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The Flame of Resolve - "A Blaze of Glory" Pt 6; Written by the Inferno Lords
Topic Started: 11th April 2005 - 06:32 PM (360 Views)
Matt
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News Elf of the Twilight Host
Hello once again;
This piece was written by all the Inferno Lords and we appreciate all who read and comment on the characters etc..
Sorry for Bad language in this piece it was used to form points of prejudice and personality of the characters in question.

I hope you all enjoy reading this and we love feedback.
Thanks
Matt and the Inferno Lord Crew

The Story so far: Yes I bothered to get links ;)
The Dying Blaze - Part One
To Smother a Flame - Part Two
To Nurture the Embers - Part Three
To Fuel the Flames - Part Four
Of Smoke and Fire - Part 5


“Blaze of Glory” - Part 6 - Flame of Resolve

Niqueeka woke to find her arm missing; the fever had passed and she felt normal apart from the roiling sensations in her stomach. The pain had gone. But alas so was her arm.
“I am glad-glad you have woken Blood Vixen,” the friendly face of chieftain Nibblesnatch spoke.
“What did-did you do with my arm?” she joked.
“Well my-my lady erm-” he was thinking of an excuse.
“I-I am not angry, in fact I-I am happy the pain has gone,” she smiled. Her warpstone coloured eyes throbbing in their sockets like tiny hearts, “Where are we?”
“Almost to the Dung Hive,” he smiled.
Niqueeka turned and went back to sleep. The missing limb discomforted her, she didn’t feel whole anymore. She knew that Nibblesnatch had done his best to save the limb; but his best had not been good enough. Tears leaked from those green eyes. She gave in and darkness took her.
When she awoke she heard Nibblesnatch walking down towards her and their small base camp. The slaves wandered around aimlessly enjoying their freedom after the battle under the city of levels; that didn’t only take a terrible toll on there numbers but also on Niqu. She looked down to where her arm had used to be only days before. A man-thing leather sling was wrapped around the stump in a primal tourniquet. Niqueeka looked down on the scene from a ledge; her body battered terribly from the battle. She had gained her freedom and every slaves freedom and Nibblesnatch’s freedom but at a profound price. She closed her eyes remembering her dual with the Warlord Stinkhair, and the knife she had plunged into his midriff. He was probably dead now; he wouldn’t fight for his freedom but for the dictator.
Nibblesnatch sat down next to her ,“how are you holding up Blood Vixen?"
Niqu turned to look at the hulking brute of a Chieftain she had found a kinship with,"better than when under those rocks!" she smiled, "oh by the way Nibblesnatch; Why did you choose to help us? Surely someone of your size and strength must have had it pretty well?"
Nibblesnatch sighed and turned away towards the camp, "because I felt the same thing once. When I escaped from my old clans,” he reminisced with sour memories, “I am not a real Skaven. I am a defect; a rat ogre that has a heightened intelligence; a guinea pig an outcast. Slower and weaker than others; they had me fight with their prized rat ogre. When I made my escape soon enough I found my way here; I was made a chieftain but I knew what its like to be a slave, nobody deserves to live like that!"
Niqueeka looked at him " well i must thank you for your help three times I would’ve died if you didn’t help me" she grinned.
Nibblesnatch got back to his feet, "well do you want me to take command of the attack on dung hive? so we can release the slaves and breeders and get them to our cause?"
Niqu stood up and turned to him, "by all means I am not exactly in decent fighting condition!"
They both laughed as Nibblesnatch took some of the more skilled fighters of there group towards the underlevels of dung hive. The guards were in complete disarray just recently hearing the news of the arch-Flamelord’s fall.
Nibblesnatch and his group crawled through the human sewer system. It smelt vile. There they would bide their time and wait for the signal. The rebellion of Flames was about to strike its first victim…
Niqu watched her friend leave. The rat ogre was twice as tall as his allies. Niqueeka let her thoughts wander - would this be the last time she saw him? She hoped not he was special to her…

Grey Seer Stopfen didn’t have the stomach for war; in fact he only had the stomach for making money, and at certain times felling rivals. As the almighty prophets of the Horned Rat go Stopfen wasn’t particularly gifted in the art of magic; but he was one of the most successful. The Grey Seer lived for the value of money and the extravagance it could buy him.
Stopfen hated Warlord Klaww’s morbid little world and was glad when he could escape. The once proud City of Levels had been contorted into a sprawling hive of death. The bodies of mutineers, rebels and deserters decorated the bloody junctions within the city like a living tapestry of agony. The obese Grey Seer lowered his head and continued to waddle towards what he thought was the exit. The smell washed like waves; his elaborately curled whiskers reared in agony at the stench; a mixture of rotting flesh; offal and rotting meat.
It occurred to the Seer that the smell was getting stronger; his stomach started to contract and he began to gag. He leant into a hidden crevice; resting rats running away tails stiffly between their legs. He emptied the contents of his stomach onto the rocks. He was unaware of the presence behind him.
“My-my Lord, Almighty prophet of-of the horned one,” a chieftain bowed his armour clinking together, “the Flamelord Klaww sends me-me with orders.”
Stopfen knew that the Flamelord letting him leave was too good to be true. He wiped the vomit captured by his whiskers with a jellied hand, “and what does the-the Flamelord command?” a bitter tone hidden with pleasantries.
“The Flamelord-lord would have you-you command the excevation of-of the tunnel in his absence.
Stopfen felt his triple chins wobble in rage. He couldn’t excavate anything; what was the Flamelord thinking. The Grey Seer knew the answer. Warlord Klaww needed to keep him here; just in case. Stopfen’s overactive mind raced; did that mean he was next after the Plague Priest? He hoped not, tokens weren’t much use to the dead…

While Stopfen was trapped in the City of Levels another Grey Seer formed his own web of lies. The Silver, as he was know; chapped on the man-thing door removed from the over-city of Untergor. He hated this place; the masked Brood Wenches; their eunuch bodyguards, the Stormvermin guarding all the entrances and exits. This wasn’t an undercity it was an expanded brothel. Silver smiled this place shouldn’t be called Dung Hive, he reflected, by Shit’s Hive. He despised wenching.
The door was attended to by a couple of overweight black rodents, they seemed to enjoy their lord’s business overmuch. Silver was tempted to blast them where they stood with dangerously potent warp lightning.
“Ah my-my Lord Prophet how-how can I offer my services? I-I have a couple of new breeders in from the far lands; they say-say they are taught by-by the greatest; they can-can hold pleasure for-for the longest. All a-a Grey Seer deserves-” a large warlord spoke; he was sitting in a large oaken wood chair imbedded with amethysts. No doubt from the same mansion, Silver thought.
“I have no interests in your wenching services,” Silver spat with venom. The warlord recoiled obviously fearful of the prophet’s wrath, “Now I have you listening,” Silver paused watching the intense look on the warlord’s face mellow.
“So what-what service can I offer you my lord?” the warlord emphasized his words.
“Only the service of listening to me when I speak,” he glared at the warlord, who sprang back to the look of fear, “now hear me once and hear me well. An army is camped just beyond your borders,” Silver dared a smile, “you must gather your strength at once and face it headlong before it should threaten this,” he paused as though searching for the right word, “establishment,” the Grey Seer concluded a sly smile crossing his furry lips.
“When-when now? What army? Who commands?” the warlord burst into a flurry of questions as fast as a breeze became a tornado.
“I bid you good day,” the Grey Seer left the warlord in his chambers. Silver really had out done himself this time; that smile crawled over his lips again. He knew that most of Niqu’s fighting rats had already surrounded the Hive; but should Niqu want to take it she would have to beat this pompous git’s horde. Time to show her, her real fears…

Nibblesnatch attacked from the lower levels of the brothel clearing them out completely ,"get those-those stationary warp lighting cannons and ratling bunkers operational! We-we need to secure this breeding warren in the name of the blood vixen!"
The breeders; who were fighting, the Clanrats and slaves chittered among themselves. Some had already fallen due to the powerful jezzail teams stationed in nooks and crannies further up the dank walls. Nibblesnatch had already released the captives on this floor; he smiled at their joy. They had heard of the ‘Rebellion of the Flames’ at the City of Levels. But they thought it only a rumour; as is the case with most things in the life of a slave. However as Nibblesnatch and his entourage began unlocking their shackles they knew it was true.
"You are free now do-do as-as you choose to assist the Blood Vixen Niqueeka! Or do you choose to leave and be captured or killed?" Nibblesnatch would question them, the answer was obvious and unchanging. With Niqueeka they stood a change of surviving to gain there much desired freedom, without her they would surely by a feast for the giant rats. The messenger ran back to the camp; to keep Niqueeka informed of all the latest developments. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him but she savoured leading her own rebellion against slavers or dictators.
Nibblesnatch was glad at this opportunity of leadership. Two rats were carrying a barrel of highly flammable spirits; probably salvaged from a smugglers tavern in Kislev, "blow this tunnel we dont need a surprise attack!"
The pair of Clanrats jittered as they lit the tapers leading to the intoxicating spirits. The barrels were arrayed across an ancient entrance tunnel. The hole they would blast would cause complete devastation.
“Take Cover,” Nibblesnatch yodelled as the tapers began to smoke. He could see the folly of his plan. The rat ogre sprinted away from the oncoming explosion. The corner was only feet away.
The flame licked at the spirits; the blast rocked throughout the depths; rocks fell like a wave upon sand. All went black to Nibblesnatch’s eyes…

Niqueeka woke to the sound of a low hollow thud. She sprang up knowing instantly that something was terribly wrong. Was it Nibblesnatch? What had happened to her army?
Niqu watched thick black fumes rise from a newly formed crater in the tunnel. It looked like it was weeping black blood as the sweetly smelling smoke smothered her senses. She tasted the fumes of the strong alcoholic beverage on her tongue. Nibblesnatch? Adrenaline pumped fear around her body.
As if by some mysterious cue she heard the silky soft voice of Silver; the hair on her neck sprang erect, “ah so it seems like we have trouble again; such a loss of life wouldn’t you agree?”
“What do you-you want?” she turned to hit him with her fist; it wasn’t there.
Silver laughed, “another sign of your stupidity, Blood Vixen,” the concluding words dropped from his tongue like acid, “should be bled vixen!”
Niqueeka felt her rage bubbling, “why-why are you here?”
“To watch you-you die,” Silver smiled a patronising grin, “look over there,” he pointed with a gnarled finger. Niqu felt her eyes drawn towards the main entrance of the complex; a river of rats burst its banks in a kamikaze charge. They smashed their swords on shields. They roared a high eerie roar together like an army of ghosts.
“Quick-quick, the enemy come!” Niqu blasted reaching for her short sword with her only hand. She attempted to spring off but her arm was fastened in Silver’s vicelike grip.
“You-you might need this,” the grey seer squawked tying a barbed whip to her stump. Niqu didn’t have time to protest against him. She ran towards her lines arraying the slaves and breeders for an impromptu battle.
Silver perched on his rock watching them all; Niqu’s army of less than a hundred slaves and pregnant breeders. They were armoured with any weapon they could find in a short space of time; knives, hammers, chains. He shot a glance to the armies of the Dung Hive with more than five times Niqu’s number. They were well clad and armoured. Silver wondered how long the battle would take. He could feel Niqueeka’s fear coursing through his veins like his lifeblood. It was ecstasy to feel her fear; it gave him pleasure like no other feeling. He felt part of her again.
The armies collided in a minute of bloodletting. Niqueeka alone slew eighteen of the enemy rats; their corpses spongy cushions from which to launch her next assault. Even with one arm she was a tornado of destruction. A black armoured rat stood before her brandishing a wickedly serrated halberd. He swung it like a daemon; Niqu ducked beneath the hungry steel and spit him between the vulnerable breastplate and backplate with a backhand blow from her sword. Her whip lashed like a viper roused from her nest. Its thorned body biting into flesh; eyes and limbs. It was like an artificial limb to her.
“Blood Vixen,” a voice roared from the melee. Silver recognised the portly warlord he had bestowed the information upon, “your army of bitches and slaves die-die now!”
Silver noted that the warlord was quite correct. The casualties on Niqu’s side were just as dire as the number of his; but Niqu’s army was smaller and already outnumbered. This would be interesting Silver thought. He fiddled in his pockets; he knew that he held all the keys.
“Stupid Warlord,” he laughed, “he didn’t think that I would let you die my Niqueeka? No how wrong he was. He forgets I am the great seer of the Horned Rat and I hold the aces!”
The warlord cut a bloody swathe towards Niqueeka, “Nobody touches the big-big bitch!” he yelled his thirst unquenchable.
Niqueeka felt her sword drawn to him. He led this host and he would die leading it. A faint flame of resolve lit within her soul. She drew back her sword and ran for him headlong.
There they were the two leaders of the armies dancing a dance that would mean death or the loss of freedom which was worse. The impetuous black rodent desperate to mount this feisty breeder lunged at her; she easily parried his blade and swung at him with her clawing whip. He caught it barbs and all and pulled her towards him. She was trapped unable to escape. She hadn’t realised that not all rats were like her. Two other warriors had taken her by the rear grappling with her sword and releasing the whip. They held her still as the plump rat came forth to caress her.
“You-you will be MY prime breeder,” he smiled and stroked her whiskered snout. Niqueeka tried to bite him but her chiselled teeth were too slow, “now now we wouldn’t want you to do that would we?” the warlord brought a knee unto her stomach.
Niqu collapsed in pain; she could feel water leaking inside her; her lifeblood. In her minds eye she saw children screaming as they drowned in their mother’s blood. She closed her eyes momentarily. He fell upon her. His weight was unbearable and his skin crawled with many species of lice. She couldn’t force him off…
“Now my lord I told you to listen,” a familiar voice spoke. Niqu saw a blinding flash light the cavern walls. The smell of burning flesh filled her nose. The body of the warlord smothered her. She forced herself out. She was bleeding; bleeding from the feminine area; her children. She wept. The perpetrator of the magical deed had disappeared into the warpstone scented smoke.
Something walked towards her, its armour glimmering in the half-light of the warp smoke, “Silver…?” she cried fear rising in her again.
“No,” a voice replied thick with a sinister intent…
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.
Rage
 
I don't know, but I have the impression of chatting with a cat when I talk to you!
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daemonic badger
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Veteran/OAP
ooooh! Nice read, as alwys, and at double quick time!


btw, whose crharcter is Si;lver's? or is he a group effort like Stopfen?
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Matt
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News Elf of the Twilight Host
Erm well telling you who exactly Silver is and who his creator is would ruin the plot of the said character but at the moment he is a group effort like Grey Seer Stopfen...-> but I assure you the sparks will start flying soon :)

Thanks for the kind words Mr Badger.

Disclaimer: I am sorry for the use of bad language in this piece :) -
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.
Rage
 
I don't know, but I have the impression of chatting with a cat when I talk to you!
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Thrask Vilepaw
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The Grim Squeaker

ahh no worries, its worth it for the damn good plot etc ^_^
Official master of parades by Rattsu
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Vinshqueek
 
Thrask, for being such a nice squiggly thing!
Giantrat
 
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.

8th member of the day
24 hour painting challenge : 30 clanrats in 10.5 hours SUCCESS
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Rattsu
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Is writing Dragon Age fanfiction

Who cares about language when it fits the story?

Here I am the moderator *mad cackle*

Again, wow. Just wow.

I am beginning to care so much for the different characters here, and is it just me or is Klaww seriously disturbed... even for a skaven usurper?

I am currently writing an epic Dragon Age 2 adventure that can be found HERE!! or on my deviantart.

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