NanoWrimo

27 Nov

 You are looking at a NaNoWriMo winner!

At certain points I didn’t think I was going to make it
But I did so Hooray!

The story doesn’t end there however. I want to to see how it ends although I doubt I’ll be writing too much in December.

Hooray!

Oh Well 😀

 

Happy Dance!

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TRoDOAB:Chapter Five

14 Sep

Chapter Five: When Blue sees Green, Green sees Red.

   There was a sense of awe outside the Eternity chamber. Each of the small blue Lizardmen stared intently at the entrance. Their feathered headdresses moved to the beat of an unnoticed wind, the sweltering heat reducing whatever cool breeze it garnered useless. Then finally, the doors opened.
    Skink Priest Toklot danced in anticipation as they ground apart, the noise reverberating around the temple. For Toklot this was a momentous occasion, Slann Mage-priest Chuq’Mundi was about to address them.
    Flanked by his Eternity warden, an unmoving muscled Saurus, his bone helmet marking him out as a Temple Guard, the toad like Slann approached them.
    Toklot noticed the Mage-priest seemed distracted. But to Toklot, all of the venerated ones seemed like that, as though a part of their minds was still surfing the magical winds. Chuq’Mundi’s skink attendant popped an itxi grub into his mouth, which he ate absent-mindedly.
    “Contemplate the celestial winds. Spawn-kin, return to us. Snatched by the Green,” the Slann said, his attention on his hand as he swirled it. A circle of blue revolved around his hand, before he dissipated. The Slann then returned to his chamber.
    Toklot showed his annoyance, his scaly crest turning a tinge of orange. Slann were very intelligent and extremely powerful mages but they didn’t tend to make the greatest speakers. In this case Chuq’Mundi thought he had gotten his message across, floating backwards on his palanquin. His Eternity Warden stood watching the collection of skinks until he disappeared behind the closing doors.
    They shut with a resolute clunk.
    The skink priests began to chatter the meaning of their leader’s words almost instantly.
    “Celestial winds must mean the Blue Azyr wind of magic. The fourth wind is known for its divination,” A priest said.
    “Well, that is the easy one. That means the event is in the future. Yes?” said a second.
    The group nodded their agreement.
    “Spawn-kin. Returns to us.”
    “That must mean a skink-“
    “No, a saurus-
    “A Slann?” The group turned to this skink; their blank faces otherwise devoid of emotion to the warmer races told Toklot all he needed to know, surprise.
    “Really, how can this be?”
    “The venerated ones never refer to anyone but themselves when they use the term ‘Spawn-kin,’”
    “So a venerated one will return to us. This is wondrous news. But-”
    “Snatched by the Green.”
    “Perhaps the Jade wind?”
    Several skinks shook their heads.
   “The elves that have joined with the forest are very green.”
   “That must be it. The Old Ones plans involved elves staying on the island of Uthuan, this means the Old Ones intended to return a Venerated one to us but the elves will stop this from happening!”
    “Or it could mean Orcs…” Toklot said meekly.
    Every face turned to him in anger.
    “Orcs and Goblins are unintelligent creatures that have been around for centuries, they aren’t smart enough to steal one our leaders away. And the Old Ones would have planned around them.”
    As Toklot slowly wandered off, his crest now tinted an annoyed orange; the other skinks discussed their plans.
   “We shall alert the Scar veterans that we are going to war with the elves of Athel Loren…”
    Toklot emerged outside into the hot humid Lustrian climate and scrambled up the nearest pillar hoping to see even a glint of what is beloved leader had seen. From here he could see the canopy of the trees that hid their temple and closer still he saw the blue specks off the workers going about their tasks. Up here, the sun beat down on his scales a lot harsher; it warmed his blood and made him feel relaxed. He could have lain here forever.
   Accessing the Celestial wind he felt it wrap around him. His vision blurred, showing constellations of stars instead of the workings of the temple. The belch of a salamander quickly morphed into a meteor blazing across the cosmos.
    His view spun and shot out at speed, zooming in on the world. He was falling towards Athel Loren, the woodland home of the elven splinter group. Perhaps his cohorts had been right all along… but then he veered off and everything became green and blurry until a pair of scowling red eyes were all he could see.
    But the Orc wasn’t all Toklot could see. In those large red eyes he spotted the black malevolence of another presence. It seemed unknown. Unknown to the Orc and somehow unknown to itself as if it didn’t realise where it was. Then the entity saw him and he fell.
    When Toklot awoke he found himself in something reassuring, the scaly arms of a fellow reptile. The Kroxigor slowly placed him on the ground, grinning stupidly.
    “Er, thank you.”
    “No problem,” it chirped, surprising him. It was then he noticed it hadn’t been the Kroxigor but the skink perched on its shoulder that had spoken. He had heard of these pair. The duo had spawned together, just the two of them and no others. The priesthood had decided the Old Ones must have a plan for them but hadn’t the boggiest idea of what it could be.
   But suddenly, Toklot did.
   Beckoning them to follow, which they did obediently, Toklot broke into a run. First scampering quickly down the stone banisters, not daring to try to run down the massive temple steps, he looked over his shoulder to see the Kroxigor easily keeping up, grinning like a dazed Cold one. They meandered past the many spawning pools on the outskirts of the temple before traversing the jungle floor as easily as a man would walk a garden path.
    They eventually reached the sea.
    Standing on the sandy beach, Toklot tried to catch his breath before summoning the winds to him.
    “Where’s the Salamander burp, oh great priest?” the Kroxigor rider asked. Choosing to ignore the skinks vulgarity, Toklot tried to answer him while keeping his concentration.
    “If what I saw is true, there is no time to muster an army even if I could siphon troops from my brethren’s coming army.”
    A large turtle emerged from the ocean, its shell encrusted with a small variety of sea life. Toklot panted as he ended the spell.
    “If what I saw is true, coupled with the venerated one’s own cryptic vision, then a venerated one’s soul could be in great danger.”
    With that he boarded the large amphibian, the Kroxigor-skink duo following obediently. The turtle submerged and they disappeared from sight.

   Zag clutched his head in pain.
    He had seen two glaring yellow eyes and then the distant voices he had thought he could hear occasionally, blared into life. It was though they were inside his head and yet far away at the same time.
   You failed to bring me the sword yet again, Dallan. Do you wish to aggrieve me? To sample my exquisite wrath?
   
A mumble followed, reminding Zag of the cocky human who kept vanishing and reappearing all over the place. There was a scream.
    Give me a reason not to kill you right now? To not expunge your soul to Morr and then drag it back, kicking and screaming. I’m sure you will be of more use to me as a mindless automaton.
   
The mumble picked up again.
    What is this? Why Dallan, you have actually managed something that isn’t rampant stupidity. This orb is glorious. The sword is a mere trinket by comparison. What? Reward? A mad cackle boomed in Zag’s head, causing him to roar in pain. More than one greenskin turned to stare at him as he writhed by the fire.
    You should be thankful I don’t kill you to prevent any further stupidity tarnishing your one moment of worth. No Dallan, your immortality will have to wait I’m afraid. For a moment the pain subsided, before flaring up again. Zag unsheathed his sword. I shall dine on that one tonight I think. Do not be afraid, little lamb, I merely wish to kiss your neck… It was followed by a woman’s scream.
    In a moment of sheer rage, Zag chopped about around him. A Goblins neck, a shanty tent, another Goblin’s leg, until finally, after embedding the sword in the trunk of a massive tree, the pain subsided. Happy in believing he had rid himself of the voices, Zag turned to the nearest Orc.
    “Oi! Let’s go find something to fight.”
    They waited amongst the trees watching the road; sooner or later someone would come past. Then he, Urk and the other boys would jump out and do what Orcs did best.
    The voices hadn’t returned but he could feel something at the back of his skull. One of the boys had offered to open his head up and take a look but then had seen Zag move a hand to his sword and backed off warily, hands out in supplication. Zag stared at the Orc like he was an idiot. Conceding this was probably true didn’t stop him hacking the Orc’s left hand off at the wrist. That would teach anyone to try and mock him again.
    After what felt like an age to Zag and considerably longer to the uneasy Urk, a simple looking coach trundled by. It was pulled by two thin horses that looked half starved. The man on top of the coach seemed to be mumbling to himself and Zag caught the gist of what he was saying even if it wasn’t the proper way of talking.
    “What else can Sylvania do to me eh? Stealing my horses, giving them to Morr. Making me waste coin getting new ones and they look like they haven’t fed for a week. Its good job those Halflings can cook. Otherwise, this trade route would be a waste of my time.”
    “Even Gobbos are tougher than Halflings,” Zag muttered. He looked to Urk who was chomping at the bit as well as a bit of Squig and decided it best to give the order now before he started on Orcs.
     “WAAAGHH!!”
     The Orcs charged the lone coach. But instead of screaming which was expected, the man pulled his scarf further over his nose, while simultaneously reaching for the handgun on the seat next to him. By the time the Orcs reached him and thrown him from his saddle, he had taken two of them out, a bullet in each forehead.
    Zag loomed over the downed man, who tried to shield himself with his arms. Seeing red, Zag quickly and wickedly slashed his hands from his wrists before ripping off the man’s scarf to get at his neck. But as the man lay weeping, Zag noticed two small puncture marks on the man’s neck, a small dribble of dried blood clung next to them.
    Something in the back of Zag’s head caused him to lean in, baring his teeth before Urk tapped him on the shoulder.
    “Boss. Uh, what are you doin’?”
    Snapping out of whatever trance he had been in, he knelt on the man’s chest bracing himself as he ripped the head from the man one handed, the man’ mouth making a useful handhold. The man’s jaw hung loosely from his neck.
    Raiding the cart at the back, they found all sorts of delicacies that their Orc taste buds could barely comprehend. Zag was about to tell them to get the cart back to the camp when he saw Urk, sitting between two now very dead horses, chewing on one of their legs.
    “Roight, you two,” Zag said pointing at Urk and one other as he clambered onto the cart’s driver’s seat, “Get out an’ push.”
    Urk quickly delegated the task to someone else, which in the resounding debate ended up with a few less teeth. Urk then clambered aboard next to Zag.
    “Where we taking the Waaagh after we get back to camp boss?” Urk asked.
    “Down where that Umie had come from. Maybe kill some Halflings.”
    To this, all the boys apart from the two straining at the coach grunted a cheer.

TRoDOAB: Chapter Four

8 Sep

Chapter Four: One Orc’s fortune is another man’s bane.

   Thousands of dead Goblins had appeared from the ground, their small frames and grabbing hands more of an annoyance than a threat. The forest Goblins had obviously lived in the forest a long time to have accrued so many dead.
    Their numbers made them more of a threat however and accompanied by massive long dead spiders they were more than a match for the Goblins and the small unit of Orcs.
    Kicking one Goblin in the mouth, its head separating from its body and bouncing along the floor, Zag turned in a swirl, his sword cleaving through many Goblins at once. Nearby, Urk smashed about himself with his axe, laughing wildly at the violence.
   Taking a quick breather in the space he had created, Zag scanned the battlefield. Many Goblins were running into the trees screaming in their cowardice, while many others ran to face their dead doppelgangers, happy that they finally had something weedier than themselves to fight. Dead spider fought living spider in deadly mirror matches. The living spiders stupidly injected poison into the dead, where it lingered uselessly, while the dead attempted to do the same but their sacs were empty from long years of decay.
    Zag then spotted the cloaked human. He ran towards the Goblin’s altar to the spider God. The human’s weakness showed itself however as he stopped to pant and catch his breath before running awkwardly. His black cloak billowed outwards like a shadow.
    “Oi! Umie! Come over here and fight, you coward,” Zag shouted.
    His challenge was obviously heard as the human slowly turned scanning the battlefield for him before their eyes locked. Zag waved his sword in mock greeting expecting the man to charge. It was only when he saw the human’s mouth move faster than a retreating Goblin, did Zag realise his mistake.
    This was a cowardly human, not an Orc.
    The man raised his arms in the air and everything turned black. It was as though the moons had been blotted out, the lights turned off. The darkness swirled like living shadows. Zag looked about himself. All around him was shadowy darkness as far as the eye could see.
    Then out of the shadows came another. It seemed different somehow, more solid. At first Zag thought it was a tree but it seemed too blocky and moved awkwardly. It was as though it was connected to the shadows above and swung out. It picked up speed as it arched towards him.
    Unsure if it was real or not, Zag decided it was best not to find out the hard way. He leapt aside landing awkwardly as the floor he was used to reappeared and the shadows vanished. Everything was suddenly a lot brighter.
   Zag looked to where the ghostly pendulum would have been and watched as one by one, in a line, several undead Goblins fell to the ground. Several living Gobllins, in the same line followed suit, their eyes dulling as they fell, dead. Two Orcs also fell. One of them was Urk.
   Zag shook his head as his second in command fell. Looking for the necromancer he saw him climbing the steps to the spider altar.
    But before he could smash his way through the horde of Goblin’s between him and the cowardly magic man, someone, an Orc, tapped him on the shoulder.
    “Oi! Wot happened there boss? That was weird.”
    To Zag’s surprise it was Urk, the savage was scratching his head with one hand and absent-mindedly holding a dead spider at bay with his axe in the other. His crude face paint seemed to glow briefly as though there was some magic to them but then they faded. Had that saved his life?
    The oncoming Goblin zombies had stopped on seeing the spider pattern on his forehead glowing, as if some part of their former life had rekindled in their small rotting brains before they carried on, as if nothing had happened.
    “That ‘umie did it. If you don’t want it happening again, help me get to the bugger,” Zag said, pointing at the necromancer.
    The two Orcs ran in tandem. Urk ran on Zag’s weak side where his stump swung uselessly. The two hacked at Goblin bodies as they pressed towards them. At one point, Zag was sure he heard one of them scream and for a moment he realised he had killed a normal forest Goblin but shrugging, he carried on.
   As spider leapt at them, its innards attempting escape. Urk butted heads with the creature, before hacking off several limbs and biting into it, shaking it around like a wolf with a rabbit before launching it behind them.
   As Urk turned to grin at Zag, his paint began to glow again. In front of them, a Goblin stood, oddly translucent, and wielding an odd weapon for a Goblin. Zag recognised it as a scythe, something humans used for something or other, his Orc memory failing to give any extra detail.
   “Orcs. My master bids you the sweet embrace of death,” the Goblin shrieked, its voice odd and echoic, much unlike a normal Goblin’s squeaky cackle.
    Urk launched himself at the creature, his axe cleaving an accurate arc towards the odd Goblin’s unprotected stomach. The odd Goblin did not move. Urk, along with his axe careened through the Goblin as though he wasn’t there, before laying dead on the floor, mouth wide open, and his eyes staring in a cold surprise.
    “Your attacks are pointless. Prepare to accept death.”
    The odd Goblin swung his scythe down towards Zag’s neck. Zag stood motionless as the scythe descended in slow motion before his eyes. His shock seemed to dissipate as his natural reflexes took over and he raised his sword to attempt a parry.
    The Sword and scythe connected for a moment before Zag knocked the odd Goblin’s weapon aside. The odd Goblin gave him a look that suggested that that had never happened before. Zag ignored it and lunged, his stolen blade plunging into the odd Goblin’s ethereal heart.
    It screeched as it rose up, before exploding silently. A ghostly wind blew across the battlefield in a mockery of a real detonation.
  Zag made to step over his fallen comrade and return to his march on the necromancer when Urk stirred. His paint glowed brightly, especially the spider mark on his forehead. He groaned and for a moment Zag believed Urk had joined the living dead and he would have to behead the weakling.
    “My ‘ead ‘urts boss,” Urk said stupidly clutching his head. He stood up staggering slightly before clutching his weapon. “Roight, lets get that stupid ‘umie.”

   Dallan cursed as he climbed the crumbling steps to where the fat Goblin and his prize resided.
    Of all the Orcs that could have figured out to dodge his spell, the foul Bandit had to be the lucky one. The one armed muscle head had to be the one to throw himself aside as the magical pendulum swung through the battlefield.
    It was unfair, that’s what it was. The Gods were trying every dirty trick they could cobble together to stop him achieving his goal. For instance, he could have accepted that someone had the Orc equivalent of an epiphany, something akin to remembering to breathe, but for it to be the green tinted bane of his existence?
    What was somehow worse was one of the backward Orcs had actually managed to survive getting the pendulum full in the face. Somehow the crude shapes on the Orc’s body had managed to bat away the Grey winds attempts on his life.
    Perhaps the forest Goblin’s deity did exist and had bestowed its favour on the Orc for venerating it with his forehead? Morr knew odder things had happened.
    Well his spell may have failed, he thought as he stopped to catch his breath, but at least he had the foresight to bind the spirit of a wraith to his whims. Admittedly he hadn’t had a lot to work with but the Goblin’s soul had to suffice.
    Dallan had to admit, necromancy held a lot more power than his coveted shadow magic but if he hadn’t been a Grey wizard before he met his master, he would have been spit on his master’s own sword by the Orc.
    He decided to turn his attention to the battlefield before continuing up the poor excuse for a temple.
    He had to stifle a laugh when the backwards Orc sealed his own fate, swatting ineffectually as the wraith’s mere being robbed him of his soul. Dallan’s happiness was short-lived however and he put a hand to his mouth in horror as the Bandit dissipated his minion with his master’s magic sword. He got the feeling his master would give him a piece of his mind for that, at best. He didn’t dare contemplate the worst case scenario.
    Before he could look away, the Gods threw another helping of mud in his face as once again the backward Orc’s tattoos saved him. What were the chances? Steeling his resolve Dallan climbed all the faster.
    As he finally made it to the peak of the man made mountain, he came face to face with his quarry. The fat Goblin squawked in a moment of panic before hitting the giant spider mount with his sceptre.
    The Spider struggled to move under the weight of the throne as well as its master’s bulk. This gave Dallan ample time to prepare his greatest spell.
    He chanted the words and the winds heeded his call. The very world seemed to stop and stare in awe. The moons hid themselves from view and the shadows flocked to him.
    The shadows twisted and turned, changing shape by his whim before finally coalescing into solidity, in his grasp.
   Unable to stop himself, Dallan laughed as the simple dagger formed in his hands. It’s very existence, because he willed it.
   Reaching out he slashed the shadowy blade across the spider’s face. It left no mark. For a moment the spider continued, but before it could slash him with its barbs, something told it, it was dead. It fell to the floor in one motion, its very load helping to crush it.
    Its rider tumbled from its throne, rolling head over heel before coming to a stop at Dallan’s feet. It made to attack him but Dallan was too quick and once again he lashed out with the blade of shadow. The Goblin gave him a confused look before his eyes dulled and his jaw fell open slackly.
    “WAAAGH!!” The shouts reached his ears and he knew the idiot thief and his crew of buffoons would be on him quickly.
    Dispelling the dagger, it vanished as quick as it had come and he reached out to claim his prize. The sceptre however, would not budge. Dallan quickly realised that such a strange death must have made rigor mortis set in much quicker than normal.
    “No matter, I only want the orb,” he said confidently. Placing one foot on the sceptre he grasped the orb in both hands and heaved.
    The sceptre creaked but held firm. Goblin manufacture may be crude, but Dallan had to admit it was study and quite effective.
    He could almost feel the Bandit’s breath on his neck but still the orb wouldn’t budge. The stomps of feet and the collapse of stone told him the Orc’s were approaching fast, uncaring for the structure’s crumbling nature.
    Panic took hold of him. He could not fail. He wouldn’t.
    Taking a deep breath, he reviewed his options before quite bluntly slapping himself on the head. How could he have been so foolish?
    Recanting the summoning spell, he willed the fat Goblin’s bones to move again. Slowly it stood, several snapping sounds audible above the approaching enemy. It stared at him, awaiting orders.
    Dallan held out his hand. The Goblin stared at it before staring at the sceptre and back at his hand. Eventually the zombie held out the sceptre to him and greedily Dallan snatched it from its hand. He then let the Goblin crumble back to a motionless corpse. Turning he watched the one armed bandit emerge over the steps. They locked stares for a moment before Dallan said a word.
    And then Dallan vanished, leaving behind nothing but smoke and the mixed smell of burned flesh and an overconfident smugness.

The Rise of Da One Armed Bandit Chapter Three

2 Sep

Chapter Three: Of War and Peace. But mostly war.

    The wolf riders finally returned. Zag had begun to get impatient.
    With Gren dead, the cowards that had run eventually came back and were savagely beaten. Zag ordered them kept alive however. Zag’s reasoning, for an Orc, was that they were more useful alive than dead. As long as they knew who the boss was.
    “We’s found ‘em boss,” one of the riders squeaked.
    “Good. Okay boys, move out,” Zag shouted to his motley tribe.
    They followed the remaining wolf riders for what felt like an age. Zag tried to keep the peace but couldn’t stop the inevitable fights breaking out. They quick marched behind the wolves back, every now and again a wolf would break ranks, its rider holding on for dear life before it came back, mouth slobbering with blood and its riders face the very image of relief. It wasn’t unknown for wolves to eat their riders when they got hungry.
    “Lucky Gobbo,” Zag said with a smirk.
    They eventually came to a stop outside of a thick forest. Zag wondered if it was the one he had fought the human in. His sense of direction and Orc attention span meant he couldn’t know for sure.
    The greenskins set up camp, if a series of hastily put together shanty style tents could be called a camp. The savages had gotten a bit too enthusiastic, chopping at trees on the outskirts of the forest and using the wood to make a shelter. Zag wondered if they were trying to copy the houses of a human settlement but dismissed it.
   The wolf riders copied their larger cousins, whether out of respect, fear or boredom, it was unknown. One or two attempted to hack at the trees, only for a bees nest to land on one unfortunate Goblins head. Instead they stole leftover wood from the Orcs and set about making a pen for their wolves.
    The wolves made sure to show their disapproval. More than one Goblin limped up to Zag, torn clothes and teeth shaped punctures in their legs.
    While the others set about their duties, Zag made a fire stabbing his stolen blade into the dirt next to it and brooding. Ignoring the savage Orcs that had crowded around this miracle as they saw it, Zag attempted to think of a way of finding his hand.
    “Boss?” a goblin said coming up to him relunctantly.
    Zag stared at him with a burning hatred as if the little runt had stolen the path to his hand. He gathered his sword and stood. A Greenskin, much smaller than a Goblin, ran past him giggling. Since they had set up camp, these snotlings along with the odd Squig had sprung up, appearing as if out of nowhere.
   A nearby Squig lay snoozing nearby. Zag gave him a disgruntled kick, venting his anger on the beast. It sailed into the side of a wooden tent. Surprisingly the building stayed upright. The Squig leapt to its feet and snarled. Zag growled in turn.
    Charging at him, the Squig, a bouncing ball of sheer muscle and teeth, jumped, gnashing and snarling. In an uncharacteristically graceful move, Zag brought his sword up in an upward arc, pommel first. It struck the creature in its almost nonexistent chin. The Squig’s trajectory quickly changed to a more vertical one. It screamed the only way a fungal orb could, wailing into the sky.
   As it returned like a gift from gravity, Zag delivered another kick, hitting it with precision back at the cobbled together tent. This time the building gave up and crashed to the floor.
   The Squig emerged from the rubble. Whimpering it ran off, venting its own anger on an unsuspecting snotling. Eventually a dazed Orc emerged from the rubble as well, it staggered a few steps before collapsing. Its snores filled the vacuum of noise Zag’s outburst had created.
    Panting, Zag finally turned to the Goblin.
    “Yeah? What do you want?”
   The Goblin, now physically trembling in a show of sheer cowardice, eventually summoned up the courage to speak.
    “The forest Gobbos ‘ave sent an emissl- emissaaly-emissr- a guy to talk fer ‘em.”
    Zag nodded. They had come to the forest to recruit the forest Goblins. Hopefully by force, but he would take peaceful surrender, however unlikely that would be. After all that gave him more Goblins to use as cannon fodder.
    “Go get Boss Urk,” Zag said. The Goblin took off before he could shove his boot up his arse.
    Savage Boss Urk was Zag’s second in command. Not quite tough enough to take Zag on, but more than strong enough to bully the other Orc’s, commanding their respect. Zag decided he might need the Orc to get the forest Goblins on his side. His face paint and tribal manner could be what swayed the spider worshippers. After all, even though they called themselves forest Goblins, they were nothing more than savage Goblins, the Gobbo version of the Orcs under his command.
   

    Dallan watched the Greenskins as they attempted their parlay. He had safely concealed himself in the shadows.
    His master had been most annoyed and unimpressed with his loss of the sword. He had threatened Dallan, not with death, but with unlife. And not the good kind. How Dallan craved his master’s kiss, to become immortal, but if he failed to retrieve the sword or something just as worthy, he would indeed become immortal, albeit with an eternity of suffering as a shambling stinking zombie.
    Dallan shuddered at the thought.
    He watched as the thief, the one armed Orc who had come so close to ending his life, stood, good hand clasped to the blade. The other Orc, a backwards creature daubed in paint was busying himself by throttling one of the Goblins they were trying to speak with.
    He had to admit the Orcs had a way with brokering allegiance amongst their own kind. Not for them was the politics of mankind. The filling of pockets or the blackmail of a would-be ally wasn’t something that came to an Orc. They didn’t know greed. For that Dallan envied the simpletons.
    For a moment he wondered how long an Orc would live if it was never killed on the battlefield. Did they age? Did they understand the concept of mortality? Probably not. It was unheard of for an Orc to accept the blood kiss or seek out objects that could prolong their life. No, the only thing an Orc understood was strength. If one found the elixir of life, he wouldn’t drink it.
   “No, he’d beat the closest living thing over the head with it,” Dallan muttered to himself.
    Suddenly the green skin truce meeting took a new turn. One of the Goblins stood pointing at the backward Orc’s head. The others saw what he pointed at and quickly began to bow, arms outstretched in front of them and their noses scraping the ground. It was as if they had just seen their God made form.
    Dallan strained his eyes to see what the fuss was about.
    On the Orcs head, Dallan made out some markings in blue paint, they looked fresh as it was dribbling down his forehead. If he was someone who took stock in the ink blot test he would have said the symbol looked like a spider, the dribbles forming the legs.
   The Goblins rose and beckoned for the Orcs to follow. The savage one shrugged and did so immediately but Dallan could have sworn the sword stealer, the bandit as it were, was thinking. Could he realise why the Goblins had such reverence for his ally? He stomped slowly after the rest, his bodyguard of Orcs following in his wake.
    It wasn’t hard for Dallan to follow them. Even when he momentarily became caught up in a bit of stray webbing, he soon caught up. The Orcs constantly stopped to bicker loudly, every now and again a punch was thrown, but their bandit leader soon stopped it before anyone was killed.
    Eventually they came to a clearing under an opening in the trees. The twin moons glared at the gathering from on high. Looking around the clearing, Dallan made out various holes covered in webbing. Obviously the burrows of the spiders these Goblins kept. However his heart did jump when he saw a massive crater of a burrow, hidden partially by the undergrowth.
    Off to one side of the clearing stood a very large fungus encrusted structure. It looked ancient and well made. Dallan suspected it had been made long ago by great craftsmen and the Goblins had merely taken it over. Possibly Dwarfs had done it, but then he had second thoughts. It didn’t have the same practicality in its architecture as normal Dwarf makes had. Elven then? An outpost they had created from long ago. No, it didn’t have the required elegance. If anything it looked like an altar, a massive one though, that by all appearances looked like a prototype of the pyramids he had seen in one of his master’s bokks on Khemri.
    He did wonder if the long dead Kings of Nehekhara had ever come this far north though. Perhaps a race older than them had done it then. Which meant there could be ancient treasures in there, left undisturbed by the fools of the Empire. Instead of garnering a dusty museum, the powerful treasures of that temple could win him his immortality; the good kind of immortality where he was his own master.
    He rubbed his hands in anticipation. But how to do it?
    A rather fat Goblin appeared at the top of the temple, a veritable chicken-full of feathers adorned his head dress and he rode atop some form of stone chair strapped to a giant spider. A throne perhaps?
    He twirled a makeshift sceptre with a glowing orb at its end. The orb shined with a venomous green colour and fixed in such a crude way to the sceptre made Dallan think that this could be the type of treasure he was looking for.
    The Goblins obviously found it and finding no other use for it tied it to a stick, no doubt intending to bludgeon another of their kind with it.
    He knew exactly what to do.
    The words fell from his lips like a storm as all around his little hiding place, small hands shot out of the ground, rotting green flesh still hanging from their bones. Their groans and creaking limbs all that was needed for Dallan to know they would do his bidding without hesitation.
    There was a subtle irony here. Dallan did to these deceased Goblins, what he feared his master would do to him if he failed.
    His smile dispelled the thought.
    “As if I would fail.”

The Rise of Da One Armed Bandit Chapter 2

31 Aug

Chapter Two: Greenskins, Large and Small

    Greenskins are known across the old world as a living canker on the lands. As soon as you think you have quelled it, they come roaring from an unseen quarter. You didn’t have to walk far before they found you.
    It was for this reason that Zag had barely stomped out of the dark woods before off in the distance he could see the dust whipped up by charging cavalry and the squeaky chants of their riders.
    As he got closer the one armed Orc noticed who they were attacking. Or rather, who they were running at before stopping and running away again. Another tribe of greenskins.
   “Cowardly Gobbos,” Zag muttered under his breath.
   The Goblins on wolves were repeatedly feigning charges at the loose ranks of Orcs. Each time they ran it riled individual Orcs into sprinting after them and out of the safety of their loose ranks. The wolf riders then easily picked off the loners.
    As Zag got closer he noticed they weren’t normal Orcs. Or at least not in an Orcy way. They wore no armour, in fact they barely wore anything bar a loincloth. Each Orc had also daubed themselves in blue paint, makig crude symbols on their flesh.
    When he finally got within spitting distance, the savage Orcs had regrouped behind some rocks, but still the odd Orc ran out after the wolves.
    Grabbing the nearest Orc as he was about to run, zag slammed him behind the rock, punching him square in the nose with his remaining hand. He then turned to the other Orcs as they stared at him.
    The other Orcs looked confused. They could obviously see Zag was an Orc which stayed them from slaughtering him out right* but he was defiantly not one of them. He had armour and a strange weapon at his side.
    The next nearest savage reached for the sword around Zag’s belt. He backhanded the Orc with the stump of his arm.
    “Oi!” Zag shouted with the standard Orc greeting, “Who is da boss around ‘ere?”
   “I is.” An Orc, not much bigger than any of the others stepped forward. He seemed to have a lot more symbols painted on him than the others and a piece of bone through his nose.
    Zag unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the Savage boss.
    “You ain’t proppa enough to be the boss. Letting puny Gobbos take advantage.” The last word confused the savages so he tried again. “You is getting thumped by Gobbos.”
     The group nodded to each other in sudden understanding and the boss took another step forward in challenge.
    “Come on if you think you is ‘ard enough!”
    The boss Orc swung his club before Zag could react. It connected with his chin, twisting his head around to the side. The boss laughed and scratched his head with his other hand. Zag turned his head to look at the laughing Orc. He did it slowly, his neck clicking back into place. This somewhat unnerved the savage whose eyes widened before turning into a scowl.
   The boss lunged at Zag. Dodging to the side, he brought his stolen sword to bear and sliced straight through the boss’ wrist. The boss roared as blood sprayed from the wound before attempting a headbutt to Zag’s gut.
    The boss was obviously not used to armour as his head clanged off it, barely winding Zag. He staggered back, slightly dazed. Pressing his advantage Zag brought down the sword in a chopping motion.
   ‘Fool’.
  
 The boss collapsed to the ground.
    As the savaged stood motionless, Zag looked about himself. He had heard a voice. A distinctly un-Orc like voice. But the only living souls around him were the savages, a slight fear in them as they waited for their new boss’ orders.
    Shrugging, Zag sheathed his sword and bellowed,
    “Listen up, this is what we is gonna do.”

    The wolf riders watched the rocky outcrop in confusion. The Orcs had stopped coming. Perhaps the Orcs had finally learnt from their mistakes, Chief rider Gren thought. Then he realised these were Orcs. They were too stupid to learn, especially these ones.
    Gren and his riders had discovered the backward Orcs a few days ago and had thanked Mork (or was it Gork?) for their luck. These Orcs were the biggest morons the Goblins had ever seen, even for Orcs. This had given them their chance to get their own back on their larger cousins.
    His wolf mount yawned, mirroring his master’s boredom. Gren chewed a finger before throwing it away, after all it wasn’t his. He looked down the lines of riders around him and could of sworn he had seen looks of cunning plans forming in his subordinates as their faces had lit up, only to look away from him quickly.
    He had to get them busy, maybe get some of them killed. That was the only way to stop yourself getting a crooked knife in the back when you were the big boss Goblin.
   He adjusted his helmet as a cunning plan of his own formed in his brain, but who would he pick for the honour of scouting out the enemy?
   “Oi! You, Snotbat, c’mere,” Gren shouted to the Goblin on the end. Snotbat might look like a complete idiot picking his nose, but Gren had seen the way he looked at him and he didn’t like it.
    “Wha?”
    “I want you to go see what those Orcs are doin’. Do it all sneaky like and take Thumbgus and him there.” He pointed to a Goblin who tried to look away but was too late.
    The trio of Goblins tried to move out slowly but their mounts, ever hungry wolves weren’t having any of it and took off at full speed towards the rocks.
    Gren rubbed his hands together and stifled a giggle.
   As the trio of wolf riders made it to enemy lines they made to turn around the rock, at a safe distance. However, it appeared they weren’t far enough away. Several implements were thrown in their direction. Gren made out several rocks, one managing to smack Snotback on the nose and knock him off his wolf. Quite a few sharpened stone axes buried themselves in the wolves flanks and the remaining Goblins were quickly thrown from their mounts. Two Orcs then ran to them and bludgeoned their fallen frames to pulp before turning to look directly at Gren.
    Here they come, Gren thought. They won’t be able to help themselves. The pea brain idiots will run towards them and get tired and and…
    “Oi! What are they doin’?” Gren shouted.
    “They is retreating Boss,” said the Goblin next to him. Gren punched him in the mouth.
    “They is no good stinkin’ Orcs. They don’t retreat.” Gren didn’t say it with too much conviction. “Roight, there must be lots less than we finked there were, otherwise they would be braver. Come on boys, let’s get ‘em!”
    They charged at the rocks in a wide arc coming around the side and the last second, to try and surprise the remaining Orcs by appearing in front, as if out of nowhere.
    As they turned to face the Orcs however, Gren’s malicious grin fell off his face, replaced a look of horror. He gulped.
    “Oh, hello,” he said to the large amount of Orcs. If Gren could count he would have known the Orcs outnumbered him ten to one. Several savages clubbed their own hands threateningly but it was the Orc in front of the savages that caught Gren’s attention.
    He held a fine sword in one hand balancing the blade flatly against his shoulder. In other circumstances Gren might have marked that out as loot for himself, but the Orc’s sheer confidence coupled with his armour and the fact he was backed up by many many others made Gren have second thoughts.
    Gren soon realised this new Orc was also their new leader as he noticed the Orcs other hand or stump and the fact that one of the savages held a banner with a quickly painted svered hand on its flag.
    He gulped again.
    The Orcs descended on them, screaming and bawling. It was too late for Gren to order the retreat but still some of the Goblins at the back of his unit ran anyway. This left him and the others too near the front and unable to turn, to their fates.
   As the new Orc’s blade cleft Gren’s head from his shoulders, he thought he heard a distinctly un-orcy voice but before he could contemplate it further, he was dead.

Smash bros wii u/3ds wishlisting. Heck yeah!

14 Aug

   Hello readers.

   With the announcement that the smash bros series will be coming to the 3DS and the new wii U(eventually anyway), I have decided to compile a list of the characters I’d like to see.

Let the rampart speculation commence!

Nintendo

Bowser Jr

Bowser Jr, son of Bowser and a hell of a dodgeball player, let me tell you. If included (It should be mentioned that he was rumoured to be in Brawl), I envision his moveset incorporating his paintbrush in some form. Perhaps flicking paint as a ranged attack or planting a slippy trap on the ground.

I think that whether Jr is in or not that the amount of mario fighters should probably end there really. Toad? no thanks. Waluigi? Blargh. Fawful? Assist trophy at best.

Waluigi pinball stage

Even though I hate Waluigi with every fibre of my being I see a pinball stage being an interesting addition and currently, the trend in mario spinoffs is to make Waluigi’s stage pinball for some reason. In the stage there could be a ball launcher to one side that fires hazadous balls into the arena with flippers at the bottom of the stage firing balls back upwards. Hazards have been done before, those blasted koopas and crabs on the retro mario stage are a real bugger.

Rambi

I don’ t care how, be it assist trophy or cameo in the background similar to the sonic level, Rambi deserves to appear in this game. He is the Yoshi of the Donkey Kong country games. As soon as you find him, your eyes light up as you realise your about to lay down some real hurt.

Speaking of the sonic series, if the descion comes to include more 3rd party characters (lets face it, Nintendo hasn’t realised a new IP in a while, epic yarn was going to star just Prince fluff but Kirby got shoved in. Which is fair enough, Kirby hasn’t had a game for a while. Was squeak squad his last outing? I can’t remember), there are a few additions I would be very interested to see.

Dr Eggman

The Sonic villain would have been an awseome boss in the subspace emissary and if they decide to do a similar story in the next one, the good(?) Doctor would be a welcome addition. Hopefully accompanied by his theme from adventure two battle.

A recent game I have been playing has influenced the next on the list:

Black mage

Square Enix’s recent game Sports Mix was the sequel to another title for the handheld. Both, with Nintendo’s consent included Mario characters along with the Final Fantasy characters. Any of the characters would make a welcome addition to the smash but my particular fave from the game was the Black Mage. His flair for style and cool use of magic just sealed the deal. Square Enix have collaborated twice so far so… third times the charm?

Laharl

The main character from the Disgaea game(the first one anyway). Admittedly, very very unlikely but Disgaea DS was (and still is) a favourite game of mine. The games over the topness and humour would slot in quite easily with the atomic farts, pink blobs and other blue haired blokes(I fight for my friends indeed). Hell, it would just be funny pitting him against both Marth and Ike, in a triple blue haired swordman fight. (Although, being a demon, I’m guessing he wouldn’t just rely on the sword).

Speaking of Blue hair.

Breath of Fire

Capcom’s other Ryu and one of the only series that wasn’t represented in a capcom vs whatever game. Originating on the Super Nintendo increases the infinitly thin chance of this happening. Plus if the fandom is answered in terms of another capcom character entering the fray(*cough*Megaman*cough*) it could happen… Smash bros brought another obscure game to the west and even though this one is definatly here there is a chance of a increase in popularity… Fine, but a bloke can dream.

Screw the rules I have green blue hair!

So vigilant veiwers of the vonderful vorld of unpopblog, who are your wishes and wants for the next installment of the gamecubes greatest hit?

Physical Gods

13 Jul

Several million years before Earth even hosted the first semblance of life a whole civilisation had begun and was about to end. Sentient creatures who are to mankind, what mankind are to insects, stalk the galaxy as self proclaimed Gods. Having evolved to the point of becoming energy beings, their food became the stars themselves until they discovered a delicacy more to their palettes. The very life-force of other sentient creatures. Using their incredible powers, they fashioned bodies out of living metal and began to terrorise civilisation. They were fortunately opposed by vast armies more than a match for these ‘Gods’ through sheer weight of numbers. But the Gods now called the Rak’shi by the mortals hatched a new plan. Using the metal substance they had used for their bodies, they created an army of their own.
   This army was the very image of the walking dead with menacing skulls for heads and bony limbs. But these were not as they appeared. Instead the Raknum as they were known were an army of machines, cold and logical capable of blasting apart the enemy armies with their weaponry and repairing any return fire.
   And so the Rak’shi and their minions controlled the galaxy, farming the population and ruling through fear. Until at one great moment, a saviour with incomparable ability in a mysterious, almost magical skill appeared. The ‘sorcerer’ as he was named had been guarded from the Rak’shi and Raknum until the moment was right. Unleashing a swirling vortex of power he attempted to strip away the God’s power but they laughed, boasting they were invincible. However. The brave sorcerer gave them a wry smile before turning his vast magic on himself and all the sentient living creatures knowing full well, the Rak’shi would wither and die without their food source and a new generation would eventually rise up from their ashes forming a newer free world. A sacrifice never seen before or since.
   At first the Rak’shi attempted to live of the stars as they once had but it was no use. They were too used to their acquired taste, life force of sentient creatures and could not stand the blandness of the stars. Instead they turned on each other; consuming the life force of weaker Gods until only a few remained. Those few then came up with a brilliant idea; they would wait in hibernation until the world was full to harvest once more. And so one by one they fell into great slumbers in the cores of planets surrounded by their Raknum for protection to await the future.
   However two of them had some unfinished business before they could slumber…

 

 

    Mel’shi paced the halls as he did every time he was putting the finishing touches on his next great plan. His metallic feet echoed with a dull ring around the brightly lit jet black metal fortress. Although Mel’shi like his brothers preferred the metal that they used for their bodies to create their fortresses, he was very different. He had adorned the walls with iconography of the mortals as he had a love for all things they did. And who wouldn’t have a curiosity in the customs of other beings? His brothers apparently, calling him weak for associating with the cattle races.
    But there was another reason he had done it. He had kept the mortals happy as he could see the long run benefit of being liked by the mortals. They were less likely to revolt and cause harm. Not to him but to themselves. And this had come to fruition anyway after the Sorcerer had unleasehed a great spell to sacrifice himself and everyone else just to spite the Gods. He was likely from Der’shi’s Empire fed up of the constant torture.
    That mattered not now anyway, it was best to look to the future rather than dwell on the past. And it was up to him to decide how to shape the future. He stroked a bright red flag, pictured was some form of avian clutching a sword. He pondered for a moment whether the people of the future would be similar to those of now. Dismissing the distraction he returned to the plan. He had decided at the very start that his brothers had no right to be a part of the future. After all the strife and despair they had done to the galaxy this time around. He even included himself in this because even if he was seen as the kindest of the Rak’shi and had people beg for him to allow them to be a part of his slice of the galaxy, he was at most, the best of the worst. He still required the death of others to continue living. But who would willingly give up life when they could easily continue?
    No, he thought, Mel’shi cannot be a part of the perfect future. He tried to emulate the correct emotion for this moment. Depression his followers had called it. He should know such sad emotions very well, having caused them enough times. He had wiled away many a century trying to mimic all of the mortal’s emotions but there were just too many and alas he had run out of time.
    Mel’shi moved away and through a large archway, large enough even for his tremendous frame. Here was the grand hall. His hall was special as although all the Halls of the Gods had great sorrow as the living were poked and prodded towards their God for harvesting, Mel’shi’s hall also held times of great happiness. He had at one point allowed the magicians of his empire to show off here much to the adoration of millions of onlookers. The vast majority allowed to watch through archaic devices that captured images and sent them over great distances. Both of these things were forbidden in his brother’s empires.
    He sat on his throne, the powerful seat not baulking even under his mass. Taking a small orb from a compartment in the chair he examined it, careful not to crush it. It was very tiny, smaller than his thumb and yet it crackled with energy under his touch. He smirked slightly, surprising himself. Had that been his first true emotion? What had the mortals called it? Joy? Humour? No, none of these, but Mel’shi seemed to remember it began with a P…
    He was disturbed from his reverie when a Raknum Lord he had sent for, entered the chamber. He was very small, the size of a mortal in height but thin and skeletal, his silver frame would have gleamed even in this light were the Raknum partial to presentation. Instead, his metal body was crusted over with dirt and dust from a thousand campaigns. They had been created to look like the skeletal undead from the mortal folk lore in order to hurt morale and thanks to internal mechanisms and circuits they were stronger and more durable than any mortal.
    Lord Kryn, as Mel’shi had decided to name him, yet another quirk that set him apart from his brothers, marched in followed by a small retinue of far bulkier ‘skeletons.’ Kryn’s retinue, the Rak Guards, were the strongest of all the Raknum, second only to the Lords, and had been instrumental in the first assaults on the mortals. Each guard had a staff, as long as their bodies if not a little longer. Each was topped with a blue mineral often called lighting crystals by the mortals, for they could launch bolts of electricity from them at long range or use them to shred through armour and shielding at close range. The Lord was similarly equipped but his staff was more ornate and his ‘lightning crystal’ was a paler blue in colour.
    “You require my services, Master,” Kryn said bowing.
    “Yes Kryn, you realise time grows short and we must soon slumber. But first I must do something for the good of all the mortals of the future,” Mel’shi felt certain a mortal in Kryn’s place would have asked why he would do this, so he continued as such, “I am going to give them a way of stopping my brothers. We have been in control for too long and grow stagnant, the universe needs to grow, Kryn.”
    “How do you wish to proceed, Master?”
    “For the universe to grow it requires a seed and some, how did the mortals put it, tender love and care,” He looked to the small orb in his grasp and leant down, dropping it into Kryn’s hands. It was slightly larger than his hand but his grasp held firm. The orb had stopped crackling and now glowed warm and inviting. “Take this and begin hibernation protocols, and you would be better off hiding in the mess of spare parts down on the lowest deck rather than my personal chamber,” Mel’shi felt certain a more sentient and aware individual would have questioned this change in arrangements but, as a Raknum, Kryn did not. He also felt sure that perhaps in time, this could change.
   Lord Kryn and his bodyguard marched off the way they came but Mel’shi did not move. He had one more thing left to do. Even as he grew hungry and weak he remained vigilant on his throne. He was determined to remain dignified and expectant rather than slumped in weakness. Especially with the visitor he was expecting. An unwelcome visitor.

                *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *

    Mel’shi waited for many hours but he knew he would not be wrong. Almost as if the Fortress was reassuring him, a large bang echoed through the rooms and halls. No doubt, their ship had touched down and that was a show of power. For his visitor was also his brother or at least one of them. And Mel’shi knew exactly which one, Anu’shi, the lying God, the most neglectful precursor. Anu’shi was one of the first of his brothers to scent the mortals and descend to feed, he was also the first to turn on his brothers and absorb them and Mel’shi theorised he would be last to slumber.
   “Oh Mel’shi, where are you hiding dearest brother? Ah, here you are,” Anu ‘shi shouted as he entered the great hall. Mel’shi leant his head on an arm in a show of what the mortals called boredom as his brother entered. “There he is, the great Planner, Mortal sympathiser and all around abysmal at his job. Raknum, search the crypts destroy any servant loyal to my brother.”
   An army of Raknum marched down to the lower levels led by their own Lord who was unlikely to have a name. Anu’shi floated above the floor for a moment, the same way he had entered; a show of his power, before he fell suddenly to his feet and further took in his surroundings.
   “You will find no traps here brother,” Mel’shi said, involuntarily leaning more and more on his arm.
    “No, I suppose not. For all your great plans, none of them ever came to fruition did they?” said Anu’shi.
    “No I guess not, but not for a lack of trying. I always had every variable accounted for though.”
    “All but the unforeseeable. Djin’shi always loved to throw a spanner in the works didn’t he?”
    “Djin’shi the unpredictable. So unpredictable even you couldn’t trick him into your midst. I hear he has already gone into hibernation and no, I don’t know where.”
    “If you did, you wouldn’t be here, but you could never plan around him.”
    Anu’shi stared at him with his gold metallic rimmed eyes. The Power in the centre of his metal body trying to break free. They stared off for a while before Mel’shi’s head slipped and he was forced forward clattering to the ground. The impact of his metal body managed to dent the floor of his fortress, both being made of the same hardy metal.
    There was a cackle of laughter as Anu’shi strode towards him. Each footstep seeming to take an age to Mel’shi, the clang as each step hit the ground began to ring like a death knell. He felt himself being lifted up, Anu’shi still brimming with strength as he had fed greatly on his own kin while Mel’shi had been starving.
    Once more they stared off into each other’s eyes. Their heads touched slightly and there was calm as his silver skull touched his brothers golden one. Anu’shi’s living metallic mouth ripped into a malicious grin and great monstrous tentacles of the same material launched Mel’shi into the air before wrapping around him and slamming into the floor. The tentacles came from the centre of his brother’s back as Mel’shi knew too well. Anu’shi had used them a few times before when they had come to a head. Of course the sides were a lot more equal back then but not now.
   He tried to stand but his right arm fell limp, hanging from his shoulder by a thread and his left leg had been severed completely. Energy arched from the gaping holes where the limbs once stood. That same energy was the Rak’shi’s original energy form before they had created their metal bodies but he was too weak to escape and frankly was unsure if he remembered how to live as an energy being anymore after spending so much time in the body among objects of substance.
    He was hauled up once more, suspended in the air by the tentacles. Anu’shi rose up next to them staring into his eyes a final time. Mel’shi knew this was the last as Anu’shi would be able to see the defeat in his eyes. Happy with what he had seen, Anu’shi placed a hand on his brothers still working shoulder , smiling with a false sense of sorrow before it twisted back to the malicious. Anu’shi thrust his other hand, open palmed straight in and through Mel’shi’s chest.
     “Goodbye brother, pity you didn’t plan for this,” He shouted as he began to drain Mel’shi’s energy, his very life force. The energy transfer gave off a continuous screech like an overloading machine and just before the last wisp of life left his gargantuan body a little sooner than Anu’shi had expected.
    “Or maybe I did,” Mel’shi whispered and his lifeless husk dropped to the floor, the impact echoing through the fortress like a funeral bell.

 

 

Forces of EVIL!!

9 Jun

The long awaited sequel to Forces of order. Ok maybe not long awaited.

The Forces of Destruction are as follows:

Warriors of Chaos

'Grah! More spikes! My armour needs more spikes! If a bird lands on my shoulder I want it impaled!'

The Warriors of Chaos (often abbreviated to WoC) are, unbelievabley, not the inventors of a versatile round-bottomed cooking vessel, (that honour is China’s), they are in fact just evil humans. But thats not all! They also have evil horses, ogres and trolls! Although I think most of them are evil anyway but never the less. The warriors of chaos are enhanced by their Gods to be better than the mortals of the empire and their statline will mirror this point. They march to war from the North lead by powerful Chaos Lords Sorcerors and the monstrous Daemon Prince. The Marauders whose home is the north follow the gods as well and have very viking undertones to them but are probably to add some bodies to an otherwise elite army. They follow the Four Gods of Chaos, Khorne, Nurgle, Slannesh and Tzeentch.

Daemons of Chaos

The most Chaotic evil army in a list of chaotic evil.

Daemons of chaos are merely aspects of the gods they come from. The Bloodletters of Khorne have a very accurate if unimaginitive name and take on the appearance of the classic daemon, horned red devils. The daemonettes of Slannesh captivate their target with sheer beauty and musk leading the target easy prey to their ‘crab claws.’ The horrors of Tzeentch are ever changing tentacle creatures that warp and mutate while flinging chaotic energies. Finally the Plaguebearers of Nurgle are the ultimate defenders, able to shrug off blows from a cannon and still bring disease in ample numbers.

Beasts of chaosmen

'Baa'

The beastmen believe themselves to be the children of the gods. The chaos Gods. Yeah, the one I’ve talked about twice already. From lowly Ungor to mighty minotaur, the beastmen plague the lands forests earning them the enimity of not only man but the wood elves who don’t often leave Athel Loren. beastmen are exactly as they sound man like humanoids with the features (prominantly the head) of beasts. Oddly the beast features are often of herbivores, goats and bulls but the beastmen have no qualms with meat. In fact they love a bit of human for dinner.

Dark Elves

Arrogance in dark or 'emo' form

Dark elves are the ‘evil’ kin of the high elves. Hailing from the North of the continent we would call America, the elves of Naggaroth call themselves the Druchii. The dark elves are raiders and slavers, periodically raiding the Old world for more plunder and erm, slaves. Lead by the Witch King Malekith, son of the High elves much revered Aenarion who was the first Pheonix king. This makes Malekith one of the oldest Mortals in Warhammer. But he does still live with his mother so… meh.

Skaven

Give them some cheese, I dare ya!

The Skaven or ‘rat-men’ are similar to the Lizardmen in that they are bipedal animal creatures but there the similarities end. Where Lizardmen are the spawn of the Old Ones, creators of the Warhammer world (Not the Gamesworkshop staff, I mean the in game creators), the Skaven are the red headed stepchild of, you guessed it, the chaos gods. Instead of worshipping the chaos gods however, the skaven worship the horned rat and believe the number 13 ro be lucky. The ratmen go to war using a combination of Magic and science, each just as likely to explode in thier face. This combined with the sheer treachery inherent to their race may have caused their extinction if not for their spawn rate. A skaven Warlord can expend thousands of troops and still have more to throw on the enemies blades and bowfire. At least until someone stabs him in the back in a takeover bid.

Vampire Counts

Fangs for the memories. mwahaha! 'Audible groan'

Vampires are creatures of the night requiring a mortals blood to continue living. This caused nearly all vampires to veiw man as ‘cattle’ and continuously try and take over the world. Presumably to start a massive farm. As they disdain the living, vampires use powerful necromancy to summon hordes of undead. Zombies, skeletons, Ghouls, they have all been summoned in force at some time or another. And being dead has the advantage that it is easy to come back and attack again.

Orcs and Goblins

Green mean killing machines. The Hulk is a long lost cousin I believe

My personal favourite ‘Bad Guys.’ They bring a certain humour to the World of Warhammer. When their crude warmachines misfire it is likely a goblin got caught in the mechanism for example. And when an orc gets angry his faveourite way of cooling down is to kick a gobbo or two. Yep these aren’t you warcraft or your tolkien Orcs, these are thier own. Taking on a certain british dialect when they talk, they often come off a ‘roight bit less scary that they shud, but we is orcs and we is proppa.’
Also an orc never loses cos when we win, we win and when we lose we just come back fer annuva go!
Their armies don’t launch campaigns, they launch WAAAGH!!s and if you happen to hear this shouted in real life, you have found yourself an Orc and Gobbo player. (or possibley a 40k Ork player).

The rise of Da One Armed Bandit

9 Jun

Chapter One: Inexplicable Rage is an Orc’s best friend.

  Zag awoke to the smell of rotting flesh; it was a cloying suffocating scent that caused him to gag. He felt himself gasp for air but his mouth filled with blood and green flesh. He knocked away a rotting arm allowing a shaft of light to shine on his face. He made to wipe the gore form his face but his hand wasn’t working. He looked down at it and saw a stump looking back.
    A red mist descended over his eyes, he clenched his one remaining hand. Tensing his muscles he began to shake before launching himself upwards with a gargled roar. He erupted from the mound of corpses raising both arms above his head like an angered god. The lone cloaked man sitting around the campfire shrieked almost falling into the fire he was huddled around moments before.
    Zag realised he was standing in a cart full of corpses and began chucking the bits and pieces of orc and human body parts before reaching the edge of the cart and ferociously kicking the wooden side into splinters.
    He looked over at the man as he stood there his hands outspread and scowled.
    “Oi! You, ‘umie. Where is my ‘and!” he shouted jumping out from the newly made hole in the cart. He picked up a piece of jagged wood and brandished it as a weapon. The human appeared to be ignoring him and in a rare moment of Orc ingenuity he repeated himself, slowly. “Human. Where. Is. My. Hand? My ‘and, where have you ‘idden it?” He poked the man’s neck below the jaw with the more ‘stabby’ end of the wood. Still the cloaked figure ignored him.
   Zag, a now one handed bloody mess of ruddy green muscle squinted at the silent man. He poked him in the stomach with the wood. The man took no notice. Zag began to wonder if he had literally scared the man to death. His rage lessened for the moment as he stared at the moving lips of the pale faced human. How could he be dead if his lips were moving? As he pondered he made to scratch his head with his hand, only to miss by a hand span with the stump of his arm.
    Remembering his hand was missing, his anger returned his resolve. Losing patience with the possibly dead human, he decided to make sure and thrust the jagged wood at its heart. The wood stopped before his heart. Clasping Zag’s wrist was a pale bony arm. Slowly he turned his head to stare at who had stopped him and met face to face with a skull.
   The skeleton slowly moved the orc’s remaining hand away from its master. Zag’s strength was sapped by the fear this creature instilled in him. The skeleton raised another bony arm, clasping a rusted axe. Pitifully Zag raised his other arm to try and cowardly block the decapitating strike. Instead, he saw the stump of his arm and once more his anger surfaced and his strength returned tenfold. Wrenching his arm from the skeleton he grabbed its weapon arm quicker than it could move. While this wasn’t a spectacular feat as the undead were not known for their speed in battle, Zag didn’t care. With a sideways strike from his stump, he knocked the barely attached skull from the skeleton’s shoulders.
   If Orcs could feel pain, Zag would have felt such debilitating torture from what was left of his wrist that he would have slumped to the floor in a heartbeat. As it was, Zag was an orc and therefore swung around to where the man he had tried to kill had been standing before he was rudely interrupted by the living dead. The man had disappeared.
   “Looking for me, you raging buffoon?” Zag slowly turned to the source of the voice, eventually he found it, hidden behind an army of groaning shambling dead orcs. “You are a very good actor Orc; even I thought you were dead when I piled you onto my cart along with your brethren here.” He gestured to the creatures in front of him with a sweep of his hand. Zag sniffed the air and almost coughed out his lungs. Although it is widely known that Orcs don’t bathe and have a habit of living like walking heaps of garbage, these dead so called orcs even made Zag waft his hand in front of his face in disgust.
   “These aren’t proppa orcs. Proppa Orcs don’t get thumped by pointy eared pansies.” Zag said.
   “You were beaten by elves? Hah. A whole army of orcs beaten by the arrogant elder race. Maybe you won’t make as much of a minion as I thought you would.” The cloaked man said.
   “I’m no ‘umie’s lackey.”
   It should be pointed out that any man staring off against a necromancer and a small army of undead greenskins would either shake in his boots, scream or run. More likely it would be all three. However Zag was a living mound of green muscle and therefore saw this as ‘a good scrap’.
   Smashing the skeletal hand still clinging to his arm against a nearby tree, he paused to pick up the rusty axe that had been poised above his head moments before and then grinned a toothy grin at the horde of has-been orcs.
   “WAAAGH!!” he bellowed rushing at his enemies. The undead orcs seemed to stop for a moment as if trying to remember why that phrase was so familiar.
   “Fools attack! By my command you will do my bidding. Dallan’s bidding.” Dallan screeched at his troops before summoning more dark magic’s and flinging it in Zag’s direction. The orc meanwhile was hacking through zombies with a stern look on his face. Whether this look of sheer concentration was accidental or maybe all orcs had it in battle where Zag came from, it didn’t matter. Flipping one zombie with an upward strike, it was struck with all the fury of Dallan’s dark magic. Dallan cursed.
   Cutting an unimaginable swathe through the undead ranks, Zag eventually faced off against the necromancer. With a swagger, Dallan drew an ornate finely crafted blade.
    “Do you know what this is, Orc?” Dallan asked, swinging it nonchalantly as he and Zag squared off. They circled, stepping over the corpses of corpses and the small sapling Zag had cut down with a wild swing earlier. “This is a runeblade, forged in one of the dwarfen holds and stolen by my lord. He gave it to me as I am his most promising student.” Zag snorted his disinterest, “He infused it with some of his own magical powers making the blade even more formidable, so I’m afraid that today, beast, I am your superior in combat.”
   They stared across at each other for a few minutes. Dallan began to believe he had done the impossible and reasoned with an orc. He began to smirk like a villain in a William Long play. Zag, however was not convinced.
   Reaching over his back with his weapon he made to appear as if he was scratching his back but then, with one confused look from Dallan he brought his weapon over his head and launched it at Dallan. Not expecting this Dallan gawped like a chaos addled Troll with a math puzzle. It struck him in his shoulder causing him to collapse to the floor and drop his weapon.
   Leaning over the necromancer, he put his stump arm across his neck and pushed suffocating him. Zag then asked in the quietest tone, the Orc’s jaw could manage, “Where is my ‘and?”
   “I, I don’t know,” Dallan managed to squeak gasping for air, “I didn’t inspect the corpses when I gathered them, maybe it lies where you fell.”
   Zag pondered this for a moment. A minute passed, probably the longest an orc has thought in the presence of someone he could kill. Or anyone. He grinned a toothy grin and grasped Dallan’s fallen blade. But just as he made to plunge it into Dallan’s chest, he managed to mouth the last silent word of his spell, vanishing in a flash of black smoke and leaving only the smell of burning flesh. Zag fell the width of a man to the ground but easily shook it off.
   Dallan’s sword in his one remaining hand, Zag stomped off leaving behind the corpse strewn clearing, scavengers already appearing to pick them clean. After all he had a WAAAGH!! to raise and most importantly of all, a hand to find.

My favourite ‘Supers’ (Mostly Marvel)

28 May

I’m going to list my fave ‘super’ characters and why not?

10# Super Skrull

‘Are you having fun yet? Die Die Die Die, and Die!’

Kl’rt or the Super Skrull is one of my most recent faves. Thanks to the game Marvel vs Capcom 3. He comes of as insane which makes him even cooler and he has all the powers of the fantastic four as well as shapshifting and hypnosis. He is badass.

9# Rogue

Storm: Storm, Mistress of the Elements, commands you to release that child!
Rogue: Lighten up on your speeches, Sugar.

Rogue has my second favourite superpower, the ability to absorb any other power as well as combining them. Rogue can basically become a Super Skrull…temporarily. Unfortunatly it also causes the ‘victim’ a lot of pain and knocks them unconscious as well as giving Rogue their memories which isn’t always a good thing. Interesting facts 1#She started as a bad guy working with mystique. 2# She formed her own Xmen team at one point.

8# Nightcrawler

Red King: “I’m rich… And powerful… And in love…..And I will destroy you..!”
Nightcrawler: “Love makes you want to stab people? That isn’t love. That’s brain damage. Though I do understand your confusion between the two, some days.”

Kurt has my favourite superpower: Teleportation and even better it comes with a Bamf! sound effect! The Blue boy also has one of my favourite accents, German. Nein I hear you say, but its true.

7#Ironman

I want my armor. I want my armor! I want my armor! I want my — Ooh, nice legs. GAH! I WANT MY ARMOR!!!’

I have a love for robots and advanced technology so Tony is a perfect choice although admittedly he isn’t a robot. (His armour did become self aware at one point and he had to fight it though…) Just don’t give Mr Stark any alcohol.

6#Ghost Rider

‘Penance Stare’

I don’t know why I like Ghost Rider. Maybe its the cool powers. Maybe its the backstory. Maybe its his awesome appearance. Or perhaps its this song. Probably all of these reasons. Ghost Rider is just badass. I was ffirst introduced to this character like many supers through a video game. In this case Marvel Ultimate Alliance.

5#Hulk

Gravitron: ‘I am the strongest one there is!’
Hulk lands next to him: ‘You sure about that?’

Hulk is most well known for his manchild demeaner which is all well and good as he can be a pretty awesome character as just that but. He has also been known as other names with other personalities. Mr Fixit for example is one of his grey Hulk personas where he looks a bit like a gangster and teams up with Thing a lot. Another though is the limited time he spent as Professor Hulk. Big and green but with the mind of Banner then he was one hell of a hard fight. Another personality I liked wayching is his incarnation on a cartoon show. The Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes version of Hulk is a snarker who oozes badassery(is this a word?) and made me smile whenerver he was onscreen.

4# Hellboy

‘Aw Crap.’

Hellboy started off as a comic book character but is probably better known for his movie appearances. He makes the list because hes a Demon raised as a human and therefore as all the cool badassitude that comes with being a demon but without the evil malevolance. I also loves his humour. For example where something would scare the bezeejus out of me or you he just says: ‘Aw Crap…’
(Hellboy is one of the more successful franchises to come from Dark Horse Comics, and has earned Mike Mignola a great deal of recognition in the comics world.)

3# Deadpool

I’ll say no more about the Fourth wall breaking, Taskmaster besting, comedic, insane, costumed maniac.

2#Batman

‘I am Vengeance. I am the night. I. Am. Batman.’

What can I say that hasn’t already been said? Batman is the best thing to come out of DC comics as well as making Crazy prepared into a superpower. Ignoring that he technically has no superpowers and yet can still best anyone and everyone including(/especially) the ‘I have every superpower in existance’ Superman. Thanks to Arkham Asylum(yes another game) which I have been playing recently, it has reassured me that when a genie appears to give me a wish, it’ll be I wish I was Batman.

1#Venom

‘Oh Spider-wuss, come out and play’

And if I had a couple more wishes, I’d get a symbiote and a healing factor. Venom may seem like a bad choice to everyone else but he is my number one Super. He relatively bonkers but is only evil to our friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. He actually saves civillians! He was also the first villian that I thought would be cool if was a Hero. What sparked this off? The Ps1 Spiderman game. In this old gem at some point in the game you have to chase down and fight Venom after he kidnaps Mary Jane. After beating him he theorises you[Spidey] aren’t the guy stealing things(it makes sense in context) and he decided to help you figure out whats going on. You get help. From. A bad guy! Thats awesome. Also the first time I saw him, during a chase mission he scared the bezeejus out of me making the level even harder(bear in mind I was young at the time) so he holds the honour of the first video game character to scare the crap out of me. (Ps I only like Venom when he was with Eddie Brock, none of this Mac Gargan nonsense. Soemone tell me when he becomes cool again)

So their are my favourites. Who are yours brave readers? (brave because you managed to slog through the wall of biased text )