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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
Well, I cannot think where this should go so...here was as good as anywhere.

I got background story for my AoD characters.

Please do not post here, it is just for reading.

Manipulative Characters:
Phas-thra
Aspestra
Heinrich Von Drake
Dorgob the Git

Characters in Phas-thra's service:
Phas-thra
Aspestra
Bogrod the Bloody
Arshath, Lord of the teeth

Heinrich's Servants:
Heinrich Von Drake
Morag Von Drake (In an urn)
Moratchi Von Drake (Now in an urn)
Setha Von Drake
Arkor Von Drake
Morthor Von Drake (In an urn)
Aran Von Drake (In an urn)
Isabel Von Drake (ee-sah-bell)(In an urn)
Oran Von Drake (In an urn)
Rena Von Drake (In an urn)
Bel-Sham-Harath
The three Imps
Sareth Bloodkin
Ardritch 'The Tank' Goldenfist

Fluff in work:
Mighty Empires Campiagn
Bogrod's Transformation (to be included in my AoD)
Aspestra's Explanaiton (to be included in my AoD)
More info on Phas-thra (to be included in my AoD)
 

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Discussion Starter · #2 · (Edited)
(Phas-thra fluff)
Phas-thra strode out of the arena and into a separate room. In front of him was a throne facing three doors. Phas-thra sat on the throne and watched the doors. Behind him the door he had entered through his priest strode into the room followed by five golden clad skeletons. The priest strode to Phas-thra's side and stood to attention whilst the skeletons formed half a box around the back of the throne.

All three doors opened. The one directly in front of the throne spewed a dark purple haze. The one on the right of the first showed a large silhouette of a muscled warrior. It was impossible to tell the race of this warrior was because he was hidden by the light shining behind him. The one on the left showed a small figure with a wide breadth.

Bogrod strode into the room and the squat figure noticed the large Orc for the first time. With a roar Skalf Ironbeard charged toward the Orc. Before either opponent could raise their blade a long whip flew out of nowhere and wrapped itself around each weapon in turn and tugged them out of their owner’s hands. Aspestra walked forward out of the purple haze and dropped both axes to the floor.

"Please do not fight in my presence" Phas-thra said quietly. Bogrod scowled and Skalf Ironbeard looked as though he would try to defeat the Tomb King and his guard unarmed. Aspestra smiled and stood waiting for Phas-thra to tell them why they were here. She already knew but they didn't.

"As you know I saved you from death Orc and Dwarf but please do not try to kill each other at all." Phas-thra said, "Now you are here to help me swell my army to a great size. We shall be attending all the Arenas in the known world. Aspestra is already working inside one that I myself am in." Phas-thra got up and turned to the door behind the throne. The black Orc and the dwarf went to pick up their weapons and ignored each other.

Aspestra smiled at the two enemies and strode behind the Tomb King. The door opened and Phas-thra strode through followed by his multi-raced bodyguard. Skalf Ironbeard was shoved out of the way by Bogrod as he walked through the door. Skalf grudgingly ignored the gesture and strode through the door.
 

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Discussion Starter · #3 · (Edited)
(Avatar's arena)
Phas-thra felt his life disappearing. In a last effort he called soundlessly to his Liche Priest. A small circle of sand started to spin around Phas-thra. Almost immediately the circle grew in height. Then it shattered outward. Phas-thra stood gleaming in his once more human form. Then the image shattered and a door stood in its place. The door gleamed slightly around the edges and was held in mid air. It was tall enough for even the largest of Orcs. There was a golden scarab carved into the door and no handle.

The sand storm had allowed Skalf the time he needed. As the Ancient king had foreseen, Lacrimosa knew what was happening. Bogrod had arrived in the sandstorm and carried their master through the door whilst the priest left the image of the human form behind. Skalf's job was to get Aspestra. He had patiently sat in the arena watching Lacrimosa from below her. When the time had come, Aspestra was under assault; he had levelled his runed axe and charged to get there. A purple mist stopped him though. When it had gone Aspestra lay on the floor. Wasting no time, Skalf had grabbed the unconscious woman and jumped far into the arena floor.

The landing almost shattered his bones had it not been for the armour he wore. The door was twenty strides away. He picked the fallen Aspestra up in both hands and carried her to the door. Fifteen strides. Ten. Five. They were there. The door opened obediently and the stumbled through it. A high column of sand rose around the door. The same shattering of the cylinder and the door was gone.

Inside the large room Phas-thra lay motionless on the ground. Beside him sat the Liche Priest that had summoned the door. Behind the Priest stood Bogrod, tall as ever, with his arms crossed. Skalf Ironbeard was nowhere in sight. The room was the same throne room Phas-thra had left earlier that day. The door had no handle and a golden scarab was carved into it, it was identical to the one now sitting in the centre of the arena. Bogrod turned as the door opened and drew his axe. Skalf stumbled in holding Aspestra in his arms. The door closed and the bright light around it vanished.

Aspestra stood in her armour in the same purple nothingness as before. a voice sounded out "you must return, I have reminded Lacrimosa that she does not control you alone, and that you obeyed her above the Tomb King for her soul is worth more to me then the skeleton's." A large red silhouette appeared and a stronger booming voice shouted "You may not care for the skeleton, but I am after his skull as well as his soul, do not forget that." the purple nothingness vanished and Aspestra awoke.

* * * * * * * * * *
 

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Discussion Starter · #4 · (Edited)
(Off-seasonal AoD 3)
As the dust settled a gust of wind blew long through the arena. It was a chilling gust of wind that would not seem to be cold until it was gone. Phas-thra felt his soul moving in the wind, his conjuration. As it blew him out of the pit he felt the parts of his skull start to reform. As the breeze came to a dark alleyway a man looked around holding a knife. The breeze blew away leaving a fully armed skeleton in its place. Phas-thra stood in the alley weakened from the fight but still more then a match for a normal human.

The man looked at the skeleton, then to its’ golden equipment and a gleam of hunger flashed through his eyes. Phas-thra noticed the glint and placed his shield on his back. The shield's straps wrapped themselves unnaturally around the bone while the undying Tomb King walked toward his prey. The man raised his knife and charged. In swift movement and the hand holding the knife was snapped back at an unnatural angle and Phas-thra placed his free hand on the man's chest.

A whisper, a rustle and then a hissing as the man's features started to whither and fall apart. His skin started to sag and his eyes rolled up into his sockets. Then the skin started to turn black and fall off the skeleton which remained standing even after the man had died. The internal organs were all gone when the clothes fell off, leaving only the bone. Phas-thra removed his hand and strode to a nearby doorway, the skeleton of the now enslaved soul of the man stood rooted to the spot.

Phas-thra muttered something whilst tracing shapes on the door. A faint light started to seep from the door. Then a symbol appeared on the door. It was a golden scarab. Phas-thra stopped muttering as a small square as big as the Tomb King's hand appeared. He placed his bony palm to it and the door opened. The light shone for a second then dimmed as the skeletal lord walked through it followed by his new follower.

They arrived in the same throne room as always. The skeleton walked to the closest door and left the room. Phas-thra turned to his throne and sat down. The door closed behind him and the bright light ceased from the cracks around the edges of the door. Phas-thra sat rigidly waiting for his servant to join him.
 

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Discussion Starter · #5 · (Edited)
(Bogrods’ story)
Bogrod is large, even for a black Orc, and his bloodlust and love of a fight is unrivalled. He has gone through the ranks of an Orc tribe through savagery and strength. He has fought with a personal bodyguard of plain Orcs, having never trusted anything as big as him. He has wielded more different weapons, plundered as always, and gone through many different combinations of armour.

He had at one point rode a gigantic mechanical boar and wielded a shield that glowed with malicious red magic and large axe, which would murder enemies even without need for a bearer, whilst wearing a glinting green talisman. His second incarnation of weapons and armour again saw him atop his mechanical boar but this time he held a blue shimmering shield in one hand and his same brutal axe. This time he had a thick effigy of the god Mork hung around his neck.

In his most recent equipment stage Bogrod wields his axe as large as a man. This axe is imbued with the power of the WAAAGH!!! imbued into it by the shamans in his tribe. This time he wears a new amulet with a glowing green gemstone that allows Bogrod to withstand blows from the enemy as though he wore their armour. He holds his faithful red shield which he has now adopted over the blue one which is now in the hands of Bogrods' lieutenant.

After being killed in an arena of death, where Bogrod was aiming to make himself look like a god, he was brought to the sands of Khemri by a golden door without a doorknob but a golden scarab imprinted on it. This door lead him to a golden throne room. This room was empty but for an age old skeleton sitting in a large chair slung in golden armour.
After attempting to charge the Tomb King and failing, Bogrod fell under the command of Phas-thra who quenched the Orcs' love for battle against an endless tide of skeletons that would constantly return to their bodies when killed. Bogrod now serves his master because if the Tomb King dies, so does he and the endless supply of punching bags.

Recently his obedience has been tested when a Dwarf joined Phas-thras' bodyguard. The two now have a grudge and a rivalry to be the Tomb Kings' favourite.
 

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Discussion Starter · #6 ·
(Teeth of Khemri intro)
The golden room glistened as the hole in the roof opened. Phas-thra still sat in his throne still drained of his life force. He needed some more victims. Bogrod had been a real help then. His golden crown demanded obedience, having been imbibed with runes from Skalf Ironbeard. Then once it was complete, Skalf gave his master the last piece of help he could give him. He stood, a skeleton in the army, ready to serve his master for eternity. He was now a loyal Tomb Prince. Aspestra too had served a use, but she was still useful. She had imbibed his crown with powerful Chaos magic, Slaanesh now had a direct connection to Phas-thra's mind so that they could exchange thoughts.

In front of Phas-thra stood Bogrod, as hulking as ever and Aspestra, still beautiful yet dangerous. She was different though. Her skin had a paler more purple shine to it. She had changed since last time. She now served only one master, Slaanesh, who was giving her orders through Phas-thra. Bogrod had been pleased by Skalf Ironbeard's demise, but it had unsettled him. Skalf was no longer requiered, when would he meet the same fate? He put it out of his mind, waiting for the chance to get in more bloodshed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sand was blindingly bright in the afternoon sun. The company moving slowly through it were battle hardened but thristy. The man in front rode in splendid silver armour on a perfectly white stallion. Beside him rode a minstrel on a donkey. The minstrel was humming to himself, due to being ordered to stop singing several hours ago. Behind these two were a dozen men in gleaming silver riding on horses. None of these horses were as beautiful as the first, but they all had the look that they had survived battle after battle with their riders.

The minstrel was just thinking of a new verse he would add to his long song of the hero when a figure appeared on the horizon. On the right flank of the company was a large pyramid, with an impossibly high point. It gleamed gold in the sun. The company stopped at a signal from the leader. He looked cautiously at the figure. It was a man with a dark olive skin colour. He had straight black hair that came down to his shoulders. He wore a deep golden toga clothes and looked to be from a high up family. This looked like a khemri citizen of old, but that was not possible, he should have been dead centuries ago, or look like a skeleton.

The man stopped and raised an arm high up. Then he pointed to the minstrel. To the right, a rank of four dozen archers rose at the base of the pyramid. The leader had just enough time to register the archers before a hail of arrows decended upon the cavalry. all the horses fell, dragging their riders to the ground with them. Three of the men fell with their horses, dead. The rest rose shakily and strode around the hero who had fallen from his now dead horse. They would die protecting him.

The guard had no sooner assembled around their nobleman before the second hail of arrows landed. half a dozen men fell, leaving only the minstrel, the lord and three of his guard. They noticed the man, standing perfectly still, his arms by his sides. They decided to charge him, they may kill the archers by killing him. Without a single warning, the man raised one hand and the sand around the men's feet contorted. They looked in shock as the sand crushed their legs around the shin. Then it fell, perfectly limp to the ground letting the men fall off their useless legs.

Three howls of pain and then the sand rose and crushed them. The nobleman stared and didn't even noticed the huge wall of sand rise behind him until it crashed down on his head crushing him into the impenetrable sand below. The only survivor of the onslaught was the minstrel who had fallen to his knees and had his mouth hanging open in shock. His eyes were wide with fear. Then a chanting came from the pyramid and the archers fell back into the sand. Small purply gold strands of energy flew from the top of the pyramid to each of the dead men.

Suddenly the bodies began to age at an alarming rate, becoming bones in less then a minute, their life sucked out of them for a better purpose. The man with the black hair was gone, and the minstrel felt a strange urge to head for the pyramid. He had no idea why he wanted to head toward his lords killers.
 

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Discussion Starter · #7 · (Edited)
(Sareth Bloodkin Random Fluff)

A lone figure strode along the road. If you could call it that at all. The 'road' was merely a well trodded path through the woods. It was an used road but usually it was unoccupied, especially at night. It was a dangerous road, at any time but mostly at night. The dangers would consist of bandits, daemons and sometimes if you were unlucky, a patrol of druchii endless. It was a route many avoided because it was perfect for ambushes.

The figure looked around at a small crack. It was a twig breaking. Then a crossbow bolt flew past him, only missing because the figure had bent backward. He turned to the bandit who had shot it. The crossbow was already aimed and a second bolt flew. Before it could even touch the armour of the druchii, it had been snatched from the air and tossed to the floor. By now the rest of the bandits were standing, some holding swords whilst others aimed repeater crossbows.

Sareth smiled cruelly and had brought out his axe before any of the bandits could attack. Another volley from both sides and Sareth had to twist to avoid them. A few were battered away by the large axe that seemed too large to be used with such speed. Some missed entirely whilst other slammed hard into his armour. One clanged off and landed on the ground with a clatter, another punched a hole into the armour bt was stopped before itcould touch flesh. Only one managed to pierce Sareth's skin as it slammed hard into his weak side armour.

Sareth stumbled at the volley and pulled two of the arrows out of the armour before whistling highly and walking toward the right side of the pathway. A huge cold one appeared behind the druchii bandits on the left side of the road and had torn apart two of the crossbowmen before letting out a roar and facing off against the remaining two druchii on that side, both swordsmen.

Sareth blocked all the bolts from the third volley and swung the huge axe, beheading one crossbowman before they could duck. The swordsmen strode out of the brush and attacked Sareth. They made for his sides, hoping to keep him at a disadvantage. They attacked, slashing and lunging, trying to kill Sareth before the axe could be used against them. The first few blows were blocked, Sareth easily able to keep up with the flurry of swings against him. Then a bolt sped straight toward Sareth, punching hard into his chest armour. The bolt made a dent but didn't pierce it.

Sareth took advantage of the momentary shock of the bandits by beheading one and removing the arm of the other. He had just turned to the crossbowman when his cold one, Skart bulled past him and crushed the druchii's head in his jaws. Skart turned around and looked at Sareth, his mouth dripping with blood.

Sareth looked around to see the remaining bandits lying on the ground, parts of their bodies lying away from the rest of them. None of them had heads. Sareth looked to the druchii whom he had cut the arm off and raised his axe. He let it fall, almost leisurally and it split the bandit's head in half. Skart rode up next to Sareth and nuzzled his shoudler. Sareth nodded and went to the bodies and looted them before mounting Skart and riding off.
 

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Discussion Starter · #8 · (Edited)
Right, I have a Mighty Empires Campaign with my friends. They are using my armies so that everything can be done quickly rather than letting them build their own in a months time.

Round: 3 after battle

The stats are as follows:
W/L/D
Bogrod's Horde 2/0/1
3 Regions
1 City

Phas-thra's Golden Army 2/0/1
8 Regions
1 City
1 Monument
1 Mine

Heinrich's Doomguard 0/3/0
2 Regions
1 City
1 Monument

Thorek Ironbeard's Throng 2/1/0
4 Regions
1 City
 

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Discussion Starter · #9 ·
Fluff for the battles. They are made of 1250 point premade armies that are split by units into the smaller armies. Round 1 was 500 point battles. It was overall a draw with under 50 VP difference.

Bogrod's Horde vs Phas-thra's Golden Army

Bogrod sat in his hall waiting for his second to arrive. As always Griphook was late. Bogrod was brutal, even for a black orc, and if anyone displeased him they would end up having no limbs. For this reason Bogrod's Bodyguard were strong and loyal. They were the ones who didn't disobey Bogrod and could survive his fighting frenzy. Despite this, Bogrod would choose to fight alone, prefering to save the enemy for himself rather than share the glory. This was how the WAAAGH! had started.

One day Bogrod had been sitting on the ground waiting for the tribe's leader to pick a fight but the leader had been very peaceful for an orc. Bogrod had gotten impatient and had challenged the leader to signle combat. In perfect orc form, the leader had charged Bogrod before he had even stood. The leader smashed bogrod in the face with a gnarled fist and drew back for a second when his arm was ripped from his body. Bogrod was standing in a second holding the leader's twitching arm in his hand. Before the leader could draw the brutal Axe from his back Bogrod had decapitated him with his own arm.

Bogrod smiled as he looked back at that victory. The giant orc was interrupted by a crash and a squeal of pain as Griphook crashed his way through the door with a small and injured looking orc behind him. Bogrod scowled down at his enemy from his high throne in the old dwarven hall. The orc behind Griphook let out a small gasp of pain. Without seeming to move, Griphook had drawn his large sword and decapitated the orc. Griphook wore no armour and had blue swirls painted on his dark skin. He was Bogrod's second and was an old and trusted, as trustable as an orc can get, ally.

"Get dem bony gitz yer squig." Bogrod snarled at his lietenant who immediately turned and left. "Stupid git, killin' Orgoff, he woz my punchbag." With that done, Bogrod walked off to find something new to break. He drew his large axe as he left through a golden door inscribed with a scarab.

* * * * * * * *

Griphook stood at the forefront of the army, watching the dust cloud in the distance get closer. The skeletons were fast, he would give them that, but they were obviously weaker than the sixteen black orcs standing around him. He had taken these bodyguard from Bogrod for this mission and had brought along the squig-bait too. The twenty night goblins were in the middle of a squabble over the biggest and shiniest bow.

The glinting gold of the chariots came into sight and Griphook roared at the goblins to get them back together. They instantly stopped fighting and arranged themselves into one long line and raised their bows, aiming at the lone chariot charging in their direction. "Cowardly littal gitz." Griphook muttered raising his two swords and kicking the ground in preperation for the coming charge. Three chariots were charging his way.

In the distance the ground erupted in a sower of dirt and sand as a horde of scarabs emerged from their buried sleep. Griphook grinned as he saw them, knowing they would never make it to him in time. A rumbling brought him back to his predicament. The three chariots were almost upon the bodyguard. The whole unit drew their dual swords as one and charged toward their attackers.

With a crunching and squeals of pain, the chariots scythed their way through the black orc's heavy armour as though it were paper. Griphook cursed his stupid but larger cousins for not avoiding the chariot's path. His eyes glowed green and a chariot headed for him. He roared his challenge as the chariot sped upp, intending to impale him. In the blink of an eye he had dived aside and caught the chariot's handle. The skeleton's turned and were about to stab him with a spear when he kicked them with his spiked boots. One erupted in a shower of bones as the heavy metal spike connected with it's head. The second managed to get away with a smashed ribcage.

Griphook hauled himself onto the chariot and decapitated the remaining crew with one of his crude choppa's. Griphook looked up in time to see the unit's boss, Grogorf, crash his massive hammer through the chariot's steeds, destroying them in a shower of bones. Griphook threw himself back to avoid crumpling himself with the chariot. Rolling head over heels Griphook skidded to a halt. He rose, rubbing his shoulder which had had most of the skin ripped off it.

Grogorf looked timid as Griphook snarled at him. Then the savage orc turned to see the boyz smashing the last chariot into timber. He grinned to see what had happened to the squig-bait only to see the lone chariot turning to his unit. The last of the Squig-bait were running away from the horror who had somehow survived three hails of the goblin's fire and slaughtered half of their numbers.

Griphook snarled and called the remaining bodyguard around him. There were only half of them left. The golden lord in the chariot raised his blood soaked sword to the sky and charged the chariot at Griphook. The bodyguard drew their biggest weapons and prepared to meet the charge. Phas-thra's unseeing eyes seemed to see the problem with the head on assault and at the last minute swerved out of the way, avoiding all eight massive weapons aimed at the chariot.

Griphook snarled at the cowardice. "Com an meet my choppaz yer skelly cowad." He roared and charged after the chariot, which was now driving circles around the unit, trying to get in behind the boyz. Eventually Phas-thra realised he could not get behind the orcs and swerved into the unit, slicing two more down before they could raise their weapons.

Two more of the unit fell to Phas-thra before they could fight. Griphook snarled and charged at the chariot which was now stuck among the black orcs, it's steeds destroyed. The orcs were smashing at the chariot but not making a dent. Griphook leapt at the golden lord, trying to get him with a crushing blow to the head. The Tomb Prince realised what his opponent was about to do and stepped backward off his chariot to avoid the blow.

Just then a horn sounded in the distance and Phas-thra seemed to sink into the dry dirt. The scarabs which had almost reached Griphook also sunk into the ground. Griphook looked around at the chariot which was also gone. Bogrod's roar could be heard above the horns and Griphook knew that his Warboss was not happy.
 

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Discussion Starter · #10 · (Edited)
Ok, after the extremely long delay I have written up round 2.

Bogrod's Horde vs Heinrich's Doomguard

Bogrod scowled at Griphook. His leitenant had failed to smash a puny skeleton. Griphook had a grimace of pain set into his mutilated face. Bogrod threw another punch at the savage orc. Griphook fell back. He coughed up blood and then raised his head to meet the blazing glare Bogrod set upon him. Bogrod turned and picked up his axe. Griphook's eyes widened, believing his boss was going to kill him before he could fullfil the destiny set out for him by Gork. Bogrod saw the look in his underling's eyes and burst into a roar of laughter.

"Go an get da messenga and send him for more boyz." Bogrod snarled at Griphook who turned and swaggered out of the room with a slight limp on his left leg. Bogrod strode from the room holding his axe. In the hall a massive fight was going on. His bodyguard were wading into the mass of night goblins, beating many of them unconcious. "OI!" Bogrod roared over the melee. The whole hall became silent in a moment. Bogrod walked through the horde of greenskins and his bodyguard gathered around him.

* * * * * * * * * *

The horde assembled on the edge of a graveyard. Bogrod strode forward, looking around. Suddenly a harsh voice sounded out of the dark. Bogrod snarled as he felt the black magic pass him and saw ahead a large horde of undead. Phas-thra didn't arm his soldiers so crudely. This must be a necromancer's work. Beside Bogrod stood his bodyguard of hard faced veterans. On his far right flank stood the squig-bait. They needed to prove themselves. Snitgit's gits stood on the far left flank, the fanatics twitching in the middle of the horde. They would be important.

Bogrod looked forward and saw a unit of black knights charging forward accompanied by a viscious looking immortal holding a white hot lance. The Bodyguard moved forward to take the charge. With a crash the knights hit home. Four of the bodyguard fell on the first passing, one of them the unit's boss who had been speared by the vampire. The unit attacked back, crushing one knight from his seat.

Bogrod looked to his right and saw the squig-bait let loose a volley of arrow. A surprisingly large number hit their target, impaling the skeletons marching mechanically toward them. Bogrod smiled and turned to his bodyguard. With a roar he charged into the flank of the knights. The vampire charged forward to meet Bogrod. Suddenly the vampire dissapeared in a cloud of black smoke. Instantly he appeared in front of Bogrod, his lance pointed down toward the warlord's skull. Bogod dodged to the side but felt the lance burn it's way into his left shoulder.

The vampire seemed to burn with fury and swiftly withdrew the lance ready for another strike. Bogrod could only block the blow. With a roar Bogrod raised his axe. His eyes turned green and suddenly he unleashed a flurry of attacks. The first destroyed the vampire's lance, brought up in defense. The second brought the nightmare low. The third crashed into the vampire's side. The fourth hacked through the vampires hand brought up to protect his neck and then through the pale skin of his neck.

Borgrod roared and the green light dissapeared from his eyes. He looked to his bodyguard, another two had died for one more knight. Suddenly the army started to fall apart. One of the knights crumbled into dust, the others shook their heads trying to remain together. The squig-bait had destroyed half of the skeletons with lucky fire but were now running from the undead threat. He looked at the gits, they were holdign their own against a shambling horde of zombies. The skeletons stopped moving and fell apart and the zombies were being held together only due to the will of a man standing among them.

The sound of a sword whistling through the air made Bogrod turn around and he hacked the black knight off his mount. The rest of the boys sent the last of the mounted wights off and roared in victory. The necromancer was suddenly impaled on a lucky goblin's spear and the remaining zombies fell apart. Bogrod roared in victory. He looked forward and continued the march.
 

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Discussion Starter · #11 · (Edited)
Round 3

All v All special game

Bogrod sat in his throne room, his faced set in a pained grimace. The wound inflicted by the vampire still burned with unnatural fire. Even the shamans couldn't stop it, meaning many of them ended up as a bloody mess on the floor. Bogrod placed a hand on the charred remains of his left shoulder. Griphook would have to lead the army to the temple for the sceptre. The boys were restless after the fight with the mounted wraiths. The black orcs were now wearing a large variety of the armours pillaged from the dusty bodies.

Griphook himself was striding through the masses, picking up anything he wanted. The few foolish enough to resist would get up later without the majority of their body. The savage orc was covered from head to foot in blue spiraly tattoos. The blue paint was supposed to protect him and it may well work. Bogrod however preferred to kill and enemy before they tried to kill him rather than hope some silly lines would protect him.

"Grip'ook!" He roared over the din. Instantly the horde fell silent except a pair of goblins fighting over a shiny silver skull. A scowl from Bogrod made the two realise that they wouldn't live to keep the skull longer than a few minutes. "Move out yer grubby little gitsh." He said wincing as he gestured with his injured left arm. Griphook turned and grabbed his longsword from a passing goblin. The bodyguard started moving. Bogrod himself rose and picked up a small dwarven axe. One of the goblins was sitting down and gnawing on the skull whilst the other, smarter one had slunk away into the crowd. A moment later the goblin was dribbling blood from his split head onto the tougher skull on his lap.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Griphook walked along the battered road, keeping his eyes out for any trouble. The boys moved in a spread out skirmished formation. The sceptre was not important enough for the whole army to go after but too important to be given to the sneaky goblins who would probably never come back with it. Therefore the boys were sent to get the sceptre because they would return with it or dead. Griphook took two more steps and then stopped. He held out a hand and looked around. "You go that way. You get da stick. The rest of you wif me." Griphook murmured. He turned and walked off toward the sound of the dead.

Out of the shadows behind the temple strode a legion of tomb guards in front of a liche priest. "Charge yer gits." Griphook shouted and felt the ground shudder as the orcs charged past him. He followed leasurely holding his sword high and kicking his steel toed boots on the floor. He made for a direct line for the liche. Unfortunately half a dozen guards had hacked through the orcs and made a wall to block Griphook. The boss charged forward.

His steel toed boot landed hard on a skeleton whilst the sword sliced it's way through several more. The rest however blocked or dodged the blows. Both instantly raised their blades and with a glowing blue light the swords slipped through the armour and blue paint of Griphook's armour. The savage orc collapsed as more orcs charged forward to protect his limp body.

Meanwhile the orcs had opened the chest with a smash of a massive club. One black orc raised the sceptre and turned to see a horde of skeletons holding off some dwarfs whilst more advanced on the orcs. Behind the many seperate melees was a clash of titans between a vampire and a dwarf. Both were mere blurs of shapes. Then suddenly the vampire stopped moving with an axe in his chest. Then a large blue bolt slammed hard into the triumphant dwarf as the liche walked forward. The man turned to look at the orcs fleeing with the sceptre. Another flash of blue lightning hit the orcs and the sceptre was dropped.

Eventually the remaining black orcs ran from the field and the hordes of tomb guard. They carried the limp body of Griphook who was still breathing but oozing blood. The tomb guard stepped among the dead lifting their huge blades and executing any who still moved. Eventually the found the orc who was lying dead on the sceptre. Smiling the liche lifted in in the air and walked away. Bogrod would not be happy about that.
 

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Discussion Starter · #12 ·
Here is some Vampire Count fluff for Bel-Sham-Harath.

A man trod the familiar path through the city. He could feel the reassuring breeze ruffle through his hair. The night was perfect, stars shining brightly with the moon. The watchman wanted to spin out his time on the streets before returning to the stingy watchhouse. He wore regulation armour with its red and green pattern. On the front of the gleaming silver breastplate was an engraved floral pattern around a single letter. The 'D' was engraved in an intricate pattern so that it seemed to melt into the armour and the flowers. His helmet was not so sparkling but it still contained the royal crest. On his leather shoulder pad was a simple yet complex image of a dragon. It had a slightly larger head than a normal dragon and its wings were leathery. Under that was a small square with 3 striped stiched into the pad.

The Captain walked through the brightly lit streets. He was the captain of the royal guard and protected the people of the fortress city of Drakenheim. The Lord Heinrich was a decisive leader who valued the lives of his subjects above any others. Captain Holden had been promoted quickly due to his devotion to the Lord and the people. He looked back over the years and noticed a small recent period where his Lord had dissapeared. His heir had ruled for that short period. Moratchi was a much more combated man but just as decisive. He had returned the army to full strength and had trained the royal guard personally. The royal guard were the best soldiers the city had to offer.

The only thing that Holden disliked about his Lords was the bodyguard. The hooded figure had seemed to have appeared one day out of nowhere, standing behind his master. The figure hadn't left the Lord's side since. Bel-Sham-Harath was known to the city as the soul sucker. The figure had caught an assassin attempting to kill Heinrich almost an hour before the man would have tried. All they found of the man later on was a huddled figure who looked empty. It was just a body, almost zombie like.

Holden turned, drawing his sword as he heard a rustle behind him. A tall figure, covered from head to foot in a billowing cloak stood in front of the captain.The captain sighed and sheathed his sword. "Evening Sir." Holden said. The hooded figure nodded and walked past. He was heading for the gates. This was the first time Holden had seen the figure without Heinrich. It was an odd feeling and had an ominous aura. Holden shook his head and resumed his march, mind already leaving the hooded Bel-Sham-Harath.

Bel-Sham-Harath stopped at the gates and looked up. The guard on the gates was sitting in a chair, watching the streets. The soul sucker looked at the gates and moved to them. He slid through them as though they weren't there. When he was on the other side he held out a glowing blue hand. It was the kind of hand a skeleton would have, made entirely of bones. You could see every joint on them. Suddenly a shadow appeared in a ball form. It expanded out into a stick. Then it became solid and an axe head split from the wood and appeared. The Wight walked into the surrounding forest.

Holden finished his patrol at the run down building that was the watches building. "Thank you for allowing me to walk a patrol like the old days." He said nodding to the captain of the watch. The old man smiled and then turned to a pair of young rookies sitting at a table playing cards. He barked something and the pair instantly got up and put on their helmets and swords. Smiling Holden accompanied the two out of the building. When they headed to the left and the lower town, he turned to the right and headed to the large building that made the palaces keep. The town would have liked to have left the walls of the city and expand but unfortunately the constant attack of bandits didn't allow them. They had to settle for building strong and larger buildings to accomodate the population. It reduced the need for builders but it was cheaper and better for the economy to build stronger houses.
 

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Discussion Starter · #13 ·
Heinrich sighed as he saw the match ups. He knew his men, the term being used loosly, and their strengths and weaknesses. Moratchi was a cold-blooded killer, fast and without concience. His only problem was that anyone wearing decent armour would be able to shrug off his blows. Heinrich didn't like the Lizardmen for the very reason that they were too tough. A small thought occured to him. "What would a Lizardman vampire be like?" He let that question sit there for a while and then shook his head. Moratchi may well die during this fight. Time would tell.

* * * * * * *

Moratchi sat behind a desk in a dark room. He held a single dagger in his hand, passing it from hand to hand, playing with it. His sword lay on the wall next to the door. His feet were resting on the table with his black cloak billowing over the back of his chair. The room was a nice one he had to admit. Something a very rich person should own. Moratchi looked at the shadowy clock next to him. 9:48. The man was late. This might not go so well for him. Then again the man was completely unaware of Moratchi in the office.

Suddenly the door opened and a belly preceded a very fat man into the room. Behind him stood two very big and very scarred men. Probably bodyguards. "Good evening Rector." Moratchi said, making all three of the humans jump. "Your late." He said pointing to the clock. The clock now read 9:49. The Rector stood there, frozen with shock and rage at this person. The bodyguards stood behind him, waiting for an order. Lord Rector scowled and raised his hand in a signal. The bodyguards stepped past their master, holding huge clubs. Moratchi sighed and shook his head. The fools. Then he vanished in a black mist.

The door slammed and Moratchi stood next to it, holding his sword in one hand. The bodyguards turned but too late. Moratchi grabbed on of their tunics and wiped his sword clean before either of them had touched the floor. He looked down. "They got blood on my suit." He said scowling down at the droplet. "Second this week." He muttered and then noticed the flabberghasted man standing a meter away.

Moratchi smiled. "I want an assassin, I don't want to be connected to this and if you tell anyone, I will know, you will die." He spoke sternly and threateningly. Then he put a small piece of paper with a single name written on it on the table. "The target. Nobody should know until too late." He said still grinning and in a whirl of his cloak he was gone.
 
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