Post by onlurker on Dec 20, 2013 8:32:17 GMT -5
It was a cool Evesday evening, when a Stormvermin walked into a bar, with a solemn expression on it's face. It knew what was to come.
The next day, which turned out to be Thursday, some grimy guy named Festus (who names their kid that?) rallied up a bunch of troops and made them walking bio-machines of domination. Elsewhere a bunch of Oges did some weird seance and got all dark & weird (and frenzied) and some trolls (who kinda looked like distant cousins) did whatever they did to get ready for war. (I think barf, and stuff).
So basically a Deamon Prince Lord appeared out of nowhere and said "let's go kill some rats yooooooS"- because that's how he talks. He can say anything he wants to, basically.
The rats got like.. roughly 3 decent hoards of the more servant-hearted kind, a bunch of stormvermin with razor banner, and the usual weird war-machines & hellpit. (And somewhere skulked a sneaky assasain, but we won't talk about that, hush hush). And a brave Warlord who thought he ran the show, who tried to lead the rats with a crazy sword he stole from someone (but really, they were dead- and the sword killed them). But a Grey Seer got off his rockin chair and said between fake teeth "come on kids, these tin cans aren't going to disassemble themselves" and they all followed him to battle. They were good rats, looking for refuge in a hard world, they somehow found the North. Not like Canada, not very welcoming.
Basically, what you think was going to happen, happened. Scores of the servant-hearted kind of rats died in ridiculous numbers, far before their time; Skyre war machines blew themselves up more than anything else; and the over-zealous warlord lead a massive amount of rats to almost immediate death into bunch of Ogres who gloated, but eventually got run over by a crazy rat in a big wheel. And after the dust settled & the smoke cleared (aka after like 2.5 hours- how could all this take so long to transpire, I ask myself every week) Festus's festering frame marked the Skaven festivities (along w those ogres which looked feast-feast-worthy), a bunch of those cold, steely, stoic warriors were still standing around, and stomvermin were thinking about their courage standing before them (while the doomwheel roamed away in the background, and the gutter runners ran home to tell their Uncle Frank of how they won the war (after killing 2 forsaken.. which despite downing the hellpit.. really were forsaken)).
A Daemon Prince faced off with Master Splinter, but then Jamie & Conner had to go, so there was no chance to see an old Seer summon plague on a dwindling unit of chaos dudes before winking his last to a Daemon Prince. It's
fair to say they'd gotten the better of the rats, thanks to magical feedback roasting 2 squeeking engineers.
Afterthoughts:
In the end Snickers (the Assassain) was pretty conflicted thinking he killed father festivus so close to Christmas. But after clarity that it was actually Uncle Festus, of the adams family, he figured he'd done the world a favor. That Festus didn't mess around, getting those troops to heal from halberd wounds & making them poisonous, like his haircut.
It's tough to say how it would have went could things have completed, if engineers wouldn't have found a way to explode, and if trolls had a chance to puke on something.
Maybe one day we'll know though. For now, those that remained decided to chill for Christmas. Recover. Eat some Ogre & clean whiskers, and stare at mountains and do push-ups (or whatever Warriors do in their spare time).
The next day, which turned out to be Thursday, some grimy guy named Festus (who names their kid that?) rallied up a bunch of troops and made them walking bio-machines of domination. Elsewhere a bunch of Oges did some weird seance and got all dark & weird (and frenzied) and some trolls (who kinda looked like distant cousins) did whatever they did to get ready for war. (I think barf, and stuff).
So basically a Deamon Prince Lord appeared out of nowhere and said "let's go kill some rats yooooooS"- because that's how he talks. He can say anything he wants to, basically.
The rats got like.. roughly 3 decent hoards of the more servant-hearted kind, a bunch of stormvermin with razor banner, and the usual weird war-machines & hellpit. (And somewhere skulked a sneaky assasain, but we won't talk about that, hush hush). And a brave Warlord who thought he ran the show, who tried to lead the rats with a crazy sword he stole from someone (but really, they were dead- and the sword killed them). But a Grey Seer got off his rockin chair and said between fake teeth "come on kids, these tin cans aren't going to disassemble themselves" and they all followed him to battle. They were good rats, looking for refuge in a hard world, they somehow found the North. Not like Canada, not very welcoming.
Basically, what you think was going to happen, happened. Scores of the servant-hearted kind of rats died in ridiculous numbers, far before their time; Skyre war machines blew themselves up more than anything else; and the over-zealous warlord lead a massive amount of rats to almost immediate death into bunch of Ogres who gloated, but eventually got run over by a crazy rat in a big wheel. And after the dust settled & the smoke cleared (aka after like 2.5 hours- how could all this take so long to transpire, I ask myself every week) Festus's festering frame marked the Skaven festivities (along w those ogres which looked feast-feast-worthy), a bunch of those cold, steely, stoic warriors were still standing around, and stomvermin were thinking about their courage standing before them (while the doomwheel roamed away in the background, and the gutter runners ran home to tell their Uncle Frank of how they won the war (after killing 2 forsaken.. which despite downing the hellpit.. really were forsaken)).
A Daemon Prince faced off with Master Splinter, but then Jamie & Conner had to go, so there was no chance to see an old Seer summon plague on a dwindling unit of chaos dudes before winking his last to a Daemon Prince. It's
fair to say they'd gotten the better of the rats, thanks to magical feedback roasting 2 squeeking engineers.
Afterthoughts:
In the end Snickers (the Assassain) was pretty conflicted thinking he killed father festivus so close to Christmas. But after clarity that it was actually Uncle Festus, of the adams family, he figured he'd done the world a favor. That Festus didn't mess around, getting those troops to heal from halberd wounds & making them poisonous, like his haircut.
It's tough to say how it would have went could things have completed, if engineers wouldn't have found a way to explode, and if trolls had a chance to puke on something.
Maybe one day we'll know though. For now, those that remained decided to chill for Christmas. Recover. Eat some Ogre & clean whiskers, and stare at mountains and do push-ups (or whatever Warriors do in their spare time).
