Dizrik, Another Tale Of His Adventures - Warhammer 40K Fantasy

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  1. #1
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    The cool rain fell across the plain, turning the lush green meadow into a giant pit of sludge. Great gusts of wind spewed through the lands, blowing the banners of Dizrik’s warriors violently. Ahead of the warriors, standing atop a vast rock was Dizrik. His immense cape fluttered in the wind. His Draich of Dark Powers was wedged into the rock, its shimmering blade buried deep into the granite hulk. A smirk crossed his lips as he heard the sound of heavy footfalls, and saw the torches of the approaching army. Looking into the darkness he could see two groups faintly. He strained his eyes to make out them in greater detail. His smiled split his face as he identified the oncoming war party. A unit of lightly armored marauders marched on the left flank, with a great banner bearing the mark of undivided. Cruel axes and long blades where affixed into the hands of the mortals. On the right flank marked a heavily armored detachment of warriors of chaos. They too bore the mark of chaos undivided, visible by great fiery torches. At their head marched a great lieutenant of Arachon, whom Dizrik held great hatred for. In the warriors hand was a massive axe that blazed like a torch itself.
    Dizrik turned to his men and spoke in a cruel voice, “The servants of Arachon draw near my warriors. What will we do?? At this the warriors of Dizrik screamed in reply, “Devour their souls.? Looking over his shoulder Dizrik saw the party coming within crossbow range. “Crossbows to the front,? he commanded, ripping his greatsword from the face of the rock. Half of his men rushed to the front line, bringing their wickedly spiked crossbows to bear. Each of them had the unique repeater type upgrade, and a box of bolts sat atop every weapon. “Sight at the torches,? commanded Dizrik as he walked to the other eleven warriors who stood in formation behind the archers. They each bore a great shield and a giant hooked spear, tips glinting in the moonlight. The rain eased to a sprinkle as the chaos party came into view of the archers. Dizrik raised his draich high above his head, dropping it as he screamed, “Loose.? The twelve archers loosed their bolts, filling the sky with black bolts that looked like streaks against the moon. As the death began to fall onto the unsuspecting marauders, Dizrik could hear the enemy commander giving orders. Another volley of bolts broke through the air, falling into the marauders once again, three falling with black shards protruding from their chests. “Archers, reform the line in the rear, fire as you reform,? shouted Dizrik as he level his blade for a charge. The archers methodically stepped backwards through the ranks of the spearmen, firing a salvo of bolts every few steps. When the archers had re-formed behind the ranks of spearmen Dizrik gave another order. “Warriors, forward at half speed,? he barked as he broke into a light jog. The spearmen followed directly, keeping a perfect formation through the move.
    Dizrik could see the chaos force begin to sprint towards them, howling like madmen as the crossbow bolts fell into their ranks. Only a few hundred more feet, Dizrik thought to himself as he jogged forward. Steady volleys of crossbow fire fell into the charging fire, only stopping when the two forces where almost upon each other. Dizrik smiled as he saw now that only a few of the marauders, and a handful of chaos warriors where standing. The two forces clashed like thunder in the mountains, Dizrik at the head of his war-party.
    With a spin and slash he connected with the first of the marauders, dismembering the hapless mortals torso from his legs. Blood spilled into the muck that was covering the ground. Just as the engagement began the rain began pouring again, making the ground even more treacherous. With a upward slash, the enraged druchii brought his blade through the groin of one of the chaos warriors, sending him to the ground howling in agony. The battle raged around him, as the marauders and chaos fiends threw themselves upon the spear wall that Dizrik’s warriors had erected. Suddenly, Dizrik felt a sharp pain in his belly. As he looked down he saw an axe that was glowing orange embedded in his belly. Crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure he spun with the blade, which stuck the shield of the champion of chaos. The champion ripped the axe from the belly of Dizrik, spilling dark blood across the sludge. A second swing of the axe fell, but was parried by Dizrik’s massive blade. With a slight feint, he tricked the champion into bringing his axe down again. This time Dizrik dodged, the axe sticking into the ground like a knife into butter. Before the champion was able to react, Dizrik had struck. With a powerful thrust he drove his Draich under the ribcage of the champion, the blade exiting at the base of his neck. Then with the power of a daemon he hefted the blade upwards, lifting the champion off his feet. Blood spurted from his wound, bathing Dizrik in a red fountain of pleasure. With the speed of Slaanesh herself he yanked the blade from the chest of the warrior. Before the champion could even fall from the air the blade came down again, splitting him in twain.
    Dizrik howled in triumph, as did his warriors. Only two of his chosen had fallen, and the detachment Arachon had sent was butchered to a man. Soon the mortal will pay for his crimes, Dizrik thought to himself, very soon.

    "Pain is the wine of communion among heros"
    Teachings of Rhetoricus

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  3. #2
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    Woudnt a glowing axe to the belly kind of slow you down?
    Station:in all the world of the drow there is no more important word.It is the calling of their-of our-religion,.ambition overrides good sense and compassion is thrown away in its face, all in the name of the spider queen.


  4. #3
    Senior Member Ravensdark's Avatar
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    Again very nice, but i think it is far too similar to the last one, except this time it is chaos instead of high elves.

    You should say more about the wound. Im guessing Dizrik is one badass daemon powerd mofo but at least have him stumble a bit, or just say that 'the wound closed in a heartbeat' to show he can regenerate. Something along those lines.

    And put something about the chaos warriors armour. They dont go down easy so say that he could feel the resistance as daemon steell struck black iron but he just pushes it on through.

    Im saying this so you can make your main character slightly less than unkillable. Otherwise its just him killing everyone everytime and that can get boring no matter how well written. (i fall into this trap far too often)

    Yes he did get hit but the way he just shrugs it off is a bit much. He isnt a greater deamon........ yet.
    <span style='color:red'>&quot;Right lads, lets make a tactical advance to the rear of our posistion&quot;
    &quot;Errr do you mean run away?&quot;
    &quot;Thats the one&quot;</span>

    &quot;Oh man, look at that.&quot;
    &quot;Where?&quot;
    &quot;Over there, by that river of boiling souls.&quot;
    &quot;Well I&#39;ll be damned... it&#39;s a Starbucks.&quot;

    <a href='http://www.freewebs.com/ravensdark/' target='_blank'>THE SOUL REAVERS</a>
    <a href='http://www.freewebs.com/gaeisia/index.htm' target='_blank'>GAESIA</a>

  5. #4
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    yes, i see what you mean. I am working on a new one in my spare time of him and a handfull of men boarding a high elf sea patrol ship, fighting in the close quaters beneath the deck. I will try to add to the feelings.
    &quot;Pain is the wine of communion among heros&quot;
    Teachings of Rhetoricus

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