OOC - Okay, I'll Ttry and get it up tomorrow - soorry IRL just got 5busy and I don't like using the onscreen keyboard to type.]


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: kk, I thought it would be alright since it just turned into everyone on me that I would become a daemon prince, next time I will be sure to discuss it with you, and I dont go godzy when Im not a GM, or Im not told to, hope you dont consider me a godmodder.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Meh..like I said, it's fine. A bit disappointing that I just get butchered right off the bat, but it's your RP lol. I'll just move on to the next one.

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: does that mean your done RPing with me :cray:


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Wha? :no: No no no lol. I'm just saying I'll be moving on to the other RP's I'm part of LOL. No need to bring out the puppy-dog eyes LOL.

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: haha!


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof Charged into the fray of battle eager for bloodshed. He left the Necromancer to do battle with the Daemon Prince and charged forward towards Azael. A stream of energy hit Tezrof's target and Chaos coursed through him causing him to spin and dodge the Ogres attacks far faster than expected. After a few moments of battle a blade slammed into Tezrof's thigh and he stumbled, rage filling him he shattered Azael's weapon with his mace and grabbed him by the torso with his huge, Chaos improved jaws. Tezrof shook his head furiously causing blood poor out of his opponent before hurling him through the air. Already Azael's wounds were badly infected and maggots writhed in his flesh eager to eat their fill.

Next Tezrof turned to Jonathon or what used to be him. Seeing how he disposed of Von Vandersnoot he carefully circled his opponent before launching himself towards him and beating at him with his sword and mace. . .


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Blades of dulled bronze leapt out at Gunni, seemingly out from nowhere. As the daemon took hold of the Slayer, his mortal self took less of an active part in the proceeding. The dwarven part of his soul seemed view the battle from behind a thick glass pane, dulled and blurred. What little was left that wasn't blood drunk realised with regret that the daemon had won.

The daemons vision relied on pulsing of blood, evertyhing else was wreathed in smoke and blackness. He could see the daemon prince, power oozing like a dripping tap, the lifeblood of "Jonathon" mixed with the devils own.

This would be the final test, make or break, and do or die.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Asdrubael fended off the ogres attacks, the ringing of steel lost in the cacophony of other noises.

Two of Asdrubael's four arms, the other two fending off the ogres attacks, struck at the ogre with blinding speed. He saw the beast notice them and try to twist out of the way leaving him exposed, Asdrubael struck out nearly severing its head, and watching maggots and ichor spill out from its ruined throat.

Asdrubael watched Azael crawl up behind the ogre, getting crushed as the beast backpedaled but still tripping it up as it landed on what was left of Azael's sword...

OOC: Azael is dead, and your Nurgle Solitaire you still have some juice left in you I bet :biggrin:


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: Uhhhhhh its not over :cray:


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

((OOC: Whoops I forgot this were here!:blush)

Tezrof lay motionless, seemingly dead. He waited for Asdrubael to walk past before he ripped Azael's sword out of his back. Next he got to his feet silently, blood had stopped pouring from his wounds, now replaced by streams of pus puke. Tezrof leapt behind the Daemon Prince and wrapped his arms around his, restraining him just long enough to drive his vicious jaws into his shoulder. Tezrof shook his head violently and held on until he was forced off of him. Next swung his mace at his head and at the same time his Cathayan longsword at his stomach.
"L-uuh-ets ge-urrrgg-t hi-ooghh-m," Tezrof struggled to speak, his words corrupted by the vile diseases that now lay inside of him. Eventually he managed to got ahold of the words and quickly spoke to Gunni, "We must stop him now! While he, uuurgh, is injured. . .


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: yay

Asdrubael took the hit to the head and rolled with it, he moved far enough away to regain his bearings. "I WILL NOT BE BANISHED!!" he screamed.

With that he lashed out with a many pronged whip, that hadnt been there a second before, he watched it draw across the ogre, popping diseased boils and spilling maggots all over the ground and spraying Gunni as he also lashed at the dwarf....


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

OOC - Whoops not forgotten, honest =D - Haha, I will update tonight =D Sorry.


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

OOC- As promised, but still late... Sorry.

Seeing the Ogre leap up from almost inevitable death, and grab the Daemon Prince, Gunni saw his opening.

Smashing his hammer head through 3 skeletons, his huge muscles ripping the blazing weapon back, the dwarven runes of antimagic coursing through into the wounds he caused, removing the touch of the deceased Necromancer, and banishing the daemons to hell, while the physical damage was enough to slay all of the followers of Jonathon, or rather Asdrubael.

Scarlet lightning and Black fire sparked from the weapon, while Boiling blood dripped onto the floor in acidic splashes. The power of one of Khornes deadliest servants was in his hands, daemon bane written in the dwarven tongue, and the anger and fury of the daemon inside as it sensed the power of Slaanesh in its rapturous entirety.

Slamming aside a Daemonette, the punch strong enough to disintegrate the head of the creature. Reflex caused the Claw to whip out, the super natural senses of the daemon pulling Gunni away, the appendage closing on his outstretched arm. Blood, and pain, the two opposing scales of the bitter fight were warring in the Slayers body.

Blood won.

With a roar like the sound of cracking granite and burning brass, the weapon ignited fully. A torrent of blood drained from the cuts of the Dwarf, washing away the followers between the daemon prince and the dwarf, Tezrof jumping clear just in time as the whip cleaved to the bone ,just for the skin to reknit, finger sized maggots biting the skin into a clamp. The Prince, knowing the end was near lashed out at the dwarf, the barbed whip rapping off the hardened blood scales of his remaining arm.

As the battle stopped, the remaining mercenaries pitifully few, and enamoured with the beauty and majesty of the Prince were the only things still alive, their small defensive ring of Pikmen, arquebusiers and a the disgraced knight from Bretonnia breathing heavily. The undead were crumbling to dust as the last vestiges of magic from the sorceror leaked into the tombs once again. The daemons left numbered but five, the Blood torrent sending them to the wastes. However, the fighting stopped, as the roaring of some infernal steam engine grew louder, the roar of the Flesh hounds, and the howls from the Chaos Wolves echoing through the complex.

Suddenly, the blood began to bubble and boil as the viscous liquid ran together, similar to the binding at the Altar of Khorne, until it formed a vast sphere, floating in mid air. Then, the world exploded in blood. The horrific visage of a great hound, cruel and cunning, and violence written in the lines of scars across its head and muzzle forced its way through the mirror to the wastes.

"Well done Gunni Gorbbisson", the deep, angry voice said. The gargoyle mouth hadn't moved, but the words formed in his head, the angular script of a long forgotten warrior coven visible in his minds eye.

"You have brought me here today to witness your final confrontation... DO NOT DARE TO EVEN THINK OF SEEKING TO INTERRUPT ME, MORTAL!", the gravelly voice booming in the Slayers head, as the Dwarf opened his mouth to speak.

"Good, you know your place. However, my Liege and Master would desire your company, however it may be. Will join as a leader for the innumerable, undefeatable hordes of the King of Slayers? Join as My lords Sword and Shield in this pitiful mortal realm? Or will you fall at the last, and condemn yourself to looking out on the ocean of blood as my lords seat? The choice is yours. However, I believe this is yours."

So saying, the Bloodthirster threw the arm of the slayer to the dwarf. Dropping his weapon, the dwarf caught it. With but a word of power, a bolt of brass streaked from its outstreched claw, the blast enveloping the dwarf. When the metallic glow faded, the dwarf was now a true warrior of the Blood God. His arm was reattached, the join invisible. All the hardened scales spikes and horns on his arms were now hardened like some daemonic bone, stonger than steal, and as red as the oil and blood used to forge the blood gods weapons. His skin though. It looked like normal skin, but it was the colour of brass.

"Good, Good. Should do nicely. Remember, Gunni. It is your choice." With a clap like thunder, the huge creature disappeared, the air reeking of Ozone.

With a yell, one of the crossbowmen, freaked at the 3 epitomies of the gods of Chaos fighting in front of them, fired his crossbow at the dwarf.

Instead of embedding itself in its skin, the bolt panged off, like the recurve of a Knights armour. Smiling ,Gunni charged.

"Blood for the Blood God!" The hammer smashed into a daemonette, its broken body dissolving. As Gunni charged through, the claws sliding harmlessly off the metal skin, scratches glowing an evil red, but otherwise undamaged and unblemised.

Shaking from side to side, the Butchers hooks and scalpels growing from his body ripped great holes in the slaaneshi worshippers and daemons. As the Ogre fended off attacks from the daemon prince, the last of his grunts were slain.

"Daemon - you're Mine." Without giving the daemon chance to recover, the blows slamming out, feints, bluffs, and trips not confusing the possessed Slayer. Raining attack after attack on the armour of the prince, the odd blow leaving welts the size of a dragons foot onthe legs and arms, crunching into the armour, the obsidian cracking oh so slightly.

Azdrubaels eyes widened in shock and wonder as the dwarf just fought and fought, the metal body granting him skill and strength even a normal possessed cultist could only dream of. It was only a matter of time before the dwarf claimed his first and greatest head in Khornes name, for he was a chosen.


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

Tezrof saw the two champions of the Gods do battle and tore through the creatures in the way. A daemonette crept up behind him and even though it was destroyed it succeeded in slashing the golf ball sized bump on Tezrof's head created earlier. It violently exploded and maggots flew through the air. This realisation made the Ogre stop in his tracks. He looked again at Gunni and Asdrubael and then at his patchy, warped hands. What had happened to him?

Horrified Tezrof fought his way to the Lich where Jonathon had taken the emerald which had transformed him, and he searched the remains. He took the first gem he saw, a glittering opal, and then turned to the wall. It still pulsed with the energy Von Vandersnoot had caused after he destroyed the Tzeentch altar and Tezrof started to absorb this energy. When he reached the point where he could drain no more he did two things. First off he threw his Cathayan longsword and his mace into the centre of the ceiling. The second thing he did, he did just an instant after he let go of his weapons. This was putting all this built up energy into the opal and channelling it, not to enhance his Chaos powers, but to remove them. During this event he roared to Nurgle.
"I Take Back My Claim Of Allegiance! I Will Serve No Longer!"

Tezrof keeled over and vomited. He vomited and vomited and vomited. Any Daemons or Undead that got in the way were melted away as if hit by acid. After a few minutes he stopped and looking up he realised that the room was collapsing. No doubt a result of the weapons he had thrown earlier.
"So long." He yelled to the other two, "I've had enough of these tombs." and with that he punched his uncorrupted fists through the Undead in his way and, grabbing a chest of jewels, fled the main room as more of it collapsed and ran out through the tunnels. . .


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

Asdrubael watched as the hound appeared giving the dwarf his arm back and changing his appearance... He took the blows from the dwarfs hammer, "Little beast!" He roared, moving back, with blinding speed he leapt over the dwarf, he slammed down on the ogre with his clawed feet, it dropped it weapons... "You will not escape!"

With more exertion Asdrubael threw the uncorrupted ogre at the dwarf, its treasure flying everywhere, "Cut through that!" Asdrubael laughed, he saw the ogre land on the dwarf, hearing a sickening crack, he was about to laugh... But Asdrubael saw the dwarf rip through the ogre and emerge into the collapsing chamber, "I am the only one who can truly survive! It matters not what occurs here!" Asdrubael said as he and the both both got hit with boulders driving them to the ground.

Asdrubael emerged from underneath the rock into the now sunbathed rock covered room, he looked up into the sky, but his gaze was taken by the moans of the dying, wounded, and the dwarf...

OOC: if you're dead Solitaire is up to you, but if you're not dead you wont be nearly up to full function... Also I had to edit seeing as Solitaire entered his post first while I was typing mine...


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

"Hah, Daemon you forget, I am a dwarf. Haha, I am underground, and you consider me defeated? Obviously, your god forgot to give you brains with that new body."

Pulling himself free of the rubble, he saw the battered body of the Ogre that he had been forced to push away with the flat of his hammer. Tough as the Ogre was, the dwarf was unsure whether it would survive the fury of a Daemon Prince, the collapse of the roof, and the dwarf had been none to tender in his defensive ministrations.

"It seems I have a five fold grudge to pay. One, on the behalf of friend and brother in arms. One for your entry in the Book of Grudges of Barak Varr. One for my arm. One for the Blood debt and your skull for my Lord and master, Hakkar. And one for trickery and lies."

"Trickery and Lies? Dwarf, you mistake me in your weakened state..." As the daemon sneered down, the Brass Body began to glow, not the cool reflection of the twin moons and starlight winking down, but the burning of a forge. The skin flowed like liquid, cracking like the crust of lava, intense heat blazing white hot through the gaps. As it solidified, the words were etched like words of fire in the forgotten tongue of Dwarven High Kings, in the time of the Daemon cull. The words burned the eyes of the Prince, weeping blood, the crimson streaks running black in the night time.

"I am not mistaken, False King of the Lying God, full of broken promises. I was hired on the Pretense of getting 3 meals a day. I've gone 2 days in that infernal hole, without solid food, eating them bloody biscuits from your caravan, damn you. A dwarf without food is a deadly enemy. Moreso, weakling, when he makes it a grudge.

Now DIE!"

Charging forward, the lash whipped out. Smacking a fist into the weapon, it snaked back into the Daemon Prince, just as the Monstrous sword scythed down. Rolling under it, the Dwarf was now inside the guard of the daemon. A taloned foot stamped down. It was met by the dwarfs Hammer, which shattered the toe bone, elliciting a scream of rage and pleasure, reminiscent of a lovers moan from the beast. 

Switching grip on the weapon, he swung the axe blade into the thick muscles of the thigh. That disturbing scream came again, as the daemonic entity in the weapon made it harder and sharper than pure gromril. The blade passed through seemingly doing no damage until the delayed effect of gravity let the cut be shown. The huge slash left a black line through the flayed skin effect of the armour, wide as a dwarfs head, and deep enough to show the stark white porcelain of the shattered bone.

With a gust of wind, the pleasure of a dwarven mind revelling in the scents of the roast meat, good ale, roaring fires, pine woods and a new scent of iron, the wings caused a great downdraft of air as the Daemon Prince lifted its immense bulk into the air.

The snarling face bared its teeth down at the dwarf.

"Is this all you're good for, Daemon? I'm disappointed. The elf died a better death than you will. Not once did he step back, but here you are, flying away from me. Tell me, where is Slaanesh now? He won't save you - let me end it now. You are keeping my liege waiting. Now come down, or I will bring you down. My liege really doesn't waiting."


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## solitaire (Mar 24, 2008)

It had been his gut plate that had saved him. It was now cracked and broken however and would no longer be any good for armour. Desperately Tezrof started to crawl away from the others after the Dwarf rolled him away, stopping only to pick up a handful or two of treasure as he passed it. Fortunately despite his injuries he could still crawl faster than the average mans walk and it helped him build up a good distance as he fled from the battle, he was in no state for combat.

He had never felt so much pain yet still he moved onwards knowing that if he paused for only a minute he would fall unconscious and would be picked apart by scavengers. Despite all that had happened though Tezrof smiled for he had survived where so many had perished and even retrieved a fair amount of treasure. All this needed was a bit of exaggeration on his part in the tale and it would make a grand tale to tell his fellow Ogres when he returned to his tribe. Tezrof might choose to leave it as it is though because even though he hadn't won through combat or strength he had won through force of will, for it was that that had enabled him to force Nurgle out of his system and even keep himself alive.

He laughed as he saw the towns on the edge of the desert. He had made it. . .


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

"The ogre leaves dwarf! He carries the treasure and flees the field of battle... Not even the humans have shown such cowardice... The ogre can definetely not be expected to tell the truth of us, he will tell a tale of our 'cowardice' and how he slew us... You call me a liar?!?!?!" Asdrubael shouted now enraged as his wounds knitted back together.

"I will kill you both!" The daemon roared as he swept down, lash preceding his other attacks distracting the dwarf and leaving an opening... Asdrubael swept his other three arms in the attack, they changed into hammers.

Laughing, Asdrubael swung all three at the dwarf throwing the little beast down the hallway, but giving the daemon a deep cut in its calf, the dwarfs head cracked against the wall, knocking even its tough skull unconscious. Asdrubael swept down the hall, grabbing the dwarf with his unwounded claw... "Let us see how you enjoy the skies eh? And pay a visit to the ogre..." Asdrubael cooed as he ascended into the skies...

The dwarf hung there by the ankle refusing to let go of its hammer. Asdrubael dropped it a short distance behind the fleeing ogre. The daemon prince then placed a taloned foot on the ogres back pining its back and driving it into the sand, "Seal..." he mutterd to the sand, hardening it into near unbreakable glass as he heard the ogre cry out as the volcanic heat seared its skin onto the glass, "You didnt think you would escape did you?"


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

OOC: P.S. I do not intend to godmod here, I just had to make a reunion since Solitaire attempted to run away.


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

[OOC - sorry but I think I'm going to have to call it quits here, thanks for the good run, I've enjoyed it. Just feel like I need to wrap it up before it dies, but If it's all the same, I'd like to focus on the Destroyer of Worlds, and a couple of the new ones  Good job NoiseMarine ]

Watching the daemon imprison the Ogre in the sand, the Dwarfs instincts of friendship broke through the blood fueled daemonic hatred welling up inside, and let out a cry of anger. 

Charging from behind, the hammer axe slammed into the Daemons ankle, severing the clawed foot, the return strike arcing like a thunderbolt straight into the groin of the Daemon Prince. The beating of wings stilled, the eyes contracted in pain, and the air whoosed out of the lungs of the daemon, pain beyond even its own sense of pleasure could handle erupted from his damaged pelvis, the burning black ichor burning its way down, no longer the touch of a lovers tongue, but the burning brand of the Cattle iron. The daemon hammer stuck again and again. Shards of crystal shattered over the dwarf, the chaos infused gem scything through the metallic plate covering his body, causing molten lava to drip down in rivulets.

The dwarves body was beginning to fail, that much was obvious, the anger of Gunni bringing the Bloodthirster in his weapon take control again. The weakening muscles, invigorated by the essence of the daemon striking harder and harder. A glimmer of hope from the dwarves mind welled up - he may actually defeat this deamon.

Then, with a burst of black light, and purple energy, the daemon prince caused a shimmering dust to settle. Even the daemon couldn't shake off this deadening effect, and the blows came sluggish, and Azdrubael easily avoided them. Heavily wounded, it fluttered over on broken wings, feathers like an angels, but black as night drifting sullenly to the desert floor. 

Picking up the prone dwarf, the Prince began the words of enchantment, that would destroy the dwarf utterly, leaving only his metallic shell and Soul alive, to be corrupted and tortured with a pain like no other. Just as suddenly as the previous explosion, the sky ripped itself asunder, blood dripping from the portal to the Chaos Wastes onto the daemon prince, the dwarf basking in its glory in his dying moments.

The Bloodthirster plunged down to the sands and looked down on the Prince with an undisguised sneer. The Prince knew fear for the first time in its life. Dropping the dwarf, it lifted its sword and barbed whip. The High Handed Slayer drew his own whip, and Flaming Axe, the blow ripping through the ether and mortal worlds to nearly decapitate the Prince, if it wasn't for the quicker than lightning movement, the sword deflecting much of the power of the blow. 

"Foolish weakling of the Prince of Weakness, begone from this place. The God of Strength and War has marked this one as a being worthy of his Blessing." The voice of the Daemon rumbled like far of thunder. Turning to the dwarf, he said "Do you accept this now? Ride to war as a Prince of Blood? A Lord of Skulls?"

"Ah do." Came the reply.

"You know what needs to be done then, Mortal. Do it".

"Aye, Ah do. Blood for t' Blood God! Skulls for t' Skull Throne! Blood for t' Blood God! Skulls for t' Sku..." And so the chant went on. The hammer axe raised itself, the torn muscles of the dwarf inside the metal suit ripping again, lava and blood dripping from the piercings in the brass skin. With a downward sweep, the dwarf beheaded himself. 

Snatching the bearded head up, the Bloodthirster launched itself into the skies, and flew once more on its leathery pinions into the Portal.

It did not matter from whence the blood came, all that mattered was that it flowed.


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## NoiseMarine (Jun 8, 2008)

"H.." Asdrubael rumbled trailing off as he felt actual pain, the first in years. He stubmled over to the ogre sucking its life force from its body, giving him just enough strength to make his way slowly through the sands back to his place of ascension leaving the ogre barely alive he began to stalk off into the ancient tomb. 

"Time to rest, time to sleep, and time to heal.... I refuse to be banished..." Asdrubael mumbled. He reached the hole and his strength deserted him and he simply went limp and fell to the bottom smashing into the stone, he lay there dormant, the sands covering the great hole. The Angel of Ectstasy buried forever...

OOC: Great ending for a great roleplay, well done everyone!


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