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| Chaos faction in the Hour of the wolf campaign | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 3 2007, 05:54 PM (1,613 Views) | |
| Lightbringer | Jan 5 2007, 03:33 AM Post #16 |
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Evil Wizards Inc.
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Yes, far far in the past. |
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| Fingol | Jan 5 2007, 03:36 AM Post #17 |
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The Chosen
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Nope, we're very much alive and plan on achieving true immortality :rock: |
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| acolite | Jan 5 2007, 03:37 AM Post #18 |
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O.K. So the undead are still alive? right, so they're the Unundead? or just the plain 'Alive'? :D And maybe I won't be able to play Slythe then... but he is SO playing in FoK (Chaos Wastes time paradox excuse :P ) How far in the past, exactly? I'm rubbish with WH dates, so a "X years before SoC" would be really helpfull... or, is there any place I can find this info out myself? |
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| Fingol | Jan 5 2007, 03:56 AM Post #19 |
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The Chosen
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Well.... we can raise our soldiers when they die. So we're generals who like to recycle (gotta be enviromentally friendly ;) ) As for a timeline.... let me check. I think I keep one stashed in my forum at D.net.... EDIT: Found it, the rise of Nehekhara was 2500 years before Sigmar was crowned Emperor. So yes, far, far in the past. |
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| Narmo Eressea | Jan 5 2007, 05:16 AM Post #20 |
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Aspirant to Anar´s favour.
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No. In fact it is in the age of Sigmar. Though Nagash is alive and khemrian is not an udead kingdom. In fact Nagash wants to exterminate all non humans of the world. Chaos gods want to destroy the vortex and kill Malekith (Alith anar is the everchosen) |
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| Lord Marixis | Jan 5 2007, 05:52 AM Post #21 |
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Rise from the Ashes
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Finally! A confirmed Chaos faction for the Asur campaign...I can't wait to kill some Elves. ;) And I see no problem with using COTEC as the Chaos headquarters - basically all of those who have indicated they are playing as the Host are from here anyway (though this will probably change), so it makes perfect sense. But, even if it doesn't work out like that, we can still have a secret planning forum here for our Legion of the Chamber. |
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| Narmo Eressea | Jan 5 2007, 06:33 AM Post #22 |
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Aspirant to Anar´s favour.
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I nearly feel tempted to join chaos. My only problem is: how can I join chaos and still be not evil? maybe by not following chaos but only Alith Anar? Chaos fluff so far: The Rebellion Malekith sat alone in his chair, made of black steel and littered with diamonds. He looked around the throne room of Anlec. He remembered how he played with his father here, a long, long time ago. Before those wretched traitors refused his rule. But now, he knew, he had it all under his control. He had defeated the Phoenix King and banished him from his lands. His people were strong and loyal. Everything was his, except... - Malekith, King of Uthuan. It has a strange ring to it, wouldn't you say? A voice of malice and pure power spoke loudly in his head. It has been so occasionally ever since he struck his pact with them. Them. The Gods of Chaos. He would have never done so, and neither would his father, whom he so looked up to. But his need was greater than anything, and he had no choice. But he wouldn't do as they wish. He knew he could trick them and get out of the deal without his side of the bargain made. He grinned for a second before regaining his composure and faced the insubstantial apparition that now appeared. - What do you want?, he asked, but he knew what they came for. - We want your side of the bargain fulfilled. We have given you great power and victory over those that you hate so much. Now, you shall open the Vortex for us. Malekith laughed out loud in their face. How could he dare to do that? At once, a beam of light sailed through the air and struck him right in the chest, but he was still laughing. - Don't you remember the Network of True Magic? You cannot harm me here, evil ones. Nor can you make me open the Vortex for you. Why would I do anything for you? You yourselves made me invincible, and now you see the consequences of that. The colours began shifting more intensively, depicting the anger of its true masters. They have been tricked where they were sure to win and have at their disposal a passageway to use as they saw fit. But a mere weakling tricked them and took power away from them. - You cannot do this. You have promised it to us. - Words do not mean anything, you of all should've known. Mere sounds spilling from the mouths of both stupid and perfect. Words are tools on the tongues of the able that they may reach their goals. I have. - Malekith. The sound of their voice changed in an instant and sent chills down the King's spine. He never heard such a voice, outerwordly and of purest evil. - The Witch King. May you and all of yours be cursed until you meet your end at the hands of the one you thought dead and banished forever. Rejoice in your empty victories and know that death will always be ready to jump at you. We know, we see, we hear, be it past, present or future. You are an empty piece of flesh, encased in your armour, secure in your position and order. But your heart is black and your people treacherous. You will yet remember our words when the Reapers knock at your door. - Begone, you fools! Do not step in my halls again and bother me with your empty words. You have fulfilled the use I had for you. Thus, the light slowly shimmered out of view, leaving a silent room behind it. Malekith sat in his throne and looked through the window, thinking about what has been said, until a knock at the door scared him and woke him from his thoughts. A lone Druchii soldier came in. - Milord, High Commander Nagathi wants you to assist him in making plans for the cleansing of the last of the foul traitors from our island. He rose slowly, the armour screeching as it slided on the marble of the chair. Walking ceremoniously to the door, he grabbed the soldier by his throat, crushed it and threw his corpse on the floor. - Thank you. ---------------------------------------- In the realm of the North, the Gods pondered about the worst punishment for the Witch King. They hated him from the core of their being, and they swore that one day, revenge will be exacted upon the Witch King. They will have the last laugh, even if it took them a thousand years to do it. --------------------------------------- But a tool has arisen in the hands of the Chaos Gods. Their loyal followers, particularly Slaaneshis, started a rebellion which spanned through the whole island of Ulthuan and threatened Malekith and his whole great scheme he has exacted until now. Led by Mornatar, a Sapherian Archmage, they have won many Elves to their side, and the Witch King was forced to assemble his armies sooner than he thought. But the real threat, one Malekith wasn't aware of, was that the Chaos Gods he thought he had the power over turned against him. Now, the land was torn apart by another civil war and hundreds died every day in bitter skirmishes across the lands of Ulthuan. And the most important was yet to come.. Lord Arcanaus, one of the High Commanders of the Druchii, slowly opened the great iron doors of Malekith's ruling chamber, his black robes dancing around him. - Lord Malekith; he bowed - a visitor wishes to speak to you. A cold, lifeless voice spoke from the casket that was the black armour which kept him alive. - Who is it? - Lord Mornathar Tuloni'eth, a Sapherian Archmage. - What bussines does he come here for? - He did not wish to say, my King. - Bring him in. - Send for the Mage! - shouted the general. A moment later, a tall figure clad in ellegant dark blue robes with purple decorations and runes fluttering about him entered the room. Arcanaus bowed again and left the room, closing the door behind him. - Malekith the King. What a pleasure. - Who are you and what do you want? - Straightforward as I've heard. Legends of you precced your coming. I have always wondered which of them are true. - Say what you want or I will throw you to the my guards. - No, you will not. I have magically sealed the doors. The Dark Prince will keep them closed until my mission has been accomplished. - Who sends you, traitor? - The Dark Gods and my Lord Slaanesh. They have sent me to kill you and exact their revenge upon you for failing to honour your agreement. I have started a rebbelion and my loyal followers spread the word through your kingdom. No, pardon, my kingdom. War is raging again through these lands and I have them in my grasp. With your dead at my hands, I will grow in the eyes of the Dark Prince and bade in the adoration and pleasure. Do you have the strength in you still, or have you grown incapable of everything from the day of your... accident? Malekith stood up and walked to his challenger, unsheathing his sword. Made of the finest steel, enchanted by the powerful mages and blackened by the heart of its wearer, it struck at the Mage. But he had his tricks as well. Creating a fiery sword in front of him, he gave himself time to draw his own greatsword and strike at the Dark Lord. The fight raged on, blow after blow blocked by the swords, or in Malekith's place, the armour he was wearing. He was wondering how none of his Guards outside heard this happening. Even if that was due to magic, he knew he was going to take some heads because of that. Several minutes passed and none of the combatants got the upper hand, until the Mage slipped as if to create a diversion for Malekith to strike out so that he can stab him, but he lost his balance and truly slipped, giving the Witch King the chance he needed. He chopped the Archmage's head and walked to the door, opening it with his free hand. The soldier's outside stopped in their steps and looked at Malekith. He was breathing slowly, enraged beyond reason. In two quick motions, he beheaded one of the Guards, and slipped the gut of the other, sheating his sword. The soldiers outside stood with their mouths wide open as Malekith slowly returned to his chair. - Incompetent fools.- he slowly whispered - Assemble my armies and strike with full force at the Chaos rebels. Say to them that their leader is dead and that they do not have a chance to win. Take no prisoners and leave none alive. ---------------------------------------- The civil war was over in a matter of weeks. Leaderless, outnumbered and cornered, the armies of the Chaos Gods had no chance at being victorius over the forces of Aenarion's son. They were quickly overun and expelled from their hiding places in Ulthuan as Malekith's rage brought them to justice. One of the soldiers said that many have taken their own lives with long, curved knives as to the bring pleasure to Slaanesh. A shame, thought Malekith. They would serve well as presents to the torturers of his dungeons. He began the purging of Chaos and strickly forbid every worshiping of Slaanesh, or any other Chaos God in all of his kingdom under the penalty of death. Let us see how they will get their revenge now, he thought. It even brought a smile to his scarred face. Death always amused Malekith the Witch King. Especially if he gained from it as well. ---------------------------------------- A group of hooded horsemen rode fast through the forest. The moon sometimes reflected on the decorations on their armour, resembling Dragons and fire. The Exiles of Caledor, no doubt. On of them raised his hand and the riders stopped. One of the riders quietly spoke to them. - We are nearing Yvresse on time. The night will protect us as we arrive. We will split up and move our separate ways. Evreyone knows the plan and route, yes? The riders all nodded their heads in agreement. - Good. Then we ride for the Council. May the Gods bless your paths and make sure you arrive safely to our destination. Go now. For Caledor! - For Caledor! Each of the riders spurred their horses onto different roads and moved quickly forward, wondering how many of them will survive the journey. The Council of the King will start soon, and there was little time for escape. |
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| Narmo Eressea | Jan 5 2007, 06:34 AM Post #23 |
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Aspirant to Anar´s favour.
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More chaos fluff: The Shadow King Arcanaus’ blood had scarcely dried on the Shadow King’s blades before night descended over the Anulii to which he had fled, his life’s blood spilled on the soil that, as it turned out, he was going to die defending. All signs pointed towards this end. The now dull but painful ache in his midsection where the head of the arrow was still embedded screamed this. That he was losing feeling in his toes and in the tips of his fingers said it more subtly. Yet even against this Alith Anar forced his feet to keep walking and his fingers to grip the bark of the trees lest he collapse and be unable to rise. There was no solace for the Shadow King that while he walked towards his grave he had already sent the greatest of Malekith’s generals to his. That was tainted by the fact that the individual who he hated most in the world besides himself had outdone him in cruelty, in the disregard for all else but victory. This fact was old in Alith Anar’s mind; it was planted there the moment that the arrow that was slowly sapping away his life had been planted in his stomach. It had come when he sank his blades into Arcanaus’s back, the realization that Malekith had been willing to sacrifice his greatest servant to lay a trap for the Shadow King. He was no doubt already reported dead. Malekith would toast the end to the last of the resistance against him. It was hatred that kept Alith Anar’s feet moving, hatred in three parts for three kings, two of which had diminished to nothing. Hatred for the Witch King, who had stolen his lands, killed his children and perverted all justice. Hatred for the Phoenix King who could not stop his usurper and so abandoned the cause. Hatred for the Shadow King, who was above all else helpless. Throughout every part of the tragic conflict that would end with Alith Anar’s death no elf had died without regrets, but no regret was greater than that which the Shadow King carried with him that long night with only the beasts of the Anulii to keep him company. On the moonlit horizon, nestled in a distant mountain slope a slow fire flickered, a beacon to the ailing Alith Anar. It held his attention and he moved with what strength was left to him, shuffling feet and ragged breath, towards that point. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected when he reached the flames, there was no medicine that the Asur or the traitors possessed that could heal him. It might be a last gasp for companionship, or the last flicker of hope. For whatever reason the Shadow King refused to succumb, pulling himself towards the fire. In the darkness, when the moon was hidden behind the boughs of a mighty pine Alith Anar’s normally careful foot snagged the same tree’s roots and he collapsed on his face. The Shadow King did not rise. The slow popping of the fire coupled with its soothing warmth brought Alith Anar back to the world of the living, his eyelids fluttering open. He tensed, trying to move his limbs but they would not respond. His muscles ached or had lost their feeling; the only sensation that seemed to matter was the pain of the arrow. The Shadow King struggled to turn his head, feeling as if he’d slept for years rather than the few hours that had actually passed. He looked up, into the fire and then past it. On the other side of the flames a man was sitting examining one of the Shadow King’s knives. He was heavily built, much more so than any elf Alith Anar had ever seen. His size and the blocky contours of his face convinced the Shadow King that this was no elf but one of the barbarians that had been in the service of the Chaos Gods during the time of Aenarion. The barbarian’s already massive frame was emphasized by the bulk of crudely assembled armor. His hair was blond and hung down past his shoulders. “This is a good knife.” He commented in perfect Tar-Eltharin. Alith Anar grimaced, guessing at the nature of his company but unable to speak it. “I like the weight of it.” The barbarian continued. “Not just the way it’s balanced, mind, but its weight.” The last word carried special emphasis and as it was spoken the man held the knife up to the firelight, letting the fickle colors dance along its edge. A slick of blood can be seen. “It’s a very special knife that acquires this weight.” He continued. “You may wipe it clean after each kill but blood remains. And it accumulates. This latest sample…It belonged to a very powerful warrior, didn’t it? It adds a great weight.” The barbarian shrugged and dropped the knife. “But it didn’t do you any good, did it?” He remarked to Alith Anar, “Slicked as this blade is with Arcanaus’ blood you have lost more, and will soon share the same hell as him. Am I correct?” The barbarian smiled toothily. Alith Anar managed a small growl, his fingers twitching as he imagined them around the insolent human’s neck. He inched forward, wincing as the arrow shaft was disturbed. “My…my knife…” The Shadow King murmured in his gruff tone, his gaze piercing the barbarian. “Why?” He asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You’ll soon have no need of it. A dead man needs no knives. He’s done his killing. No, you just rest there, my associates will be along shortly and then we’ll talk.” He fell silent, keeping the toothy grin on his features while Alith Anar’s eyes sent daggers at him. Yet soon those eyes failed him, and the Shadow King fell back into his sleep. “Is this the one?” A throaty, frog like voiced spoke in the darkness, bringing Alith Anar back to consciousness. His body was no more responsive than before and rather than feeling refreshed the Shadow King was exhausted anew. He raised his head to try and track the voice, looking towards the barbarian just in time to catch his nod. A tall and portly figure stood next to him, his gut protruding immensely from beneath a black cloak. The garment’s hood was drawn over his head, hiding the majority of his broad face from view but leaving his massive mouth exposed. The sound and the shape reminded Alith Anar immediately of a frog with the thick lips that seemed locked in an eternal frown that stretched over the whole of the face and were slicked with drool. The Shadow King was immediately repulsed by this new figure, his nose detecting a new, foul scent. Even though his eyes were hidden the elf knew he was being appraised. “What a lovely state he lies in.” The cloaked figure burbled, speaking as if he were forcing the words through a pool of mucus at the base of his throat. “The wound is festering, even at this stage.” He paused to draw in a loud breath; as if he were snoring or preparing to clear his throat and spit. “Soon there won’t be much left of him, I can see it. The worms…are hungry. They quiver in anticipation of your demise, elf. For yours is a very sweet flesh. Very sweet indeed.” A massive tongue licked the figure’s lips, spreading sticky drool across their surface. “You have already told him he is to die?” The barbarian nodded. The figure hrmphed, his entire body shaking. “Then I suppose we will have to wait, for the others. Perhaps this one won’t be reduced to mulch, though I do hate to disappoint the worms so. And the flies. While I am not inclined to love the larger scavengers I will not deny them their meal…They must feed the flies. And the worms. Yes.” The hefty figure moved to sit, resting his long fingers on his knees. They were knotted and scarred, some with open sores and festering blisters. “The night wears on, elf. You’ll need your strength.” “…I will…not…be fed to worms…” Alith Anar gasped. The figure chortled, his gut shaking. “Of course you won’t.” The Shadow King slept. A sweet smell invaded Alith Anar’s dreams, masking the horrible stench that had occupied them. He felt a surge of energy and a smile on his lips, warmth below his belt. He was awakening slowly, and pleasantly…there was the soft press of flesh on his side, over his shoulder, and a sweet breath tickling his neck. When he opened his eyes the softly sleeping face of a beautiful she elf greeted him. Her skin was flawless even as she lay against the forest floor. No grim dared to touch her. Her breathing was perfect, and though she was the picture of serenity her curves excited Alith Anar’s heart in a way that it had not been excited in many, many years. He gasped, barely making a sound but enough to cause her eyes to snap open. They were a peculiar mismatched color but the Shadow King didn’t mind. She smiled seductively, fingers caressing his cheek. “My warrior prince.” She cooed, pressing her body closer to his. “What a night…What a place…I could not have asked for better…” Her face began to close with his, and he welcomed it. “Leave him be, you harlot.” The barbarian commanded, his voice at once mocking and forceful. The robed figure chortled. The she-elf scowled, eyes locking with Alith Anar and flashing pure anger towards him. Then she detached from him and rose, flipping her raven hair over her shoulder. The Shadow King could see that she was thinner than was healthy, her purple gown, designed to enhance her wiles was betraying her near destitute condition. She turned away from him and faced the others. “Don’t command me, barbarian!” She seethed. “Not after the indignation I’ve suffered these past years…You two, and the other, threw me to the dogs while you fattened yourselves! This latest blow has harmed me far more than it has even disturbed your twisted dreams.” She sighed, even in the apparent defeat her body moved with perfect grace. “And now you deny me this perfect specimen? My warrior prince? Damn you. He was strong, there was fire in him! Oh, what fire! What cruelty…what…potential.” She turned back to him, kneeling in front of the Shadow King and looking into his face. From his position on the ground Alith Anar would have done anything for her. “What a waste.” She lamented, caressing his chin. “To just throw him away, bleeding out his hot blood…I would have him, but alas, it is too late.” She stood, walking towards where the others sat. “Lady…” Alith Anar gasped, feeling his passion die away. “…Take me…” The harlot turned and sat, smiling at the elf. “In time. On the other side.” Then, with his strength exhausted, he slept. The Shadow King snapped awake as the ground next to him shook. His eyes opened wide and a wave of fear went through him. He looked up, and staring back at him was a monster. Her skin was yellow and her hair fire red. Like the harlot her eyes were not what Alith Anar would have expected in a face that bore the contours of an elven girl. They were orange, with slits like a cat’s eyes. They peered at him curiously, the figure folding its membranous wings behind its back. “He’s not much to look at.” A girl’s voice spoke into his face. “His threads are ending. He bores me.” She straightened, wearing no clothes but lacking the definition of a female. Only the outline and curves remained. Her hair hung between her wings down to her waist. She turned to the others. “Why have I agreed to this? This prince is unsubtle. He was caught by the most simple of ploys; the hunk of cheese was so big that this idiot mouse was caught in a trap. Is this who we want? I say let him rot. Let the worms devour him. We have no time for losers.” “That’s unfair.” The robed figure burbled. “Is it? Remember the last loser we took in?” The girl reprimanded the figure, walking towards where the others sat. “He disregarded us as soon as he got too big for his iron pants…” She trailed off, and then turned to Alith Anar, eyes alight with a new joy. “Oh…I see your game. Hee. I like it. There are many shadows that this prince can occupy, he might not be a total waste after all. Certainly our enemy will perceive him destroyed, eliminated…A blind spot. You would think our enemy would know from personal experience that death is hardly the end of a threat.” “Well said.” The barbarian returned. “Shall we get down to business?” “Are…” Alith Anar broke in, his strength almost gone. He felt that if he slept again, he would not awake. “…Are you the Four? The Ruinous Powers?” “No.” The robed figure burbled firmly. “Yes!” The girl chirped. “We are your salvation.” This from the barbarian. “And your damnation.” The harlot suggested with a suggestive smirk. “This is your turn to make a deal, Alith Anar.” The barbarian took over now, leaning forward. “Shadow King.” The girl added. “Rightful Lord of Nagarythe.” The robed figure burbled. “Dancer in the Dark.” “Our last pact was broken. The fiend had aspirations greater than what we offered. It is not the throne, the isle, the sword, or revenge that he wants. It is the world he would have.” The barbarian commented. The others nodded. “But you are perfect. Like him, you are dying. Like him, your cruelty is an art. Like him, your will is iron. Unlike him, your only ambition is justice.” “Treachery.” “Immortality.” “Revenge.” Alith Anar processed the information, and it stung him to be compared to the Malekith. The lists struck at his multiple natures and drew them together into one mismatched picture, his crimes, his virtues, and the grey areas in between. “What…what do you want?” “To forge the pact anew.” The barbarian answered automatically. “We ask this of you, if you will handle the burden. We have a mutual enemy, a mutual betrayer. There is power in this pact, it was this pact that allowed our enemy to triumph and thrive. What we did for him we will do for you a hundred times over.” “Why…why ask?” Alith Anar struggled. “Why not just bestow it…And control me?” “Where’s the fun in that?” The girl chirped. “Besides. It never works that way. We have different eyes, Shadow King. What is obvious to us you could never grasp in a thousand years and what is plain as day to you we would look over as trivial. Since the Witch King has the same eyes this is practical. You will accept this, your hatred demands it. This is your only chance to kill the monster who thought he had you slain, to avenge once and for and all the crimes against you and best of all, prove that you are the better elf.” “What…what do I get?” “You will get what you need.” The barbarian replied. “It will be enough. We will be everything to you, Alith Anar.” “Life!” The girl chirped. “Death!” The robed figured added. “Perfection of form!” The harlot shouted. “Clarity of mind.” The barbarian finished. “What is the cost?” Alith Anar pressed. “Nothing to you.” The robed figure spoke. “Strings create resentment. Resentment breeds distrust, and distrust will result in failure. This is a gift and a mission. We know you better than you know yourself.” The Shadow King’s head fell back to the ground. The dull ache in his stomach was accompanied by the pangs of uncertainty. This was the highest form of heresy he could commit, and at first he rebelled. But then he realized his position, not just on the forest floor of the Anulii with an arrow in his belly but the steps he had taken to get there. He had spit in Caledor’s face. Burned men alive, crucified others. He had done what needed to be done, and everything had abandoned him. The Phoenix King would not fight, the Everqueen would not lead and the gods of his fathers were gone. The Shadow King clenched his hand into a fist. “Damn them. They drove me to this…” He turned back to the Chaos Gods arrayed before him in mortal form. “Give me…the power to do what the cowards could not. I accept.” All four of them smiled, but the barbarian spoke. “Very well then. Rest. When you awaken you will be in a different place. It might seem terrible to you but it is where you should be. The power will grow, and when the time is right you will take your revenge. Savor the in between time. Suffering spreads to all corners, all peoples. The shadow of Malekith and his mother extends over the whole of the world. It will be something to watch.” Alith Anar smiled, and then drifted off to sleep. He dreamed of war, and the will to power. He dreamed of blood. |
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| Narmo Eressea | Jan 5 2007, 06:36 AM Post #24 |
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Aspirant to Anar´s favour.
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More chaos fluff: Ashnari bellowed in primeval fury as he watched Althion fall to the she-elf. She looked up at him and smiled, and pointed at him, behind her three black guard rushed forward their halberds low. Diving under the first blade Ashnari rammed his swords into the guardself’s gut, blood pouring out as he did so. Jumping upon the fallen corpse he slit the throat of the next as he tried to defend himself from the savage attack. The third however, blocked all three blows that Ashnari landed. Smirking to himself he danced heavily upon his left foot before righting himself and spinning the blade through the guardsman’s helm, blood flowing out. Standing tall he turned back to the she-elf as pain flashed through his entire being, looking down at his left breast a dart sticking through the jerkin and into his chest. Roaring he charged forward, his swords gripped tightly as another dart flew into him. Looking up now he saw the smiling she elf, a crossbow in her hands as she wound the crank again, the string pulled back and a dart dropped from the cartridge and flew from the crossbow, this time slamming into his right shoulder. Falling to his knees Ashnari looked up as the figure walked up to him, some more Black Guard behind her as they looked down at him breathing heavily. “What do you wish to do with him lady Vraneth?” Vraneth? It couldn’t be, the Black Guardian couldn’t have a daughter. Looking up at the she-elf he coughed up blood, and met her cold gaze. As she spoke her voice felt just as cold as her gaze Ashnari thought. “Leave him, those darts are poisoned. He won’t live through the night.” “Foolish Vraneth, just like her father” Rising up, Ashnari gripped the blades in his hands as he rose to his feet and charged her. She leapt back and parried the blows that he landed upon her, calling over her shoulder as the Black Guard closed in she blocked another blow with her spear. “Stay back, he is mine” Spinning his blades in his hands Ashnari grinned manically at Vraneth, as he lunged forward again, ignoring the pain and the venom flowing through his body as he slowly concentrated upon the she elf before him. He parried a blow from her spear and grimaced as the bards within him shifted. Spinning around he found once again the two blades being parried off the shaft of the spear. Bringing his own blades around he blocked a counter attack from Vraneth as she attempted to stab his shoulder. Taking advantage of her attack Ashnari darted forward with his left hand sword and dug underneath the armour of her shoulder guard. A small trickle of blood dripped out as Vraneth leapt backwards smiling. “Is that the best you can do Ashnari?” Ashnari let out a roar and lunged forward again, his blades ringing off the shaft as Vraneth went onto the defensive. Still smiling as she blocked his attacks. Ashnari felt his blood boil even further, the venom in his blood being pumped around his body at a faster rate, he felt his body growing tired as the pain and the venom began to grow. Idril laughed while she parried yet another series of blows from Ashnari as he attacked again. Kicking outwards she glanced one of the barbs that she had shot into him earlier. Watching as Ashnari fell she spun around and plunged her spear through his stomach. Blood spilling from his back as the blade punched through his body. “Its over.” Ashnari snarled and slammed his blade through the shaft shattering it in twain. Falling backwards he kneeled there looking up into Vraneth’s eyes defiantly, blood slowly dripping from his wounds and the side of his mouth. Turning around, Vraneth looked at the rest of the battlefield, where the warriors of Sethalis were already in flight. Looking back at him for a moment she smiled as he continued to stare up at her. Walking away she picked up one of Ashnari’s fallen blades and sheathed it at her side. Before once more joining the ranks of the black guard. “He is finished; leave him, he will not last through the night.” Malekith slowly clapped as he watched the host of the rebels being routed, the Wind of Doom had done their jobs superbly. Each Knight on the Wind had taken out the enemy flanks and rear with little effort. The invasion had been crushed here. Already the civilians within the city were celebrating a great victory in his name. Turning away he watched as Kaellkillath stepped forward with the head of Gervaus in his hands, smiling behind his helm Malekith took the offered head and studied it for a moment, handing it to the aid he looked down at Kaellkillath. “You have done well today my captain; now go take care of the survivors of this insurrection.” Already knowing the answer but still wanting to hear it Kaellkillath spoke up, his voice showing the only emotion he had left, excitement of the kill. “What of the survivors my lord?” Malekith turned and looked at the retreating army, already the Knights of Doom on their tails. “Kill them all!” ********************************** Calendor laid there, the sea lapping at his chest as he clung to the drift wood. They were all dead, every single elf who had gone on Ashnari’s expedition was dead save him. He did not know how he was alive but he was. He did not question fate when he was pushed over the cliff by one his fellows, but he survived the fall, and had he been wearing his dragon armour he would have drowned along with the rest of the elves who had fallen from the cliffs. Coughing up salt water he looked up and saw nothing but the sea all around him. He had to survive; he had to tell Tahl of the disaster of the expedition and of the power of Ulthuan. Tears came to his eyes as he realized the truth. Ulthuan was lost forever to the Witch King. ********************************** Ashnari Doomsong’s world was only pain, his entire body ached as the poison made its way around his system. It was if someone had pushed a pin in every part of his body. And yet he was still alive, just. He felt a presence above him, struggling to open his eyes he did but he could not make the figures that stood over him. The first one spoke, its voice strong and powerful. “Is he the one?” “He is weak, leave him for the worms.” The other voice seemed to burble slightly but it was the third voice that made Ashnari shudder, it was that of a child almost but it was seductive and sweet at the same time. “I’ll take him as a plaything” “He does have potential, I can see it.” This final voice seemed to have decided upon the argument as the final figure knelt down and looked Ashnari in the eyes, his voice so familiar to the aging elf. “He is the one.” Ashnari felt tears in his eyes as he beheld a face that he never ever thought he would see again, his eyes began to fade again as unconsciousness took him, but before he did he uttered one word. “Alith…” |
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| Lightbringer | Jan 5 2007, 07:16 AM Post #25 |
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Evil Wizards Inc.
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Thats alot of fluff O_o Makes The Fall of Kings fluff dissapere in comparison. Although I bet they spent more than four weeks creating their campaign :P I remember the middle story from the last campaign, its as good as I remember it, the representation of the chaos gods is just perfect and its increadibly well written.
Alith Anar is evil. Forget everything you know about him, in this world he sold his soul to the Four and those following him have no good intentions what so ever. They are trying to destroy the world, nothing less. If you want any chance of the lormasters to mention you in the fluff I'd say go with a good faction instead. Or play truly evil, you know you want to! |
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| Fingol | Jan 5 2007, 12:49 PM Post #26 |
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The Chosen
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Agreed, the Shadow King died the moment he sold his soul to the Four. All of Nagarythe's traditions and his desire to preserve Ulthuan have been swept away. Now he's the Everchosen, a horsey of an entirely different color. If Nehekhara knew any better, they'd forget about the foreignors and prepare to defend against AA, but we're not even aware that Chaos exists yet. If you want to deal a death blow to the empire of Dark Ulthuan, then you might as well stick with either Sarthailor or Loren. But of course, you'll be more than welcome in Lahmia, somebody has to rival Mehrdrad after all ;) |
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| ediblespread | Jan 5 2007, 09:57 PM Post #27 |
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The Chosen
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Meh, I joined the empire... Yes, Asur.org's campaign is set in an alternate timeline, where the dark elves managed to take over Ulthuan, and the high elves fled to the empire area, where they met the dwarfs and managed to build their own little colony, although they are very depleted in number. As much as I like Narmo, he has annoyingly strong views that he thinks should be upheld, even though this is a: a game, and b: an alternate timeline. So he is constantly telling the lores to either make wood elves (which I believe do exist in some form) or to add in this or that character, or change this or that. Mostly, the lores ignore him. And asur isn't going to let you run the chaos side from here, although I am sure they wouldn't mind if you set up a forum for a sub-chaos faction if you wanted - remember, they put about 9-12 months of work into this, why would they want the spotlight taken anywhere but asur.org? |
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| acolite | Jan 5 2007, 10:35 PM Post #28 |
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Fair enough, we can just have a Chamber faction like in TW. Also, I still find it interesting how people say: , as we ARE the spotlight (not COTEC, I mean the community as a whole), so surely there would be no campaign without us... still, I don't want to bang heads with Asur.org, so I'm happy to go along with them as far as I can, but does anyone remember what UE and Da Warpath did during LoA? Yup, they hosted their factions out of COTEC. They had their own forum at COTEC, but they did everything at their own forums. |
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| ediblespread | Jan 6 2007, 01:02 AM Post #29 |
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The Chosen
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Well, seriously, no offense Acolite, I love this site, but I think asur.org may have you outnumbered a little in numbers - add in other forums like druchii.net and asrai, and you get too many people to be elves, so naturally they overflow into other factions. This time round we have elves wanting to be dwarfs, dwarfs wanting to be chaos, chaos wanting to be humans, humans wanting to be un-undead humans and so on and so forth. How many people is this site actually feeding in - so far I count two - you and beaver - narmo and myself, as well as a few others already being asur.org regulars. Anyhow, you are right in a way, the game is for the community, but it is also for advertisement - as most things are nowadays. Whats warvault for if not that :P? |
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| Lightbringer | Jan 6 2007, 01:06 AM Post #30 |
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Evil Wizards Inc.
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I agree with ediblespread, no one will stop you if you want to plan things here, but most of the chaos planning is bound to happen at their forum since we will probably have alot of players that are not from here. |
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4:39 PM Jul 11