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Post by Dr Carnivean on Mar 13, 2010 11:01:29 GMT -5
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Post by shasoevan on Mar 13, 2010 11:15:47 GMT -5
i love the last 2 pics.
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sionnach19
Full Member
Web-Team Editor/Writer
Posts: 2,709
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Post by sionnach19 on Mar 13, 2010 16:22:09 GMT -5
The air was still, death lingering like a miasmic fog. Muninn’s heavy breathing pierced the quiet, but he knew it would soon be replaced by churning machinery and grunting slaves as they began the excavation of the treasure well. There were a few hours still, but in the Forsaken Vale things such as peace and quiet did not survive for long. His mind was turned from these thoughts as Thrymm opened the flap to his tent. He was carrying a bloody bag.
“It is done, my liege,” he growled as he dropped the bag with a heavy thump on a large table in the center of the tent. Muninn silently nodded and stood, walking to the table. He opened the bag and deposited its contents, severed heads spilling out onto the table. Muninn’s lips curled into a grim smile. The head of Count Brocken, a treacherous former-ally, was the first to fall out. “Er, my lord, Brocken’s body was not amongst the rest of the dead. It was not to be found at all, actually,” Thrymm hesitantly stated. Perhaps they would be seeing Brocken again, Muninn thought.
Two Empire heads came next, one of a captain and the other of some magician. Muninn bitterly recalled the toll the Empire soldiers had wrought on his forces; whilst the Chaos Warriors and Troll were capable of slaying them, Muninn’s brother Huginn fell to an Empire bullet. “Huginn’s body has been set aside. His body still dances with arcane fire, and I feel Tzeentch is not done with him yet,” Thrymm interjected. Muninn grinned. It would take more than a piece of metal to the end the life of a sorcerer as powerful as his brother.
Next came an empty helm that had once belonged to El Duke Azule. Muninn raised his head and glared at Thrymm. “We both know that the dead cannot be killed so easily, my liege,” Thrymm camly replied. “No doubt we will be seeing El Duke again.” Muninn nodded, trusting Thrymm’s insight.
Thrymm had certainly proved himself. He had fought valiantly at Muninn’s side for many battles. Bravely surviving an onslaught from Lizardmen Salamanders and single handedly taking the charge to them. Crippling the mutated Elephant of the Circus Chimaira. Protecting Muninn as he stormed Shellendrak Manor from the plethora of sick, twisted beasts found inside. Thrymm would be a fitting successor for the Sons of Thunder when Muninn moved on, to wherever the call of the gods took him.
Two Orc skulls rolled from the sack next. Muninn remembered crushing the Greenskin shaman under his iron heel, while the Black Orc general had fallen at the oversized talons of the mutant Chaos Troll. That damned troll had more than proved its worth, wading through combat with reckless abandon and slaying many enemy soldiers. When it finally fell at the hands of High Elf arrows, Muninn almost felt a sliver of remorse. Almost.
Finally, the skull of a High Elf captain fell from the bag. Muninn had a tough fight against this bastard, but he stood no chance against the forces of Chaos. His life ended underneath the iron of Muninn’s war hammer.
“The rest of our forces will be arriving shortly, my lord. The excavation will begin soon,” Thrymm said as his master proceeded to put the heads back in the bag.
“Put these on my trophy rack, in the Castle,” Muninn hissed to Thrymm, his grating voice terrifying to even the most powerful of warriors.
“There is no more room on the trophy rack, lord. It is full of skulls from your other conquests,” Thrymm replied softly.
“Then make another,” Muninn snarled as he pulled his helmet back on. For a Chaos Lord must always keep record of his conquests, and Muninn could feel the call of the gods coming closer and closer. He would achieve immortality, and the Forsaken Vale would be his.
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