| Under the cover of Darkness (Part 4); Sensei Stelfklaws Choice | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 24th July 2004 - 07:47 PM (257 Views) | |
| Matt | 24th July 2004 - 07:47 PM Post #1 |
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News Elf of the Twilight Host
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He smiled wickedly as he gazed across his over empire. The bell shone a green almost translucent light casting an eerie shadow across the almost destroyed keep of Castle Bohsenfels. He knew that his enemy still had supplies and water within their tomb of stone, but he had a plan. The eighth day of the seige had dawned, the bell still rang atop the keep and the vermintide still devoured the streets below. The scene of the once great keep now defiled by the blood of both men and daemonic beast. Despite the control the skaven seemed to hold of this fragile territory, men still attacked - riflemen firing shots into the rats and light cannons firing from smashed windows. The warpstone sphere carried by the sensei had smashed, killing many or so the sensei thought. The gas bomb had smashed but the drill of the imperial soldiers saved many lives that would and proberbly should have been lost. Seppel cursed the skaven and vowed that Bohsenfels shalt not fall to their vile kin. More and more rats had arrived at Bohsenfels every hour, the vast host of the Master Assassin now numbering some ten thousand. He knew that this host would be called away within hours, his task complete and so they would be useless. Tonight the true force of the vermintide would be felt on the hapless man-things. The tunnels below Bohsenfels were swolen with vile ratmen, one scurried towards the sunlight, one carried a message from his master. The albino rat bore the badge of Verminous Fang, a deep score of three lines upon his theigh. "I bring news-news from our master. He is pleased-pleased with your work-work at this keep-keep," the messenger stopped as he saw the assassins glowing eyes narrow, "he wish-wishes you and your desert rat-rats to join him-him and his clan-clan beneath the soft-soft man-things town far-far to the south-south." The sensei paused to think before carefully constructing his answer, "me and my rat-rats will leave-leave this warren at sunrise," he sniggered, "Why the master-master expects me to abandon my work-work, I do not know-know." The rat was angry, all others knew of his temper, a dangerous creature indeed when in a foul mood. The albino messenger scurried off, leaving the shocked assassin standing, anger pulsing through his body. He was more determined now than ever to destroy the defenders of the man warren, "Summon the vermintide, the destruction of the man-things has come..." The moon rose quickly, its warpstone light reflected in the screaming bell illuminating the mass of black clad furry bodies who would destroy the enemy from the shadows of night. Without a sound they carefully attached their ropes to the hooks imbeded in the walls. There they waited for the signal. The assassin had quickly ordered the formation of the vermintide rabble. He himself stood hidden in a group of his own desert clanrats, "Fire," he squeaked, his order carried unaturally far on the lifeless wind. Behind him he heard the whirring of the Clan Skhyre weapons as they charged up, their destructive warpstone ammunition already carefully loaded in the long rifles muzzle. Suddenly the whir ceased and the popping sound, like a cork escaping a bottle filled the keeps courtyard. Few of the warpstone shells connected with their target but those which did smashed great wooden chunks from the ancient door. "Fire the cannon," the skaven assassin screeched, his orders carefully followed by the cannons crew. The cannon fired its warp lightning shot easily destroying the door and taking some of the slaves with it. The assassin chuckled as the solid rock surrounding the door gave way. Cheers errupted from the skaven lines. "Forward my Vermintide," cackled the assassin, insanity gripping him again. The chitter and clamour of the vermins feet rose in a steady creschendo. The clatter of steel upon stone rang out as Ruprecht and the Order of the Golden Rose rode out to meet the furry tide. Ruprecht clenched his meaty fists around the warhammer, "These are foul creatures, the creatures our saviour the almighty sigmar and the chieftains vowed to protect us against all those years ago. Do not show them any mercy for you shall recieve none!" The priest dug his heels into his steed and rode to meet the brown clad tide head on, his speech met with resounding cheers from his kin. "The old-man-thing is mine, no-one is to touch-touch him!" the assassin chortled. The swarms of rats who were the vanguard of Stelfklaw collided with the steeds of the empire, their glowing eyes and razor sharp teeth unsettling the averhiem horses. The rats clawed at the equine legs, swarming up and chewing them. The rats ate the sinew and tendons of one of the horses its body and its noble rider flung to the ground to be devoured by the vermin kin! Out of the destroyed keep strode the company of White Lions, their holy standard erected in defiance of the skaven horde. Standing beside them the Archnacht Halbrediers, their long polearms reflected the malice of the sunlight. Already racing to the aid of their master the Flaming Rose company of the sisters of sigmar, their gromril hammers already raised to smite their dreaded foe. More and more men and women escaped from the keep until they numbered four thousand. The skaven charged the illuminated Stormvermin smashing into the Halbrediers, easily besting their weakling Man-thing foes. the men were discouraged but knew they could not escape and so held their ground. "Fire-fire," Stelfklaw screamed at the jezzails behind him, their inaccurate shots made up for as they peppered the White lions, many falling. Stelfklaw spied the slaves on his flank, they were unerved as many were cut down by the Sisters,"Fight-fight," he bellowed in his high pitched voice, the slaves broke and many were smashed to the ground by the weight of the hammers. Just as it seemed to be falling apart for the assassin he screeched at his engineer, "Fire." The engineer fired his pistol at the sky, the warpstone ammo exploding in mid air. The Signal. The night runners slid to the ground just as the main empire battle line smashed into their comrades. The black clad killers skittered towards the enemy, their savages parallel claws cutting deep into their necks. The master assassin finally found his sworn enemy. The priest smashing rats around, breaking necks and spines with his thrashing hammer. The assassin pulled something from his belt, a pronged knife, shaped rather like a trident. He stroked its surface before flinging it at the priest, it collided with his hammer disarming him. The assassin leapt at the priest knocking him to the ground, "now you die-die." the assassin handled his knife and slashed at the priests face. He watched the priest writhe in pain as the poisons mutilated his nervous system, he chocked on the green warpstone flem that filled his throat. The empire army routed, it was hopeless. Their hopelessly constructed defenses no match for the starving rats! Truly now Bohsenfels was his! |
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Wise Words of the Rebellion: "When you run the gauntlet of the Rebellion of Flames, you must expect the unexpected" Warlord Morrik Ashenfur. "Why is it, that as a culture we are more inclined to death than songs?" Warlord Brackenfurr.
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| Warlord Squeek | 25th July 2004 - 02:26 AM Post #2 |
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Stormvermin
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Great story more more Bofesanals finily in skaven hands. |
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| Matt | 26th July 2004 - 08:14 AM Post #3 |
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News Elf of the Twilight Host
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I thank you for your comments ![]() My skaven have finally taken it but are suffering an elven counter - attack part 5 is on its way Giantrat |
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Wise Words of the Rebellion: "When you run the gauntlet of the Rebellion of Flames, you must expect the unexpected" Warlord Morrik Ashenfur. "Why is it, that as a culture we are more inclined to death than songs?" Warlord Brackenfurr.
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