Post by MagusKariusPrelune on Sept 25, 2004 8:52:45 GMT -5
Originally posted by Charax
The doors of the sanctum chamber burst outwards, foot-thick adamantine doors slamming into titanic ferrocrete walls. Charax strode forth, massive plasma burns covering his body, healing rapidly and leaving scars of discoloured flesh. A mighty roar erupted from his helmet as he soared into the darkening sky, massive wings unfurling and flapping slowly.
The hall was filled with the sounds of battle, three hundred feet of throne room bisected by a wide red carpet. wvery few paces there was a duel being carried out, with spectators lining the walls. every time a match ended, the winner would move closer to the throne, the loser would be mopped up by serfs and fed into a great brass machine by the throne and turned into a deep red wine which the lord of the chamber drank from.
He was a barbarian king, with massively oversized muscles that forced him to hunch forward, broad shoulders framing a snarling head. one hand grasped the large goblet from which he drank the vitae of the fallen, the other rested on the hilt of a huge axe, it's bronze head depicting gnashing faces that seemed to lick at any blood that sprayed on it from the closest duel, where the challenger faced a red-skinned bloodletter of Khorne. Ripgut Hatefist, the Overlord of Arkonis
The great bronze doors of the hall opened slowly and a young man walked in, a black cloak draping from black armour. His face was pale, but not sickly, and his form was slightly thinner then average. he strode forward, and stopped a respectful distance from the first dual, two spectators were facing off to replace the fallen challenger and victor.
"Who dares encroach upon the great duels? by what purpose to you enter my chamber? Speak, fool, or die." Ripgut's voice echoed through the hall and all was still, the eyes of every combatant and spectator turned to the newcomer. The burly king rose and gripped his axe's handle
Bowing, the stranger spoke "Forgive me, I am Lord Oberis of Stalinvast, and I have come to take that weapon you hold, may I have it?" he rose, a glint in his eyes. A smile played on the barbarian king's lips and he eventually roared in laughter. the hall of subjects followed suite and the sounds of mockery echoed through the brass-lined stone walls.
"Very well, little man, if you can advance through the duels to me, and defeat me, then you may take my axe. Your blood will add flavour to the wine. Courtesans! step aside and allow our guest to enter. Lord Oberis, I see that you have no weapon. That is hardly sporting. Weapon racks line my walls, feel free to indulge yourself."[/color]
"Your generosity flatters me, but I will make do. I will provide you with sport enough before the day is through."
The two courtesans looked at each other, nodded, and one stepped back, allowing the newcomer to face off against the other. The two nodded and the courtesan withdrew an ornate barbed sword, ready to fight.
"Begin!"
The courtesan lunged, Oberis turned away from the blow, under the sword and facing away from his opponent, forcing an elbow into the courtesan's abdomen and causing him to cough up blood and double over. Lord Oberis grabbed the opponent's neck with his arm from beneath and stood up, twisting it around and breaking his neck with a sickening snap. its head cracked as it hit the floor and the body was dragged away to be fed into the machine at the end of the hall. Oberis turned to the throne and smiled. before him the other duels were continuing, a massacre of warriors to sate the thirst of their lord. When they had finished they all moved up to their next opponent.
His second opponent was a warrior clad in archaic plate armour, with a cloak and headdress from some bizzare native creature resembling a jaguar. He wielded a mace and had a daemon-faced shield on the other arm. bloodshot eyes stared at him from under the spiked helmet.
"Begin!"
The warrior charged forward, pinning Oberis to the ground with the curved top of his shield holding his neck to the floor. The daemon face smiled, sensing death nearby. the warrior raised his hammer high just as Oberis spoke:
"Dhao Anksdayyaochda, Mir Ksy I'Dharek Aqshy'phak lakash."
The warrior was still with shock as the head on the shield distended outwards and snarled, a massive snout expanding from the elasticated red leather of the shield, a canine foreleg growing forth and placing a daemonic paw by his head, then another, stepping out from its confines. the brass collar it wore marked it out as a flesh hound of Khorne. it paced and turned to face its former master before lunging towards him, grabbing the warrior's body in its jaws before bounding with it towards a tear that had opened to the side of the hall. once it had gone through the tear sealed and all trace of the creature bar its bloody trail were gone. The wide-eyed crowd stared at the contender and Hatefist rose again, peering over the intervening combats to the newcomer.
"So, you know some of the Dark Tongue, You are certainly full of surprises, little lord. Three matches to go, this should get interesting."
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Impressive display, but did you ever stop to consider why I am known as the Eternal? - Charax to Mentirius at Secret's Hold
Visit the Conclave at www.geocities.com/Inquisitor_conclave/Index.html
Every time you twist the background Charax twists the head off a poor defenceless Imperial Fist. Powergaming Kills.
+++The Hall of Communion, Stalinvast VII+++
The doors of the sanctum chamber burst outwards, foot-thick adamantine doors slamming into titanic ferrocrete walls. Charax strode forth, massive plasma burns covering his body, healing rapidly and leaving scars of discoloured flesh. A mighty roar erupted from his helmet as he soared into the darkening sky, massive wings unfurling and flapping slowly.
+++The Blood Spire, Arkonis IV+++
The hall was filled with the sounds of battle, three hundred feet of throne room bisected by a wide red carpet. wvery few paces there was a duel being carried out, with spectators lining the walls. every time a match ended, the winner would move closer to the throne, the loser would be mopped up by serfs and fed into a great brass machine by the throne and turned into a deep red wine which the lord of the chamber drank from.
He was a barbarian king, with massively oversized muscles that forced him to hunch forward, broad shoulders framing a snarling head. one hand grasped the large goblet from which he drank the vitae of the fallen, the other rested on the hilt of a huge axe, it's bronze head depicting gnashing faces that seemed to lick at any blood that sprayed on it from the closest duel, where the challenger faced a red-skinned bloodletter of Khorne. Ripgut Hatefist, the Overlord of Arkonis
The great bronze doors of the hall opened slowly and a young man walked in, a black cloak draping from black armour. His face was pale, but not sickly, and his form was slightly thinner then average. he strode forward, and stopped a respectful distance from the first dual, two spectators were facing off to replace the fallen challenger and victor.
"Who dares encroach upon the great duels? by what purpose to you enter my chamber? Speak, fool, or die." Ripgut's voice echoed through the hall and all was still, the eyes of every combatant and spectator turned to the newcomer. The burly king rose and gripped his axe's handle
Bowing, the stranger spoke "Forgive me, I am Lord Oberis of Stalinvast, and I have come to take that weapon you hold, may I have it?" he rose, a glint in his eyes. A smile played on the barbarian king's lips and he eventually roared in laughter. the hall of subjects followed suite and the sounds of mockery echoed through the brass-lined stone walls.
"Very well, little man, if you can advance through the duels to me, and defeat me, then you may take my axe. Your blood will add flavour to the wine. Courtesans! step aside and allow our guest to enter. Lord Oberis, I see that you have no weapon. That is hardly sporting. Weapon racks line my walls, feel free to indulge yourself."[/color]
"Your generosity flatters me, but I will make do. I will provide you with sport enough before the day is through."
***
The two courtesans looked at each other, nodded, and one stepped back, allowing the newcomer to face off against the other. The two nodded and the courtesan withdrew an ornate barbed sword, ready to fight.
"Begin!"
The courtesan lunged, Oberis turned away from the blow, under the sword and facing away from his opponent, forcing an elbow into the courtesan's abdomen and causing him to cough up blood and double over. Lord Oberis grabbed the opponent's neck with his arm from beneath and stood up, twisting it around and breaking his neck with a sickening snap. its head cracked as it hit the floor and the body was dragged away to be fed into the machine at the end of the hall. Oberis turned to the throne and smiled. before him the other duels were continuing, a massacre of warriors to sate the thirst of their lord. When they had finished they all moved up to their next opponent.
***
His second opponent was a warrior clad in archaic plate armour, with a cloak and headdress from some bizzare native creature resembling a jaguar. He wielded a mace and had a daemon-faced shield on the other arm. bloodshot eyes stared at him from under the spiked helmet.
"Begin!"
The warrior charged forward, pinning Oberis to the ground with the curved top of his shield holding his neck to the floor. The daemon face smiled, sensing death nearby. the warrior raised his hammer high just as Oberis spoke:
"Dhao Anksdayyaochda, Mir Ksy I'Dharek Aqshy'phak lakash."
The warrior was still with shock as the head on the shield distended outwards and snarled, a massive snout expanding from the elasticated red leather of the shield, a canine foreleg growing forth and placing a daemonic paw by his head, then another, stepping out from its confines. the brass collar it wore marked it out as a flesh hound of Khorne. it paced and turned to face its former master before lunging towards him, grabbing the warrior's body in its jaws before bounding with it towards a tear that had opened to the side of the hall. once it had gone through the tear sealed and all trace of the creature bar its bloody trail were gone. The wide-eyed crowd stared at the contender and Hatefist rose again, peering over the intervening combats to the newcomer.
"So, you know some of the Dark Tongue, You are certainly full of surprises, little lord. Three matches to go, this should get interesting."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Impressive display, but did you ever stop to consider why I am known as the Eternal? - Charax to Mentirius at Secret's Hold
Visit the Conclave at www.geocities.com/Inquisitor_conclave/Index.html
Every time you twist the background Charax twists the head off a poor defenceless Imperial Fist. Powergaming Kills.