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hey LOer's, i've quickly written up this little piece of Fluff detailing an uneasy pact between two unlikely races, it's for a torny that me and my sister had entered for this summer with me as the Lizardmen, and her as the Skaven! unlikely i know, but i've made this pact fluffily possible, Enjoy!
A Forbidden Pact
Another Clanrat slumped to the floor clutching a small dart embedded in it’s neck followed by another hitting it‘s arm as it slid into the soft ground, it’s squirming cut short as the lethal poison burned it’s dark blood causing its thin blood vessels to bulge and splinter, instantly stopping it’s writhing form as his tainted blood leaked into the fertile soil.
The fallen Clanrat’s colleges falling in droves around it’s silent body, dropping weapons and clutching their injuries screaming in pain as their blood boiled under their skins, ‘Move forward yer cowards!’ the Plague Priest gurgled, his twisted form kicking the Clanrats forward into a sprint, as he loped behind them, his bloated form hidden underneath the filthy rags of what he calls robes with his once proud fir nothing but stretched skin, hanging loosely off of his withered form as he leaned on his twisted staff of ancient bone drenched in filth just like it’s owner, the rotten Skaven looked towards the enemy with his ruined eyes, for they’re nothing but water streaming out of it’s sockets making him look as though he’s squinting.
Their ancient enemy arrayed in a loose formation before them, lined up as a massive sea of skinks plugging a wide gap between two large, moss-covered rocky outcrops, both their massive ancient forms casting the skink horde into darkness, Skitich pulled back his gangrene lips displaying a bony jaw of brown teeth, long streams of saliva dripped towards the spoiled ground of where he stood, ‘now’s our time Charge-Charge!’ he shouted with a loud gurgle, spittle jetting out of his ruined face as he kicked the Clanrats into a suicidal sprint towards the small Lizardmen, a dark tide of fir and gnashing teeth spilling forwards with Skitich having trouble keeping up, his bloated belly beaten left and right as though his bony legs are having a game of tennis, sprinting with all his might Skitich still ran forward despite the pain swelling within his gnarled form taking the risk of his belly splitting onto the floor at his feet, his numerous horde loping in front a short distance as yet more darts flew into their ranks felling yet more of them into small mounds of their limp forms, his retinue suddenly burst into fire as advancing salamanders belched long streams of fire, the Skaven’s fur easily catching fire causing panic throughout their lines making the dark tide slow down, Skitich couldn’t believe their cowardice and bowled into the tightly packed formation swinging his twisted staff against a couple of it’s members splintering bones under the force of the mighty blows, bowling them off of their feet and grabbed a panicking Clanrat with his stringy arm of flesh, ‘you run-run? I’ll kill all of ya!’ and as he gurgled, he ripped out the throat of the squirming Clanrat spilling it’s weak blood further staining the bloated Skaven’s tattered robes, tossing it’s still twitching form into it’s astonished comrades ghosting it’s limp form as it tumbled into a heap as they watched their deranged leader in fear, ‘who’s next?’ as he strolled towards them, his eyes glowing a menacing green, the Skaven before him scattering in fear of being his next victim.
Their now depleted numbers sprinting in fear of the Plague Priest, the enemy a mere blink of an eye before them, the countless numbers of the skinks still stood their ground blocking their way with their numbers and as one, the Lizardmen unleashed massive clouds of tiny darts speeding into their ranks pattering off crude armour and penetrating through their weak flesh, a handful fell within an blink of an eye, screams of pain enveloping the humid air amplified by the surrounding rocky outcrops and inciting panic in the horde once more as every passing second more and more Skaven fell where they stood creating large mounds of twisted bodies, Skitich looked to the left and saw a large group of Clanrats flee in panic past them, ’Come back yer cowards!’ he gurgled after them but it wasn’t enough, they were more terrified of the enemy than even their deranged leader and turned to the front line, all he could see is a large mound of his broken horde before him for not a single soul remained save for the writhing forms of some, clutching their wounds as they struggled against the lethal poison in their death throes, enraged even further he climbed the mound before him foam dripping out of his panting maw, as he reached the mound’s peak none of the enemy was there to greet him it was an open plain of untouched grass stretching before him surrounded by yet more jungle, with thick pillars of light shining upon half-buried statues of the Lizardmen gods, the stumps of his ears twitched as they picked up a sound rustling in the distance behind him, as he turned around he could see the enemy disappearing into the darkness of the jungle, he roared his outrage of his losses and started with a loping run leaping off the top of the small mound of festering bodies of his Clansmen, sprinting across the landscape with great speed despite his large form as all of a sudden, a large Jaguar of purest black leaped from the overgrowth before him, it’s eyes shining an unnatural white light as it gave an earth-shaking growl towards the robed Skaven, shaking in hatred Skitich let his anger overcome him and just as he started to charge this new threat a pain struck his back, for it burns throughout his bloated form like no other as it spread easily ripping his arteries in two and causing his organs to explode, dimming his vision and making his limbs feel heavy, just as he looked up the great cat sprinted across the plain with great bounds leaping over the littered bodies of fallen Skaven, before Skitich reacted he was knocked off his feet as the Jaguar backhanded the weakened Skaven with his body crashing onto the hard ground, the weight of his bloated form crushing bones and squeezing his poisoned body making him gurgle in pain as he landed on his staff.
Unable to get back up Skitich glared up at the great cat, it stalked into the light of the sun, revealing it’s true identity as it’s dark flesh melted away displaying a grand helmet with a crown of horns made entirely out of a skull of an unknown creature, sheltering a massively built Saurus of great age wielding ancient weapons and armour in it’s clawed hands, Skitich went for his staff lying by his side, but the Saurus slammed it’s heavy foot onto the weapon, pinning Skitich’s right hand into the bloody soil as he looked back into the Saurus’ yellow eyes in fear, as the great creature stooped down and grabbed Skitich by the throat and hefted him high into the air, the Scar-Veteran gave a low growl of anger rumbling into his bloated head as it tightened it’s grip around the Skaven’s mangy flesh before tossing him to the ground once more with yet another heavy thud.
Beside the Scar-Veteran emerged an elderly skink sheathed in a cloak of feathers which gave a beautiful display of dazzling colours that hurt Skitich’s glazed eyes, raising his arm to shelter the bright light reflecting into his face, the old skink reached into the recesses of it’s intricate cloak and retrieved leather pouch which barely fits in the skinks withered hands, undoing the small string at the top, the Skink Priest then tossed the heavy bag in Skitich’s direction landing in his lap, spilling small, green stones which hummed with power as Skitich picked one up and sniffed it’s humming surface, ‘Warpstone?’ he mumbled, and turned to his ancient enemy ‘have ya grown soft lizard? What do ya want?’ he growled hesitantly, as if the old Skink knew what he was saying, it pointed a wrinkled finger towards a mountain wreathed in vegetation to the north, Skitich looked at the mountain and looked back at the Scar-Veteran and the old Skink, ‘the mountain?’, just as he finished speaking another pouch of Warpstone was thrown into his lap along with a tattered scroll, Skitich picked up the scroll with his slimy hands and unrolled it’s contents before him, for it shows the brief outline of a temple embedded into stone as Skitich looked up in confusion, the Scar-Veteran had disappeared without a trace leaving the Skink Priest, and gave a gesture which shows that they are watching him by pointing two fingers towards its eyes then pointing at him with it’s index finger, before turning around and disappearing into the darkness of the jungle leaving Skitich sitting among the tattered remains of his force.
Heaving himself to his feet with a groan, Skitich stood in his ragged robes weighing both the bags containing the Warpstone in his flaking hands then tucked them into the dark recesses of his rags, as he turned to find the scattered remains of his useless clansmen, ‘I’ll get ‘em, both of ‘em’, he cracked another smile of satisfaction causing his skin to crack across his warped face, ‘I’ll just blame the troops’, he gurgled as the thought of glorious revenge began filling his twisted mind, as he ran into the jungle towards the green mountains accepting the short allegiance, for now.
Last edited by Kai-Itza; May 8th, 2007 at 17:14.