Fiction SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-FINISHED AT LAST (1st draft)

[spawning of Bob]

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl- Ch17 done

Chapter 18 - The Calm Before the Storm

Several things happened simultaneously.

The sun set in the west. (Not bad).

Morrslieb rose, bigger and closer than ever before. During this lunar cycle the Chaos Moon's orbit would decay irretrievably. It would eventually plunge into the earth in a cataclysmic release of energies which would destroy all life on the globe and tear a vast and permanent rent in the veil between the material universe and that of Chaos. (Bad).

The tidal forces of the Chaos Moon finally disrupted the laminar flow of the Winds of Magic in the Great Vortex over Ulthuan. The Vortex dissipated into chaotic eddies. The energies that previously were channeled through the Geomantic Web to be drained harmlessly into space began to accumulate in the atmosphere. (Bad).

The magical wards at the polar gates, which had for so long barred the essence of Chaos from spilling into the material realm, evaporated. When the resistance disappeared, the Chaotic beings pressed against the wards tumbled over each other and into material existence like a billion pure evil slap stick comedians (Is there any other kind?). (Very bad).

The Great Slann Lord, Taistelaikch'ken's eyes opened. (Good, and long overdue).

He opened his mouth and croaked inaudibly. Rodekhil shrugged and looked enquiringly at Caneghem who had trotted up beside him. The slann cleared his throat. "The Enemy come. Prepare."

Caneghem bowed quickly and sprinted back toward the temple.

"Which enemy? We've got a few to choose from." asked the puzzled Rodekhil.

"Daemons!" Caneghem, called over his shoulder, without pausing.

"Where?"

"Everywhere! But we shall make our stand here!"

Rodekhil followed. "Me and the lads will 'andle this," he said to his general as he passed. Welhung didn't even hear him over the loud moaning of his wife.

(image - but not of that ^)

Just as there is a calm before a storm, The winds of magic lulled and magical pressure began to build. Caneghem could feel that a worldwide storm of magic would break, possibly within the next few hours. When that happened, daemons, who were confined to the polar areas by the relative slowness of their earthbound forms, would be able to ride the wild clouds and take physical form anywhere.

They would be attracted to places of magical power like ants to a picnic. Caneghem knew that they would feel the tendrils of geomantic energy which connected Taistelaikch'ken to his brethren, half a world away in Lustria. The question was not if they would come here, but how soon.

His head throbbed with the rapidly rising magical pressure. Unnatural clouds were piling up everywhere except over the Great Maw. Above the aggregation of earth-power the sky was clear. As the first cold stars of dusk began to glint coldly, they witnessed an unusual war council through their window in the clouds.

Caneghem, Rychek and Rodekhil planned their defense.

"We could barricade ourselves in the chamber with the dinner gong." Rychek suggested.

"Only as a last resort." Caneghem had not fought daemons himself, but he had studied their units, tactics and abilities. "We have no long ranged weaponry to keep them back, and we would be packed in like sardines. If they have flamers, we will be toast."

"Sorry. That was a half baked idea." agreed Rychek.

Caneghem surveyed the open area in front of the temple. "This concourse is as flat as a pancake. If the daemons gather here in numbers, we will be in a pickle. There is enough room at the bottom for them to assemble ranked units or cavalry. If they can get the charge, they will make mincemeat of us."

"Charging downhill is bread and butter for the ogres." Rychek observed. "Any unprepared formations at the bottom of the ramp will be serving themselves up on a platter."

"Do you think the ogres would be biting off more than they can chew? They will have a lot on their plate."

Rychek shook his head, "Even if they don't cut the mustard, Bessie and that rhinox, Rudolph, can charge into the flanks and save their bacon."

"We've been forgetting Chotec's Engine. Any daemons we can fry will be icing on the cake."

"What about our flanks? Our goose would be cooked if they got behind our lines."

"There is a marsh to the south, and a jumble of Sky Titan ruins to the north. They can't get heavy troops through on either flank."

"Even light units or flyers could potentially make us the meat in the sandwich. We don't want to put all our eggs in one basket." Rychek chewed over the situation. "The ogres and the monsters wouldn't be worth beans in the marsh or the broken terrain to the north. It's just not their cup of tea. But, it will be a piece of cake for Mahtis and I to upset the apple cart if the daemons cook something up."

"What about the ruins to the north? It would be a fine kettle of fish if the enemy slipped past."

"Bob and Joe are full of beans. They'll give any skulking daemons some food for thought."

Caneghem summarized the rough plan. "Okay. The ogres, monsters and Chotec's engine batter and fry any frontal attackers. You and Mahtis go make the marsh mellow, and the sauri give any other enemy flankers their just desserts. What if the any of our units crumble?"

"No use crying over spilt milk. We all fall back to the temple. If anyone wants to break in there, we will give them the whole enchilada!" Rychek grinned savagely.

Caneghem nodded slowly. They would not be able to hold out indefinitely against the numberless hordes of chaos, but before the end they would ensure that the four Chaos Gods understood that this world would not be bought cheaply. He turned from Rychek to his other companion. "Rodekhil? What do you think of the plan?"

The ogre jumped as his name was called. "Whatever.... I mean.... I don't care. You can sort out the plan." He shook his head. "It's weird. For some reason I feel really hungry all of a sudden."

(image)

Rychek and Mahtis explored the marshland they planned to defend. Tussocks of sedge grew between pools of murky water. The pools were connected in places by narrow leads. Footing for land troops would be unreliable. The final approach to the narrow stair leading to the temple gate was reasonably firm, but it was surrounded by deep water.

They made a lucky find of a large clump of black bamboo some hundreds of yards to the south. With a borrowed falchion, the pair harvested armfuls of the long stems and ferried them back to the temple.

Rychek busied himself cutting the thinner stems into five foot lengths and sharpening them to barbed points. When he had fashioned a large bundle of the improvised javelins, he tested one out on a rotten tree stump standing alone on an island of moss. The sharp stick flew true and stood quivering with its point buried in the wood. He sighed. Accuracy was fine, but the light javelins would not reliably cause fatal wounds. He missed his pot of jungle poisons, left behind in his haste to pursue the ogres so many months ago.

This was no Lustrian swamp. It didn't naturally make an effort to kill or maim any visitors. Rychek and Mahtis laboured for another hour to make it feel more like home. They covered sucking pools of quicksand with thin mats of moss which looked like dry land. Where paths dipped, they studded the ground with sharpened bamboo stakes which were hidden beneath the shallow water. Where possible, they undermined the firmest trails. Each of their engineering works served to funnel attackers into a killing zone near the lonely tree stump on its bare island.

(image)

Rodekhil and Argsplat gratefully accepted the rest of the bamboo staves. The wagon which had carried Welhung and Hellun received a battlefield makeover. The finished product was a heavy, rhinox drawn chariot which bristled with defensive spikes. Rudoph's harness received the same treatment to make his flanks less vulnerable. His thick skull had already proven itself to be impervious to damage. There was room atop the battle wagon for four ogres to hurl huge rocks or swing with their great weapons.

Bessie needed no enhancement of her natural armour. Under Caneghem's direction, Bob and Joe unloaded the sacks and barrels of supplies and stacked them carefully in the gong chamber.

"Why did we bring all this stuff? Food is okay, but why herbs and spices?" Joe whined. "What does this one say?"

It was too dim to read in the chamber, so Bob held a flaming torch close to the cask Joe was holding. "It says 'Black Pepper.' Or at least it does now. Someone crossed out the letters O W D E R, and then wrote E P P E R in their place."

"Do we really need six casks of it?"

"I think I remember loading them. That Jaime Pannister fellow helped out by handing them up to me. Then he said something like "Bomb voyage, mwahahahahaha!" "

Joe put down the cask he was holding and prised off the lid. He scooped up a handful of the black granules and sniffed them. "Its lost its flavour anyway. Useless!" He tossed the handful at Bob who fended it off with the torch.

(image)

Caneghem was polishing the lens of the solar engine when he was surprised by a loud bang, flash of light and cloud of smoke bursting out of the gong chamber.

After Bob and Joe had been stamped out, they showed Rodekhil the remaining casks. He grinned evilly. "Argsplat. Did you know about this?"

"No boss. In fact I 'ad a good serving of the tasteless stuff on my dinner last night."

"Best if you don't take a torch with you to the latrine."

(image)

With the unloading completed, Bob and Joe were sent to reconnoiter the ruins to the north. The stubs of wall and piles of fallen masonry created a labyrinth of false trails and dead ends, but enough passages connected through to make it a somewhat porous defense. If the defenders were to wait for the enemy to come to them they risked being attacked from several angles at once. Their best option was to stay mobile and patrol aggressively. If they could hit suddenly and decisively, they could ghost away back into the maze and choose their next skirmish. The enemy would be left off balance, not knowing from which direction the next attack would come.

At the third watch after sunset Morrslieb slid above the clouds ringing the Great Maw. His baleful green light cast eerie shadows. Caneghem and Rodekhil signaled their fighters to return to the temple. Last to return were Bob and Joe.

"It's a funny thing," said Joe, "but we found a whole lot of these in a cave back there." He held up a large green glowing mushroom. "Is this the same kind of mushroom that Rychek ate?"

Caneghem's jaw dropped. "That's a disco-cap! No one eats one of those and survives."

"He didn't eat a whole one. It was more of a nibble."

Caneghem shook his head, "Even in trace amounts the toxin has..... unusual effects. Did you notice any strange symptoms?"

Rychek examined at his toes in embarrassment. "Nothing worth telling a long story about...."

"It is a lucky find anyway, thank the Old Ones. Go get me some more."

Bob and Joe returned soon after. Caneghem got Mahtis to grind the deadly mushrooms into a powder. The skink priest needed some kind of sticky paste as a medium to stick the poison to the barbs of Rychek's javelins. He rummaged through his kitchen supplies and came up with a large sack of root vegetables. Perfect.

He boiled them in a large pot until soft and drained off the liquid, which he retained for later use as a soup base. Then he added a generous knob of butter and a splash of milk. He mashed the ingredients together carefully to ensure that there were no lumps, and then added salt and black powder to taste. Last of all he stirred in the powdered mushrooms.

It was to become his signature dish. Lustrian Mashed Potatoes of Death.

The mash was moulded into sausage shapes on the tip of each bamboo javelin. The deadly payload increased the weight of the point, giving Rychek's projectiles greater range and accuracy. The poison, once delivered, would do the rest.

With the front and flanks as secure as they could be, Caneghem and Rodekhil inspected the rear. Welhung had remained where he was, comforting Hellun. His lieutenant pressed the tyrant's mace into his hands. "Just in case." Welhung nodded in gratitude.

Caneghem stood at the brink of the deck and bowed low. His master hovered a few yards away staring at the Chaos Moon.

"My Lord Taisteslaikch'ken, we have prepared for a frontal assault on the temple, but we can spare none to guard you. I trust you will be able to defend yourself."

The slann turned his unearthly gaze on the priest. "I commune with my Spawnkin, Tecciztec of Tlaxtlan, and with the great convocation of my brother slann. The moon can be defeated, but it will take all of our powers, and some luck. We... I.... will be vulnerable. I will summon you when you are needed." He returned his contemplation to the green orb which was halfway to its zenith.

Caneghem was buffeted by a sudden gust of the winds of magic, and Taistelaikch'ken's palanquin wobbled and dipped. A lurid bolt of purple lightning was quickly followed by a peal of thunder. The storm had broken.

From horizon to horizon lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Caneghem could hear a new sound above the din. It was a deep metallic clash, repeated at intervals. He returned to the temple to find Mahtis striking the dinner gong with the huge beater. "They are here."

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl- Ch18 v ti

Ha ha! I slipped in an unexpected chapter!

You will have to wait a bit longer for "The False Moon War" where Scalenex will be rescued from the perilous perils of Castle Anthrax.

 

[Scalenex]

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl- Ch18 v ti

Ha ha! I slipped in an unexpected chapter!

You will have to wait a bit longer for "The False Moon War" where Scalenex will be rescued from the perilous perils of Castle Anthrax.

I'll get out of Castle Anthrax by myself...eventually.


Also, Anathama refers to mortal creatures that shouldn't exist: Skaven, Orcs, Beastmen. Demons are the Old Foes or simply demons (though I'm toying with other names like the Eternal Foes).

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl- Ch19 vs D

Chapter 19 - The Battle for the Ramp

When the wards had fallen, the first wave of Chaotic beings to manifest slithered, galloped, hopped or flew from the polar gates like a tsunami of dreadful intent. Given time they would roll like a wave over the entire world.

After them came Greater Daemons and Princes of Chaos who stopped and drew breath. They enjoyed the tangy scent of mortal life in the air and did not want their harvest of this world to be cut short.

They had felt and recognized the cold wills and magical strength that had sustained the wards in the months since the Great Vortex had started to gutter. They had also felt the enormous volume of raw energy that dripped like honey from the Geomantic Web. They reasoned that the Slann held the only power that was capable of banishing the hordes again.

The Slann were their true enemy, the delicious power their true prize.

When the storm broke, those with the power to do so gathered minions to their side and winked out of the material and into the form of chaotic energy. They rode the lightning from cloud to cloud crossing vast distances in minutes. Like moths drawn to a flame, they each materialized their forces within striking distance of one of the hated slann.

The False Moon War had begun.

The tales of heroism in the jungles and temple cities of Lustria are not recorded here, but suffice it to say that the Daemon's did not find the lizardmen unprepared. Although the Slann mage priests did not feature directly in the fighting, the feast of magical energy surging through the clouds was easily channeled and deployed to devastating effect by the skink priests. Even the wettest acolyte discovered the full potential of his powers.

Temple were ransacked of their scrolls of binding, and every kind of monster was summoned from the wild to bolster the legions of Lustria. Once again, the expatriate vampire lord, Count Renliss was compelled to throw his unholy army into the fray, no matter that it was against his will.

On the diametrically opposite side of the globe to Tlaxtlan, one lone slann might hope to remain concealed, but the threads of geomantic web which connected him to his brothers encircled the earth like four meridians which run from pole to pole on a globe. "X" literally marked the spot where he could be found.


(image)

Between the light of the Chaos Moon and the near continuous lightning, Caneghem could make out pockets of movement among the boulders below the concourse. Shrill voices whooped with vile glee.

Caneghem was perched beside the solar engine on Bessie's back, anchoring the left of the battle line. On the far right Rodekhil rode Rudolph, with four stout ogres ensconced in the spiky battle wagon. The other sixteen ogres formed a cordon between the monsters with Argsplat at their head.

He didn't bother to look for Rychek and Caneghem. They would be virtually invisible in their swamp. Caneghem imagined that any daemons who came that way would get a very Lustrian welcome. Likewise, he could not see Bob and Joe in their maze, although he occasionally heard their arguing voices during brief lulls in the thunder. He shook his head. If they used half the animosity they showed towards each other on their enemies, the right flank would be secure.

Argsplat had his customary meat axe in his left hand. He pointed with his hook. "They're gathering. Charge them yet?"

Caneghem saw a collection of slimy green gibbering daemons clamber over each other to ascend the broad ramp. "They're nurglings. Not heavy enough to pose a threat from a charge, but they are quick on the attack. They can bite faster than your ogres can swing their weapons. Get Rodekhil to move halfway down the ramp and spread your troops from here to there at an angle. Remember they have better initiative than you. Maximize your impact when you charge."

The carpet of rotten creatures moved like a school of fish. Those on the right shied away from Rodekhil and his rhinox and squeezed the other flank forward along the edge of the concourse. By the time they had flowed halfway up the ramp their formation had changed from a broadly advancing wave to a narrow wedge. Rodekhil had been slowly heading further down the ramp, pulling the ogre line with him until they faced more across, than down the slope. The trap was ready to be sprung.

"Now!"

The ogres charged into the nurgling flank. The weight of their charge alone was enough to scatter practically the whole swarm off the side of the causeway. They barely had use for their weapons, as they kicked and stomped the stragglers, for only a few minor bites and scratches in return.

"Return to position!" The ironguts jogged back to the top of the ramp, but Rodekhil could not reverse or pivot. As he turned his battle wagon through a broad arc its flank was exposed to the foot of the ramp. A half dozen lithe female daemons with scorpion like claws bounded out of the haze shrieking shrilly. The agile daemonettes were able to strike twice with their claws before the ogres were even able to swing their weapons. The daemon's were repelled, but not before they had caused deep wounds to the ogre crew and Rudolph's steaming flank. The rhinox shied nervously but Rodekhil was able to pull his head around by main force and goad him back up the ramp.

"Are you okay?" asked Caneghem as Rodekhil drew level with Bessie.

He glanced at his passengers, two of whom had gouts of blood pouring from ugly wounds. Their armour had provided almost no protection from the shear like claws. "Nothing to worry about. Expect now Rudolf is faced the wrong way. He'll have to come out of the harness so we can turn the wagon around."

"You can't afford to get caught like that again. Chock the wheels of the wagon and leave it here. Bessie can anchor the next charge while you turn Rudolph."

"Nurgle and Slaanesh?" Caneghem thought to himself. "Would followers of the other two Chaos Gods show themselves as well?" He knew that the minions of Nurgle were tough, but they were even slower than ogres. Not a great threat. The speed and initiative of the other breeds, particularly Slaanesh would be a problem. He would need to neutralize the daemonettes before they cut the ogres to ribbons.

Nurglings gathered again. The defenders set their trap this time with Bessie approaching the base of the ramp. The swarm behaved predictably and strung itself out. Once again the ogres smashed the nurglings off the edge and fell back. Caneghem turned Bessie across the ramp.

He lazily dismounted and stepped several paces down from his mount. He was aware of scores of leering eyes measuring his intent. When he was absolutely sure that he had the full attention of his foes, the unkillable skinklord slowly and deliberately pulled the Pendant of Khaeleth over his head and carefully placed it on the ground beside him.

He was a tempting target. A horde of daemonettes could restrain their thirst for blood no longer and surged towards him.

His proximity to his lord's geomantic node, and the dark magic amulet that he had just discarded had blocked him from channeling the Wind of Azyr for many months. Released from these constraints, and with a storm of magic in progress it took only the slightest effort of will to summon chain lightning from the roiling clouds which he cast with irresistable force to incinerate the daemons as they charged. It was, however, beyond him to put the lightning back where it belonged and tongues of fire started dancing unpredictably around him. He had lost control of the spell.

Just as a calamitous detonation seemed inevitable, with its inherent risk of a dimensional cascade he seized the dark magic pendant from the ground and held it skywards. He was briefly wreathed in lightning followed by a fountain of black sparks.

Power drain. Through a combination of luck and skill, he had managed to dissipate most of the spell's excess energy, leaving him with a splitting headache and pervading amnesia.

When he returned to his senses, he still had the pendant clutched in his hand. He was cradled in Rodekhil's arms.

"Impressive," observed the ogre. "Can you do that again if we need you to?"

"Do what again?" (BRB 34)

(image)

Rodekhil described what had happened before his rescue. "Bessie stood over you swinging her tail as three monstrous beasts charged in. They were the fastest thing on legs I've ever seen. They looked like monster aardvarks. What do you say, Argsplat?"

Argsplat was sucking the flesh out of a large blue claw which he had cracked open with his hook. "They looked like aadvarks. They taste like shellfish." He wandered off in search of a finger bowl with lemon water in it.

"Fiends of Slaanesh. How did you beat them?"

"They were fully occupied with Bessie's tail club. Rudolph," he patted the rhinox's neck, "got away from me as soon as I got him out of the traces. He skewered them on his horns as he hit their flank. Me and Argsplat had to run after him and collect you. Bessie wasn't leaving without you, and Rudolph wasn't going to leave Bessie. If those two become any closer, it could get very educational."

"The daemonettes you didn't zap moved off to the north with something big. Couldn't make out what it was. The nurgle things are growing," he nodded down the ramp.

Instead of nurglings, there gathered a shambling mass of plague bearers clutching filthy weapons.

"Their lines are too deep for you to break them on a charge. Let them advance. I will give them Chotec's greeting." Caneghem carefully aligned the lens of the solar engine to focus at an angle across the ramp. "Hold still, Bessie."

When the rotten smelling mob were almost within charge range Caneghem placed his hand in the imprint on the back of the engine. The print was oversized, and had too many fingers, but the result was satisfactory nonetheless. The cube at the heart of the contraption flared and clear yellow light streaked out. For the first time in their miserable existence, the ranks of plaguebearers were cleansed of corruption. Soon afterwards they were cleansed of flesh as well. The formation was broken, and the ogres mopped up.

The solar engine flickered and died. "That's it. We don't have any more tricks left."

"Just muscle and iron."

"When you say it like that, brother Rodekhil, you give me hope."


Stay tooned for Ch 20 - Welcome to Lustria

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch20 vs Tzee

Chapter 20 - Welcome to Lustria

Bnanapiel, the Greater Daemon of Tzeentch did not have it in his slippery nature to lead a frontal assault without need. His fool rivals were welcome face the wrath of the ogres and a wizard who had mastery of Light, Dark AND Heavens magic. He would approach in stealth from the south.

He cast a blanket of thick fog over a unit of Pink Horrors and sent them to cross the marsh. They were bidden to remain silent, and to suppress the warpflame that suffused them. Beneath the mist they would they would be able to approach and climb the narrow side stair and seize the head of the ramp. The Changer of Ways himself would then swoop in with his vulture's wings and claim the head of the undefended slann.

He heard a burbling cry and saw a flash of blue flame under the mist. So much for stealth.

(image)

The Pink Horrors' struggles to cross the swamp were made more difficult by their lord's gift of concealing fog. An incautious step could plunge them into sucking ooze, spiky pits or icy waters. The daemons alternately cursed their lord and breathed prayers of thanks to Tzeentch for their extra limbs as they dragged themselves out of yet another sinkhole. They finally found firmer footing on a narrow isthmus of reeds with black water on either side.

The rearmost daemon began a shriek of surprise that ended with a strangled gargle. His companions whirled to see nothing but an expanding circle of ripples. One of their number leaned over the water to have a closer look for the straggler. The other daemons had a brief vision of flashing teeth and claws as a huge reptile exploded from the water and snatched the searcher as well. They reflexively released bursts of blue warpfire, but it was too late. The monster and his prey had vanished.

"There!"

An "S" shaped row of spines snaked through the water directly towards them. In vain they hurled more warpfire which dissipated on the surface. At the last possible instant, before the monster would surely collide with their bridge, the spines disappeared below the surface.

To reemerge behind them. With a sweep of its crocodilian tail, the fearsome creature smashed another three horrors into the water. One by one, the floundering daemons were yanked into the depths. Just one resurfaced a moment later, its broken and torn body floating, face down.

"Move! Move! Get to that island!" The remnant scrambled towards refuge on a more substantial island which was anchored by a rotten tree stump and a large clump of bullrushes.



Only one of the horrors survived long enough to drag itself out of the swamp and lay twitching at Bnanapiel's taloned feet. It had a light shaft of bamboo standing out from its back. "There were two of them....Two two two two....." The voice trailed off and died.

To do a job properly......

The Daemon Lord sent out another unit of Pink Horrors, who advanced as a screen. He glided silently from hillock to island behind them. At his back were the rest of his cohort, ready to throw themselves into battle when needed.

A few of his scouts slid screaming into concealed pits of quicksand, and yet others trod on barbed spikes which temporarily pinned them in place. He sneered as he stooped to examine one of the plantings of bamboo stakes. He was a master of trickery and deception. It was an insult that someone would attempt to delay him with such a simple trap. It would take more than distraction of attention and sleight of hand to thwart the slipperiness of Bnanapiel.

He rose. "Move forward!" he commanded.

Slience. His screen of scouts had vanished without a trace.

With a roar of frustration he summoned a Firestorm of Tzeentch. The tornado of warpfire twisted this way and that, burning the sedges and tall reeds all around. Even if he had not killed his hidden foes in the conflagration, he had eliminated their cover. If they showed themselves, he would demonstrate that Bnanapiel was a perilous danger. They would fall.

When he had all but crossed the marsh with no further incident, he paused at the edge of a wide pool. Opposite him was his objective, the narrow stair. To his right was a small island with a mishapen tree stump and a clump of bulrushes. The sausage shaped flower spikes of the cattails were smoking after his fire storm. They smelt like....mushroom and potato?

The tree stump came to life. Golden eyes glared through a thick crust of cracking mud. Bnanapiel raised his arms, but before he could complete a deadly incantation, the golem plucked one of the bulrushes and hurled it at the daemon lord. It lodged in his thigh. A trivial wound.

Bnanapiel pulled out the javelin, with a grunt, and sniffed the blackened paste on the barbed tip. "Poison? Hah! Did you not know that my god, Tzeentch, has blessed me? I am protected by magic!”

Bubbles appeared in front of the Greater Daemon's feet. A giant reptile surged out of the water and struck him a sparking blow with a golden hammer.

"Yes. Actually I did know,” Rychek replied.

As the blow from the Rune Hammer o' Anti Magic took effect, a black stain spread like tendrils of fungus from the wound on the daemon's thigh. The leg began to jerk and dance. Soon the twitching spread through his whole body. "Oh, Marlecht lecht lecht..." His body stiffened and he fell like a tree trunk, face first into the pool.

As Bnanapiel sank from view, the remnant of his force gathered to avenge him.

Rychek spent the remainder of his javelins and dove into the water to evade the gouts of balefire which answered him. Neither he, nor Mahtis resurfaced.

The remaining Pink Horrors warily skirted the pool and filed along the narrow strip of hard earth which led to the stair.

For the final time, skink and kroxigor sprang from the water and planted their feet in front of the steps, as if to say, "here we stand or fall."

With no space for more flames, the horrors plunged into combat. Sandwiched between the wall and the deep pool, they could not gain advantage from their weight of numbers. One by one they were given a lesson in mixed unit combat.

The bond the spawnkin shared was beyond that of comradeship. In battle, their ability to anticipate each other's movements verged on telepathy. If a daemon chose to direct a blow against the greater threat of the monster, he would find the darting skink would strike him with an ugly headed club. The distraction of having an orcish idol shoved up his nose would give the larger beast time to complete his hammer blow, crunching through magical wards as easily as flesh and bone.

Even if the next daemon struck at the skink, the nimble lizard's superior initiative allowed it to parry or evade the blow before it could land. The daemon itself might dodge one or two swings of the kroxigor's great weapon, but a stomping claw or lashing tail had equal efficacy against the soft pink flesh.

Although Rychek and Mahtis had each received minor cuts and burns, the growing heap of twitching bodies pink bodies seemed to indicate that they had won this battle. However, Tzeentch, the God of Chicanery, had one trick left up his deceptive sleeve.

The last remaining Pink Horror hurled itself suicidally at Rychek and grappled with him. Mahtis had a brief impression of a faceless hooded robe as a bright flash blinded him. When his vision cleared he saw TWO Rycheks wrestling over the orcish club.

"A Changeling!" one of them gasped.

"Kill it!" yelled the other.

Mahtis held his hammer high and looked from one Rychek to the other in confusion.

"Don't take the risk, Mahtis! Kill us both!"

"But him first!"

Mahtis lowered the hammer. His brows crumpled in concentration for a moment. He raised the hammer again.

"One question. Which one of you is Da Bloo Shaman of Mork?"

One of the Rycheks released the sceptre as if it was red hot. The other yelled, "I am! I am Da Bloo Shaman of Mork!" He held the sceptre triumphantly in the air.

"Swear it!"

"What?"

"I won't believe you unless you swear it." Mahtis raised the hammer a little higher.

"Yes, yes! I swear I am Da Bloo Shaman! I swear it in the name of Mork!"



With a roar of supernatural rage, Gork-on-a-Stick sprouted a pair of colossal green feet. It stamped repeatedly on the false shaman until he was a bloody paste. Then Gork's image returned to its normal shape and size and the sceptre thudded back to earth.

Mahtis shrugged. "I always get those two mixed up."

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch20 vs Tzee

Sorry for the delay, I didn't want to post any more chapters until I had established the lay of the land. Chapter 18 now has a view of the Temple of the Great Maw to give an idea of the physical layout of the battle.

I knew that orc sceptre would eventually come in handy!

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.1 v pup

Chapter 21 - The Ancient Conflict

The Sky Titans had once had a thriving town or city on this site. With the impact of the warpstone comet, and the subsequent advent of the Great Maw, the city had been defiled, destroyed and abandoned. The inhabitants had settled peacefully with their kin further west, only to be overrun and devoured by the migrating ogres from the Eastern Steppe. Some peoples are just born unlucky.

Little of their architecture stood, but each of the dressed stone blocks was as big as a wagon. Only the temple cities of the Old Ones were made of stones larger than this, and the secret of their construction had disappeared with the star faring masons themselves.

The jumble of masonry created a maze of passages, some with dead ends, some with pitfalls. Delicately balanced heaps of rubble threatened to rain down with each clap of thunder.

"You won't be able to swing that spear in these tight passages. It's useless." Bob's opinion had not noticeably softened in the last several months.

"The spear will be fine. Better than a hand weapon."

Bob snorted, "I'll go in front to protect you AND your pointy stick."

After they had been creeping along for some time, Joe asked. "Why have we never used shields?"

Bob shrugged. "I understand they are difficult to draw, and not inherently funny."

"I suddenly wish our creator had paid a little more attention to detail."

The sauri vaguely heard the roar of an ogre charge followed by a crunching impact. A minute later there was some furious shrieking and a clash of metal.

"Its begun." Joe looked up through a gap in the stones. The moon was almost overhead. "How long do you think before we see some action?"

There was a fierce growl.

"You had to ask, didn't you!"

The growl belonged to the mouth of a Chaos Warhound of Khorne. The mouth also possessed dagger like teeth, a lashing tongue and an unpleasant amount of foaming drool. At this moment the mouth was being propelled towards the lizardmen by two hundred and forty pounds of frenzied muscle. Bob barely had time to bring his sword up into a defensive position.

The mouth halted inches from Bob's face. It had a new acquisition. A flint bladed spear was protruding from its hard palate. The point was lodged in the hound's tiny brain. With his eyes, Bob traced the shaft of the spear back to where Joe was standing behind him.

"Excuse me, I was about to parry with my vastly superior hand weapon. Kindly point that thing away."

Joe complied, and slung the spear over his shoulder. At the same instant, another hound, which had somehow got onto the block above them, pounced on the lizardmen. And impaled itself on the point of Joe's spear. As Joe retrieved the weapon from the squirming corpse he saw more pairs of glowing eyes in the passage behind them.
"Go! That way!" He shoved Bob forwards and raced after him, with the Hounds of Hell in murderous pursuit.

As Bob turned a corner, he saw his way was barred by a wide chasm. He had no other option but to attempt the leap. His legs bicycled in the air to get him a few extra inches and he thudded, hard, into the opposite lip with his chest. Winded, he scrabbled with his elbows to pull himself up.

Joe was only feet behind when he saw Bob fall short. He jammed the toe of his spear into a crack in the floor and catapulted himself into the air, pole vault style. He sailed over Bob's head and landed in a crouch. The first of the slavering war hounds tried to pull up before the brink, but the two following it piled into the leader The trio slid, howling, into the bottomless shaft.

The last of the hounds managed to gather itself for a leap, but its graceful arc was interrupted by a flint blade.



Joe held the foot of his spear down for Bob to pull himself up, and looked at his spawnkin smugly.

"What?" snapped Bob.

"Nothing, nothing."

The pair continued their patrol.

Eventually they found themselves on top of the pile of rubble looking down over a flat strip of pavement on the brink of the Great Maw itself. Some forty mewling daemonettes were advancing down it towards the temple, and the ogre's undefended flank.

"Joe! Help me, this is heavy!" Bob was straining to dislodge a sizeable boulder to crush the horde below.

"Lift with your knees, not your back," Joe advised.

Rather than endure the withering glare that Bob directed at him, Joe wedged the butt of his spear under the rock and pressed on the lever with two mechanically advantaged fingers.

The boulder started to roll and dislodged everything around it. Before long there was an avalanche of pebbles, rocks, boulders and lizards pelting headlong towards the hapless daemons. Most of the screeching horde were swept over the brink leaving but a handful to continue towards the temple.

Bob was buried under the rubble. He felt someone firmly grasp his hand and pull him free.

"I notice that you have four fingers on your right hand."

"Do you always begin conversations this way?" Bob's rescuer was an indigo coloured daemon of slight build, who held the unwavering point of a rapier in front of Bob's eyes.

The daemon shrugged, "Begin."

The pair casually crossed swords, testing each other's guard. Soon the daemon's rapier and the warpstone Sword of Barrenness were flickering faster than the eye could follow as the duellists traded ground this way and that over the rubble strewn pavement.

"You are using Bonetti's defence against me, uh?" The daemon observed.

"I thought it fitting," Bob replied, "considering the rocky terrain."

"Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro." The daemon was pressing Bob back and up a broken stairway.

"Naturally, but I find that Thibault cancels out Capo Ferro, don't you?" Bob jumped back off the edge of the stairway.

"Unless the enemy has studied his Agrippa," the daemon somersaulted over Bob's head and landed on his feet. "which I have!"

The duel continued. "You are wonderful!"

Bob pressed the daemon back. " Thank you. I've worked hard to become so."

"I admit it, you are better than I am." the daemon conceded.

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because I know something you don't know."

"And what is that?"

"I am not left-handed." The daemon switched hands and began forcing Bob back towards the cliff edge.

"Excuse me." Bob found Joe tapping on his shoulder. "You know what a hurry we're in, let me take over."

"Oh, have it your way." Bob sulked.

"I'm waiting!" The daemon called impatiently.

Joe stood well back from the daemon. "Frankly, I think the odds are slightly in your favor at hand weapon fighting."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because spears are better." Joe didn't even move his feet as he lunged and drove the flint spear tip clean through the indigo monster.

"You are going to get a hate mail about this," Bob declared. "Lots of people really prefer hand weapons."

"Come on. We need to stop the rest of those girl daemons."


(image)


Welhung Thunderloin was torn. He could hear the sounds of battle ebbing and flowing on three sides, but Hellun was quickly weakening. His men would have to fend for themselves. He turned to look back at the slann, wondering what it was like to have a cold heart and no ties to family.

The slann was still looking up at the Chaos Moon, as if judging distances and angles. Welhung followed his gaze. As always Morrslieb made him feel sick to his stomach. The moon hung so low above them, it seemed to cover half of the sky. A group of black dots slid across the orb, growing in size as they went. The ogre tyrant became aware of a low, droning hum.

Here? How had they found him? He eased Hellun's head off his lap. She emitted a deafening whimper. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, CUPCAKE?"

He winced, "I've got to go. I've got a score to settle." He hefted his iron bound mace and strode to the end of the bridge to wait for his most hated foes.

"Sodding bees!" he said to himself.

(image)

The squadron of Plague Drones of Nurgle were attempting to bypass the battle for the temple. Their tattered wings had carried them far out over the Great Maw to afford them a clear approach to the slann and the nexus of geomantic power which suffused his body. Their leader, a vile Herald of Nurgle directed his wing-daemons to swoop.

Taistelaikch'ken was aware of their approach. From his floating throne near the end of the Maw's causeway he raised a handful of spatulate fingers into the air. Raw magical power coalesced between them, ready to be manipulated into any one of a dozen deadly forms. "It is too early. All is not ready..." he croaked.

A rough hand grabbed his outstretched arm and pushed it back down to his side. "They are mine." Welhung informed the mage priest.

Taisteslaikch'ken gave a single nod of gratitude and returned his contemplation to the looming satellite.

The squadron of rot flies plunged from the sky in a loose "V" formation and zeroed in on the lumpy figure of the ogre tyrant. Welhung stood with his iron flanged mace coiled back behind his head in a two handed grip reminiscent of the New World primitives playing their pointless bat and ball game.

As the plague drones strafed across the bridge he swung with all his might. Strike! One of the enormous insects whirled into the maw with one side of its thorax crushed. "That's for Chaarlotte!" Welhung bellowed after it.



The squadron parted around him like a wave split by the prow of a ship. The two groups banked and the riders leveled their filthy plague swords again. On this pass Welhung ducked the lead fly of one group and followed it with a blow which broke the creature's back. The momentum of the swoop, combined with the hammer blow propelled the stricken fly into the path of leader the second group. The combined mass and closing velocity of the two rotting hulks was enough to cause a very messy collision. The entangled remains of the pair plummeted into the void.

"And that's for Harrrison and Samantharg!"

Three rot flies remained, twirling in confusion.

"That's for Rriley! And Annikarrg!" One fell with a compound eye and the brain behind it smashed to pulp. Welhung fluidly used the momentum of this blow to whirl about-face, and shred the fragile wing membranes of his next hapless victim with the sharp iron flukes on the tip of his mace. He paused to watch the broken insect's tail spinning descent. With Welhung's guard thus lowered, the last of the flies was able to strike. With a sickening squelch it plunged its dripping sting into the ogre's back.

Welhung sank to his knees, his mace slipping from his nerveless fingers. Nurgle's herald stilled his hovering mount and dismounted. He stood in front of the stricken ogre.

"You fought well, but to no purpose. You could not have defeated me. I am the Lord of the Flies."

"Lord of the Bees?" Welhung struggled to his feet. The herald was surprised that the ogre had not yet succumbed to the poisonous sting. Welhung scrabbled clumsily for his mace. The herald shook his head in disbelief and stabbed his plague-sword into the gap under Welhung's left pauldron.

Without even acknowledging the wound, Welhung grasped the poisoned blade with one hand and slowly drew it out. Blood welled from between his fingers. The herald gasped, Grandfather Nurgle's blessed venomous blade should not have only cut. The wounds should have instantly started to fester and run with pus.

Welhung pushed the filthy sword away, stood, and turned to face the multifaceted eyes of the humming rot fly. His bloody hand joined the other on the haft of his mace.

He slammed the heavy weapon down, driving the creature onto its many spiky knees. "That's for Joshuarrg! And Chloee! And Dyllan, Tylerrh, Rage-chel, Jaygob, Chaarrlie, Alexxiargh, Rryan, Cindry, Dolorious, Zaraargh, Hannahbal, Axxel, Chellsea, Maddison, Deckster, Slaed, Felanie, Blaeke, Harmonie, Eathem, Atrocity, Trravis, Phoebia, Scarah, Damniel, Hateley, Rocky, Maddnison, Phlegming, Angrea, Brattney, Caedwhallop and Chastity!"

With every name, Welhung's mace rose and fell. The rotfly of Nurgle was reduced to a puddle of purulent pulp.

He turned back to Nurgle's Herald. "You said you were "Lord of the Bees"?"

The daemon chose dark oblivion over liquification. Without hesitation, he leapt off the bridge and into the grinding maw.

(image)

The remaining dozen Daemonettes of Slaanesh who had evaded Bob and Joes' rock fall mounted the narrow stair at the side of the dinner gong chamber. The ogres and monsters were occupied by the process of sweeping the pestilence of Nurgle off the ramp for the sixth time. The ogres still fought fiercely, but their numbers had started to dwindle. A few had fought their last battle and lay still upon the concourse. Others, too wounded to continue the cycle of charge, smash and withdraw, had crawled or been dragged into the shadow of the battle wagon, which was still parked near the temple gate.

Ordinarily the daemonettes would have fallen on the wounded and gorged themselves on the pain and fear that their victims would feel before they died. This time they were pulled magnetically through the unoccupied gong chamber and onto the bridge to nowhere. Like bees to honey, they were drawn to the delicious scent of pain and anguish which flowed from Hellun of Troyarg's every pore.

When Welhung had left her, so he could settle with the Lord of the Bees, she had propped herself up against the bridge's low parapet. Her labour was well advanced, but her womb stubbornly refused to release her child until the Great Maw was appeased. The Great Maw stubbornly refused to break its fast. It had not even accepted the sacrifice of the powerful Herald of Nurgle, moments earlier.

Hellun was alone, and at the last extremity of hopelessness, exhaustion, grief and agony. The daemonettes who were clustered in front of her savoured the sensations.

"We feel your anguish sister" one of the depraved ones addressed her. "It is a tribute worthy of our lord, Slaanesh himself. Would you have us give you release from your suffering?" She raised a claw suggestively.

Hellun looked at her with glassy eyes. "You would give me release?" Hellun whispered, then screwed up her eyes. "GIVE...ME...AN...EPIDURAL!!!!!!!!"

The screech was the loudest sound ever uttered by a mortal throat. No banshee could have emulated it in its octave range or its intensity. The daemonettes' physical forms were shredded to atoms, and their daemonic essences were violently and permanently torn from the mortal plane of existence.

Slaanesh winced.

(image)

Bob and Joe were carefully scrambling over the scree of rubble they had created, when the sonic wave struck like a tsunami. Not for the first time they thanked the Old Ones for their lack of ears. After that, they needed all their energies and concentration to ride clear of the rocks which had been startled back into motion.

Once they had their feet back on solid earth they dusted themselves off and turned to recommence their belated pursuit of the daemonettes. Before them were a pair of tree-like red legs which ended in black hooves. The legs were clad in brass filigreed greaves and cuisses. Their eyes tracked upwards to take in the full terror of a Greater Daemon of Khorne. Its black wings were spread, its eyes were aflame, and its clawed hands were clenched around a smoking brass axe, which was easily taller than both lizardmen combined.

"Spears up!" Bob pushed Joe forward. As he stepped back a pace, just to make sure that the Bloodthirster knew who his challenger was, Bob became aware of another presence behind him. This daemon lord was leaner and smoother than the Khorneling, but no less menacing. The purple daemon had an extra pair of arms which ended in scissor-like claws. In one of its more normal hands it held a whip with several thongs which ended in scorpion stings. The other held a magical staff tipped with the symbol of Slaanesh.

"Oh great!" Bob moaned, "Now I'm going to be consumed by an exalted Keeper of Secrets, and my soul will be chained for all eternity in the Pleasure Palace to gratify Slaanesh's lusts! How could this be worse?"

The Keeper of Secrets leered hungrily.

"Don't be stupid!" Joe berated him, "Being decapitated and having your gleaming skull presented to the mighty Blood God, Khorne is much worse. Khorne is rage and hate and violence all bundled together. Much worse."

"Slaanesh is worse! I can't even imagine the degrading acts I will be forced to perform!"

"Khorne is worse! He sits on a throne made of skulls. I don't want to be a bauble!"

"Slaanesh is worse!"
"Khorne!"
"Slaanesh!"
"Khorne!"
"Slaanesh!"

"Raaargh! Enough!" The Bloodthirster had tired of the interplay. "My Lord Khorne is the mightiest! He alone is to be worshipped and feared!"

"Khorne? He is so.....crude." The purple beast mused. "His emotional range goes from annoyance to fury and back again. There is so much more to be... experienced. Lord Slaanesh is greater."
The Bloodthirster brushed the two saurus aside with the flat of his axe and stood nose to nose with the Slaaneshi. "Khorne is the greatest! Lust for nothing except hate! Raaargh!"
The Keeper of Secrets rolled his eyes. "Slaanesh is greater."

"Khorne!"
"Slaanesh!"
"Khorne!"
"Slaanesh!"
"Raaaargh! Khorne!" The Bloodthirster smashed his axe into the flagstones at the Slaaneshi's feet, knocking him back a few steps.

The Keeper of Secrets, dusted himself off with his whip. "Can your Khorne do this?" He thrust his staff forward and the symbol of Slaanesh, a spiky combination of orbs and crescents, began to glow. A stream of sensations poured into the Khornate beast's unprepared amygdala and prefrontal cortex.

It was the Bloodthirster's turn to be driven back as a wave of love, melancholy, sympathy, pride, grief, affection and despair flooded through him. When the storm of emotion abated, the Daemon wiped a tear of joy and sadness from his eye.


"You are right. Khorne cannot give these.....feelings." He raised his head. "but I wonder what your Slaanesh thinks of THIS feeling." The Bloodthirster seized the Slaaneshi's spiky staff and began a spirited effort of sticking it up the Keeper of Secrets' bottom.


"I think we should leave them to it," whispered Bob, and he and Joe tiptoed back to the Temple of the Great Maw.


In his Pleasure Palace in the Chaos Realm, Slaanesh's eyes began watering.

(Image)


Bob and Joe arrived on the ramp at the same time as Mahtis and Rychek.

"Nothing left to kill in the swamp," rumbled Mahtis sadly.

"How about the north flank?" asked Rychek.

"Erm. No significant conflict to report." replied Joe.

"Yowie!" There was a faintly heard scream from the ruins. Rychek raised a scaly eyebrow, but neither Bob nor Joe would meet his eyes.

"Caneghem! How goes the battle?"

The skink priest called down from Bessie's back. "We've got a battle wagon we can't use and two tiring monsters. The good news is that most of the ogres still stand. They can hold up groups of light infantry all night."

"What about those?" Joe pointed to the base of the concourse.

"That could be a problem."

Eight gleaming Juggernauts had picked their way out of the boulders with their blood crusher riders on their backs. The unit of magically animated brass constructs out massed the remaining ogre iron guts and had the speed to outmaneuver Bessie and Rudolph.

Rodekhil and Argsplat ambled over. "If they get the charge, they'll roll over the top of us." Rodekhil scratched his chin. "We could risk a charge on them, but I'm not certain that we would 'ave enough impact to break them."

"You should get the wounded back inside the temple." Rychek glanced back at the ogres who were tending each other's wounds in the lee of the abandoned battle wagon. "What about a chariot charge. Enough impact?"

Rodekhil snorted. "We can't turn the wagon before they get here and Rudolph is just about spent. That thing turned out to be just a big, spiky, rolling piece of deathtrap pie."

"It would be selfish not to share."

The ogre pondered, "Since we're not using it for anything, we could let them daemons have a slice."

"Set it ablaze. That should spice things up," Bob contributed.

"Ooh! Ooh!" Argsplat was flapping his hand and hook, "You! Ugly! Come with me!" He stumped into the temple building without waiting for a response.

Caneghem looked at Rychek, who looked at Joe. Joe looked at Bob who, aside from his eggshell, was pretty much identical to his spawnkin. They all looked at Mahtis. Mahtis curled his lip and sulked after the broken ogre. A minute later, both returned laden with the kegs of black pepper.

"Tastes awful anyway," explained Argsplat as he loaded the casks into the wagon. "I've got more of a sweet tooth." He tossed a flaming torch after them.

"Shouldn't we, err...." Joe peered nervously at the blazing wagon.

The whole group leapt to remove the chocks which had kept the chariot in place. It groaned into motion and slowly gathered speed as it meandered down the ramp. Halfway down, it was well alight and moving apace, but the bloodcrushers had split their formation and merely waited for the cart to trundle between them.

As the battle wagon drew abreast of the monstrous cavalry, it bounced violently over a pothole in the pavement. This must have dislodged the bung in one of the kegs. The wagon erupted in a ball of red flame and black smoke. The rocks, which the ogres had collected to use as missiles, and the sharpened bamboo stakes were hurled in all directions along with the iron bound wheels and heavy wooden structure of the wagon itself.

The Bloodcrushers were obliterated.



(Image)

The detonation also leveled the terrain at the base of the ramp. Without the screen of boulders which had sat there, innumerable daemons could be seen swarming like insects. They crept up the ramp like an inexorable tide.

SomeTHING oozed its way up through the mass of lesser fiends. A Greater Daemon of Nurgle.

(Image)

Edit 15/12/13 - changed ending a bit.

 

[IronJaw]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.1 v pup

I got the dueling reference.

 

[VampTeddy]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.1 v pup

Well according to the BRB rules Joe really can't help himself. He HAS to use a spear fi he was rained using it. A smart demon would have broken the spear, see then joe could only use his hand weapon!

 

[Scalenex]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.1 v pup

It's not very sporting, but...


"As soon as the demon's head appears, hit with a Kroxigor!"


I liked the reference to shields and their comedic value. By analyzing it you made it funny. It's impossible for something not to have comedic value just as it's impossible for a number to be uninteresting. Why? Because if there were uninteresting numbers, there would be a number that would be the smallest uninteresting number which would the make it interesting. Thus making the next highest number on the list the smallest uninteresting number and so on and sort through infinity (a very interesting number, infinity).

You showed a lot of fun spear tricks. Handweapon tricks tend to rely on using the wielder's free hand to punch, grapple or interact with scenery. Also you can do things with shields like various shield bashes or riding down a hill on a shield as a sled, or throwing a shield like a deadly Frisbee (Kaitar did that once I think, or if not I MEANT to have Kaitar do that).

 

[lbisson]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.1 v pup

Awesome as always Bob! I was waiting for you to do a flip off of some convenient stairs before the daemon was beaten...alas...Joe was too impatient. Nice to know that Bob may make an excellent Dread Pirate Roberts some day though!

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.2 v bee

Another section closer to the inevitable lame conclusion of... whatever the title was!

 

[n810]

Re: Spawning of Bob-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.2 v bee

Finaly got around to reading the lastes 3 chapters,
Grerat stuff Bob. (I think all the comedic bits have been mentioned allready).

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.3 vs Khorne+Slaanes

Again sorry for the delay.

Would you believe that my creative energies have been channeled into drawing REINDEER for work Christmas decorations?

No? Well would you believe a troop of elves making toys?

What about a fat man in a red suit?


I think Yule enjoy the next enthralling episode.......

SoB

 

[n810]

Re: SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch21.3 vs Khorne+Slaanes

I thought that pepper would come in handy, eventualy...

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch22 vs Nurgle and Khorn

Chapter 22 - The Last Stand

As the Great Unclean One pressed to the front, Caneghem felt a sensation that made his teeth jangle.

The command, "Come." formed wordlessly in his mind. "Bring the cube, and your kin."

"Brothers!" Caneghem shouted, "Our Lord calls us to bring the cube to him."

The four lizardmen warriors nodded and waited expectantly. From his position on Bessie's howdah, the skink priest grasped the mystic cube at the heart of Chotec's solar engine and tugged. The cube did not budge. Its depleted active face glowed dully.

"Rodekhil! Help me with this."

The ogre joined him on the howdah. Even using his considerable strength, he could not release the cube from its five fingerlike clamps. He used one of his falchions as a lever. The blade bent double and then splintered into shards.

"Argsplat!" Rodekhil commanded, "Buy us some time!"

"Right!" The misshapen ogre stumped part way down the ramp. He was alone, but for his meat axe, bladed hook and elegantly carved Queen Anne style peg-legs.

(image)

When the wave of pestilent things of Nurgle seemed ready to flow over him, he held his meat axe high. "CHALLENGE!" he bellowed.

The wave ebbed and parted. The Great Unclean One advanced to the head of the path that had been created for him.

"None shall pass!" Argsplat squared his shoulders and brandished his weapon.

The Great Unclean One paused midstride and emitted a loud coughing gargle. Ropes of mucus quivered between his fleshy lips. Paroxysms gripped him and his shoulders quivered. It took Argsplat a moment to realize that he was laughing.

"I have no quarrel with you, brave ogre, but I will mount this bridge," the daemon snickered.

"Then you shall die." Argsplat swung his meataxe and severed the creature's right arm with one mighty blow. "You are defeated. Now stand aside."

The daemon couldn't contain his mirth. More choking sounds and shudders ensued. "'Tis but a scratch!"

"A scratch? Your arm's off!"

"I've had worse."

"Actually... I know how you feel," mused Argsplat.

The daemon grinned and swept his Bale-sword low, splintering Argsplat's wooden legs.

"I'll do you for that!" from Argsplat's new, somewhat lower position, he had an unobstructed view of the daemon's edematous legs. The meat axe swung twice, and the daemon joined him on the ground.

The Unclean One grinned at his oozing stumps. "Just a flesh wound."

With his one remaining arm he struck a heavy over hand blow with the bale sword. This would have split Argsplat from right shoulder to left waist had the ogre not raised his hook in a desperate parry. The blow was deflected, but the hook was torn from its socket.

The daemon's follow through left him vulnerable for a split second as his festering arm was across his body. The meat axe swung true, and the daemon's sword arm joined the growing pile of appendages on the pavement.

Argsplat pointed at the daemon's limbless torso with his axe. "Victory is mine."

The daemon coughed and gargled again. This time it was not laughter. A stream of corrosive bile spurted from the daemon's mouth and onto Argsplat's outstretched arm. Flesh and tendons melted from crumbling bone.

Argsplat paused to assess the damage. His arm below the elbow had been dissolved.

"All right. We'll call it a draw."



The daemon gargled in mirth again. From the oozing stumps of his arms and legs yellow headed boils erupted. They swelled and burst, releasing stinking pus and tiny vestigial limbs. The limbs quickly regenerated to their original size.

"I like this game," the daemon giggled as he lifted Argsplat by the shoulders.

Argsplat's eyes swam. This close to the daemon's face, he was unable to escape the daemon's feculent halitosis. He pulled his head back as far as he could manage.

"Time for round two?" asked the daemon.

"You cheated."

Argsplat slammed his rocklike head into the daemon's brow. The head butt made a hollow sound, like pair of colossal coconut halves being clapped together (Coconuts such as those borne by the non-migratory Giant African Swallow). The impact caused a depressed fracture of the creature's skull. The intracranial pressure built up until its inevitable release as the daemon's brains oozed out of his blobby ears.

"Victory is mine." Argsplat declared as he dragged himself back to the ogre lines. The remaining daemon's of Nurgle began to mill about in dissarray.

(image)

Caneghem and Rodekhil had tried brute strength, leverage, hammer blows and bad language on the cube of the Old Ones with no success. Chotec's engine stubbornly refused to release its grasp.

Rhodekhil glanced over and saw that Argsplat was no longer occupied. "Argsplat!" he bawled desperately, "Lend a hand will you!"

Argsplat apologetically held up two ragged stumps and shrugged.

"A hand? That's it!" Caneghem cried, "Rodekhil come here!"

The skink priest inspected the five fingered imprint on the back of the engine. The four fingered lizardmen could release the power stored in the cube by pressing a hand into the print. Caneghem gestured to Rodekhil to press his five fingers into the depressions and cringed back.

Rodekhil seemed equally reluctant to perform this experiment. He gingerly placed his fingers into the grooves one by one, and finally pushed his trembling thumb home.

With an unimpressive click the clamps released, and the cube tumbled onto the howdah. Caneghem snatched it up and scampered to the temple mouth. "Come on!" he called over his shoulder to his kin.

The other Lizardmen turned to follow, but were distracted by a commotion at the base of the ramp. A well ordered phalanx of Bloodletters of Khorne were thrusting through the disorganized swarms of Nurglings. At their head was a winged fiend many times their size.

"Fall back! Fall back to the temple!" Rodekhil herded his remaining Ironguts through the arch and dragged Argsplat behind him. Bob, Joe and Rychek moved to follow.

"What about Bessie? And Rudolph?" Mahtis asked.

"They can't fit through the door. Come on!" Joe urged.

"We can't leave them." Mahtis planted his feet.

"It's okay," Rychek held up his hands in a placating gesture. He whispered into Bessie's ear-hole and stood well back.

The usually placid beast's eyes bulged, and she bellowed with apprehension. She tucked her head down, presenting a wall of bony plates and thundered blindly down the ramp.

Rudolph the Rhinox saw his sweetheart disappearing, snorted and gave pursuit. Those daemon's that dodged or survived the bony wrecking ball had scant time to recover before confronting the tossing horns of the battering ram that followed. The pair careened off the ramp and into the wild night beyond.

The phalanx of Khornelings was no longer quite so well ordered.

"I've seen you do that before. What do you say to her?" Bob asked.

"Oh, I just tell her that the veterinarian is going to take her temperature." Rychek replied.

(image. Or actually, just use your imagination)

Bob, Joe, Rychek and the fretting Mahtis entered the jaws of the Dinner Gong Chamber. Caneghem had already passed through to go to his master's side.

The ogre troopers had somehow released the great brass gong from its chains, and they rolled it across the gaping arch as soon as the lizardmen came into the refuge. They began to reinforce the barricade with the kitchen supplies that had been neatly stacked on one side of the chamber.

The lizards found Rodekhil binding kitchen utensils onto the stumps of Argsplat's legs with lengths of rawhide. He already had a rolling pin and frypan lashed to his arms.

"What are you doing?" asked Rychek.

Rodekhil looked up, "I'm assembling my troops...."

"No time for that! Come onto the bridge!"

Argsplat waved him away. "The lads will hold for as long as need be. Go."

Rodekhil blinked tears from his eyes and looked to clasp hands with his most trusted trooper. He eventually settled for tugging Argsplat's left earlobe. The Irongut himself snapped a crisp salute and knocked himself out cold with the frypan.

The clang seemed louder than it should have. Then it was repeated again and again. Argsplat saw that the brass gong was being struck with heavy blows.

"Ironguts!" Rodekhil addressed the bare half dozen that still stood. "You will hold here, by whatever means are necessary."

The battered soldiers nodded grimly as he lumbered onto the bridge.

(image)

The Exalted Bloodthirster of Khorne was still experiencing the after effects of the sensual attack of the Keeper of Secrets. In addition to his usual rage, he found that other emotions continued to intrude. On the whole, they were not unpleasant.

He had felt satisfaction as he broke the physical body of his hated Slaaneshi ally and banished his essence back to the Chaos realm.

He had been aloft when the Great Unclean One had fallen, and had felt amusement as his last rival was eliminated.

When he called the Bloodletters to his side, he was proud of their disciplined savagery.

As he approached the barricaded temple, he felt anticipation. Soon Lord Khorne's thirst would be slaked with the blood of a mighty Slann Mage Priest.

He struck at the brass disk which sealed the temple and felt delight as it gave way slightly under the onslaught of his colossal axe. He struck again and again until there was a thin rent many feet across.

Impatience possessed him, and he cast his axe to the ground. He seized the edges of the rent with two powerful hands and bent the edges back until the hole was wide enough for him to thrust his head and shoulders through.

On the other side he was confronted by six puny ogres. His amusement lasted until he saw what they held in their hands.

Each one held a spork, laden with steaming mashed potato. On each spork was a gleaming dwarven rune of accuracy.

The Bloodthirster experienced a new emotion. This one started as a hard knot in his stomach and rose to flood his whole body with debilitating dread.

That feeling was fear. That feeling was his last.

(image)


Next Chapter: The False Moon

 

[spawning of Bob]

Re: SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch22 vs Nurgle and Khorn

I had to rework the last 2 paragraphs of Chapter 21 (page 13) to fit everything together.

If you want to go straight into chapter 22, you don't need to read 21 again, I'll just sound like I'm repeating myself. The power of cut and paste.

I just noticed that I've been at this story for almost 4 months - not even Scalenex is that slow (although his tactica index is 23 months old, and STILL not complete)

I might get it finished (first draft) in the next three days, but you may need to rely on that famous cold-blooded patience if not.

SoB

 

[n810]

Re: SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch22 vs Nurgle and Khorn

All fear the mighty Spork !!!

 

[lbisson]

Re: SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch22 vs Nurgle and Khorn

Sporks are a devastating weapon! Bring on the enemy!

 

[Scalenex]

Re: SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-Ch22 vs Nurgle and Khorn

I just noticed that I've been at this story for almost 4 months - not even Scalenex is that slow (although his tactica index is 23 months old, and STILL not complete)

Ouch, Bob, that hurts. To get revenge I'll write up a character you really like and then have him die. You'll never see that coming...

-The Tactica Index is an ongoing project. Perfection is an impossible destination but I narrow the gap all the time, never to zero but always improving.
-My comics aren't out yet because of technical difficulties
-My newest story isn't out yet BECAUSE I'm resisting my slowness. Rather than space out several parts I plan to release all four parts at once so no waiting. MAYBE I'll stagger them a few days apart so comments can be made.