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The vengeance of the Plaguelord?; Nilax at Hergig day 2
Topic Started: 4th August 2004 - 12:26 AM (580 Views)
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Nurglitch II

Nilax watched as his slaves fashioned freshly dried skaven pelts to his siege tower’s new assault plank, replacing those that had been lost in the previous night’s battle. The sixteen gutter runner sappers that had survived the battle were flayed alive at Nilax’s orders. The furious Plaguelord’s wrath as uncompromising as the plagues he had spent his entire life engineering. There was no excuse for the failure of their blasting charges to detonate. Many man-things had died in the battle, but the walls still held strong. Nilax had the pelts hung high to remind his superiors who was truly at fault for the mishap.

Surely it was only a matter of time before the walls fell to the vast reinforcements from Nilax’s tunnels from the south already spilling out to strengthen the army of Verminous Fang, but that wasn’t good enough. His ploy had failed, and he needed to convince his superiors he was reliable. Waylaid for several days by an ambush of fanatical red-furred dwarf-things, Nilax had arrived late to the battle. Things would soon change, however, for Nilax had borrowed a destructive idea from the dwarf-things. Soon the men of Hergig would be stricken down by their own ally’s ingenuity. If only they were skaven, Nilax might have respected the ferocious stunties.

Confident with the progress of the repairs, Nilax turned to his table, much of it covered by a crude map drawn on parchment paper. Withdrawing a small canister of foul-smelling jelly, he pressed the skalm into the wound the Jaegerkorp captain had blasted into him last night and wiped his hands on his rotting robes. Proceeding to roll up the map, Nilax handed it to Skritt, his second in command. Skritt nodded to his master and took the map away, disappearing down a side-tunnel. Yes, surely this would prove to be the turning point for Nilax. The engineers that Thratch had sent were already studying the new components for project supremacy. Yes, everything was coming together...

“You take this” Skritt hissed, shoving the map into Liskk’s paws.

Liskk nodded obediently and placed the document under his cloak. “Many tunnels beneath man-city now. This show you were to go. You lose and there is big trouble” Again Liskk simply nodded, his veins still coursing with fear over what Nilax had done to the other gutter runners. It was not his unit that had failed him, but Liskk was well aware of the Plaguelord’s frustration. “...and these” Skritt said, producing a series of vials filled with black, bubbling liquid. “You follow map, you remember where to put poison?” Liskk chittered in acknowledgment. “Good-good, you have chance to serve lord Nilax well.”

Liskk took the poison and stashed it in his belt. This was hardly a difficult assignment, one he had run many times before in countless man and Skaven settlements alike. “Yesss, good-good. Nilax must have success, so he send Gnawgar with you” The plague priest said, motioning to a hulking figure approaching the two skaven. Liskk’s whiskers began to tremble at the sight of the monk. Although taller and fatter than most of his brethren, what stood out most about Gnawgar were his restraints. The monk was bound up with skavenhide leather straps, looking as though he belonged in the great Altdorf asylum.

“Why he tied up like a slave?” Liskk asked.
“Your protection. Nilax want waters poisoned or else Gnawgar take over. Gnawgar kill-kill all gutter vermin except you. You go home alone and explain to masters why Nilax not pay. Understand?”

A broken chitter and a nod of understanding.

“Good-good, now go, take rest of your rats with you.”


Half a dozen ratmen figures clad in black cloth scurried through the abandoned tunnel, followed behind by the bound plague monk. The massive skaven had no chance of keeping pace with the nimble eshin cadre, but Liskk knew not to abandon the creature less he offend his master’s wishes. Liskk wished he could be rid of the behemoth though, like a dead weight he was slowing the operation down when Liskk knew he didn’t need his help...whatever it might be.

“Shhh!” one of the gutter runners hissed, coming to an abrupt pause. The team drew their weapons and stared ahead into the dark tunnel. It appeared to be empty as far ahead as the skaven could see, and no further sound was forthcoming beyond that of Gnawgar’s feet scraping the ground as he stomped along behind.

“No man things here,” Liskk whispered to his comrades, “they no know about tunnels. Besides they too busy up top. We storm walls.” The suspicious gutter runner took a few more sniffs of the air. Satisfied, he burst back into his brisk pace, followed by the others.

“So what Lord Nilax send big rat here for anyway?” a runner with fighting claws wrapped onto his paws asked. “Maybe he want us to drop Gnawgar in well if we run out of poison.” Another answered. The team snickered together, and suddenly came to a stop again on behalf of the suspicious gutter-runner raising his hand. “You crazy” the joking one snarled at him, “you slow us down, keep going!” the ratman began to sprint forward but was immediately stopped by the sound of splitting air and an arrow embedding itself into his forehead. The limber skaven jumped in alert as their comrade gurgled and collapsed to the floor of the tunnel in a final death spasm.

Within a moment the tunnel resounded with the echoing war cries of man-things. Dozens of them, clad in dirty plain clothes and wielding swords and bows stormed forwards towards the five eshin ninjas. It was a trap! The Count, his heart filled with a newfound hate for the ratmen, had ordered his men find the skaven tunnels and pursue the foul beasts back to their lines. The young infiltrators’ eyes bulged in horror but their reflexes were legendarily quick. Releasing volley after volley of throwing stars the gutter runners struck the vital organs of the men with keen accuracy, but there was nothing they could do to stop the impetus of the charge. The skaven drew their blades and dove at the militiamen, ducking between their legs and stabbing at their backs as the frenzied mob of fighters closed around them.

Hearing the sound of battle meters away in the darkness, a deep-seated rage began to well up within Gnawgar. His body trembled and shook as he grit his massive, warped fangs together. The creature began to stretch at his restraints as a strange wind of magic coruscated around him. In his ears he could hear the whispering of strange and unknown voices speaking out in tongues he had only heard once before, when lord Nilax had changed him and his brothers into what they were. The monk fell to his knees, wracked by a seizure as vominous tinted saliva began to drip from his fanged maw to the dirty floor.

The gutters runners were soon caught in the press of human bodies. The militia tore into them with a ferocity born from the deaths of their friends and siblings at the southern wall. The runners soon fell beneath a flurry of sword and hammer blows. Liskk’s broken body collapsed to the floor. His vials of toxic black aegror cracked under the boot of the noncommissioned militia champion, Lodz. The clamoring and vicious overkill was brought to a halt by the otherworldly roar that echoed through the tunnel. The men dropped the furry pulps that remained of the skaven infiltrators and stared off into the darkness.

Advancing cautiously, in the manner they had first ambushed the group, the militiamen came across the kneeling and convulsing body of Gnawgar, still straining at his bonds. The smell of smoke filled the air, but none could be seen. “What is this,” one of the men asked, “they brought a slave?” Some of the soldiers, still coursing with adrenaline, managed to laugh at the comment.

“No matter” Lodz said, “give me your bow.” the outspoken man handed the champion his
shortbow. Knocking and drawing an arrow, Lodz aimed down at the creature. “Count Leudenhof sends his regards” he said with a hint of pride, releasing the arrow into Gnawgar’s chest. The men laughed. However, the humor was suddenly cut short as the creature again roared out, regaining his posture and shuffling uneasily to his feet.

“Still got some fight left in you, I see. So be it”

Lodz tossed the bow aside and drew up his sword, stalking closer to the beast as his men followed form and raised their weapons. With a final bestial cry Gnawgar snapped his restraints. The leather harness fell to the ground. Hissing, the monk raised his head to the level of his attackers, shaking back the hood that had concealed his face. No fur and very little skin remained of his horrific visage. His sickly cheekbones were exposed and bare, and his eyes glowed red in the darkness. Taking a step back, the men were greeted with a gust of poisonous vapor as the monk threw his arms out from beneath his cloak. Wrapped around and imbedded into each of the creature’s arms were chains attached to demonic censers billowing with ethereal smoke.

A plagueseeker!

Before Lodz could react, Gnawgar swung out at him with one of his arms. The flaming censer smashed into the champion’s face. His bones twisted and cracked and he fell to the floor, his flaming head staring backwards at his men. The soldiers cried out and fell over one another trying to run, but it was too late. Gnawgar lunged at them in a whirlwind of death, shattering spines and causing the broken militia to burst into unearthly fire. Another arrow struck him in the knee, but Gnawgar was far beyond sensing pain. The remaining bowmen choked on the pestilent fumes as they flooded the tunnel. Within moments the plagueseeker had torn the unfortunate soldiers apart.

Stumbling forward unopposed, the seeker remembered what he had to do. Just as Nilax had suggested, the gutter runners would fail. But he had no interest in infecting the wells with black aegror. That toxin did nothing to sate the Plaguelord’s hunger for revenge against the man-city. No, these man-things deserved far worse. If Gnawgar could dip just a single one of his demonic censers into the city’s water supply, then its valiant defenders would wish that Strykaar had beaten him to them.
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Hahaha... I'll have to take pictures of the plagueseeker model I made as soon as I finish the final touch-ups, ;)
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Thats my buddy Steve err...Nilax.

Hello everyone, this is my first time posting here and I probably won't be on too often since my internet connection has misfired...only when I'm over at Nilax's house. Anyway it seems like hes been busy with this character of his, pretty ferocious fellow. I've agreed to let him use rules for these plagueseeker things but only if I get to use my warp-tank B)

Seems like a nice site you've got here, and don't worry even though the connection at my house its severed I'm still posting wins for this SoC thing from the library...doing my duty for the horde :D

Good luck against the surface-dwellers.
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Nurglitch II

Thanks Psychosium, and yeah thats Apoc...he's not just a magic item that Nilax wears triumphantly...hes also a human being!

I can get into the history of how that came to pass later ;)

Yeah I'd love to see those plagueseekers when you're done. I am getting a free special edition chaos sorceror (the taller one), and I'm thinking about converting him into either Gnawgar or Nilax depending on how much sculpting is needed either way. I was also thinking about dremeling the entire heads off of some of my old poisoned wind globadiers and sculpting a hood going over a new, pestilensy head. Their arms are coming out in thrusting positions so the censer-swinging part would be easy.
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Verminous Fang
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Great job! Good bye, well; hello, plague!
Go forth my brethren, that we shall nibble at the roots of the old world!

We are the rats in the shadows. We hold the blades of corruption, aimed at the very heart of the Old World. We are The Council of Thirteen.

Second place in the UnderEmpire painting competition!

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