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Corrupting the Great Forest; A Nemesis Crown Fluff
Topic Started: 21st May 2007 - 10:56 AM (283 Views)
Warlord Bloodfang
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Plague Priest Sanguine leaned against the nearby tree and scratched his back, using its rough bark to reach at the many scabs and boils that peppered his retched hide. A shiver went through his spine at the relaxing move and he turned to one of his nearby attendants.

“Maybe this mission for our Warlord isn’t as bad as I previously thought. Though the light hurts my eyes” He coughed up a hunk of mucus and spat it on the ground to emphasize his next point “and the clean air harsh to my lungs, the bands we have fought so far have been weak and fell easily to our glorious diseases. Yes, we should be finished with this chore before long…”

His attendant, a high ranking Plague Monk of the Censor Bearers detachment, nodded in agreement. It had indeed been easy thus far, and they had fed well for the last three days on the plague-corpses of their enemies. A small traitorous though made it to his lips before he could think better of it.

“What if these skirmishes have been easy for a reason? Not that I doubt your prowess!” he exclaimed quickly as Sanguine’s delirious glare focused on him “It’s just that the bands so far have been ill equipped even by the low standards of the clanrats. I humbly suggest that we remain weary for any treachery on the enemies part Oh greatest Priest since Nurglitch!”

Sanguine chuckled to himself, a gurgling and bubbly sound, as he eyed the cowering attendant. He had been chosen just for this reason, he had brains but was too scared to ever dream of usurping Sanguine’s position.

He along with his forces had been sent to the Great Forest to find this so called “Nemesis Crown”. So far that entire he had found was a lot of green trees and a few journals of now-deceased soldiers who knew as much as he did. To further aid in his search he had been given permission to use his clan’s infectious powers to clear land that he controlled so his forces were safe from possible ambushes. As highly unorthodox as it was to Clan Pestilens usual agenda of killing man-things they had worked night and day for the last month to come up with an effective herbicide. The advancement had been unsteadily moving to completion as a number of the test subject plants had ended up being too dangerous and several of the ‘live vessels’ intended to carry the herbicide had spontaneously grown branches and taken root proving to be most difficult to remove from the tunnels. It was because of these problems Sanguine had called in a Warpfire thrower team to clean up the problem but in the end they had gained what they had set out to achieve.

Standing up straight, Sanguine motioned the attendant to follow him as he moved back to the tunnels entrance. Maybe the raids had been easy but as he thought of the massing forces just beneath his feet he banished all doubt. They would conquer their enemies and he would return triumphant to Warlord Bloodfang awaiting the rewards that would be made his.

Behind him the tree started to droop and die, foul gas and sap seeping from the scratched surface until by nightfall all that remained was the rotted husk of the once great tree, the surrounding trees already starting to droop in turn.
Clan Bloodfang
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A bit of an elaboration on my personal plans for the Great Forest. Dev
It may seem over the top but I will balance it out through the campaign.

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Sanguine leaned over the cauldron, the fumes and heat washing over his face and making his eyes and nose run. Bubbling beneath him was the key to his success, a vile mixture that had taken month to perfect, its thick content swelled with releasing gasses occasionally, spraying small globules around the area. One landed on Sanguine’s hand and he quickly shook it off onto the floor where it spattered on the ground proceeding to blacken the dirt as it leeched all the nutrients from the soil.
Sanguine grinned, the unhealthy, pale glow from the cauldron, casting deep shadows over his face. It was ready.
Barking an order to a group of attendance in the chamber with him, they took hold of long rods of wood attached to either side of the cauldron and lifted it off the ground. With the gaze of Sanguine upon them they made careful progress out of the chamber and slowly made their way to the main cavern of Sanguine’s lair.

The cavern was a web of ropes and pullies. Hastily built bridges and gangplanks had been erected to create a construction bay area. Within this maze of wood was five sections consisting of four smaller ones and one bigger area. Filling the space in the bigger bay was a towering construct made from wood, rope and riveted metal. It resembled a Screaming Bell tower but that is where the similarities ended, a funnel had been made out of beaten metal was positioned in the middle of the tower. Several platforms edged around the tower with ladders for access to the different levels. A massive cauldron hung from the top of the structure, a rim had been added and this was moulded into a lip so that the contents could be poured into the funnel below. Via the valve a slow dripping could be achieved, creating a wake of dead ground behind it. THIS was the crowning glory of Plague Priest Sanguine and by this construct he would return victories to Warlord Bloodfang with the news that their new land was ready for his clan to claim.

The four smaller bays housed similar but far smaller in size towers closer to the Screaming Bells size. They consisted of a frame with a wall attached to the front. The wall was in the shape of the Horned Rats head but with a flap in the centre. Standing behind this hole was a modified Warpfire team. Their weapons had been changed modified so instead of the standard warp concentrate they could spew liquid matter by the implementation of several pumps and additional valves.
They would be the spear-tip of his assault, spraying his foes with viciously contagious gunk while remaining safe behind their shield. The tests of the plague brew had so far vastly exceeded expectation. Subjects who had been in contact with the brew had suffered numerous means of death, not least of these drowning and the subsequently rapid decay of the afflicted flesh.

The attendants moved the cauldron carefully into position on a low platform where a team of “Plague Spewers” (as Sanguine had fondly called them) waited for their fuel tank to be filled.

Sanguine departed from the group and made his way over to the main bay, looking up at the massive structure he could not help but grin evilly as he thought of the pain and suffering that his creations would cause on the hated surface-dwellers.

Clan Bloodfang
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Felt like writing some more of my Nemesis Crown Fluff. I'll possibly write a few more add-ons before the campaign stars.
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He was lying on a bed made from straw, sticks and strips of cloth. Relaxing after a tedious day where many stupid minions had had to be ‘reminded’ who was in charge. His troops were agitated that much was clear; Sanguine mulled over the problem and concluded that it arose from the long hours of working he had put them through as well as undoubtedly agitators sent by a rival clan seeking to disrupt his plans. Coming to a solution to both his problems Sanguine heaved his bloated form onto his feet and strode to the door, only to be bowled over by a running messenger. Flailing his arms to keep upright Sanguine regained his balance and glared at the messenger, grabbing it around the neck and stared into its eyes.

“What-what is the meaning of this intrusion? Speak quick-quick or I snap-break your scrawny neck!”

Wheezing from lack of air, the messenger’s eyes bulged as it chattered out a quick line of words.
“Main…main chamber! Greatest <wheeze> great construct collapsing!.... Not-not my faul-arg<gurgle>”

Sanguine’s eyes narrowed as he squeezed the life from the bearer of most bad news. Throwing the corpse aside Sanguine dashed out of the door and made for the platforms over looking the main chamber.

He raced towards the ledge, an audible groaning sound reaching his ears, that of wood twisting and rope straining. Reaching the ledge he gazed down in horror at the scene.

Clanrats swarming over the whole construct, the great tower was clearly falling to pieces. As he watched, gangplanks fell away to crash into the ground far below, crushing several Skaven in the process and scattering the others. A drop of liquid splattered onto the floor and Sanguine’s eyes snapped to glare at the top cauldron of the tower. Realising the source of the catastrophe he squealed in rage, jumping up and down in fury and exasperation at the stupid, moronic, imbecilic minions that had been placed under his control. The cauldron was swaying from side to side, the liquid inside splashing against the edges and slopping over, the cauldron was full! How? He had on numerous occasions stressed the importance of leaving the cauldron empty until the tower was finished but they had ignored him! Now as he watched in infuriated anger, biting his tail and drawing blood, the cauldron broke free of its constraints, flipping over and spilling all of its contents out to flood the room, sending workers screaming away and many being drowned by the thick tide.

The cauldron completely broke free of the tower and as Sanguine watched in horror it fell, crashing through the wooden levels on the tower one by one and slamming into the funnel below. There was a loud ::BONG:: and the cauldron crushed the funnel sending cracks throughout the cauldron as well as making a huge dent in its side. Continuing its meteoric path of destruction the cauldron rammed into the floor, sending dirt and sludge spraying up in a huge wave that nearly reached the ceiling of the cavern.

Sanguine stood completely still, the pitiful wails and screams of the mortally wounded and drowning workers failing to penetrate the world that consisted solely of Sanguine and the ruins of his crowning triumph , the remaining framework collapsing in on itself and splashing into the tide beneath.
Sanguine turned from the scene, tail and whiskers drooping he trudged down the hall back to his nest, kicking the messenger’s corpse half-heartedly and fell onto his bed, falling asleep hoping the whole time that what he had just witnessed would all be gone by the morning.

Clan Bloodfang
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I felt like writing some more, so here you all go. It's a bit graphic... I don't know if thats a problem or not... :unsure:
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The head of a worker, the tenth one in 2 days, rolled down the slope to stop at the feet of the frightened masses of Skaven.

Rage, nearly visible, seemed to emanate from Sanguine like a heat wave. Licking his dagger clean he slammed it onto alter and ordered his attendants to remove the corpse. It had been a horrific week for Sanguine, the destruction of his prized invention told him clearly that there was a Squeaker in his clan and he fully intended to find out who they were. One of the steps he had taken was to close off all the tunnels leading out of his clans warrens, positioning loyal Stormvermin who had orders to kill any clanrat who got too close.

He swept his gaze over the assembled clan, watching with a small amount of satisfaction as they scrambled out of the path, as if they would be killed just by setting foot beneath his glare.

Raising his voice he let it carry throughout the cavern. It rebounded off the walls and gained strength until the clan was surrounded by his most fearsome cry.

“ANOTHER FALLS AND STILL YOU RESIST! KNOW WELL THAT WHAT YOU HAVE SEEN HERE SO FAR PALES IN COMPARISON WITH THE PUNISHMENT THAT I SHALL DEAL OUT TO HE WHO DARED DEFY MY RULE!”

Dropping his voice to a more normal level he continued in a growling hiss.

“You who have caused this must know that your life is forfeit either way. What you have done is against the edict from the Council and the will of the Horned Rat. Better to give yourself up now as this death here by my hands, WHILE STILL TERRIBLE!, is as nothing to the eternal agony that you shall feel in the burning grip of our merciless God!”

Letting this sink in to his clan Sanguine carefully watched the assembly for any signs that would betray the Squeaker.
Just as he was about to start randomly selecting another group of Clanrats he snapped his vision back to what appeared to be a clanrat holding a paw to his mouth. Was he sick? Not uncommon in a Pestilens clan but as Sanguine watched, and listened, he heard the sound of sniggering.

As the Squeaker removed his hand from his mouth he found that he was in a widening circle of empty space, the clanrats who had previously hidden him from view were shying away from him. Suddenly panic stricken, the Squeaker made to escape, turning tail and fleeing over the top of the crowd. He jumped up to land back on the packed group but found that his jump had been far more powerful then it should have been. Twisting around he saw a beam of green energy coursing from Sanguine’s hand to encase him. Truly terrified now he thrashed his limbs about, trying to break the spell that was drawing him closer and closer to the imposing figure next to the bloodied alter.

His grin widened as he saw the trapped skaven sprayed musk over the assembly. Drawing the travel out as long as he deemed appropriate he finally had the Squeaker hovering above the alter. Releasing the spell the Squeaker fell 6 feet through the air to smack into the side of the alter, an audible ::crunch:: heard as several of the Squeakers teeth were knocked out and were sent sliding over the stones.

His attendants picked up the paralysed rat, Sanguine watched as they roughly dragged him back on top of the alter, holding his arms and legs out and strapping him down.

The Squeakers cries had been reduced to low whimpering as Sanguine stared thoughtfully at the pitiful retch now laid before him.

Speaking in a normal tone, Sanguine addressed the Squeaker.

“Was it you?”

The Squeaker suddenly became active as he proceeded to vomit forth excuse after excuse, each one more elaborate and fantastic then the last.

Feeling that this was confirmation enough, Sanguine launched himself at the still gibbering Skaven. Opening his mouth wide he latched onto the skaven’s stomach and brutally ripped it open, jerking his head back in a shower of blood and gore. The Squeakers whimpers became screams of pain and terror, rising into ultrasonic as he saw the blood spraying from Sanguine’s frenzied attack.
Lost in the carnage, Sanguine turned to the still-conscious Squeaker and grinned, bits of meat clinging to his teeth as he launched his hideously, red-splattered face at the skaven’s head teeth wide.

Even the masses below the platform, rooted to the spot in terror, heard the ::Crack:: as the Squeakers skull was split open. Many of the assembled clanrats squirted musk, while still others tried to flee only to be pressed back by the encircled Stormvermin.

Finishing his gruesome display, Sanguine turned to the masses. Blood and gore dripping down his visage, the still twitching corpse before him, he screamed out for all to hear.

“LET NO MORE DEFY MY WILL! LET NONE SEEK TO PLOT AGAINST ME! IF YOU DO I WILL FIND OUT AND YOU WILL SUFFER THE SAME!”
The Stormvermin no longer able to hold back the tide, the clanrats swept out of the cavern leaving nothing but that dropped in haste and the smell of excrement in their wake.
Smiling in satisfaction, his wounded pride healed by the reassurance of his position, the absolute terror instilled in his minions and the brutally executed traitor before him, Sanguine turned to his tunnels satisfied with a job well done.
Clan Bloodfang
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