Bagstrakk Mindbenda and his merry ladz

Praefectus - Adjuntant
Praefectus - Adjuntant
Inlägg: 851
Blev medlem: fre 19 mar 2010, 16:50
Namn: Casimir Ehrenborg

Bagstrakk Mindbenda and his merry ladz

Inlägg av Echunia »

In the glorious year 3660(Settra reckoning, 2510 Imperial reckoning) mighty Settra the Imperishable decreed the great purge. It was a new age of conquest. The living would be cleansed from the land for their impudence. The lesser races brought to kneel before the black throne in slavery.

Since that time king Rathep had sailed the seas atop his hovering battle barge. He had scourged the shores of the living, enslaved thousands. There was never a shortage of bodies to carry out his wishes. A crooked smile spread over his parched lips, how weak they were. They had no stamina, no strength of will. The kingdom of the dead would become a reality. Settra would rule all the realm and he would be his lieutenant, master of kingdoms. He had to grit his teeth as his seething hatred came to the fore. He had been sent on this forsaken quest for forty years, he would return to the light of Settras court. He would cut a path through the living this time, he would not settle for mere skirmishes any more. The clouds were gathering as his ship steered toward the Bretonnian shore line.

Lightning illuminated the darkness for a brief instance. Rain soaked his leathery face. He heard the sound of his slaves vomiting through the roar of the storm. He smirked at their weakness, such pitiful creatures. Something caught his attention, an unnatural ripple though the high waves. He dismissed it and willed his ship to go faster. Suddenly a great tentacle extended from the sea, it crashed down across his ship. As it drove through the ship, bone and wood splintered everywhere. His legion was cast into the sea.

At dawn thin frames marched solemnly out of the water, a small remnant of his fleet was left. Rathep roared and marched with purpose to the nearby town, willing his warriors to double their pace as water flowed from their naked skulls.

It was three days after the slaughter, Rathep had encountered a small band of woodelfs. He had torn down their leader and bathed in his blood. He smiled as he still saw the gore on himself, but his mind swiftly returned to the present as another of his personal guard was struck down by the hail of arrows. He saw how few were left and snarled with hate. With one last effort he pushed his warriors into a run towards the green shadows. The world disappeared as four arrows pierced his black heart. His mortal frame withered and dissolved as a swarm of locust streamed from it and flew south. The elfs disappeared back into the woods without a sound.

Bagstrakk's hulking frame trudged along muttering. He left a trail of drool between his legs, both his eyes were lazy, one could never tell what he was looking at. But such was the fate for the warchiefs second in command. A few to many blows to the head could make even the most ferocious orc go weak in the head.

Bagstrakk went in front of the warchiefs boyz scanning the ground in front of him. A lot of them bones were strewn everywhere. He thought that some one or something must've been mighty hungry. He absent mindedly pulled up his slipping pants as he bent to pick up something shiny on the ground. It was a circlet with a snarling cobra atop it. He tried to put on his wrist as a bracelet but it didn't fit. In frustration he tried his ankle. He hopped here and there on one leg almost falling over in the effort.
-Oi! Bagstrakk u' fat bastard wat u' got there u' gud fer nu'thing sneaky thief! The warchief bellowed. Finally Bagstrakk tried his head and the circlet just barely fit. He was dumbstruck as images flooded through his little mind. His vision dimmed as he turned in a daze. He held out his arm and pointed a stubby thinger towards the warchief.
-My will be done! He bellowed at the top of his lungs. As he stumbled a couple of steps and his pants finally slid to the ground revealing his private parts.
-Yer will? You even 'ave a will in that 'ere thick skull of yers? The Warchief almost fell over laughing.
Suddenly the boyz around him started to move.
-Boss? BOSS?! Wats 'appening? They bellowed as their bodies started to move on their own accord. Borgut stood transfixed and drooling as his warchief was torn asunder by his warriors. He felt his muscles knit and grow, his skull bulged and the crown burst into a million pieces. When the clamour settled and nothing but a bloody pulp remained of the former warboss the gory boyz knelt before the pants less orc.
-All hail new boss Bagstrakk Mindbenda, they cried.

Bagstrakk Mindbenda Black Orc Warboss