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| As Cold As Ice; The Tales of Haggiroth The Slaughterer | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 5 2005, 02:57 AM (1,170 Views) | |
| Haggiroth | Jan 24 2005, 03:03 AM Post #46 |
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Changer of Ways
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Since your complaints have swerved my judgement, there are now 10 Chapters.... Per novel! MWUAHA. |
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| Gurkhal | Jan 24 2005, 05:01 AM Post #47 |
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Master of the Eleven Foot Stick of Supreme Sticking
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Ok I do admitt that there were som boring parts, but not many. Whent they are just sitting and doing nothing is a little boring. But overall I wasn't really dissapointed with the latest Wheel of Time book. It was alot of intriging, internal power struggling and such and that is fun to read aswell. But also remember that Jordan is an American. Ok this should be an argument enough to explain any strange behaviour at all :D . Joke if someone didn't get it. Jordan gets payed per word. Not per story or something. So LONG stories gives much cash. |
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| The Flying Beaver | Jan 24 2005, 07:45 PM Post #48 |
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Clanlord
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Another good chapter Haggiroth. I should really write some new fluff too :ph43r: One comment though- "the Altar of Ultimate Evil" Don't you think that name is a little uncreative? |
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| Haggiroth | Jan 24 2005, 11:47 PM Post #49 |
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Changer of Ways
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Get the poster which shows the world map of the Warhammer World. Look to the area above Naggaroth. A series of dots, the watchtowers I am talking about, signal the border lands between wastes and elf land. The Altar of Ultimate Darkness, is a short distance South of one of the watch towers, in the mountains. Its official, and made by Games Workshop. Its even in the fluff of Archaon! http://us.games-workshop.com/games/warhamm...aon/default.htm |
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| Gurkhal | Jan 24 2005, 11:56 PM Post #50 |
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Master of the Eleven Foot Stick of Supreme Sticking
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But you were talking about the Altar of Ultimate Evil, not Darkness. Perhaps you were having your thoughts on another place when you wrote it? I pretty often have that :D . |
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| Haggiroth | Feb 9 2005, 12:52 AM Post #51 |
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Changer of Ways
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Chapter 9: Third Test The journey would be harsh on the muscles of all the men as they slowly progressed into Naggaroth, trying to stay at the very borders as they headed east a slight southern slant. Men were beginning to die off from random encounters with Dark Elves, and they couldn't risk any more casualities when they reached the foot their destination. The mountains which held the Altar of Ultimate Darkness. Haggiroth mused silently, the name was almost comical, like something out of a child's story. Yet the sight itself was forboding, and there was no need to mock it. Furies circled over-head, formless beings with warping flesh seething over the paths like water crashing over the top of a dam. Shaking his head, Haggiroth began to lead his companions up towards what seemed like a rather sensible path, flat and without any daemonic creature haunting it, at least this level. Ever so slowly, they bagan to climb up the edge of the mountain, searching for any easier paths upwards, sometimes even resorting to climbing on near-sheer cliffs, which at least two men fell off of. A quarter of their forces fell to a single demon before it dissolved after roasted by the Arbiter. They encountered a few more, but these were quickly disposed of before that kind did any more damage. The companions helped each other very often, for every intelligent being knows that co-operation is often needed in situations like this, for survival. As they countinue up a pass, Haggiroth wiped some sweat off his forehead, and another man, helped along by two other men, fell limp to the ground, dead from exhaustion. This was insane. But then, that was when Haggiroth encountered another simple thing on this path. "A dead end. Arbiter, where are we to go next? We can't just stay here you know." The Arbiter frowned, falling to the floor and panting heavy breathes, suddenly distressed. Haggiroth had never seen the old entity like this before, he was usually cool and calm, sleek and flowing. Now he looked as if he lost something. "This is not just a dead end for you, boy... There's nowhere else to go... This is where we are meant to stop!" Haggiroth was dumbstruck, walking over to the Arbiter, now filled with rage at the sorcerer, clenching his fists before speaking in a quivering tone. "What do you mean, this is where we have to stop?! There is nothing here! We did not slaughter demons, elves and animals just to reach a destination of nothing but rock! I seek glory, I seek power, I seek the respect of the Four! And you lead me to a dead end? Do not lie to me! Where are we meant to go?!" The Arbiter scowled now, slapping his student with the back of his hand and replying with his own shout of anger. "Look! I did not promise you riches, glory or power when you accepted this quest! I offered you a path to you destiny, child! And you took it! If we have to die here, then it was your choice that led us here! Don't be so selfish!" Haggiroth snarled angrily. He lost his patience with his mentor. Now it was time for the old man to be punished. After all these years of disrespect, it was time to give some back. Bringing up a knee to the old man's stomach, he send the creature stumbling back, on to the floor insidethe circular dead end which the path led into. Then a roar erupted from his throat. "It is it, you young fool! Your life comes to an end here!" The Arbiter began his own move. To stop any foolish men from trying to kill him, a nova of flame erupted from around him, throwing back Haggiroth and singing his flesh, before forming a wall of flame around them, acting as an arena. Haggiroth began to get up, charging directly towards his teacher but falling short. This resulted in another assault by the old sorcerer. A burst flame suddenly erupted from the ground in front of Haggiroth, sending him screaming backwards, out of the wall of fire. The man began to writh in pain, standing back up and staggering back through the fire as fast as he could, trying not to take any more punishment. A laugh erupted from the throat of the wizard as he spectated, grimly amused. "Why did I waste so much time on you if I could crush you so easily? You are pathetic, boy. Give up now and I will simply just throw you over the cliff, and speak you a slow, painful death." Haggiroth, meanwhile, would have been running foward as his old friend ranted, diving forward. Catching him by suprise, the young warrior threw his opponent to the ground, trying to slice several holes in him. Out of five attacks, only three hit and only one managed to induce any pain and pierce the armour. But then, he did an odd thing. The Arbiter had always believed that Tzeentch's inteferance in the childhood of Haggiroth would have changd him, gifting him with the powers of magic as well as brute strength. Most attempts to make this shine showed no fruit, thus the old man gave up. But the intervention of Tchar, as Haggiroth knew the Lord of Change, finally showed. Bright red fire suddenly burst from the hands of Haggiroth, consuming the Arbiter's body. The old man flew up with a shriek, pushing his pupil away before flailing about madly, quivering with rage and wounds. Both Haggiroth and the Arbter had obtained equal wounds... Now it was time forthem to fight properly, as Khorne might say it. They would both charge directly into close combat, sword and staff raised, flames flying from the gnarled sapling that mind up the stave of the Arbiter and the fluent movements of the elegant blade leaving traces in the air. The Arbiter parried the attacks thrown at him, his student avoiding the flames before trying to lunge foward as a fencer would, and dash out the old bastard's stomach. The Arbiter would shamble backwards, before leaping forward to strike the young man on the head. For once, an attack was landed. Haggiroth fell back, dazed and just as the staff was raised for the final blow.. He raised his sword arm, brought it down harshly and released it. The Arbikter fell back, a large gash formed in his leg. A massive, firey blast would be instead unleashed directly into the stone floor, causing that pass to quiver as it missed the intended head of Haggiroth. The Arbiter, Ujirik, would be tired and fall back on to the floor, gasping. Now he understood, as he lay there bleeding. He did his job as a pawn of the Gods. He was there to be a test for a man destined to be more powerful than himself, to see if he was worthy to be a champion of Chaos, and was also a man to guide him to that test, and help him complete it. He did his job. He was the final test. And with a curse, he coughed up blood and his eyes began to close as more of that vital, scarlet liquid drained out of his mouth and leg, a pool forming around his body. And his soul was consumed by oblivion, Chaos. |
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| The Flying Beaver | Feb 9 2005, 02:25 AM Post #52 |
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Clanlord
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Besides a few grammar mistakes, that was quite good Haggiroth! Is that the end or is there more? |
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| Gurkhal | Feb 9 2005, 03:02 AM Post #53 |
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Master of the Eleven Foot Stick of Supreme Sticking
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I think there is more, he don't have an army or have reached the island yet. Very good story. "Must have more...." crawles on the floor. |
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| Haggiroth | Feb 9 2005, 04:57 AM Post #54 |
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Changer of Ways
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You know what, guys? I'm bored... So... Chapter 10: Rolling Stones Haggiroth had no time to tend to his wounds. The blast caused by the staff of his mentor was tremendous. It created a rather large hole in the rock where it hit, and it triggered something worse: An rockslide. He would quickly grab the staff and stash it away, next hoisting the body of the Arbiter over his shoulders before watching. Already, rocks would be tumbling, dust would be fallings, as that section of the mountain would be tearing itself apart. A large chunk of rock suddenly extracted itself from a sheer cliff, toppling towards a group of cooing and giggling nurglings, who were apparently crushed by the stone. This would trigger several more falling rocks, which would trigger several more themselves. The marauders charged down the passes, a few idiot managing to topple over the edges of cliffs and other stupid things. There were ten- no, eight... People left out of the original group of twenty-two, including Tyr, the Arbiter and Haggiroth. Tyr was still alive, nearly without any wounds. The rampant charge continued down the massive slopes, and the few remaining people managed to stay alive as they fell and toppled down the steppes and passes. They even had to jump down the sheer cliff that they jumped earlier, which they just managed to survive due to the rubbish that lay at the bottom. Coughing could be heard through out everyone there. Finally, Tyr confronted a Bloodletter, and had to slash through its body harshly, making its copereal form fade like smoke in a breeze, colours weaving around the face of the old warrior. He ignored it, plunging ever further down the pass, helping Haggiroth down. And finally, they would come down to the bottom of the pass, absolutely exhausted, every person, especially Haggiroth, collapsing to the ground. Later that day, they all were bathing wounds, burns and faces, cleansing themselves of blood and dust. Tyr would walk over a stricken Haggiroth, who would be coughing up small amounts of blood. He wuld pat him on the back, raising an eyebrow. "'ey, Norscan. That was a pretty good fight you put on for us up there. You did well, though we never manged to reach the Altar of Ultimate Darkness." Haggiroth rolled his eyes, trying to contain his present fury at everyone. The Arbiter, these blundering fools... Everyone and everything. Including himself. He would reply, trying to stand up but collapsing to the floor. "Look. I didn't intend to put on a good fight, I didn't want to kill him. But if he wanted to be such a damned idiot, then he could be. But I do not regret the death of the person who possibly closer to me than anyone else in my life. For it was for the four Gods, especially Tzeentch, who he didn't deserve his gifts from... Now leave me be. There is no more for regret on the path I am taking." And then, he began to stand up again, going towards the dead body of the Arbiter. And thus strip him of his armour, slowly beginning to don it and proclaim it as his own. The remanants of the tribe watched, in awe and then, he let out a speech. "Listen, warriors of the Hung! I may not be of your blood but now, I am the one who commands you! I do not care if you have any objections, because anyone who does will have a limb hacked off their body! We are leaving this damned place, to find more refuge and more men! Prepare to set out!" The small band of men would have set out. Haggiroth; Tyr; Jurik; Canith; Laroch; Niwot; Rothan and Sabast, to name each and everyone one of them. The body of the old sorcerer would be left behind, attracting many disgusting little nurglings who proclaimed his digestive organs as their home. His form was left to rot, and so it would. Haggiroth no longer needed a person to save him. He no longer needed a guide. All he needed was the fool's armour and staff. Epilogue The Godhound would be drifting through the oceans proudly, several twisted oars painted black sticking out of its sides, a gigantic spike set at the prow of the Norse ship, with several bleached skeletons impaled on it. Its black sail would bear the sigil of a stark white face, its features appearing to change nearly every time the sail was ruffled. Many men wold be on the deck, manning a few stolen artillary, mainly objects such repeater bolt-throwers. At the prow, a shor t distance from a large spike, a majestic figure would be standing, clad in gleaming, dark blue armour, the bright rims of it shining brightly as if it was gold. His cloak would be made out of the skin of elves, some faces still visable on it. Hish air would be long and blond and he would be tall and defiant, his skin pale. He was much unlike the rest of the crew, short and simple men with slightly brown skin, oriental features and black hair. In one hand would be a gnarled staff, the head of it stained with some blood. Meanwhile, an elegant, elvish blade would be held in the other hand. A man would walk up behind the obvious captain of the craft, coughing to catch attention. The general turned around, raising an eyebrow at the oriental man. "Why are you pestering me, Laroch? There is nothing to talk about." The man quivered slightly at this remark, hoping he wouldn't get slain. He was one of the three of the people who were the original members of the warband. He wouldn't want to shorten that down down to two. "My Lord... We have sighted a new land.. Its just been discovered, according to what we know. And there is currently war taking place there, between all sorts of races.. Including a race of Elves we have never seen before. The alnd is called Minaintus" The commander smirked. More elves to add to his cloak. "Excellent. I think its time to show these fools that Haggiroth the Changing has arrived." |
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| end of mankind | Feb 9 2005, 05:46 AM Post #55 |
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Clanlord
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nice! so Haggiroth has come to miannantus then.. interesting.. I will kill you! :P :D |
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| The Flying Beaver | Feb 9 2005, 05:48 AM Post #56 |
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Clanlord
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Okay, that's a cool ending. (psst: side with nurgle!) |
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| Haggiroth | Feb 9 2005, 02:41 PM Post #57 |
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Changer of Ways
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Voting time. Shall I make another section which is about his actions in Miniantus or shall I continue on to him forming his army. |
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| Gurkhal | Feb 9 2005, 04:47 PM Post #58 |
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Master of the Eleven Foot Stick of Supreme Sticking
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Could he not form an army and at the same time fighting on Minniantus. PS: Uncle Khorne wants you Haggiroth. And you know it is Khorne that rocks. ;) |
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| The Flying Beaver | Feb 9 2005, 08:11 PM Post #59 |
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Clanlord
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Grandafther Nurgle wants you aggiroth. You can write a story where he runs into Gorash if you want. |
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| Haggiroth | Feb 10 2005, 01:01 AM Post #60 |
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Changer of Ways
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Okay. I know the 'we want you' thing all is a joke but it gts rather annoying. Consider what I have written. He can cast Red Fire, a Tzeentch spell. He is later called Haggiroth the Changing. Does that hint that he is a Khornate warrior or a fighter of Nurgle? |
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