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the hidden one

Streets Ahead
Jan 20, 2012
495
Igor saw with alarm as the winds of magic were drawn into the staff, and the tiny battle had become a whirling storm of death and magic. The council could not hold out forever without the von carsteins troops helping. He slit another couple throats while thinking about how much of an idiot this simon was. He seemed to just want the council to prove themselves. As if everyone in it had not been invited specifically because they had proven themselves. Another couple dead stormervin. He continued to kill his way toward more assassins, pondering the idiocy of the von carsteins.
 

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
Apr 23, 2008
9,239
Behind the Throne
Karl stood in his private chambers with Ademus and a few lesser servants, Ademus had provided his sire with a large basin of water upon which he cast his divining spells, on the softly rippling surface the Regent watched the council fight with something approaching disdain.

But slowly it came together, he watched Kraskor and Shah fight alone, he saw Alastor wandering around the battlefield, going through weapons swiftly, the strange assassin also fought without communicating with the others and the Necrarch had seemingly vanished after defeating the wizard.
Oddly the human knight was trying to save the invaders...the humans who had kidnapped, threatened and likely tortured council members. Perhaps he was naive to the nature of conflict. Also strangely it was the mortal around which the largest group of vampires formed.
Karl was pleased however to see Dieter had approched the Necromancer Morturion, together they combated the humans with skill.

In general it was boring...until the Skaven arrived, just as Ademus had predicted.
Karl smiled faintly as he watched the battle become even more frantic but despite this there was still so little cooperation on the battlefield.
Sure Morturion and Dieter combined their opposite abilities to destroy that annoying bell which the Regent admitted was impressive although his stupid captain had almost got himself blown up and likely was only saved by the Necromancer's intervention.

The only other group he could find fighting together was the one around Sir Kavok...not that there was any strategy discussed between them but at least they seemed to be watching out for each other.
Karl watched in shock as one the vampiresses, Elanor he believed, was reduced to ash.

"One dead already?" he pondered aloud looking at Ademus "What do you think of them."

Ademus frowned "They are indeed skilled sire but...they're hardly a council are they?" he said slowly "Perhaps they believe they are entitled to their positions on this council already? But the truth is they have earned nothing...proven nothing."

Karl nodded slightly "Perhaps that is why Rowhaine, the leader of this gathering, decided to say away from the fighting...he may hope for them to realise they must act as one."

Ademus looked at his sire "Is this why the Imperator stays away? Is it why you have not joined? Have not commanded the Drakenhof Guard to assist?"

Karl said nothing but just frowned as he watched the waters begin rippling madly before their container shattered.

Karl turned and swiftly strode out of his room and within moments stood atop of the keep looking out at the raging magic over the battlefield.
He heard running feet behind him as his son and attendants attempted to catch up with him.

"Now it grows interesting."
 

Bounce

Varghulf
May 3, 2012
746
Elanor floated in darkness. She could not feel her body for it was gone. Fortunately this was not the first time such a thing had occurred yet it was still highly disturbing and frightening. She felt her will trying to drift apart but held it together with an iron will. She refused to let herself burn out. She remembered the hordes of furred skaven and their foul contractions and felt her anger rise. She thought of the young brettonian knight and the other vampires, vampiresses even that necromancer. She might not have known them long and might not even like many of them but she could hardly let them all die. No she thoughtwith rising vigour.

The fire within her burned hotter and hotter as she fueled the flames with her hatred of the skaven, her desire to stand by her "friends" and her certainty that she would not be the first to fall.

The ashes on the ground began to glow, magical flames from every colour in the spectrum rose up in a dramatic pillar and from within this white hot furnace bones began to form and then muscles and organs and skin. Amidst this was a horrific screaming of pain and fury and delight and then Elanor stood again laughing maniacally her extremely long blonde hair the only thing covering her naked body. Bringing herself back to life was something but she couldn't do much about the remains of her dress. She immediately sources a black cloak from a dead soldier, picked up her sword which was unleashed from the flames being both elven, magical and flaming. She then went to join the rest of the council even as the lightning cracked in the sky a ghostly green colour. This was no mere abduction party it was a full fledged invasion force!
 

Dark_Wolfen

Grave Guard
Jun 5, 2011
281
Rotterdam
Nimrais got up and inspected some of the weaponry she collected. The knives, stars and bombs where crude and simple, but they should work well enough. She was about to turn around when there suddenly was a huge explosion, knocking Nimrais off her feet into the ground next to some dead Skaven. Spitting some of the dirt out of her mouth and rubbing off filth of het clothes she turned around. These filthy ratmen didn't know when to quit. Calmly grabbing some of the weaponry she collected and looking at the platform. Calculating, estimating, she raised up one of the knives and threw it at the platform...

Miss! Nimrais squinted her eyes a bit in annoyance. She grabbed another knife and threw it with great speed at the platform again. Hit! Although not the intended target. One of the nearby rats got penetrated by the knife as it went right through him. Sensing this wasn't really going to work all that well Nimrais started thinking. She'd rather not have the ratman make another one of those explosions.. but what to do?

She had an idea of some kind tricks, but since the magic has been mostly sucked out of the air with that explosion, she had trouble gathering enough of it to make it work.
 

The Dread King

Moderator
Staff member
True Blood
Jan 28, 2012
1,897
Morturion looked at the small group of vampires, and Kavok, and said, "We nee d to deal with those rats by the platform, and throwing knives will not be enough. To stop that beast-whatever it is-we need to work as a team."

Morturion spied the blackened corpse of an undead demigryph, and laughed madly. Obviously, the explosion of the bell had not completely destroyed it. With a potent spell, Morturion raised it again, and it galloped towards him. He slashed a skaven in half with an almost lazy blow, and mounted the zombified animal.

"As I was saying, we need to work as a team. For we are the council, and how does a council work, if not as a team? Organisation has caused the victory of many a battle; are we less organised than rats? We should try to regroup. If we rally enough vampires around us, we just might be able to defeat these blasted rats."

Morturion was trying to inspire the vampires, and it was working. Renhuurst's already-diminished force formed up behind him, ready for a charge. A wind blew, and the assembled group looked formidable in the moonlight. Morturion pointed his scythe at the platform, and shouted, "Now we charge as one! Now is the time to end this skaven blight! FOR THE COUNCIL!!!" With vigour, he turned and charged at the rats; he knew the other lords of the night would join him soon enough.
 

Malochai

Moderator
Staff member
True Blood
Aug 4, 2010
3,072
England
Markus looked around him and saw his men were becoming overwhelmed in the rippling mire of the Skaven horde, the sheer number wearing down even their great strength and stamina. He sliced his Claws through more rats and then made his way back to them, killing with every step, saturating the ground with black blood. It was with regret he gave the order to withdraw. "Men of the Under Guard, pull back! Let the mindless undead rabble of the necromancer beat themselves bloody!"

The men withdrew in good order, killing with sure swings and stabs. Their armour glistened black, and their blades shone bully under layers of gore and matted fur. Lukas was the last of them to disengage, in line with his master.

"You shall take the men and withdraw to Drakenhof. Field dressings and pain relief if necessary. Try and convince the Lord Regent or Lord Imperator to send reinforcements. this is their land the Skaven and humans invade. It should be a matter of personal pride - either that or they appear as weak."

"But ... My Lord! Our place is with you!"

"Your place is where I tell you to be, Lukas! And you will do as I order, or by all the gods of elf, dwarf and human I will see you regret it!" Without another word, the vampire's human subordinate turned on his heel and ordered the other men to leave. They either nodded or looked startled; they were not afraid to die for their lord and had never left a fight before it's finish before. Nodding, Shah turned back to the Skaven, just in time to block a wild slash from a rusty blade. His weapon sheared the offending item in twain, and the remnants fell to the floor. With a growl, Markus killed the skaven, it's dying squeals sounding loudly in his ears. With ease, he forced his way across the battlefield until he found a human, still alive, blood rushing through his veins. As Morturion voiced his war cry - 'For the Council? What a presumptuous, arrogant little ... He would kill us as soon as breathe ... And the forces he brought to what was effectively a diplomatic meeting!' - Markus grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the floor, raising his mask slightly so that he could feed, whilst keeping the mans body in the way so that no-one could see his face. The taste of blood, although tainted by the steel that had severely wounded him and the mud his neck had lain in, was delicious, despite not being of the richer bloodlines of the Empire or Bretonnia. He found himself wishing for an elven bloodline to drink from, but pushed the thought away.

Looking around, he saw the disparate forces of the Council and growled. 'This is not how it's meant to be ...' he told himself, and located Kraskor, slaying his enemies mercilessly. With a single-mindedness determination, the vampire forged a path to the elder Blood Dragon.

"Cousin of mine, blood of my blood! This is a test, sent by forces greater than our ken. We must band together, or be forever tainted by this failure. We need you, a greater tactician we surely have not here! Will you lead me and, I would hope, the others who hope to be called the Second Council of the Vampiric Bloodlines?"
 

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
Apr 23, 2008
9,239
Behind the Throne
Dieter eyed the reincarnated vampiress with amazement as the witch-vampire came back to life before turning his attention on Morturion and listened to the Necromancer give his speech.
It was abit over the top...but he got his point across...battle was all about cooperation.

Dieter watched the Necromancer charge and turned to look at the other vampires and human knight.
"For the council indeed." he growled, his tone laced with amusement.

Holding his blade in a high stance the Blood Dragon charged forward and soon crashed into the Skaven ranks.

The Blood Dragon cut through the Skaven forces with a skill and strength beyond the ability of mortals but it was clear that he could not hope to stand without the rest of the council.
The Captain was unconcerned however as he had faith that the council would act correctly.


-------------------------------------------

Nekhlior threw back his head and laughed as the human and vampire charged off.

"To battle it is!" he cried madly before teleporting away.

A trail of shadow flew over the Skaven ranks, every so often the Necrarch rematerialised, still cackling, to blast nearby Rat-Men with magic before vanishing once more.
 

The Dread King

Moderator
Staff member
True Blood
Jan 28, 2012
1,897
Morturion slashed left and right with his scythe, reassured by the sight of Dieter and Nekhlior. "We need to head for the platform!" he cried. "As long as that monster remains on it, the skaven have magical dominance!" He vaulted the demigryph over a ratman, landed on another, crushing it instantly, and blasted a stormvermin lurking in front of him with a dark beam. Then he saw what was ahead of them: a deadly row of doomwheels coming straight at the council forces. Morturion laughed insanely, and shouted, "Don't get these ones head on! Go behind, and take them from the rear!" Things were getting dangerous indeed.
 

Zanos

Vampire Count
True Blood
Jul 23, 2009
1,387
The world slowed for Alexander. He danced around the knight, dodging his attacks, the return blows findinc nicks in his armor. The knight was skilled, no doubt, but he could hardly stand against the power of a vampire. As Alexander ducked beneath a high swing, he responded with an uppercut, knocking the knight off his feet. Grinning and laughing, Alexander waited for his enemy to rise back up. As he waited, there was a shake as elsewhere, Skaven attacked.

Unbalanced, Alexander fell to the ground, his sword sent away from him. The Knight used this advantage, charging at him with a downward swing while shouting a praise to his so called Lady. Alexander managed to grab the sword between his hands, his own vampiric strength driving the knight back. Pushing further and further, Alexander tore the blade from the knight's hands before lifting him up and tearing his helmet off. "I want to see the light in your eyes die out as I tear your soul out, knight. I almost feel bad for you." After that, Alexander summoned the winds of magic and did just what he said he would do. Letting the knight droop down, he smirked as his once enemy stood again now as another wight under his command. Retrieving his weapon, he strode to battle once again, this time with the accursed ratmen.
 

Mello

Hasn't left TVC for the rest of the forum
True Blood
Oct 26, 2010
3,460
Peterborough
Alastor felt a sense of.. warmth come over him, and he opened his eyes. Warp lightning should be covering him, but a shimmering layer of light was taking the damage. Alastor was almost disappointed he hadn't met his end. Almost. Alastor grunted as he kicked the little thing right in the chest, sending it spiralling away, before crying out in pain and fading into unconsciousness, explosions seemed mute, and dull voices spoke to him. It must have been some time before he clawed his way back to conciousness but he made the journey all the same. Along with him waking up he felt magic change in some way, he was suddenly invigorated and refreshed, his mind cleared. He almost felt like a magnet to all the magic around him

These skaven were really fascinating creatures. As a matter of interest, Alastor picked up one of their weapons, this one seemed to be a double bladed katana, or at least that's the closest he could come in human terms. He balanced in his hand. It felt much heavier than the human weapons, so hopefully sturdier. The nearby clan rats had gathered around him now and produced what he guessed must be their signature foul hissing noise. Spinning the weapon round uncomfortably Alastor frowned a little, he'd never really been trained in anything other than swords and daggers, this double ended thing certainly seemed odd.. Did he spin it around in his hand or two?

He smiled wrily, he had actually had some rudimentary pole spinning lessons back with a "friend" in the circus. Why not give that a go. The klaive-thing was blunt, but it span easily, turning into a rough blur as Alastor ran it through a group of underling creatures, the thing couldn't keep its momentum up, so Alastor turned it into a two handed club and decapitated yet another rat thing. He raised an eyebrow, he thought humans were easy to kill. He guessed they could swarm you easily, but whenever that happened he simply switched location, cutting into a new group of startled pathetic creatures. The weapon he was carrying, yet again, broke into tiny pieces as Alastor applied his lethal force with uncaring laziness, it was dull as well.

Alastor was fed up. As he let his guard down, the seething tide of rats raced towards him, only to be set fire be electricity as Alastor dissipated.

Alastor sat down on a nearby hill, cross legged. He watched sorrowfully at the battle unfolding underneath him, the distant rumble of unnatural thunder echoing through the hills and through his mind. From this vantage point, you really just could see how insignificant each person is.. Yet each being down there had a longer, more intricate story to tell than he did..

That paradox always annoyed him.. Paradox.. AHA!

Nehklior, could I get something from back home to my person please? It's a pack of Tarot cards. They'll be in my cave
 

Dark_Wolfen

Grave Guard
Jun 5, 2011
281
Rotterdam
"Charge? With what?" Nimrais shouted at Morturion, but it was too late as he already strode into battle. "Absolutely a great day to go without any weapons. Sure, it'll be a civilised meeting, no need for fighting," she grunted between her teeth. Looking around for something more useful than some throwing weapons she found a spear, laying on the ground. With the added reach, even she would not be in trouble of the Skaven. Running along the other chargers, she was soon met with Skaven hostiles. As she thrusted her spear forward with great speed she skewered a Skavon on her spear. "Great, this weapon might work after all!" she thought to herself, but even before the first Skaven hit the ground two more leapt at her from behind the first one. Trying to raise her weapon, Nimrais realized it was still stuck in the body of the dead rat. "Ah, so this is why swords are more common..." Not hesitating a second, she tumbled past the leaping Skaven and sliced the back of the neck of one of her assailents, who cried out and twirled, reaching for his neck before he got cut down by one of the other members of the council. Now facing the second Skaven she rushed past his defences and jammed the knife in his throat. "Pretty easy," she thought, now more confident in her abilities overcome Skaven. Nimrais decided to stay behind a little and mostly surprise attack those that Morturion and his mount left behind until they got close enough to the platform.

"Now's the chance," she muttered to no one in particular as she jumped up, using the head of a confused Skaven as a spring board. Using her acrobatic expertise, she tumbled and danced around most of the combatants. Jumping on the back of Morturions mount to get to a higher level and finally jumping on the railing of the platform and swinging herself on top of it. Grabbing one of the bombs the Skaven assassin had on him, she threw it on the ground. The orb shattered into dozens of tiny little pieces as a big cloud of green poison filled the air.
 

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
Apr 23, 2008
9,239
Behind the Throne
Nekhlor rematerialised and tilted his head as a voice spoke over the link.

"Nehklior, could I get something from back home to my person please? It's a pack of Tarot cards. They'll be in my cave" Alastor sent

Nekhlior considered the question before feeling a blade pierce his leg. The Necrarch snarled at the little Skaven in front of him, cursing viciously in ancient Nehekharan before blasting the annoying creature with lightning after which he tore the dagger embedded in his leg out and hurled it randomly into the horde of Skaven.

The Necrarch began chanting in a low voice and then pointed North summoning a bright burning rune on the ground, turning he pointed east summoning a second rune after which a line of black and purple fire connected the two, Nekhlior summoned a southern and western rune as well.
By the time he was done he was enveloped in a diamond of protective magic which was practically indestructable.

Closing his eyes Nekhlior knelt on the ground and reached through the link to the far away Land of the Dead.

"Reshorn." he sent.

After a few moments he resent the message and waited once more.

"Master?" whispered a voice.

Nekhlior sent more magic into the link and repeated his apprentice's name.

"Master?" Reshorn sent.

"Reshorn. Alastor requests you to go to his den and retreive his Tarot Cards."

"Oh how is young Alastor? And Kraskor?" Reshorn asked.

"Sort of busy right now." Nekhlior sent his feelings of annoyance flowing through the mental link along with pictures of the battle.

"Oh..." Reshorn sent "Katie has something to send anyway...we'll have them sent in a few moments."

Nekhlior opened his eyes as he heard a loud hissing sound.
Piles of ash lay around the edge of the magical ward, the Necrarch shook his head slightly as a few more Skaven charged into the shield being instantly disintegrated.
Stupid things.

Nekhlior dismissed the ward and teleported back towards Alastor

When he arrived beside the Strigoi he didn't say anything and simply waited, every so often senting bolts of dark magic at Skaven.

Suddenly the air shimmered infont of him and a shadow, that was a rough approximation of Reshorn, appeared before them.

"Here are the items master." the sending said in a voice that sounded like Reshorn's but from a great distance.

It held out a box and a sealed envelope that Nekhlior took before dissipating.

Nekhlior handed the box to Alastor as he stashed the envelope in his robes.

"I believe we should go assist Morty and the Blood Dragon" he said grinning before vanishing in a swirl of shadow once more.

----------------------------------

Dieter shot left as Morturion called out a warning.

The vampire moved forward swiftly, or as swiftly as one can move when slaughtering 4 to 5 foot bipedal rats, moving his blade in an intricate pattern.

A spear caught him on the cheek and angrily the Blood Dragon grabbed the offending weapon and pulled the Stormvermin towards him and slashed the blade down through the rat's shoudler.

Twirling the spear he jabbed it forward through the chest of the nearest creature, pushing with such force that it also went through the chest of the next three Skaven behind it.

Taking up his blade in both hands again he twirled and slashed in all directions, trying to push the horde back slightly.
It was whilst doing this that Dieter noticed Nimrais preforming her very unorthodox acrobatic fighting style.
That's...well that's impressive. he through to himself suddenly feeling somewhat clumbersome.

Turning his attention forward again he began advancing again, his blade flashing in intricate patterns once more, although some attacks got through it mattered little as there inferior weaponary couldn't even scratch his armour.
 
Aug 30, 2012
123
Scotland
Untroubled at firsty by the Skaven assault, Peter fought with efficient swipes and sword blows. The rat-men ere a mere distraction at first, a chance to stretch his sword-arm. But, as the the winds of magic began to pick up, the foul chaos spawn began to become more agitated.

Peter saw Dieter across the battle field, surrounded by the remains of one of the Skaven's magical constructs. A little further off, another group of vampires were slowly getting surrounded. The Council's forces were horrendously out of position. Mircea would not have been happy if he could see this. Somebody needed to take command.

First thing was to link up with Dieter, and then hack through to the knot of Undead Lords who were quickly being surrounded. Peter strode through the ranks of Skaven like a man wading up stream. His prowess on the battlefield caused the rat-thing leaders to drive their underlings in front of them in a vain attempt to slow the Blood Dragon's progress. A Storm Vermin battle leader stepped out of the ranks to challenge the Vampire Lord. The creature's halberd glowed with some foul warp taint, and dripped with a corrosive venom.

Peter circled the Skaven, sizing up his opponent. The rat-spawn lunged, sweeping its long handled blade low, aiming for the Vampire's legs. Peter dodged to the left, letting the Skaven dive past him. He brought his sword around, catching the creature's tail. It squeeked in pain, and voided its scent glands in fear. It swept its halberd around, but Peter parried easily, and punched the creature's snout with his off-hand. It staggered back, and fell to the ground. Without further ceremony, the Blood Dragon ran the Storm Vermin through, and continued onwards through the tide of battle.

Reaching Dieter in the ruins of the towering bell, he took a chance to take stock of the swirling melee.

"Well met, friend," he said, "That was an impressive feat. But somebody needs to take control of this battlefield before we get surrounded and driven back."
 

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
Apr 23, 2008
9,239
Behind the Throne
Dieter parried a dagger, moving his Zweihander faster than the Skaven moved their small weapons, and back handed one of the Rat-men as Peter reached him.

"They where my orders." he said simply.

Dieter positioned himself so he stood next to the other Blood Dragon, with enough room between the two of them so they could fight freely, and countered a blade and slammed his pommel into the skull of another foe, crushing it.

"I could command them if they where trained soldiers but I can't command this bunch of ego-driven lordlings and ladies, I'm no general Peter." he growled.

Dieter frowned "Morturion's been good so far, he was the reason the bell was taken down, but I don't think the other vampires will listen to a human no matter how experienced or ancient." Dieter glanced at Peter "You have studied strategy...and you're noble born. Perhaps you should take charge? Our line is obviously to disjointed to reach the platform in good order."
 
Aug 30, 2012
123
Scotland
Peter nodded, and swiped his blade across the snout of a Skaven slave. The beast chittered right up until its head left its shoulders.

"I was afraid you might say that brother," he replied with a frown, "We need to protect the powerful spell casters and punch through towards that raised dais. Without them we have no chance of calming this magical storm."

The two warriors pressed on. Dieter reaped a staggering toll with his great weapon, and Peter spun and parried between the blades of the ratmen. A hulking Rat Ogre reared up before them, bellowing in its bestial fury. Peter rolled between its legs, hamstringing the creature. As the mutant fell to its knees, Dieter caved in its skull.

As they reached the rest of the Council, Peter bellowed his orders.

"Lords and Ladies of the Council, we need to work together to defeat this foe. Form up around our mages and push towards the platform. Form up the spear tip around me. Onwards to victory my allies."

Peter strode forward, hoping that the others would follow his lead. As he began the push towards their objective, he turned to Dieter.

"And try to keep up," he added with a grin.
 

the hidden one

Streets Ahead
Jan 20, 2012
495
Igor heard the necromancer's speech, but had already been thinking this. They were being surrounded. While this was no matter to him, it was causing the more traditional fighting vampires to get swamped with inferior rat-men. The rat assassins were now a mere distraction, there were only a couple left after his patrol. He snuck up behind dieter, and was sorely tempted to whisper "boo" in his ear, but resisted the urge. He saw a rat flank Dieter, and stabbed him in the stomach, twisting the blade mercilessly. Dieter turned, and Igor nodded at him and continued to hack his way through the skaven, occasional going back under his cloak and killing a wizard or chieftan, but appearing eventually.
 

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
Apr 23, 2008
9,239
Behind the Throne
Dieter chuckled as they began to take the lives of their enemy once more.
Dieter felt joy wash over him as he once again parried and counter struck with his blade, many untrained mortals believed the sword, especially the larger variant, to be a brute's weapon but such was not the case.
The sword was a pleasant weapon to look upon even when static but it was utterly beautiful when in motion, it was a thing of lethal grace.

The Captain tore his mind from his musings as he heard a gurgling sound behind him.
The Blood Dragon turned and saw the assassin Igor just finishing of a Rat-Assassin.
Dieter returned the nod, having spent a great deal of time with Akarin he had a strong appreciation for the cloak and dagger arts and was glad to see one with Igor's talents with them.

Peter parried a spear blow from a particularly large Stormvermin pushing it up out of the way and Dieter, sliding his right hand up onto the blade of his Zweihander itself, drove the tip of his sword through the Skaven like a spear.

Dieter began using his sword like a spear jabbing at the various rat's faces as Peter slashed left and right covering Dieter's push.

Dieter turned his sword around, still one hand on the blade, and held the greatswords horizontally like a staff so that it was in contact with number skaven at once.
With a roar the Blood Dragon charged forward and shoved the Skaven back, knocking many over as he ran. Peter dispatching the falling rat-men and every so often Igor appeared to assist before vanishing once more.

After a few moments Dieter took the sword properly again and looked back.

"Err...did we push too far Peter?"

-----------------------

Nekhlior noticed that Peter had seemed to of taken charge, he swiftly teleported to Morturion's position .

"Morty! The Blood Dragon has given some good orders which might be wise to follow...hopefully we can have a consolidation of our council...that's a thing right? Consolidating forces?" he asked his voice trailing off.

Shaking his head the vampire grinned again "Well he advices that we magi take refuge behind the warriors and conserve our powers for countering this storm once we get to the platform."

Nekhlior nodded.
"Just wanted to make sure you knew." he chuckled before vanishing once more.

Nekhlior teleported directly behind the two Blood Dragons and placed a hand on their shoulders sending dark magic straight into their veins then with another hissed incantation he ignited their blades in dark fire.

"I'm just going to stay back here." he rasped sticking close to the warriors.
 

Mello

Hasn't left TVC for the rest of the forum
True Blood
Oct 26, 2010
3,460
Peterborough
Alastor turned slowly, the simple pack of cards sat there on the floor, innocent looking. He picked them up and closed his eyes, inhaling their scent. Old, musky smoke flooded his memory.

-----------------------

Master Sheyna sat imperiously on his cushion, his pipe producing copies amounts of intoxicating yet beautiful smoke rings, and looked down his nose at young Alastor, swallowing back the small amount of vomit in his mouth at the sight of the lad's face, which he was desperately trying to hide surruptitiously. The room they sat in was exquisitely, if a little unceremoniously decorated with paraphernalia from all sorts of places. A desert knife from here, a hunting horn from there, snuff boxes, skins, antlers, teeth, little bottles with insects, worms and worse in them. The place was like a cultural bomb with bright multicoloured cushions everywhere.

Master Sheyna's face twitched a little, prompting young Alastor to pipe up. He spoke shyly and stared at the ground, fearing eye contact.

"Please, mister, I heard you, er told of the future."

Alastor was dressed scruffily with a sad little mop of hair that covered over his eyes. Lines of stress were already beginning to show on his forehead, and dirty tear streaks seemed to permanently mark his smooth, pale cheeks.

There was a brief pause as Master Sheyna inhaled deeply into his pipe, and breathed out a slow, majestic smoke ring, causing Alastor to cough violently, his meek, sorrowful voice echoing softly. Master Sheyna sighed, almost godlike, with infinite slowness.

"Very well then, child." He raised himself awkwardly and shuffled to a cabinet on the wall, with around 12 packs of fortune reading cards in neat stacks inside it. After a cursory glance over Alastor's slumped, little form, he grunted and unlocked the cupboard, choosing a dusty black and purple set, right at the back. He returned to his seat.

"There's a lot of conflict in you, child. A lot of darkness too. This set of cards will probably be the only set that accurately represent the true depths of despair you'll probably go to, what with a face like that."

Alastor choked back a sob. Ignoring him, Master Sheyna continued.

"The creator of these was so horrified with his creation he killed his children and then himself with them, he made them razor sharp as a vain form of self defence, he was a very paranoid man to say the least. He killed them all, and arranged them around the table, pretended to play bridge with them, and then slit his throat when he lost a round. His wife killed herself when she returned home.." his voice trailed off. He shook his head sadly and returned to the present.

His hands blurred as the shuffled with expert speed, the air hummed as the razor sharp edges cut the air, somehow the Master didn't cut himself though. With a snap the cards were suddenly fanned in front of Alastor, who jumped a little, his fringe bobbing. Alastor closed his eyes, as customary, whispered a prayer to his deceased mother, and picked a card. He opened his eyes and turned over the card. A grim reaper stared at him in the eyes, stale blood covered this card. The card makers! Alastor yelped and jumped back, dropping the card.

Master Sheyna's eyes turned sad, infinitely sad, if it weren't for the apparent disgust towards that face..

"I'm so, so sorry my child. But.." he tried to sound like he cared when he sighed, it didn't work, "You'll be dead in the next ten years."

Not for the first time this day, little Alastor's eyes brimmed with tears, and he ran out of Master Sheyna's tent, desperately trying to hold the sorrow inside.

Later that night Alastor stole the cards. He looked down at the bloodstained back of what must be the death card, although he could not bear to turn it over. He close his eyes and, with a trembling hand raised his wrist. After a wet slicking sound he sobbed in happiness. This hurt made the voices go away and allll the other pain. The pool of blood spread on the floor steadily as tiny Alastor fainted. The cards seemed to gently pulse a deep purple as Alastor lay on the ground, breathing softly.

Little did Alastor realise what death actually meant...

---------------------

Alastor blinked, and cleared his head. Ah, good times, he smiled to himself, if only the pain was so easy to get rid of now, now that it was all in his head. He smiled wistfully, thumbing his now favourite card, the grim reaper. After studying a little with Nehklior after his vampirification, Alastor had discovered that the cards worked with a simple bound levitation spell. The idea was just so simple and effective. Who would think that cards would be lethal, yet they're sharper than many blades, they were edged in Damascus steel, of all materials!

Alastor set the cards down in front of him, in standard order. And closed his eyes. The cards' bound spell had become very powerful after all the blood that they had fed on from Alastor's youth, they were raring to taste more.

Alastor's eyes snapped open, the cards shuffled a little, then slowly lifted into the air, splitting into different paths, and started orbiting him, weaving in between his fingers and his limbs and fingers like a couple of hypnotic snakes. Alastor held up his hand, and in an instant, the cards flew in a flurry into a pack again.

Alastor smiled a very, very sinister smile.
 

Count Darvaleth

I <3 marmite
True Blood
Apr 26, 2010
3,407
Kraskor had been almost oblivious to his surroundings, cutting down hordes of ratmen. He had been next to the chasm, after all, and there had been no let-up from the assault. Skaven poured out like an ocean, warmachines and all manner of ghastly contraption setting up around some kind of platform. Upon it stood a grossly malformed beast, larger and more powerful than the other Skaven, and it was creating a magical storm.

Kraskor could feel magic tugging at him, as the Winds blew stronger. Thus empowered, Kraskor let red lightning thunder out from his outstretched gauntlet, clearing a path away from the pit and towards where Council was massing. He was intercepted by Shah, however, on the way.

"Brother of my blood," rumbled Kraskor, still dispatching enemies with his khopesh as he spoke, "As much as it pleases me that you would put your faith in me, I was not born to lead. I was born to kill, as my sire did; the Banespikes do not order the charge, but slam headlong into their foes, like a thunderbolt. It was not Abhorash, the commander at the Great Battle, who killed Nagash, but Vekarin." Kraskor looked up at the Vermin Lord, and his eyes narrowed, "I know what my role is here."

Kraskor formed up with Dieter and Peter as ordered, as the group pushed further towards the platform. The ground rumbled again, however, tremors being felt by all the vampires as they approached the platform and cluster of warmachines.

Another great hole appeared, between the vampires and their target, a chasm into the Under-Empire. But only one thing came out of this hole.

But it would be enough.

With a terrible cry, a great mass of flesh and muscle erupted from the pit. Limbs sewn together, heads mewling and crying, a multitude of arms grasping and clawing. The beast reared its ugly head to the sky, towering over all present, screaming to the magical storm overhead.

"Hell Pit Abomination!" roared Kraskor, just as the creature slammed into the Council's lines.
 

The Dread King

Moderator
Staff member
True Blood
Jan 28, 2012
1,897
Morturion saw Peter take command of the Council forces, and he inwardly felt annoyance. However, he kept calm, until Nekhlior told him to conserve his powers. His irritation flared, "Conserve my powers? I'll have you know that I-" He was abruptly cut off by Nekhlior disappearing. He had to ruin my day, Morturion thought.

Seeing Dieter smash some of the doomwheels, Morturion had an idea. He charged at the vehicles, before swerving to the left at the last second. They turned too, but, being large, they were much slower. Blasts of warp lightning followed him, one of them causing a glancing hit and knocking him to the ground. He shouted in pain as his shoulder caught on fire. The group of doomwheels closed in on him; the drivers were really rather stupid, they did not see what he was planning. Just as they were about to hit Morturion, he threw himself into the air. The doomwheels tried to turn, but, after receiving a silent command from its master, the demigryph launched itself at them, destroying two and damaging a third in the ensuing blast. Morturion dropped to the ground, feeling weary and clutching his shoulder. He scattered some necromantic spikes on the ground as the damaged doomwheel approached him, and promptly rolled on them and blew up a few metres away from the necromancer. With a great effort, Morturion forced the fourth doomwheel round and round, causing it to spin before its engines overheated and it exploded. The last doomwheel was extremely close to Morturion at this point, and he did not have much magical power left in him. The skaven rode past him, trying to trick the necromancer before veering sideways into him. Morturion had expected this to happen; a thousand years' experience was handy at times, and so leapt into the driver's compartment of the doomwheel. A desperate combat occurred between the driver and Morturion; they were too close to use weapons. Fists flying, the pair shouted as each other as the doomwheel went veering over the battlefield. As the duo locked together in a deadly embrace, Morturion lied in an urgent whisper, "We're heading for a wall!" The panicked driver fell for his trick and turned around for a millisecond. In this time, Morturion slammed his hand into the back of the skaeven's neck, the rat's body abruptly crumpling before the necromancer threw himself out of the nasty wheel of death.

Morturion ran forwards, barging skaven out of the way, and he had nearly reached the council forces when a huge hole appeared in the ground, and a hell pit abomination came rushing out. He repeatedly rolled backwards, desperate not to get crushed. As the blood dragons were attacked by the monster, Morturion shouted at his soldiers, "Surround it from all sides!" He watched as his own creations, not just skeletons and zombies, charge at the monster. The vile things he'd made in his laboratory were unleashed now; the beasts known as souleaters. They looked like twisted blue bloodletters, but screamed like nothing human, and carried blades that shifted as if they were alive. Hungry to eat skaven souls, they rushed at the abomination, and started hacking at it with swords; biting it and clawing it too.

Morturion leaned on his scythe, exhausted, and decided that saving some of his magical energy might be a good idea after all, and used his cloak to teleport over to Nekhlior, casting a spell of protection around himself. We should be able to defeat this abomination soon enough, he thought. Why did they send it out on its own? The answer was on top of the hill.

Tens of warp lightning cannons and other horrible ranged weapons were pointed at the vampires, ready to fire. His eyes widening in shock, Morturion had just enough time to shout, "Look out! On the hill!" before the first shot was fired. A beam of electricity came hurtling at Morturion, and he used shadow magic to swap places with Renhurst, who became an undead light on the battlefield, screaming in the moment of his death by warp lightning. Morturion felt slightly relieved for an instant, but heard a strange noise in the sky. He looked up - and he most certainly did not like what he saw.

The opening shot had only been made due to lack of control. The co-ordinated thing flying towards the council was something else entirely; something extremely dangerous, something organised. It was unique and deeply frightening; it could only be called on thing: the Volley of Death.
 

Sweeney Todd

Master Vampire
True Blood
Mar 9, 2008
4,034
Singapore
Kenshiro was content to let others stand at the forefront of the fighting and take all the glory as the fighting began. The position he found himself in, coupled with one of his many scruples conspired to trap him in a dilemma. He sighed in powerless frustration as several human soldiers charged at him. In the blink of an eye they were sent sprawling to the floor with non-lethal cranial trauma, Kenshiro barely slowing a step as he walked past the foes he had almost casually swatted aside. Despite the difficulty of not striking a lethal blow to the mortals, given Kenshiro's vampiric strength, it was second nature to him.

Only when the Skaven emerged en masse from a rent in the very earth did Kenshiro's attitude change. This time he did not hesitate to throw himself into the thick of the fray. The musk of fear began to pervade the air as Kenshiro unleashed his full might without inhibition upon the foul Ratmen. Blows sent his way connected with naught but thin air, and the Skaven literally began to burst in explosions of blood as filth and Kenshiro ruthlessly struck at their pressure points. A veritable rain of gore and gristle seemed to erupt in Kenshiro's wake as he pressed forward.

He had forced his way to the chasm itself to stand together with the rest of the Council's warriors when what could only be described as an abomination burst out of that deep, dark hole. The foul monstrosity mewled, growled and groaned in a multitude of voices at the Council as it lashed out with its many assorted flailing limbs. It was quicker than its bulk would imply, but its speed was still no match for the honed reflexes of a warrior-monk like Kenshiro. A cavalcade of talons, fists, claws and other lethal appendages sailed past Kenshiro and he replied in kind, striking precisely with full force at the seams where the Skaven warplock-breeders had grafted on the additional limbs onto the long abused creature. Stitches ruptured and flesh burst as Kenshiro began to disarm(in a very literal sense) the abomination, with a corresponding shower of severed limbs.

A small host of lesser undead belonging to the Council joined the fight against the twisted beast. They proved to be an effective distraction as Kenshiro began to brutally and efficiently pummel the weak points in the monstrosity's body itself.

"Merry Fistmas!" Kenshiro cried, to the tune of the monster's cries of pain and agony as it began to fall to pieces.
 

Bounce

Varghulf
May 3, 2012
746
Elanor made her way to stand by the other vampires and necromancers. Her burning sword cutting through innumerable rats. She had morturions speech but did not feel particularly inspired. "What sort of war cry is for the council" She thought to herself but it seemed to be working. The council members were almost fighting something resembling a formation. Seeing the he'll pit abomination rise from the he'll earth Elanor stepped back in disgusting horror. As a fire mage it was clearly her job to remove the things regeneration and so she flung fireball after fireball at it until it screamed in pain.
"Now it's up to you guys." She roared.
 

the hidden one

Streets Ahead
Jan 20, 2012
495
Igor too saw the cannons, and was already acting. Hurling himself out of the way of the first bolt, he stopped stabbing the abomination, and started quickly up the hill. Before the first one could fire again, it's crew had had their throats slit, and the cannon was turned around, quickly destroying three more cannons and their crew before the other skaven knew what had happened. After having his cannon blown to bits by the other six cannons, he lept onto another cannon, hacking at the skaven while hanging on the barrel with one hand. The crew were soon dead, but the other cannon crew's were wiser now, aiming at him instead of the cannons. Throwing himself to the ground, he narrowly dodged the first one, and proceeded to leap forward, and hide underneath a cannon, while also killing the crew. After that, it was the same for the rest of the war machines, and as he calmly killed the last crew member, he decided that the cannons could be used for something. He took a look at the hole where still more skaven were emerging, and aimed, firing down indiscriminately at the hole, scaring around a couple hundred skaven, and killing a couple, he looked on, to realize that there were many more cannons, all wheeling their way toward him.
 

The Archivist

Archivist of the word The
True Blood
Unseen to most, a periscope was poking out of the ground of the hill to the west of the slaughter. With the castle and a forest to the south, and a ridge covering the other three sides of the area, the periscope could see the carnage unfolding below.
Watching the easternmost-block of artillery fall, Warp-master Skner-Skner of Clan Sklunk was rather… bemused.
“Those idiot-idiot fools! That will teach that fool Gnaw-paw to fart in my general direction!”
He paused, and let off some gas himself.
“And clan Litnin-klaw has fallen too! Marvelous, marvellous.”
“Anyway, now it is time for me-me to lead Clan Sklunk to victory! The great under-pass will be mine-mine!”


Giving a signal to one of his lackeys, the orders were passed round the remaining half of an army. With the skaven slaves outside being cut-down by the dozen, and the assassins being taken out one by one, only two forces remained in the underpass that was under construction through the area: Clan Sklunk and Clan Deathclaw.
“Release the Krack-N!” came the cry, and the slope to the north collapsed, revealing a tunnel entrance wide enough for three columns of troops to exit at once. Several squads of Stormvermin, each one carrying a bunch of large crates between them, exited and tore their way through the remaining panicked skaven slaves, slaughtering undead and slaves alike.
Behind them came a rank of ratling guns, skittering manically as they moved up the east slope towards the remnants of the artillery. Their gunfire was focused towards both the undead and skaven mages on the battlefield, volleys of warpdust pellets crashing down onto the cabal and onto the vampires. Soon the pedestal on which the skaven warlocks had been on was deserted, the warlocks spreading left, right and centre to find cover from the “friendly”-fire.
Now came the remaining skaven slaves, who were driven around the western flank by warpfire throwers towards the rear of the vampiric force. Their cries were drowned out by the insanely loud ‘Phwoomp’ of each warpfire blast.
Finally came the remaining host, as well as even more artillery. Surrounded by Deathclaw bodyguards, the engineers began to target the remaining troops of the undead, warp lightning arcing from the ‘Tower of Babbage’ and its contemporaries.
As he saw the pincer movement begin to succeed, Warp-master Skner-skner ordered his lackeys to fire-up the warp-engines. From the end of the ridge to the west, a large metal and wood worm, armed with grotesque, living claws and inbuilt warp-lightning cannons tunnelled from the dirt. In the enclosed cockpit, Skner-skner laughed as his masterpiece slithered its way north to join the artillery.
 
Aug 30, 2012
123
Scotland
Peter looked on in amazement as the Skaven appeared to turn on each other, glowing green projectiles raking the platform and scattering the Warlocks perched there. At first Peter thought they had carried the day without having to fight the Rat Mages, but his relief was short lived.

As the smoke of battle cleared, the Blood Dragon saw that the Council's troubles had just begun. From a huge tunnel that gaped like the maw of some huge beasts marched ranks of armoured Skaven, more than the formidable forces at his command could handle. Behind them came more mechanical contraptions, sprouting fire and green lightening towards the tight knot of Undead. Luckily the Ratmen had not seemed to find their range yet, but that would not last for long.

From the west, mobs of low ranking Skaven chittered, accompanied by Fire Throwers that spewed liquid flame. The Council were horrendously out of position, and Peter knew he had to take control of the situation, or the Second Council would all be slain before their mission could truly begin.

"Blood Dragons," he cried across the swirling melee, "Form up on me. Mages, try to keep the worst of the artillery off of us. And try to do something about that!"

The Lord of Ravens gestured to the huge swirling vortex of power that had began to build up over the Rat Wizards' platform. Whatever spell they had been casting had been interrupted, its magical energy unleashed and unrestrained. The power was sparking randomly off his armour like St Elmo's Fire, and if the cyclone of magic was not dealt with soon, there would be a crater on this battle field that would make Mordheim look like a pock mark.
 
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