Post by Deraj on Jul 17, 2009 18:58:56 GMT -5
Kharan:
Kharan Von Strauss was excited after months of simple learing easy cantrips, he would finally get to cast a spell of come potency.
Suddenly a flashback hit him, he once again lived the events which had transpired all those months ago. He saw a chaos horde charge from the underways to butcher a skaven outpost, himself in crimson armour at the head. He saw himself massacre a village on his own, forge bands of alliance with both dragon ogres and orcs. He once again led the charge against the undead horde. he saw his battle with the vampire he now called master, he saw the traitor Ragnarr appear once more and kill his dragon with a final blow.
He plumeted to the ground again, sword coming after him, spearing him and pinning him to the ground. He felt the scar tissue still. Count Erick Von Strauss had saved him however.
He became aware of reality once more. He had his pentagram drawn and ready to protect him from the daemons who would be attracted by the concentration of dark magic. Count Erick looked from a safe distance standing in his own pentagram, Erick gave the sign to begin. Slowly words of ancient nehekharian started to tumble from Kharan's mouth. Kharan saw the winds of magic respond to his words and will, Amethyst wind gathering in great quantity's. Almost immediately the daemons came with it. Fighting amongst themselves for the tiny bits dark magic. As Kharan gathered more magic to start the raising some thing unexpected happended. A Chaos Warrior materialised among the fighting daemons cutting down some daemons while shooting lightning to banish the others. Though the Warrior did not seem much bigger then Kharan, he seemed to fill the room. The chill was an other thing with the Chaos Warrior, the winds of the north came too, it seemed. It was so bad that frost started to form on the walls. The Warrior stepped forward and with a stroke of his axe he cracked the floor and Kharan's pentagram. When the Chaos Warrior Stepped into the broken pentagram Kharan realised who he was.
It was himself, his old self Kharan Bloodbringer. He looked as Kharan Von Strauss remembered himself when he led the Hordes of Chaos but it was different instead of the crimson and brass armour he once wore, The Chaos Warrior wore a majestic silver armour with gold trims, leering faces on the armour whispered both the names of Tzeentch and Khorne. Kharan Von Strauss's hand reached for his rapier though it seemed to pale in comparison to Kharan Bloodbringer's massive axe and sword. The eyes were the worst part instead of them his helmet slits contained massive pits of darkness.
which seemed to leak darkness.
Kharan Bloodbringer spoke "I believe you have someting that belongs to me." his voice emanated from his chest sounding hollow and echoing, as if the man inside the armour had long since gone to dust. "And what would that be?" asked Kharan Von Strauss challengingly.
"Part of my soul!" charging the vampire.
Desperately Kharan Von Strauss brought his rapier up to parry.
The force of the blow was enough to break a normal man arm luckily he was not a mere mortal. His counterattack sent the rapier hurtling straight for the heart, his dueling rapier could not penetrate the demonic armour however. Ducking an underhanded axe swing Kharan Von Strauss leapt backwards towards the rack of more destructive weapons of war, greatfull that Erick insisted to cast spells like this one in the armoury.
Grasping a loaded crossbow from the wall, he sent a bolt towards the Chaos Warrior who protected himself with his shield. The bolt quivered for a few seconds before crumbing to dust. Kharan Bloodbringer laughed "Where has your fighting spirit gone bloodsucker?" slowly advancing, shield raised.
Armed with a Great Axe Kharan Von Strauss Charged Kharan Bloodbringer, his first strike Splitting the shield half way.
Putting his shield and sword away, Kharan Bloodbringer sent an axe blow shrieking from above. The great axe chipping upon impact. For a few seconds both warriors stood silent. until axes flashed once more, the fight was in earnest now, with each strike being parried, each counterblow chipping away
at the opponents resolve. it continued until both warriors threw themselves into a single mighty blow, a flash and it was over Kharan Von Strauss great axe was shattered. The chaos warrior started laughing "It is over blood sucker you are disarmed." As he spoke there was a sound of metal striking on metal, Kharan Bloodbringer's helmet slid of his neck to reveal an
inmaterial face consisting out of all 8 winds of magic. "As you can see, I cannot die for I already am." unsheathing his sword and bringing it down upon the head of the unfortunate vampire.
Turning to face Erick Von Strauss in his pentagram, he waved and said "On the field of battle you won't be protected by a pentagram."
Slowly fading out as the remaining magic dispersed with the death of their summoner.
Hourum:
He stood at edge of the forest, gazing up at the walls of the city of Wolfenberg, little more than 100’ away. Just as he did once a year for the last 6 years, since he had been exiled. At one time he had been one of the greatest priests of Sigmar the city had ever known, zealous in the persecution of the wicked. His peers had seen him as… excessive. Of course he drank, of course he had his share of women, but who didn’t need to relieve stress when all around him were heretics? He always needed to stop more heretics, to fight them in battle, to practice until his muscles refused to move, then practice more. He had been cast away by his ‘superiors,’ told that he had no control over his appetites. He traveled through the empire, but no city would take him in, for the high priest had ordered him branded with an 8 pointed star, for they believed him a worshipper of chaos.
He eventually traveled to the great chaos wastes of the north, fighting all he came across, but never feeling fulfilled. Then one day he came to a cave. Within stood a suit of armor, a symbol with a broken hammer on the chest and pauldrons, festooned with skulls. It was a grayish color of iron, but with a blue tint, as though covered in a rime of ice. A voice began whispering to him. Put it on. He did so. Go forth and destroy those who cast you out. He knew the voice was correct. But first… he needed followers. Each year he spent months fighting the great warlords of the north. 3 month of every year though he traveled to Wolfenberg, standing outside the walls, challenging any of the Priests of the hammer to come out and face him.
The first year he had done so, they fired their bows and ballistae at him. He learned to stay on the edge of the forests surrounding the city. On the second year, a man came out to fight him. He had thought it may be a man with honor, but no, it was no man of the hammer, but the captain of the city watch. He had stabbed him with poisoned blades, but armor and his time in the wastes had changed him. He was immune to such things.
On the third year, a man stood upon the gate tower, raising a hammer above his head, then tossing it down in front of the gate. “This was once yours, Hourum” Shouted a voice. This voice was familiar… the voice of the high priest. “Come and get it!” The voice shouted. Hourum shook his head, laughing mirthlessly. The voice in his head had been teaching him though. Making his body stronger and attuning him to the winds of magic. “Come face me, you old fool.” He replied calmly, letting the magic flow through his voice. The man took a step forward slowly, but then shook himself like a wet dog. “I think not!”
Upon the 4th year, Hourum smelled an odd scent traveling through the forest, a smell of wet fur. A large beastman dropped from the branches of a tree above him. It held 2 gold hilted axes and wore a brightly colored cloak. “Your lord has bid me to serve you.” He held up several severed heads. “These men were lying in wait for you. It seems your trips have made your enemies wary” A silky voice said from behind him. He turned and saw a beastman of the type he had never seen. It was small for a beastman, with golden fur and brightly coloured robes. In it’s hand was a golden staff, bedecked with bright feathers. None of these things were that strange to him but for one thing; it had the head of a cat. Hourum snatched the heads from the wargor’s hand and walked to the edge of the forest. Once more, upon the gatehouse stood the High Priest. Hourum tossed the heads on the ground, and turned without a word.
Upon the 5th year the High Priest had hired the help of a few wood elf archers to attempt to kill him. Luckily Hourum had his own hunters this time; slaaneshi cultists from the druchii. He had even more heads to throw at the edge of the forest this year.
Now, it was the 6th year. A most sacred of numbers. Upon this year he had brought his entire army from the wastes. Marauders and massive armored warriors alike, he had collected nearly a thousand men. Adding in the druchii and the beastmen, he had enough troops to fully encircle the city. Now is your time to strike! the voice hissed in his mind. He looked up at the gate, seeing the high priest there once again. Hourum strode forward, shouting “Come face me old man, or your city will be destroyed!” The high priest looked down and smiled. The gate slowly opened and the man calmly walked down to it, walking slowly to a point halfway between the forest and the walls. Hourum was but 50’ from the man. He looked at the gate tower and laughed, pointing to the ballista. The strange bray shaman at his side spoke a word of power, and the men manning the ballista suddenly ran for the edge of the tower and jumped down to their deaths. Hourum strode forth to the old priest, the man looking over his shoulder fitfully.
Hourum charged the last 15’ and swung his massive rune covered axes at the priest. The priest blocked with his massive hammer, shouting out a prayer to Sigmar, then swinging his hammer in an overhead swing. Such a swing could certainly crush even the strongest opponents, but Hourum was once priest of sigmar as well, and he knew their weaknesses. The swing left the priest’s entire body unguarded for but a moment, so Hourum held his axe blades in front of him and charged in, under the hammer’s fall.
With a sudden crash, Hourum felt a massive pressure on his chest and was flying back and away from the Priest. Stumbling to his feet, he looked up and saw a unit of knights had charged forth from the gate, and one must have caught him with its lance. He suddenly began laughing, then shouted to the priest “In all my time in the wastes, if I fought one man, he was the man I fought, and him alone. There is more honor among the worshippers of chaos than those of Sigmar?!” With that he charged back at the priest, raising his right axe above his head, then pointing it forward. With a roar like a tidal wave, his army rushed forward. Massive chaos knights charged around the imperial knights and into the gate behind them. His warriors attacked the knights as viciously as possible. Hourum wondered why they hadn’t moved to reple the charge, but as one was pulled down, he saw the reason. The Priest was on his knees, hammer clenched before him, shouting a prayer. “You’re god won’t save you” Hourum roared angrily, “mine is far more powerful!”
The priest looked up, eyes glowing with power. Hourum knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for for 6 long years. The din of battle around them seemed to grow quiet as Hourum charged toward the priest. The man swung his hammer in a massive semi circle in front of him. Hourum backpedaled and ducked back, the hammer passing directly over his navel. He jumped forward before the priest could stop his swing and swung his left axe at the man’s head while raising his right axe to stop the return stroke of the hammer. The priest ducked back swiftly and brought his hammer up in a strange upper cut, catching Hourums right arm. The feeling was strange to Hourum. In the middle of this battle, it wasn’t pain he felt. It was a warm and sharp pleasure, and he exhulted in it. His arm had probably been broken, he knew his vambrace would need to be repaired, but the arm was still strong. He smashed his elbow into the man’s face, and when he reeled back, his axe came in like a thunderbolt. With a loud ringing, the priest blocked the axe with his hammer, sending pleasant vibrations up Hourums arm. The axe in right arm came in quickly from up high, and though weak, gravity helped his force. The priest swayed to the side just in time, allowing the axe to shear through his left shoulder rather than his head. The man cried out in agony and his grip on the hammer weakened. Hourum swung his left axe in and decapitated the priest in a single blow.
The voice in his head began laughing. “So begins the tale of Hourum Hammerbane. it proclaimed. Now go into the city and finish this, for there will be many more battles to come.
Kil'looza
When Kil’looza and his brethren were spawned in the ruined temple-city of Tlax years after the Great Catastrophe, there was much debate amongst the Slann about their origin. On one hand, their purple scales and markings suggested that their spawning is influenced by the Old One; Tepok. But it is the aura that they give off which started the controversy. Usually, the blessed of Tepok would have a detached and otherworldly air but Kil’looza and his Saurus brethren have a more nightmarish and dead aura about them. Some of the Slann speculated that they are actually favored of Old One that deals with the souls of the departed. Some argued that Tepok also deals with the affairs of dead alongside those of the arcane and magic. A few suggested that they are simply blessed by two of the Old Ones. Despite the debate has continued on for thousands of years, Kil’looza and his Saurus brethren have been allowed to carry on with their duties to dispose of any threats to the Great Plan.
Over the years, Kil’looza and his spawn-brothers have battle many foes. One of their earliest and prominent achievements was routing an ambush orchestrated by Skaven assassins upon a Slann Mage-Priest delegation that would have seen a great blow to the Lizardmen race. Despite the praises and venerations, the details on how Kil’looza and his Saurus cohorts manage to found out about the ambush leave many unanswered questions. Firstly; Saurus aren’t known for their stealthy approach given their aggressive and very direct nature. Secondly; the assassin themselves were of the best that the Skaven-kind can offer that even the oldest and hardened Temple Guards failed to detect them. When Kil’looza was asked about the ambush by the Slann Mage-Priests, the Saurus simply answered “Souls to reap…” The Slann Mage-Priests were taken aback by the answer and dismissed the Saurus before debating the meaning behind the words. Again, suggestions are made that the ‘Living Ghosts’, which Kil’looza and his Saurus Warriors as well as any other spawning of such kind are later referred to, should have their minds read but most of the Slann objected and argued that one shouldn’t meddle with the plans of the Old One of Death.
But the controversies didn’t stop there, however. Reports were coming in from Skink scouts that every full moon, eerie growls and roars would come from a certain part of the Lustrian jungles and that a mystical fog and ghosts would wander about the jungle. All attempts to find the cause has been met with failure. Skink scouts that have been sent have never return and even some say that they can see those ghosts of those skinks patrolling the jungle as if they were alive. Eventually, the Skink administrators were forced to wake the Slann Mage-Priests from their slumber. Pondering on the matter and after a very lengthy discussion, a Slann Mage-Priest decided to take it upon himself to lead an expedition to find out what’s the source of these ghosts. Before the night of a full moon, the Slann took with him a great number of Skink Priests and enacts the ritual that would protect them from any malicious spells as they traverse the fog. As the procession travel deeper and deeper into the said area, the fog and ghosts materialize. The Temple Guards immediately formed ranks around their Slann master but the apparitions ignored them altogether and the procession continued on unmolested. Eventually, they made their way to an abandon and unknown temple-city where they witness apparitions of Kroxigors and Skinks artisans rebuilding the temple-city itself.
As they made their way to the central plaza, the fog grew thicker and thicker. The eerie growls and roars can be heard quite clearly and to the Slann, it seems more of a chant. Eventually, they reached the central plaza where observe Kil’looza and his kind chanting around a seemingly dead Slann Mage-Priests. Again, Kil’looza and his ‘Living Ghosts’ displayed a very unnatural Saurus behavior. The Slann scanned the scene and found that the ‘Living Ghosts’ are used as a conduit for the ritual. So, the Slann ordered his Skink Priests to record every detail of the ritual for later examination. The ritual went on until the next morning where the apparitions disappeared along with the entire temple-city. Kil’looza and his Saurus assembled before the Slann Mage-Priest and Kil’looza presented a plaque not of gold but of mysterious grey stone. The Slann dare not touch the plaque, which later is called the “Plaque of the Grey Skull”, but instead ordered the Skink Priests to carry and attend to it. Again, the Slann dismissed the ‘Living Ghosts’ and brought back the plaque to be interpreted and studied. The conclusion has resulted in a common consensus amongst the Slann Mage-Priests. From the deciphering of the plaque, it is decided that the ‘Living Ghosts’ will be allowed to do whatever that is necessary to further progress of the Great Plan and be allowed to continued on with their ritual. The ghostly temple-city itself is named the “City of the Living Ghosts”.
Despite all the various controversies stemming from Kil’looza and his spawn-brethrens, their achievements over the millennia have proven that they’re just as devout servants of the Old One as any Saurus Warriors that are spawned before and after them. But alas, Kil’looza was the only survivor of his spawning after thousands of years of battle in the name of the Old Ones. But by then, the Saurus Oldblood was leading a warhost of ‘Living Ghosts’. The Saurus Warriorsof the warhost are very much alive but like Kil’looza, gives off an aura of dread and death. Their mounts which include Cold Ones, Terradons and Stegadons are very much alive as well. But it is their Skinks and Kroxigors that are more ghostly than their Saurus cousins. They’re almost ethereal to the touch but just as deadly with their javelins and blowpipes as their flesh and blood counterparts. Another distinct feature of the warhost is that it is often accompanied by a seemingly dead Slann Mage-Priest. Observers recounted that unlike the usual active Slann on the battlefield, this Slann Mage-Priest is akin to a Relic Priest; unmoving and dead but the Slann’s formidable magical might says otherwise. Furthermore, no such spawning that has born Kil’looza has ever been sighted in Tlax or in any other temple-city. Again, the Slann Mage-Priests speculated that the Saurus, Skinks and Kroxigors of the warhost spawned from the “City of the Living Ghosts” itself.
Unbeknownst to most of the Lizardmen race, Kil’looza often led his army across the World Pond to do battle with the living dead specifically the Tomb Kings of Nehekhara and the Vampire Counts of Sylvania. Often the battles will be short but savage as the ‘Living Ghosts’ cut through the undead horde swiftly and efficiently before Kil’looza himself beheads and seals away the said Tomb King, Vampire Count or Necromancer. It is also observed that Kil’looza carries a halberd of ominous powers and some Slann has the unfortunate chance to watch as any slained by Kil’looza’s halberd has their soul literally ripped from their mortal bodies before being absorbed by halberd itself. The Slann Mage-Priests named the weapon; “Soul Reaver”.
In a specific event, Kil’looza and his warhost assisted in the defense of Xlanhuapec against an undead army of a Vampire Count. The Vampire Count sought to penetrate the city defenses and raise the Relic Priests from the dead thus adding formidable magical prowess to his army. The siege lasted for a full cycle of the moons; many times the skeleton warriors and zombie horde crashed into the ranks of Saurus Warriors and the Skinks unleash their javelins upon the undead army. The Slann Mage-Priests of Xlanhuapec do battle with the Necromancers and at the same time; maintain the magical shield protecting the City of the Mists. Kil’looza himself challenges the Vampire Count all the while. Both seem tireless in their efforts to defeat their foe. Every attempt by the Vampire Count to cast his unholy magic on Saurus Oldblood is thwarted as Kil’looza swats away the magic and continues to pummel the Vampire Count. Every attempt by the Oldblood to decapitate the Vampire Count is countered by the Vampire’s own agility and parrying skill. Eventually, the Vampire Count falters and Kil’looza hacks off its limbs before plunging his halberd into the heart of the Vampire Count and there the Slann was able to bear witness to the “Soul-Reaping”. As Kil’looza tries to rip the soul from the body of the Vampire Count, the soul of the vampire screams and struggles as it stubbornly refuse to leave the mortal plane. Dark magic can be seen flowing profusely from the vampire as Kil’looza uses all his might to detach the soul from the body. With one last wrench, the soul of the vampire was finally severed from his body and with it; the back of the undead army was broken. Even the captured Necromancers were not spared the Soul-Reaping as Kil’looza enacts a ceremony that saw all of their souls claimed by the Soul Reaver. Skink Priests immediately noted every small detail of the ritual, taking particular notes on how Kil’looza harvests the souls of the Necromancer. With the ritual done and the Old One of Death pleased, Kil’looza and his warhost marched into the jungle and continue his quest of Soul-Reaping of those loathed by the Old One of Death.
Well, here it is at last. This competition got delayed so many times due to me being dumb enough to wait for so many people that it wasn't even funny, but here it finally is. Bloodfire, I sincerely apologize especially to you, as you and I are the only ones to have gotten our entries in... a month ago. Zenai, I sort of apologize to you for the wait, even though you were a bit of a pain
To everyone else... sorry for not extending it longer, but I mean, if you weren't going to enter, you weren't going to entire, so I figured it was about time to get this up...
Kharan Von Strauss was excited after months of simple learing easy cantrips, he would finally get to cast a spell of come potency.
Suddenly a flashback hit him, he once again lived the events which had transpired all those months ago. He saw a chaos horde charge from the underways to butcher a skaven outpost, himself in crimson armour at the head. He saw himself massacre a village on his own, forge bands of alliance with both dragon ogres and orcs. He once again led the charge against the undead horde. he saw his battle with the vampire he now called master, he saw the traitor Ragnarr appear once more and kill his dragon with a final blow.
He plumeted to the ground again, sword coming after him, spearing him and pinning him to the ground. He felt the scar tissue still. Count Erick Von Strauss had saved him however.
He became aware of reality once more. He had his pentagram drawn and ready to protect him from the daemons who would be attracted by the concentration of dark magic. Count Erick looked from a safe distance standing in his own pentagram, Erick gave the sign to begin. Slowly words of ancient nehekharian started to tumble from Kharan's mouth. Kharan saw the winds of magic respond to his words and will, Amethyst wind gathering in great quantity's. Almost immediately the daemons came with it. Fighting amongst themselves for the tiny bits dark magic. As Kharan gathered more magic to start the raising some thing unexpected happended. A Chaos Warrior materialised among the fighting daemons cutting down some daemons while shooting lightning to banish the others. Though the Warrior did not seem much bigger then Kharan, he seemed to fill the room. The chill was an other thing with the Chaos Warrior, the winds of the north came too, it seemed. It was so bad that frost started to form on the walls. The Warrior stepped forward and with a stroke of his axe he cracked the floor and Kharan's pentagram. When the Chaos Warrior Stepped into the broken pentagram Kharan realised who he was.
It was himself, his old self Kharan Bloodbringer. He looked as Kharan Von Strauss remembered himself when he led the Hordes of Chaos but it was different instead of the crimson and brass armour he once wore, The Chaos Warrior wore a majestic silver armour with gold trims, leering faces on the armour whispered both the names of Tzeentch and Khorne. Kharan Von Strauss's hand reached for his rapier though it seemed to pale in comparison to Kharan Bloodbringer's massive axe and sword. The eyes were the worst part instead of them his helmet slits contained massive pits of darkness.
which seemed to leak darkness.
Kharan Bloodbringer spoke "I believe you have someting that belongs to me." his voice emanated from his chest sounding hollow and echoing, as if the man inside the armour had long since gone to dust. "And what would that be?" asked Kharan Von Strauss challengingly.
"Part of my soul!" charging the vampire.
Desperately Kharan Von Strauss brought his rapier up to parry.
The force of the blow was enough to break a normal man arm luckily he was not a mere mortal. His counterattack sent the rapier hurtling straight for the heart, his dueling rapier could not penetrate the demonic armour however. Ducking an underhanded axe swing Kharan Von Strauss leapt backwards towards the rack of more destructive weapons of war, greatfull that Erick insisted to cast spells like this one in the armoury.
Grasping a loaded crossbow from the wall, he sent a bolt towards the Chaos Warrior who protected himself with his shield. The bolt quivered for a few seconds before crumbing to dust. Kharan Bloodbringer laughed "Where has your fighting spirit gone bloodsucker?" slowly advancing, shield raised.
Armed with a Great Axe Kharan Von Strauss Charged Kharan Bloodbringer, his first strike Splitting the shield half way.
Putting his shield and sword away, Kharan Bloodbringer sent an axe blow shrieking from above. The great axe chipping upon impact. For a few seconds both warriors stood silent. until axes flashed once more, the fight was in earnest now, with each strike being parried, each counterblow chipping away
at the opponents resolve. it continued until both warriors threw themselves into a single mighty blow, a flash and it was over Kharan Von Strauss great axe was shattered. The chaos warrior started laughing "It is over blood sucker you are disarmed." As he spoke there was a sound of metal striking on metal, Kharan Bloodbringer's helmet slid of his neck to reveal an
inmaterial face consisting out of all 8 winds of magic. "As you can see, I cannot die for I already am." unsheathing his sword and bringing it down upon the head of the unfortunate vampire.
Turning to face Erick Von Strauss in his pentagram, he waved and said "On the field of battle you won't be protected by a pentagram."
Slowly fading out as the remaining magic dispersed with the death of their summoner.
Hourum:
He stood at edge of the forest, gazing up at the walls of the city of Wolfenberg, little more than 100’ away. Just as he did once a year for the last 6 years, since he had been exiled. At one time he had been one of the greatest priests of Sigmar the city had ever known, zealous in the persecution of the wicked. His peers had seen him as… excessive. Of course he drank, of course he had his share of women, but who didn’t need to relieve stress when all around him were heretics? He always needed to stop more heretics, to fight them in battle, to practice until his muscles refused to move, then practice more. He had been cast away by his ‘superiors,’ told that he had no control over his appetites. He traveled through the empire, but no city would take him in, for the high priest had ordered him branded with an 8 pointed star, for they believed him a worshipper of chaos.
He eventually traveled to the great chaos wastes of the north, fighting all he came across, but never feeling fulfilled. Then one day he came to a cave. Within stood a suit of armor, a symbol with a broken hammer on the chest and pauldrons, festooned with skulls. It was a grayish color of iron, but with a blue tint, as though covered in a rime of ice. A voice began whispering to him. Put it on. He did so. Go forth and destroy those who cast you out. He knew the voice was correct. But first… he needed followers. Each year he spent months fighting the great warlords of the north. 3 month of every year though he traveled to Wolfenberg, standing outside the walls, challenging any of the Priests of the hammer to come out and face him.
The first year he had done so, they fired their bows and ballistae at him. He learned to stay on the edge of the forests surrounding the city. On the second year, a man came out to fight him. He had thought it may be a man with honor, but no, it was no man of the hammer, but the captain of the city watch. He had stabbed him with poisoned blades, but armor and his time in the wastes had changed him. He was immune to such things.
On the third year, a man stood upon the gate tower, raising a hammer above his head, then tossing it down in front of the gate. “This was once yours, Hourum” Shouted a voice. This voice was familiar… the voice of the high priest. “Come and get it!” The voice shouted. Hourum shook his head, laughing mirthlessly. The voice in his head had been teaching him though. Making his body stronger and attuning him to the winds of magic. “Come face me, you old fool.” He replied calmly, letting the magic flow through his voice. The man took a step forward slowly, but then shook himself like a wet dog. “I think not!”
Upon the 4th year, Hourum smelled an odd scent traveling through the forest, a smell of wet fur. A large beastman dropped from the branches of a tree above him. It held 2 gold hilted axes and wore a brightly colored cloak. “Your lord has bid me to serve you.” He held up several severed heads. “These men were lying in wait for you. It seems your trips have made your enemies wary” A silky voice said from behind him. He turned and saw a beastman of the type he had never seen. It was small for a beastman, with golden fur and brightly coloured robes. In it’s hand was a golden staff, bedecked with bright feathers. None of these things were that strange to him but for one thing; it had the head of a cat. Hourum snatched the heads from the wargor’s hand and walked to the edge of the forest. Once more, upon the gatehouse stood the High Priest. Hourum tossed the heads on the ground, and turned without a word.
Upon the 5th year the High Priest had hired the help of a few wood elf archers to attempt to kill him. Luckily Hourum had his own hunters this time; slaaneshi cultists from the druchii. He had even more heads to throw at the edge of the forest this year.
Now, it was the 6th year. A most sacred of numbers. Upon this year he had brought his entire army from the wastes. Marauders and massive armored warriors alike, he had collected nearly a thousand men. Adding in the druchii and the beastmen, he had enough troops to fully encircle the city. Now is your time to strike! the voice hissed in his mind. He looked up at the gate, seeing the high priest there once again. Hourum strode forward, shouting “Come face me old man, or your city will be destroyed!” The high priest looked down and smiled. The gate slowly opened and the man calmly walked down to it, walking slowly to a point halfway between the forest and the walls. Hourum was but 50’ from the man. He looked at the gate tower and laughed, pointing to the ballista. The strange bray shaman at his side spoke a word of power, and the men manning the ballista suddenly ran for the edge of the tower and jumped down to their deaths. Hourum strode forth to the old priest, the man looking over his shoulder fitfully.
Hourum charged the last 15’ and swung his massive rune covered axes at the priest. The priest blocked with his massive hammer, shouting out a prayer to Sigmar, then swinging his hammer in an overhead swing. Such a swing could certainly crush even the strongest opponents, but Hourum was once priest of sigmar as well, and he knew their weaknesses. The swing left the priest’s entire body unguarded for but a moment, so Hourum held his axe blades in front of him and charged in, under the hammer’s fall.
With a sudden crash, Hourum felt a massive pressure on his chest and was flying back and away from the Priest. Stumbling to his feet, he looked up and saw a unit of knights had charged forth from the gate, and one must have caught him with its lance. He suddenly began laughing, then shouted to the priest “In all my time in the wastes, if I fought one man, he was the man I fought, and him alone. There is more honor among the worshippers of chaos than those of Sigmar?!” With that he charged back at the priest, raising his right axe above his head, then pointing it forward. With a roar like a tidal wave, his army rushed forward. Massive chaos knights charged around the imperial knights and into the gate behind them. His warriors attacked the knights as viciously as possible. Hourum wondered why they hadn’t moved to reple the charge, but as one was pulled down, he saw the reason. The Priest was on his knees, hammer clenched before him, shouting a prayer. “You’re god won’t save you” Hourum roared angrily, “mine is far more powerful!”
The priest looked up, eyes glowing with power. Hourum knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for for 6 long years. The din of battle around them seemed to grow quiet as Hourum charged toward the priest. The man swung his hammer in a massive semi circle in front of him. Hourum backpedaled and ducked back, the hammer passing directly over his navel. He jumped forward before the priest could stop his swing and swung his left axe at the man’s head while raising his right axe to stop the return stroke of the hammer. The priest ducked back swiftly and brought his hammer up in a strange upper cut, catching Hourums right arm. The feeling was strange to Hourum. In the middle of this battle, it wasn’t pain he felt. It was a warm and sharp pleasure, and he exhulted in it. His arm had probably been broken, he knew his vambrace would need to be repaired, but the arm was still strong. He smashed his elbow into the man’s face, and when he reeled back, his axe came in like a thunderbolt. With a loud ringing, the priest blocked the axe with his hammer, sending pleasant vibrations up Hourums arm. The axe in right arm came in quickly from up high, and though weak, gravity helped his force. The priest swayed to the side just in time, allowing the axe to shear through his left shoulder rather than his head. The man cried out in agony and his grip on the hammer weakened. Hourum swung his left axe in and decapitated the priest in a single blow.
The voice in his head began laughing. “So begins the tale of Hourum Hammerbane. it proclaimed. Now go into the city and finish this, for there will be many more battles to come.
Kil'looza
When Kil’looza and his brethren were spawned in the ruined temple-city of Tlax years after the Great Catastrophe, there was much debate amongst the Slann about their origin. On one hand, their purple scales and markings suggested that their spawning is influenced by the Old One; Tepok. But it is the aura that they give off which started the controversy. Usually, the blessed of Tepok would have a detached and otherworldly air but Kil’looza and his Saurus brethren have a more nightmarish and dead aura about them. Some of the Slann speculated that they are actually favored of Old One that deals with the souls of the departed. Some argued that Tepok also deals with the affairs of dead alongside those of the arcane and magic. A few suggested that they are simply blessed by two of the Old Ones. Despite the debate has continued on for thousands of years, Kil’looza and his Saurus brethren have been allowed to carry on with their duties to dispose of any threats to the Great Plan.
Over the years, Kil’looza and his spawn-brothers have battle many foes. One of their earliest and prominent achievements was routing an ambush orchestrated by Skaven assassins upon a Slann Mage-Priest delegation that would have seen a great blow to the Lizardmen race. Despite the praises and venerations, the details on how Kil’looza and his Saurus cohorts manage to found out about the ambush leave many unanswered questions. Firstly; Saurus aren’t known for their stealthy approach given their aggressive and very direct nature. Secondly; the assassin themselves were of the best that the Skaven-kind can offer that even the oldest and hardened Temple Guards failed to detect them. When Kil’looza was asked about the ambush by the Slann Mage-Priests, the Saurus simply answered “Souls to reap…” The Slann Mage-Priests were taken aback by the answer and dismissed the Saurus before debating the meaning behind the words. Again, suggestions are made that the ‘Living Ghosts’, which Kil’looza and his Saurus Warriors as well as any other spawning of such kind are later referred to, should have their minds read but most of the Slann objected and argued that one shouldn’t meddle with the plans of the Old One of Death.
But the controversies didn’t stop there, however. Reports were coming in from Skink scouts that every full moon, eerie growls and roars would come from a certain part of the Lustrian jungles and that a mystical fog and ghosts would wander about the jungle. All attempts to find the cause has been met with failure. Skink scouts that have been sent have never return and even some say that they can see those ghosts of those skinks patrolling the jungle as if they were alive. Eventually, the Skink administrators were forced to wake the Slann Mage-Priests from their slumber. Pondering on the matter and after a very lengthy discussion, a Slann Mage-Priest decided to take it upon himself to lead an expedition to find out what’s the source of these ghosts. Before the night of a full moon, the Slann took with him a great number of Skink Priests and enacts the ritual that would protect them from any malicious spells as they traverse the fog. As the procession travel deeper and deeper into the said area, the fog and ghosts materialize. The Temple Guards immediately formed ranks around their Slann master but the apparitions ignored them altogether and the procession continued on unmolested. Eventually, they made their way to an abandon and unknown temple-city where they witness apparitions of Kroxigors and Skinks artisans rebuilding the temple-city itself.
As they made their way to the central plaza, the fog grew thicker and thicker. The eerie growls and roars can be heard quite clearly and to the Slann, it seems more of a chant. Eventually, they reached the central plaza where observe Kil’looza and his kind chanting around a seemingly dead Slann Mage-Priests. Again, Kil’looza and his ‘Living Ghosts’ displayed a very unnatural Saurus behavior. The Slann scanned the scene and found that the ‘Living Ghosts’ are used as a conduit for the ritual. So, the Slann ordered his Skink Priests to record every detail of the ritual for later examination. The ritual went on until the next morning where the apparitions disappeared along with the entire temple-city. Kil’looza and his Saurus assembled before the Slann Mage-Priest and Kil’looza presented a plaque not of gold but of mysterious grey stone. The Slann dare not touch the plaque, which later is called the “Plaque of the Grey Skull”, but instead ordered the Skink Priests to carry and attend to it. Again, the Slann dismissed the ‘Living Ghosts’ and brought back the plaque to be interpreted and studied. The conclusion has resulted in a common consensus amongst the Slann Mage-Priests. From the deciphering of the plaque, it is decided that the ‘Living Ghosts’ will be allowed to do whatever that is necessary to further progress of the Great Plan and be allowed to continued on with their ritual. The ghostly temple-city itself is named the “City of the Living Ghosts”.
Despite all the various controversies stemming from Kil’looza and his spawn-brethrens, their achievements over the millennia have proven that they’re just as devout servants of the Old One as any Saurus Warriors that are spawned before and after them. But alas, Kil’looza was the only survivor of his spawning after thousands of years of battle in the name of the Old Ones. But by then, the Saurus Oldblood was leading a warhost of ‘Living Ghosts’. The Saurus Warriorsof the warhost are very much alive but like Kil’looza, gives off an aura of dread and death. Their mounts which include Cold Ones, Terradons and Stegadons are very much alive as well. But it is their Skinks and Kroxigors that are more ghostly than their Saurus cousins. They’re almost ethereal to the touch but just as deadly with their javelins and blowpipes as their flesh and blood counterparts. Another distinct feature of the warhost is that it is often accompanied by a seemingly dead Slann Mage-Priest. Observers recounted that unlike the usual active Slann on the battlefield, this Slann Mage-Priest is akin to a Relic Priest; unmoving and dead but the Slann’s formidable magical might says otherwise. Furthermore, no such spawning that has born Kil’looza has ever been sighted in Tlax or in any other temple-city. Again, the Slann Mage-Priests speculated that the Saurus, Skinks and Kroxigors of the warhost spawned from the “City of the Living Ghosts” itself.
Unbeknownst to most of the Lizardmen race, Kil’looza often led his army across the World Pond to do battle with the living dead specifically the Tomb Kings of Nehekhara and the Vampire Counts of Sylvania. Often the battles will be short but savage as the ‘Living Ghosts’ cut through the undead horde swiftly and efficiently before Kil’looza himself beheads and seals away the said Tomb King, Vampire Count or Necromancer. It is also observed that Kil’looza carries a halberd of ominous powers and some Slann has the unfortunate chance to watch as any slained by Kil’looza’s halberd has their soul literally ripped from their mortal bodies before being absorbed by halberd itself. The Slann Mage-Priests named the weapon; “Soul Reaver”.
In a specific event, Kil’looza and his warhost assisted in the defense of Xlanhuapec against an undead army of a Vampire Count. The Vampire Count sought to penetrate the city defenses and raise the Relic Priests from the dead thus adding formidable magical prowess to his army. The siege lasted for a full cycle of the moons; many times the skeleton warriors and zombie horde crashed into the ranks of Saurus Warriors and the Skinks unleash their javelins upon the undead army. The Slann Mage-Priests of Xlanhuapec do battle with the Necromancers and at the same time; maintain the magical shield protecting the City of the Mists. Kil’looza himself challenges the Vampire Count all the while. Both seem tireless in their efforts to defeat their foe. Every attempt by the Vampire Count to cast his unholy magic on Saurus Oldblood is thwarted as Kil’looza swats away the magic and continues to pummel the Vampire Count. Every attempt by the Oldblood to decapitate the Vampire Count is countered by the Vampire’s own agility and parrying skill. Eventually, the Vampire Count falters and Kil’looza hacks off its limbs before plunging his halberd into the heart of the Vampire Count and there the Slann was able to bear witness to the “Soul-Reaping”. As Kil’looza tries to rip the soul from the body of the Vampire Count, the soul of the vampire screams and struggles as it stubbornly refuse to leave the mortal plane. Dark magic can be seen flowing profusely from the vampire as Kil’looza uses all his might to detach the soul from the body. With one last wrench, the soul of the vampire was finally severed from his body and with it; the back of the undead army was broken. Even the captured Necromancers were not spared the Soul-Reaping as Kil’looza enacts a ceremony that saw all of their souls claimed by the Soul Reaver. Skink Priests immediately noted every small detail of the ritual, taking particular notes on how Kil’looza harvests the souls of the Necromancer. With the ritual done and the Old One of Death pleased, Kil’looza and his warhost marched into the jungle and continue his quest of Soul-Reaping of those loathed by the Old One of Death.
Well, here it is at last. This competition got delayed so many times due to me being dumb enough to wait for so many people that it wasn't even funny, but here it finally is. Bloodfire, I sincerely apologize especially to you, as you and I are the only ones to have gotten our entries in... a month ago. Zenai, I sort of apologize to you for the wait, even though you were a bit of a pain
To everyone else... sorry for not extending it longer, but I mean, if you weren't going to enter, you weren't going to entire, so I figured it was about time to get this up...
