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  1. #181
    Benevolent Dictator CaptainSarathai's Avatar
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    Gorak's request is the first out, since it was the first in. Following this, I'll hit Mr. Smith's Sylvanian Wood Elves. I've been wanting to get to that story, I think there's a lot of fun that could be had with unit-fillers, paint schemes and conversions, if I'm not too late.

    Maggroth planted his gnarled staff into the loam and stared out from the edge of the forest. The woodlands around him were moving, twisted roots and choking vines writhing out into the daylight like so many tentacles. Behind him, his master prepared for war, Thadrane was attended by the coven of lesser shamans who painted his hoofs and great set of curling horns with the blood of freshly slaughtered captives, as was the tradition of the herd.

    Since the dawn of time, the Blooded Herd had lived in the forests. For nearly as long, they had preyed on the tribes of man, but the Manlings were relentless. They cut down the trees and set fire to the underbrush, and scoured the forests for the Beastmen. It was a battle without end, and without victory. A source of endless joy for the Dark Gods who ruled over the Blooded. Every year, the Blooded Herd seemed to dwindle, and every year the humans grew more bold. Rumors spread that Thadrane was growing weak in his old age, that he was ill-equipped to defend the Herdstone from the wretched tribes of man. So it was that when the humans began to erect a large fortress at the forest's edge, Thadrane had been moved to action. He rallied the entire herd, and summoned Maggroth from his swampy abode, and prepared to raze the fortress to the ground, and slaughter the defenders.

    Thadrane moved to stand at Maggroth's shoulder, his footsteps heavy - Thadrane's considerable bulk further weighed down by layers of raw iron armor and creaking leather. Beside him was his trusted lieutenant, Skourl White-Eye, a massive WarGor who had been left half-blind in a battle almost three decades before. The old wound had done nothing to dim his war-lust, if anything, Skourl had only become more vicious and bloody-minded since his brush with death. Maggroth could hear the rest of the herd as they assembled behind them. At Thadrane's signal, Skourl began the throaty war-bray of the herd. The rest of the tribe joined in, and the sound grew like a deafening tidal surge. Finally, it broke, and the entire herd charged out from the woods.

    Bodies stampeded past Maggroth in a stinking, growling, clamoring wave. Across the freshly turned fields and quarried expanse before them, Maggroth could see the started humans hurrying to prepare themselves for the savage tide of beastmen. A few of them, from what Maggroth could see, wore the red and white livery of Talabecland warriors. The rest however, seemed to only be petty laborers and craftsmen. As the pack drew closer to their enemy, the more canny, experienced Gors and Bestigors slowed their pace, and suddenly the Ungors found themselves leading the charge. Their youthful exuberance was dimmed slightly when the first volley of crossbow bolts hit their lines.

    Maggroth followed a few paces behind as Thadrane leapt over the bodies of the fallen Ungors and urged them on with foul curses and vile threats. Two crossbow bolts thudded into Thadrane's enormous hide, but if they wounded him at all, they didn't slow him at all. Within moments, the two forces had met, and Thadrane was butchering everything at hand. Maggroth himself set about ripping the enemy apart with his own wild magic, sending roots bursting from the ragged earth to lash and strangle anything which strayed too close.

    As Thadrane tore at the men around him, Maggroth tore at the walls. The vines and roots which had been steadily creeping from the edges of the forest, and bursting from the ground at Maggroth's command, now turned their attentions against the fresh-laid stones of the fortress. Entire sections of the wall were ripped asunder, and towers crashed and fell on the battle below. It was too much for the weakling humans, and they broke and fell back, retreating from the field in terror.

    Around Maggroth, Gors lifted their mangy heads, ribbons of gore hanging from their fearsome horns, and brayed the cry of the herd to the horizons. Thadrane and his elites however, were not content with letting the remaining humans escape with their lives. Thadrane himself leapt onto the back of a passing chariot and thundered off, leaving Maggroth to survey the results of their battle. The ground was strewn with death and dying, blood soaking into the churned soil to create a muddy loam. Roots had already begun to drag the fallen back into the earth, and carrion circled greedily overhead. Before him, the once-growing fortress was left as a ruin, it's partially built walls destroyed, it's towers toppled and overgrown by the vines which Maggroth himself had summoned. Maggroth had not seen the world beyond the Blood Herd's lands look as desolate for a thousand years. His ancient lips cracked in a contented smile. Skourl hefted the banner of the Herd to the top of a cairn of stones assembled by the few remaining Ungors. It was the signal for a new age - an age which would see the return of chaos and savagery to these lands. An age of the Blooded Herd, of Thadrane Gorehoof, and the power of Maggroth Thunderbane.

    Pts Values for AoS here!

    Nippon Armybook: Isuu, Scribd, and free at Google Docs

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  3. #182
    Member gorak_the_bloody's Avatar
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    Hmm...how the heck are you supposed to pronounce "Skourl?" :P
    But in all seriousness, thanks a bunch and great job!
    Last edited by gorak_the_bloody; September 24th, 2013 at 05:16.
    "Remember, the first step on the path to victory is often the most important."
    -Commander Puretide

  4. #183
    Benevolent Dictator CaptainSarathai's Avatar
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    When I was writing, I was pronouncing it "Sk-or-l" the 'U' is just in there to Chaos-ize it.

    No problem, you're welcome for the fluff - sorry for the wait.
    Pts Values for AoS here!

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  6. #184
    Benevolent Dictator CaptainSarathai's Avatar
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    Another wait too long for me to be comfortable with. I'm really sorry. I've been trying to get settled in moving, and working, and trying to get to these fluff stories somewhere in between. Here's the Sylvanian Wood Elves army for Christopher Smith. He certainly deserves one - the WE forum is pretty dead, so he hasn't gotten many responses for his threads lately!

    Keilan could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. The Elves had made camp for the night, erecting tents of broad leaves on any patch of dry land they could find in the abysmal swamps of the Sylvanian forest. The waywatcher crept from island to island, wading silently through waist-deep water to warn the newly arrived elves to keep their fires to the lowest embers, and their voices even lower. Unmentionable things lurked in the bog. Even the water was alive with squirming, wriggling leeches and maggots and worse things.

    Keilan had survived for half a century in the hellish fens, eating whatever she could find in the bogs. No game came here - there was no contact with the outside, except for the horrible screams in the darkness as the creatures of the bogs dragged their victims to their dooms. Keilan had long ago learned to ignore their cries, there was no salvation for them. Even if she had tracked the voices to their origins - as she had so many times before - it was always too late, the hideous deeds were dissolved into the mire, and no trace was left to be found. If anything, it was more dangerous for Keilan, as the unnatural denizens of the bog seemed aware of her presence, and on more than one attempt they had used her pity against her, springing ambushes from the peaty sludge.

    As the moon broke through a gap in the black, rotted leaves of this place, Keilan saw her reflection in a patch of still water, and hated it, just as she hated everything about this place. Decades of living off of this blighted land had masked her proud visage in cruelty and pain. Her eyes were yellowed, her skin more sallow than pale. Her hair hung in lank, unwashed clumps about her head, cut short to evade the clawing grasp of the Undead who rose from their shallow graves at the heed of their masters. Pockmarks marred her flesh, reminders of the pervasive leeches who would grow fat upon her blood if she remained still for too long.

    The trees of this place fared no better. In 2495, the necromancer Heinrich Kemmler, the Lichemaster, invaded Athel Loren during the Winter of Woes. Though Kemmler and his army of dead - raised from ancient human burial mounds within Athel Loren itself - were defeated by the elves, Kemmler himself escaped, and took with him the Heartstone of Aiko, one of the many artifacts of the Wood Elves, which gave life to the trees of their forest. Only a handful of Elves could be spared in the depths of winter, Keilan among them. She and her fellow Waywatchers had followed Kemmler, in his weakened state, back to Sylvania. Kemmler took refuge with a Vampire ally before moving further afield, but had hidden the Hearstone within the dark forests of this place. Over time, the magic of the Heartstone gave sentience to the trees around it, fed for so long on the rotting flesh of the dead who choked the marshlands around their roots. The Treekin, and the handful of Treemen born in this place were horrifying creatures - far from the noble hardwoods of Loren. They were feral beings, fed on meat on blood, and now possessed of a hunger which could never be weaned away. Still, they were living trees, creatures made by a heartstone of Loren, and no Elf could slay them with clear conscience. For that reason alone, even if Keilan had known where the Heartstone was hidden, she could do nothing.

    Her reflection in the moonlight wavered, before it broke. Keilan struggled toward dry land, impeded by the hip-deep water. Moments later, a gnarled hand broke the surface, followed by another, and then half a dozen more. A face that could only have been dredged from the deepest of watery graves clawed it's way up from the loam, it's voice little more than a gurgle as it pressed the water from it's drowned lungs. Keilan locked eyes with the creature - yellowed orbs against maggot-ridden globes of rot and decay. She was transfixed. There was a sick sense of beauty to it. As though somehow, her time spent in this wretched marshland had warped her very soul. She shook herself of the thought as two black-fletched arrows burst through the zombie's skull, and a friendly hand - a fellow Waywaycher - pulled her into the safety of the low branches of a nearby tree. This place was cursed - no creature had right to tread in this forest. But they did. Aiko’s Hearstone had seen to that. Life had a right to exist in all places of the world, and Keilan knew that as long as she and her Wood Elf allies drew breath, it would be their duty to defend that right.
    It's a little different than the request that they simply be trying to recover an artifact that went missing in Sylvania. It ties the army in with existing Wood Elf fluff about the Winter of Woes, and it gives them a reason to send more than just a handful of Waywatchers into the forest, and a reason for your army to be fully based in Sylvania, rather than it just being a footnote in your army's history ("and then they went to Sylvania to recover an artifact, won/lost"). This is a full scale invasion. The end game for your Wood Elf army is to completely take control over the forests of Sylvania - driving out the Undead and even any Imperials who have made their homes there. They are as responsible for the trees of Sylvania just as much as they are responsible for the trees of Athel Loren or any of the other forests where the Elves have taken hold (they do have ties outside of Athel Loren, AL is just the biggest home for them, their capitol, in a sense).
    Last edited by CaptainSarathai; September 30th, 2013 at 06:26.
    Pts Values for AoS here!

    Nippon Armybook: Isuu, Scribd, and free at Google Docs

  7. #185
    Undying Baddie Immortal Scrub's Avatar
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    Wait, wait, wait, so this thread has existed since 2009 and I'm just now learning about it? What blasphemy is this? This stuff is incredible cap'n. Rep'd and Sub'd

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