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An Ominous Meeting

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Feb 23, 2008
Impatiently drumming his fingers on the table, slowly, Magneqrox awaited the arrival of his newfound allies... or so he had hoped. His brow constricted and the drumming shifted into a rage-fuelled slam, causing the large table to give off a whiny noise. The thought of losing his prized sword to some unfruitful sparring match with a mad Strigoi weighed surprisingly heavily on his mind, and he went to great detail in analyzing the cause of events.

His attempts to manipulate the creature had failed. Perhaps psychology was not his weak side... if not for... Magneqrox's brow loosened and he grinned, convinced of his new weapon. The Strigoi's own spawn and that whelp, Merovich, would be his two tools. Should he show false sympathy towards the Strigoi then perhaps he could win him over to his side with an act of good-will, such as returning his spawn to him. He knew not of the offspring's location, but if it was dead, he reasoned that he could instead turn the Strigoi's own hate and lust for revenge against Merovich to his own advantage. All he needed to do was convince the Strigoi of his benevolence and guide him to Merovich.

Satisfied with his scheming, Magneqrox leaned back on his chair, causing the old contraption to break and bring him crashing down to the floor. Finelle, his beloved, looked pityingly at him whilst gorging on various meats, and when he remained like a stone on the floor she walked over to him from her throne-like chair. Sitting down on her knees beside him she kissed him at his cheek and smiled joyously, placing her arm on his shoulder. They rose to their feet and kissed, Magneqrox's heavy mind eased by his wife. Sighing, he went to replace the broken chair, commanding some zombies to clean up the mess.

Just as he had arrived, his human sentries alerted him of an incoming band of different individuals. Magneqrox smiled, elated to hear the sentries confirm the presence of everyone he had sent for. Soon they would discuss how to best manage the recent turn of events, the Council being no collection looked upon favorably by any of them. Seating himself in the new, grim-looking chair, he awaited their arrival.

OOC: You're free to play any of the figures I shall announce soon, if you'd like to. Just assume that figure's role immediately, you don't have to notice me.
Feb 23, 2008
The band of hopefuls had entered the stronghold now, Magneqrox having detailed how to get past the complex network of caves, traps, ambushes and worse. The building was partly constructed underground, and that part of the stronghold served amongst other things as the meeting room This was Magneqrox's last resort, and he had poured all of his effort into making it a most unwelcoming place for invaders, hundreds of years ago.

The door opened and in stepped four ambitious-looking characters intent on revenge. They had all been directly or indirectly wronged by someone in the council at some point in their history.

''Take your seats.'' exclaimed Magneqrox calmly, sheathing his hands together, pleased with the assembly so far.

The gloomy room was lit by a few intensely burning torches positioned next to the entrances and exits. Spectres observed and stared, inseparable from the walls, ready to be unleashed at the command of Magneqrox should the situation call for it. Magneqrox wasn't about to let anything to chance; as word spreads of his location, Magneqrox's old enemies may turn up as well...

One of the persons was an old Bretonnian knight. Disillusioned with his own realm, he had long since resettled in the Empire and founded a minor knighthood. He constantly wore his oddly designed helm which reminded of a bird's beak, the front sticking out like a spike, ready to impale anyone foolish enough to get too close. An odd asset for a knight indeed. His armour was not particularily noteworthy. Some small banners of his own knighthood hanged here and there from the somewhat shoddily made cuirass, and he only wore a pair of unnoteworthy legguards otherwise. Magneqrox doubted this one's abilities, but he would nonetheless let him prove himself. Perhaps he could be the link to Bretonnia that Magneqrox had always desired, in order to have a finger in the game...

The second was a tomb prince. He carried with him a pair of twin blades, crooked at the end like that of a scythe, although with less of a curve. They glowed faintly with a dull, white light which became stronger as words such as 'death', 'blood' and such were mentioned. A crown was seated upon his head, a gigantic crown in fact, with an equally large turban inside. At the top of the turban was an evil-looking snake, looking as if it was petrified just as it was about to make a leap for its prey. He was draped in old, worn clothing etched with runes and crude, protective bindings. Magneqrox was instantly filled with respect for the nehekharan.

The third was an exalted champion of, he assumed due to the big kettle of pus, slime, filth and maggots that he kept around his neck and occasionally refreshed himself with, Nurgle. He had sheathed some very strange, living, weapon-like thing on his back. It looked like a huge, bloated worm and sometimes spewed more into the kettle. It had odd growths on it, some kind of hybrid between plant and animal, and was covered in slime. His armour was not any less repulsing and seemed like a thick layer of infected flesh, although it was pure muscle, not fat, as did his shield which grew like a protrusion from his left arm. In all of his years, Magneqrox had never seen something more horrifyingly repulsing than this champion of Nurgle. This one's qualities were to be put to good use.

The fourth and final one was rather surprisingly, a Dwarf. Even more surprisingly, it was not even a chaos Dwarf. And it was a female Dwarf. Magneqrox could barely believe his own eyes - never before had he seen a female Dwarf. She looked nothing like a wimpy maid though, and she reminded of one of the few truly grizzled Ironbreakers. Her weapon was an axe the size of which made it look more appropriate in the hands of an Ogre than a Dwarf, but the dried blood which was everywhere on the weapon's double-edges said much about how quickly she would be able to prove otherwise. Her armour was that of a standard Gromril set and there was not even a single rune on it. The weapon, however, had three of them. Magneqrox had at one point studied the runes and knew that the combination would let the Dwarf swing her weapon very quickly and attack with much greater fury.

The scheming ran for many hours as they all delighted in it. A zombie stumbled haphazardly into the room, interrupting them. Magneqrox barked at it, demanding to know its errand. The zombie had been engineered to be able to speak somewhat clearly, and told him of a foredoding character approaching the stronghold...
Feb 23, 2008
Maurdon cast his bitter glare upon the stronghold once again.
My stronghold...
He saw the shapes of the centuries-old guards and watchers, standing faithfully ready to serve the stronghold's master, just as they were created to do.
My minions...
That Magneqrox had gotten away with what he'd done was appalling. Most of all, stealing another's woman.
My woman...

His mind seethed with thoughts of revenge and hatred. The kind of hatred that was so great, it would consume one's whole existance until the source was undone. Soon he would feel the familiar ground beneath him once again and reclaim what was his. Nothing in the world would stop him.

''Kill... kill.... kill..... Destroy Magneqrox...'' he whispered to himself as he immediately turned the undead that came close enough back to their true master's cause. They opened the gate for him, thus letting him in without having to destroy part of his own creation. He knew exactly where Magneqrox was.

''This room is well-made, Maurdon... I wish I could hold my meetings here as well, it is quite fitting for such purposes'' The flashback ached in his head. If only he had foreseen Magneqrox's subtle seriousness instead of taking it as a compliment, then his life would not have been lost. But now was not the time for thought.

''I'll always be yours at heart Maurdon, no matter what we go through, don't worry...'' And to think that he had stolen her, his Finelle. Death was far too merciful for Magneqrox; no, he would ruin his life just like Magneqrox ruined Maurdon's own, that day when Magneqrox with the help of the Chaos Dwarfs fired him into the inner Chaos Wastes, in order to forever be tortured without a chance of revenge. From his endeavours he had grown; stronger, smarter, tougher from the constant battles of survival the Chaos Gods tested him with. He had once managed to slay a very powerful Daemon Prince and drink its unholy lifeforce, thus becoming half-demon, half-vampire. Eventually he would become so attuned in destroying Chaos's forces that a seldom spoken of, forgotten god had turned its attention to him. The destroy of Chaos, the paradox, the fifth Chaos God.

He could sense the presence of the filth he so detested to the very core of his being. The stronghold's defenses were useless against him, for he had created them with his own hands. It was not long until he had reached the chamber. Magneqrox sat in the far end and a look of incalculable shock immediately swept over him as Maurdon, step by step, went closer. He could not hear anything but Magneqrox, he could not see anything but Magneqrox, he could not feel anything but Magneqrox.

''M... M... Maur..-don... it's... you...'' Maurdon's face remained unseen under the mask he had made all of those hundreds of years ago in the Chaos Wastes, forged by his own blood and augmented with pure, undiluted Chaos magic in its primal form.

Magneqrox was as if paralyzed; movement and rational thought was impossible. Finelle was just about to gorge herself more when Maurdon had entered, and now she merely sat and, eyes wide-open, stared at him. There was no sound except for the slow, methodical steps of Maurdon. Eventually he was in front of Magneqrox who had become a wretch of his former self. He knew he could not win against Maurdon, he sensed it. He was powerless, for this was the day of sweet revenge.

Maurdon lifted up Magneqrox by the throat, whos vision had become hazy. ''As you destroyed me, so shall I destroy you. As you took what is mine, so shall I retake what is mine. I will not end your life but make it consist of suffering!'' The last word was uttered like thunder, an exception to Maurdon's otherwise fluid, gentle speech. With an insane, twisted look in his eyes which reflected his emotional state, Maurdon penetrated through Magneqrox's ribcage with his right arm, grappling the heart. A moment later Magneqrox was undone. Now he was a zombie under the command of Maurdon. This was the best revenge and Maurdon's mind was now free of the hatred, free of the lust for revenge.

The situation proved too much for his mind. He collapsed.
''My beloved, oh... I never thought you'd return... wake up, wake up!'' sobbed Finelle, his beloved. Finelle said that the guests were all still there, awaiting an explanation.
He couldn't make it out of the bed to embrace her before he passed out once again.

My mission, complete... I have freed myself, avenged myself, regained myself...
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