Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
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Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 714
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on Apr 17, 2024 22:46:04 GMT -8
*High in the sky soared The Raven. He truly loved flying. The freedom. The ability to see everything. A bird’s eye view they called it, if he remembered right. And so he flew. And far, far, far below the human soap opera continued
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,406
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
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Post by Dragus on Jul 4, 2024 5:54:06 GMT -8
It started as a quiet whisper blowing in from the dunes beyond the city limits, that soon rose in pitch, accompanied by an eclipsing shadow that blanked Mos Eisley as a massive ship floated in over the populated settlement from the West. The vessel was a Freedon-class Star Pyramid, four thousand meters long, carried aloft by hard working repulsor engines whose continuous roar stifled all other sound. This terrible monstrosity of quadanium steel and circuitry was known as the Maw, current flagship of the nefarious Dark Apothecary of the Sith Eternal, carrying within its blighted corridors the mutant hordes of the Pater Mutatis. Hails from the traffic controllers and local authorities of Mos Eisley went entirely unanswered by the sinister black obelisk hovering over the city, low enough to the ground that its passage had knocked several radio antenna off the sand stained roofs of the tallest buildings in the city. Public traffic was completely disrupted as the star pyramid's position made it next to impossible to access the local star port. Whatever the intent of the occupiers of that ship was, it was not immediately clear to the people who called Mos Eisley home. No shots had been fired, no swarms of starfighters were released, nor was a public broadcast made. It simply hovered there, over the city, waiting...
A turbolift descended from the bridge of the Maw to its bowels. As it reached the lower deck, two doors split apart with a pneumatic whoosh, followed by a chorus of buzzing flies. Emerging from the lift, Skrolk Dungclaw crossed the deck and swiped a pustule covered paw across the bio-scanner on the wall, causing the interior hangar doors to part ways. In his filthy brown habit, replete with all manner of foul excrement adhered to its soiled surface, the Verminlord of Clan Pestilblight approached the beast pens. Contained inside barbed durasteel wire cages were two thousand womp rats, each carrying the Gray-Rot pathogen that could be passed on through scratch from their claws or a bite from their fangs. Skrolk rattled the cage walls with Plaguemaker, a Sith iron flanged mace infused with the power of decay that served as the Plague Priest's badge of office. Maggots wept from its gore crusted coating, falling into the cage where they were quickly slurped up and devoured by the hungry rodents inside. Verminous lips split to reveal Skrolk's diseased yellow fangs as he smiled affectionately at his latest project.
Upon request by Lord Dragus who elevated Skrolk to the position of Verminlord following the hijacking of the Sidious and subsequent invasion of Clak'dor VII, the newly promoted leader of Clan Pestilbight was to perform research into the effects of several viruses and diseases, which was the reason for his presence here today. After murdering the members of the Sand People Enclave, the SE forces chummed the Dune Sea, then set out to capture as many womp rats as they could. Those collected were tested and infected with Gray-Rot, a deadly disease if untreated within the first few days. As for Mos Eisley, it had the supreme pleasure to serve as the testing ground for the pathogen.
Stepping away from the cages, Skrolk turned his hooded head and fixed a hunchbacked ghoul near the door controls with a look, nodding at them to begin. The hobbled creature gripped the door controls in both hands and pulled, causing the hangar warning klaxons to toll like an angry church bell. Large armour plated hangar doors rose, revealing the blistering brightness of Tatooine's midday, as a dry heat rolled into the exposed hangar. The scent of the city caused the womp rats in their cages to perk up and take notice, exciting and agitating them simultaneously. "Begin." Ordered the Plague Priest, pointing the head of his revolting mace at a pair of verminous monks standing next to the cages. The two disease addled rodents stood off to either side, then raised the cage doors, moving out of the way as the womp rats inside surged forwards to seize freedom. The first few lingered at the hangar threshold, stopping once they saw the drop to the city below, though they were quickly forced over the edge by the swarms of rodents pushing forwards from behind. They spilled out the hangar doors in a tide of vermin, the first few to strike the ground serving to soften the landing of those behind them with their broken bodies. Two meter long womp rats poured into the city, panicked and frothing as they allowed their potent olfactory senses to locate food.
This flood of rodent filth poured into Mos Eisley, trampling over those caught out in the open, while those that sought shelter inside were hunted by packs of feral rodents, starved and desperate on a genetic level to spread the Gray-Rot pathogen they carried.
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
Member
Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 714
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on Jul 11, 2024 2:30:34 GMT -8
High above The Raven continued to sail through the sky. As the bird felt the wind it looked down on the planet beneath. Keen sight captured a wide picture of the cityscape below but targeted on a particular ship. And a particular group associated with said ship. On the ground sat a ship, a Y-1300 light freighter. And but a few steps away from the vessel a woman stood. She sighed, right hand crossing her face, as her left fell on hip. A shiver shot down her spine. Eyes squinting she muttered -Grace- “Smething is watching…..” Her lone eye stopped at the ship and she bellowed -Grace- “Boland! Tar a sin chugam!” Then adding -Grace- “Anois!!!” And, inspired by aforementioned howling, Boland stumbled from the Utopic Vulture, as the ship was dubbed, near spilling his bottle -Boland- “I hope this is goood…..” A little girl appeared with a massive hound at her side
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,406
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
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Post by Dragus on Jul 13, 2024 4:05:34 GMT -8
Chaos ensued at first as the womp rats released by the floating black pyramid hovering over the city went on a rampage, tearing apart market stalls and attacking any caught in the street, practically feral with excitement at so many new scents and such an abundance of food. They foamed at the mouths, their yellow fangs coated in a mire of bacteria and disease, which they were all to eager to spread through bites and scratches. The random fear and fury upon the release of two thousand womp rats faded into more useful panic as citizens and visitors to Mos Eisley sought the safety of shelter or attempted to flee skywards. It was only as the first few ships ascended from the space port that the Maw finally made its move, quickly calculating firing solutions before opening up in a blistering barrage of emerald light. Twin laser turrets blasted civilian freighters and transports out of the sky, raining their flaming remains back down onto the city like fiery hail. A pair of Landspeeders were spotted streaking away from Mos Eisley's western gate, and were summarily targeted by the Freedon-class Star Pyramid, then fired upon. Two advanced concussion missiles followed them out over the dunes, exploding upon contact, leaving only a patch of glass in the sand with edges scorched black. A few of the more clever ones got away, making hard and fast for Beggars Canyon, or slipping out through less obvious means.It mattered little. Neither subjugation or secrecy were the purpose here. This was about science! Unlocking the greater mysteries of the galaxy, like the phage fold path Verminlord Skrolk Dungclaw followed as leader of Clan Pestilblight. Releasing those two thousand womp rats was a means of studying the effects of Gray-Rot on a large population, as the rodents set loose were all infected with the disease, which could be passed on to most humanoid species through bodily fluids. Ordinarily if the disease was treated with bacta within the first few days it could be cured, but that was before the Plague Priest had made a few tweaks, carefully nurturing a variant of the bug that resulted in faster symptoms.On the bridge of the Maw, Skrolk shifted in the command throne he had soiled with his filthy brown habit, slowing rising with audible pops from his knees joints or possibly popping pustules on his backside, the rotten ranat approached the comm-station. Seated there was another filthy figure, but for altogether different reasons. Mephisto turned in his seat, raising two pale hands to the soiled yellow hood enshrouding the umbaran's ghoulish face, which leered back at Skrolk with two colourless eyes full of obvious disdain. Mephisto was a devout hannite monk of Pzob, serving as High Priest of the Hunger Cults, whose dietary preferences for sentient beings was well documented. That made him a rival chieftain in some sense to Skrolk, even if they belonged to two different hierarchies or power structures. They didn't directly compete, but their rank was roughly equivalent. Without wasting words, the Plague Priest handed the cultist a dirty scrap of parchment upon which the rodent had scratched a script for Mephisto to read over the Maw's external speakers. Even ascended as he was by the Great Devourer's alchemy, Skrolk was still a ranat at the core, and unable to communicate in basic. Thus the need for his humanoid counterpart. The emaciated umbaran nodded, his thin lips splitting to reveal yellow teeth filed to needle like nubs, a mouth more suited to a piranha. Then Mephisto took the microphone at his station in hand and switched on the star pyramid's speakers, causing his ravaged voice to whisper hoarsely across the city, echoing loud enough to be heard by most.People of Mos Eisley, this is...the authorities. Heh. Stay in your homes and lock your doors. A womp rat pack has accidentally made its way into the city, but trust that we are doing everything in our power to remedy the situation. Thank you for your cooperation.Mephisto was snickering by the time he switched off the microphone. The authorities, indeed, but perhaps there was a ring of truth to that in this lawless quarter of the Outer Rim. After all, what greater authority was there than power? And who had more of that in this region of the galaxy than the Sith Eternal? Not that they were asking anyone's opinion on the subject. The Hunger Cultist's words were broadcast on repeat, booming from the Maw's speakers every five minutes, rattling the windows of the buildings it was hovering above.The infection continued...
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Post by Pharaoh Khubris on Aug 10, 2024 19:35:06 GMT -8
As the unseen threat continued to draw closer to Mos Eisley, on the surface above the winds of the desert started to stir. Slowly at first, but quickly rising in speed and strength as sand was picked up and thrown into the air. This cycle created stronger winds which picked up more sand and dust, which itself strengthened the growing storm. A great thick wall was soon formed which reached up from the sands of Tatooine and into the lower stratosphere. Within its tumultuous depths stirred cyclones of sand and wind, serving as the beating heart of this unnatural storm. Several flocks of Urusai flew through the storm unharmed, their passage unchallenged by what ever master the sands answered to.
The storm had hit full strength as its front most, seeming impenetrable, wall of sand hit Mos Eisley. The winds and sands assaulted the buildings, vehicles, and creatures caught outside as it passed over and came to a stop atop the Hive of Scum and Villainy. Urusai descended down to the ground and struck at the infected Womp Rats that had been unleashed upon Tatooine. The bodies of the infected were prized eats for the reptavians, whom sought to do their part in the ecosystem. But if the inhabitants of Mos Eisley thought the Urusai filled Sandstorm was all they need concern themselves with, they were mistaken.
The ground shakes that had been steadily growing stronger reached their zenith beneath the city as the storm hit before suddenly drawing quite. But that silence was merely the calm before the storm. Moments later the ground burst open as a gargantuan Greater Krayt Dragon surfaced within the city limits. Sand, dirt, rock, and debris went flying up into the storm as half a city block alone was taken out by the beasts appearance alone. As it let out a great roar, dozens of repel lines draped over the sides of its neck followed by the descent of a myriad of smaller figures down to the streets of Mos Eisley. From afar one might be forgiven for not recognizing them immediately, but those closest to the Greater Krayt Dragon learned quickly whom had appeared within their streets.
Under normal circumstances, the Ghorfas and Jawas were not known for working together as one. But much had changed upon Tatooine, especially for several dozen of each clan that now bore an Ankh symbol upon their garb. As soon as they set foot on the ground, they let out war cries and swept the streets of Mos Eisley, indiscriminately shooting the inhabitants and the Womp Rats that now filled the city streets. Doors were kicked in or blown up, allowing the storm to rush inside and disorientate the occupants. Meanwhile the Greater Krayt Dragon dragged itself up to ground level and started to swim through the streets of the city. Soon the comm air waves started to get hijacked as Jawa's got access to transmitters and filled them with a singular chant
Dhoie! Dhoie! Dhoie! Dhoie! DHOIE! DHOIE! DHOIE! DHOIE!
Upon the back of the Greater Krayt Dragon stood a lone figure. One hand gripped a pistol, whilst the other gathered up the massive length of reins that were used to guide the Dragon as it continued on its path of destruction across Mos Eisley. Buildings which had stood within the city over the many decades were pulled up from their foundations and sent crashing to the ground, taking with them homes and businesses nearby. Explosions were soon tearing through the city as a fuel depot was struck by the great beast and a spark caught the flammable contents within alight.
But if the forces floating above the city thought they existed in safety, they were about to find themselves disappointed. The figure upon the back of the Greater Krayt Dragon yanked upon the reins, causing the beast to launched itself up from the ground and up upon the edge of the floating obsidian pyramid. The clawed many legs of the beast dug into armour plating and weapon emplacements upon the surface of the Star Pyramid, which the Dragon used to drag its massive girth up the side of the ship. It would not be stopped, even as starfighters were launched out to try harass it. A swift swing of its tail sent fighter craft hurtling to the city below whilst the Krayt Dragon climbed higher still until at least its head came level with the bridge.
Atop its armoured head, Khubris stood looking into that viewport with his pistol raised. With so much as a second of hesitation, Khubris fired all eight rounds of The Iron Law and sent explosive Baradium slugs at the viewport in an attempt to breach it
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,406
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Aug 11, 2024 13:43:05 GMT -8
Aboard the bridge of the massive star pyramid floating over the city, panic set in as unforeseen weather conditions manifested where moments before there was little more beyond an arid mid day breeze, veiling the city and the malevolent mobile fortress hovering in the sky above it in a blanket of sand. Dusty grit scratched and scraped the hull, grinding black paint from its surface until the stripped armoured plate beneath with exposed to the elements. "By the Eye, what in the blazes is going on outside?" Snarled the ghoulish umbaran Mephisto, hannite high priest of the Hunger Cults, as he extricated himself from his seat in front of the communications station. Through the main armour-glass viewport that dominated the bridge, their view of the city and surrounding dunes was completely eclipsed by the storm that seemed to have randomly come upon them. Narrowing his pale colourless eyes, the emaciated servant of the Famine Lord leered into the sandy gale, squinting as he swore he could make out something winged swirling around in the spinning vortex outside. Just then, a yellow and blue reptavian struck the screen, causing the ghastly monk to jump back in surprise. He quickly composed himself as he recognized the urusai for the native carrion feasting parasite it was. Exposing a mouth full of black gums and needle nub yellow teeth, Mephisto pressed one boney finger to the bridge controls, activating the viewscreen's pest deterrent. An electrified current ran across the exterior surface, carried by micron-thin copper wires embedded in the glass, transforming the viewscreen into a rather effective bug-zapper. The urusai vanished in a crackling flash as its body was flung back into the storm as little more than a smouldering husk.
It was around that time that the entire deck beneath their feet rumbled and shook, as though the gigantic black obelisk in the sky had just been impacted by the broadside barrage of a star destroyer, throwing the Verminlord currently commanding the floating landing castle from his seat and onto the floor. Red strobe lights flashed overhead and warning klaxons wailed a deafening symphony through the warship as the inertial compensators struggled as they adjusted to an unexpected weight straining the roaring repulsor banks keeping the sinister structure airborne. Skrolk coughed up bits of rotten lung and yellow sputum as he clawed his way back to his feet, planting the flanged head of his Sith ensorcelled mace Plaguemarker in the deck as he pulled himself up with the haft, his gnarled mutant snout contorting with rage as pustules popped and oozed along its pox scarred length. Risen, the Master of Ratghoul projected a fiendish figure far larger than the average ranat, his diseased body bloated with the festering power of decay bequeathed on him by his Feaster of Worlds upon his elevation to Verminlord of Clan Pestilblight. The rheumy lids of six corpse grey and cataract crusted eyes stared out the viewport, while yellow fangs rife with all manner of bacteria gnawed at his cracked and sore covered lips, the foulness of his mood physically evident even as his Force presence soured the aether with its miasmic aura that wilted nearly everything it came into contact with. The Plague Priest stepped forwards until his fly swarmed form was a snouts length from the armour-glass, willing whatever desert shaman who was responsible for this unexpected interruption to reveal themselves.
That's when the iridescent yellow eye of the Greater Krayt Dragon appeared before the armoured window, monstrous and massive. Skrolk dragged a black disease swollen tongue over his lips, slurping up a mouthful of milky pus, his excitement evident as his festering features split into a rotten grin. Unlike most sensible ranats, the plague carrying rodents of Clan Pestilblight that made their home in the ruins of Dragglevania (the former Bith city of Nozho) were all sick in the head, a result of the scarred-brain syndrome they were afflicted with. It meant they didn't experience fear in the same way the rest of their species did, and why should they? The flesh devouring diseases rotting their rodent bodies made them immune to physical pain, granting them the relentless stamina of an army of the dead, with endurance almost to match. To Skrolk's goo weeping eyes the gargantuan beast didn't represent something to fear, but an opportunity. Imagine the sort of contagions a corpse of that size could become host to... It was left to Mephisto to have the good sense to express the instinctual fear loosening his bowels. He flung an arm towards the window, indicating the glaring eye peering at them all like prey, and made what they were all seeing real by giving voice to it.
"Sand Serpent!" He snarled, his words cutting through the klaxon whine to reach the audio-receivers of a towering suit of armour occupying the back of the bridge, which moments ago one might have been forgiven for confusing for a statue. A suitable challenge was all it took to awaken the Nightmare Knight, Krell, from where the Sith War Bot waited in standby mode. Cold steam hissed from the joints between the overlapping barbed armour segments of the former tomb guards heavy plate as he calmly strode across the bridge, reaching a spiked gauntlet up and behind its back, grasping the long reek leather wrapped handle of a monstrous greatsword. Ice crystals cracked off the frost rimed grip of Morkai as Krell drew the massive blade that was as tall as Mephisto, held impressively in a single handed grip by the mechanical giant. The Pzobian artefacts crystallized ostrine blade literally stole the warmth from the air, causing the temperature of the bridge to drop by several degrees. Between spilling the blood of desert savages and dried up moisture farmers, there had been little to interest the undead Champion of the Famine Lord, at least until now. A dust-drake was another matter entirely. Slaying a fabled Duneslither, a creature xenobiologists couldn't even agree still existed in the sun scorched badlands of Tatooine, was a challenge worthy of his attention. THUD! Krell lowered the visor of his Sith iron helm, observing the bone thin arm of Mephisto placed against his gore stained armour, arresting his movement. Forming his left gauntlet into a fist, the spectre possessed droid prepared to punch the monk's head off, when the Hunger Cultist threw up his hands in protest.
"Wait. Think about it, Krell. What would our Lord Famine instruct if he were here?" Taking a risk with his life by removing his colourless eyes from the barbed war bot, Mephisto stared into the open jaws of the Sand Wyrm. He licked his lips as salivation spilled from his glands, swallowing down his gorge. "That Dune Drake is a prize worth more than this entire planet. We need to capture it!"
The logic was undeniable, especially to the members of Famine's wicked cabal, and Krell hated it. The murderous machine turned its head away from the view-screen, Morkai visibly shaking in the gory gladiator's grip with restrained synthetic rage. Reluctantly acceding to what it knew to be true, the frightful former tomb guard regarded the hungry hannite, flipping open the grilled faceplate of its helm to reveal two glaring red photo-receptors cybernetically installed in the time yellowed skull of Krell's long dead bones. "Fine." The soul inhabited golem's voice was as cold as death, barely more than a whisper, yet heard well across the bridge as though the Nightmare Knight had whispered that word into each of their ears. "Rally the denizens of Dragustan..." The Cabal's name for the mutant hive at the heart of the Pater Mutatis' flagship. "...and coordinate our defense." Then he grabbed the ghoulish umbaran by the soiled neck of his filthy habit and pulled him close, until Mephisto's hideous hooked nose stuck in the empty nose socket of Krell's exposed skull. "But leave the Krayt to me."
Gulping, Mephisto nodded, then found himself thrust towards the bridge turbo-lift, leaving Skrolk alone with the watching Wyrm as the two descended into the pyramid's super-structure. It was at this point where the Dragon's head dipped and the Plague Priest was able to lay his verminous vision on the figure riding atop the Sand Drake's scaled head, appearing to hold the mighty mythological beast's reigns in one sun kissed hand, while the other took aim with a very large pistol. Snarling in alarm, the Verminlord lurched to the side, hurling his bloated bulk into one of the trenches separating the crew from their commanding officers as a series of explosive slugs blew in the view-port and cast the bridge into disarray. Rolling off the rodent officer he had crushed in his last minute dive, Skrolk climbed back to the deck, dragging his ruinous maul across the now sand swept durasteel as he faced down who he suspected was responsible for disrupting his well laid plans. The revolting mace corroded the deck where it came into contact with it, leaving a trail of slime in its wake, as birthing maggots burst to putrid life in the clotted gore caught between its virulent edges.
<< Welcome. >> Shrieked Skrolk's sickly voice across the aether, telepathically projecting his thoughts into understandable word, as his tumor-stricken throat was unable to speak the words in basic or whatever forgotten tongue this dragon riding spectre of the desert called a language. The Plague Priest raised the gnarled digits of his left claw and beckoned Khubris inside with a wave, taking a few steps back to allow the dusty interloper to step onto the bridge through the broken window, if he so chose. << Please, step in out of the storm. >> The Master of Ratghoul bowed the hood of his filthy brown robe, causing the corked glassware holding contagions and pathogens to clink inside his attire. Slowly the mad mouse lifted its snickering snout. << A Verminlord of Clan Pestilblight is not without manners. I am Skrolk Dungclaw, servant of Decay, wielder of its Seven Deadly Diseases. Pleased to make your acquaintance. >> Skrolk's slime covered snout scrunched curiously. << Whatever you are. >>
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
Member
Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 714
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on Aug 15, 2024 21:40:21 GMT -8
The Raven eloquently sailed high above. Keen eyes watching all the supernatural beast glided long distances between but a few powerful flaps of wing. Ad from on high he watched. And far below on the ground The hound with most sedulous care watched The Raven watching….. With her tiny left hand resting on the back of the massive dog Maureen followed the lead of the animal. The little girl could see Grace and Boland hands waving expressively as they spoke but she could not make out what they were saying
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Post by Pharaoh Khubris on Aug 24, 2024 7:50:07 GMT -8
<< Welcome. >> Shrieked Skrolk's sickly voice across the aether, telepathically projecting his thoughts into understandable word, as his tumor-stricken throat was unable to speak the words in basic or whatever forgotten tongue this dragon riding spectre of the desert called a language. The Plague Priest raised the gnarled digits of his left claw and beckoned Khubris inside with a wave, taking a few steps back to allow the dusty interloper to step onto the bridge through the broken window, if he so chose. << Please, step in out of the storm. >> The Master of Ratghoul bowed the hood of his filthy brown robe, causing the corked glassware holding contagions and pathogens to clink inside his attire. Slowly the mad mouse lifted its snickering snout. << A Verminlord of Clan Pestilblight is not without manners. I am Skrolk Dungclaw, servant of Decay, wielder of its Seven Deadly Diseases. Pleased to make your acquaintance. >> Skrolk's slime covered snout scrunched curiously. << Whatever you are. >>
He let go of the reigns of great beast and took a step from the beasts armoured head onto the armoured surface of the bridge. The Krayt Dragon raised its head back up and turned an eye upon the Father of Krayts. Khubris nodded to the beast lae sinior dhi wokel savleroe, sebberi kaghreni With that command received, the Greater Krayt Dragon let out a bellowing roar before four of its frontal limbs dug claws into durasteel and tore away at the armour plating. The beasts head disappeared from the gaping opening that had once served as the Star Pyramids viewport. As soon as enough screeching hull plating had been torn free, the great beast dove head first through the opening and delved deep into the floating fortress. Khubris, meanwhile, had turned his focus to the mace wielding rat as the revolting creature had introduced itself. Not wishing to submit himself to any potential migraine as a result of what ever brief conversation they would be having, he turned his focus to the trenches. He raised his empty hand and took hold of one of the rat-men that appeared to be the highest in the hierarchy and yanked it across the deck. Struggle and strain as the rat might, Khubris' magic was far stronger. His hand gripped onto the rat's skull and squeezed, extracting from within the vermin's brain knowledge specifically of the Ranat Language.
It was not often Khubris felt offended by the knowledge he had torn from his victims minds. But these Ranat were so offensively primitive that he almost regretted adding knowledge of their language to his archive. His fist clenched hard, causing the bone to fracture and the Ranat Commander's body to fall limp before Khubris tossed the carcass aside Disgusting... Speak with your own tongue Verminlord, even if it offends me... Not that you will speaking it much longer, for I am Pharaoh Khubris, The King of Kings. You have chosen unwisely to inflict your plague upon my world... His free hand reached for his belt and pulled a Khopesh from its sheath upon his hip. The blade was inscribed with ancient Kumumgah runes which seemed to blaze with a blue flame as the Lord of the Twin Suns hand the weapon in his right hand, whilst his pistol was gripped within his left Any last words? |
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
Member
Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 714
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on Aug 25, 2024 0:50:48 GMT -8
*With a snap of her fingers the woman announced -Grace- “Maith go leor! We’re going!” The crew sprung into action immediately. Both Maureen & The hound were inside in a heartbeat. The woman stopped for a moment & watched Boland as he went about guiding the crew. A flash broke her attention. Grace then eyed The Raven. A grin grew on the woman’s face as she neared the ship and The Raven gracefully took his place sitting on her Sinister shoulder….. The bloody bird and herself entered the Utopic Vulture. Boland the came behind Grace, with the crew following him. The vessel rose up slow and easy, then in a snap it was gone
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,406
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Aug 25, 2024 9:34:14 GMT -8
Skrolk's rheumy eyes widened in visible surprise as the strange desert monarch addressed the Verminlord in his own native tongue of Squeak-Speak, making clear his intent and rage over Clan Pestilblight's activities across Tatooine, causing milky white pus to weep over the diseased ranat's cataract crusted eyes and down his cheeks like pestilent tears. Though if you think that threat soured his current disposition, then you didn't know Skrolk Dungclaw. A wet whooping cough rattled the bones in the virulent vermin's chest as he hacked an offensively fragrant wad of sour yellow mucus into a curled paw, then raised his crooked pustule covered and pox scarred snout to leer at Khurbis with the decadence of decay. "Just one." He spoke slow and stressed with a bubbling gargle of phlegm caught in his tuberculosis racked lungs. At the corners of his vile vermin snout, his canker soar crusted lips twitched, then ripped the scabs in either corner of his mouth as his yellow fangs twisted into a sick smile. "Rot."
As soon as the keyword was uttered from Skrolk's squeaking lips, misting the space between the two mismatched warlords with pestilent spittle, the filthy brown habit that covered his scab and cyst covered hide exploded outwards in an eruption of botflies concealed behind his attire. The hungry swarm of maggot spewing insects were drawn to the scent of decaying flesh, and while Khubris was admittedly a bit more dust and desiccated than the moist cuisine they were used to, beggars certainly couldn't be choosers. The buzzing of putrid flies was as loud as the scrap of sand on the hull from the storm outside the damaged star pyramid, whose armour plates were raining down like meteorites on buildings and long standing structures below, burying the beleaguered inhabitants inside in burning debris. The flies were so thick they obscured the Plague Priest's oddly agile form, that despite the prestigious girth of his swelling belly and blubbery gangrenous limbs, moved like a virus spreading through a crowd. He swung Plaguemarker in a figure eight through the air, taking the necessary moment to build up speed and momentum in order to wield the monstrous maul that shrieked as it soured the air with a projected sickly malaise and crackled with tiny virulent green discharges of Force Lightning released from its Sith iron core, bursting larvae sacs and flinging smoking maggots as the flanged head whipped dizzyingly around Skrolk.
The buzzing swarm coalesced into several verminous shapes, appearing and bursting apart into a thousand individual insects, as though the Master of Ratghoul was teleporting around the room. The real Skrolk didn't leave Khubris waiting long. He burst from from the putrid bug screen with all the fury of a charging ranat-ogre, the Plaguemaker's head turning botflies to gooey mist as it swung in an ascending arc, its corroded flanged edge hurtling in an uppercut swing towards the Pharaoh's chin.
Elsewhere, Mephisto and the other loyal members of the Dark Apothecary's cabal organized and rallied whatever combat elements they could, ordering a ship wide evacuation, which caused nearly as much chaos as it was likely to solve. The turbolift doors to one of many hangars snapped open with a pneumatic hiss, sliding apart to admit the towering mechanical figure of Krell, just in time to watch as the Father of Krayt's burrowed down through the ceiling and continued to tear its way through the hangar floor. Mutant mechanics and stunned cultists scattered in panic as the situation quickly devolved into every sadist for themselves. A pair of humans with poor hygiene in filthy flight suits found their path barred as the nightmare knight stuck his spiked gauntlets out to the side, stopping the pilots in their tracks. "You!" He jabbed a steel hard armoured finger into either of their chests, leaning down just enough for scalding steam to hiss through the grill slits of his Sith iron helm, directly into their trembling faces. "Get me in the air!" Then he sent them both tumbling back in the direction they came with a single push to either of their chests. Fortunately the frightened airmen had the good sense to at least be more terrified of Krell than the Krayt Dragon. With the dragon, there was always the chance it would lose interest when it become full, but displeasing the former tomb guard of Freedon Nadd was as good as signing ones own death warrant. The duo raced towards a pair of Alpha-class Xg-1 Star Wings in gunmetal grey, that remarkably had been parked out of the way when the monstrous dune drake began clawing its way through the guts of the star pyramid, likely drawn to the heat of the experimental power core at the humid heart of Dragustan.
Both men scrambled into the cockpits, while Krell climbed up onto the roof of the starfighter on the left, grabbing hold of the dorsal wing with one steel hard metal hand. With his other, he slid the long length of Morkai from the drexl scale scabbard across his back, holding the frigid greatsword singlehandedly in his spiked left gauntlet. He pointed the crystalized ostrine tip at the open hangar doors, then stamped a heavy armoured boot down on the cockpit canopy, signalling the pale pilot inside to get a move on. Cygnus dual ion engines rose to a screech and spewed tails of toxic smog from their thrust nozzles, launching both starfighters into the air, streaking out the open hangar doors directly into the sand storm that had swallowed the city outside. It was clear to the Champion of Famine that the pair he had picked were regular wingmen, as the two snub fighters flew together with remarkable precision, weathering the storm better than others who had tried to take to the sky amidst the whipping desert sands. Krell hung on for his dear unlife as the Star Wings circled the Maw, catching the occasional glimpse of the monstrous Duneslither whenever its claws or gnashing teeth tore a hole in the hull of the floating obelisk from the inside out. Crouching over the cockpit window, Krell looked down at the pilot beneath him through the transparisteel window, flipping up his visored faceplate to expose the yellow bone of his leering skull behind it.
"Get its attention." The spectral gladiator-bot's whisper thin voice cut through the shriek of the engines and the screech of the storm, causing the stimulant addicted Roonian to soil his flight suit, filling the cockpit with the stench of spilt sewage. The human gulped and offered Krell a salute, then pulled back on the throttle, accelerating the Star Wing into an attack run. Its wingman flew ahead, targetting the Great Krayt as its head emerged from a rent on the star pyramids western face. Fox 2. Hissed the static laced voice of the pilot over the joint comms channel, before the lead fighter pulled the trigger and fired a pair of streaking hex missiles at the emerging Sand Wyrm, detonating against its scaly side moments later in an expanding cloud of toxic trihexalon gas. The resulting cloud of luminous green poison vapours were quickly swallowed up into the storm, joining the vortex to add another layer of lethality. It was more than enough of a distraction for the second fighter to get close, close enough for the Father of Krayts to feel the bite of Morkai. The six foot long frost rimed blade in Krell's gauntlet erupted in cobalt blue flame as blackscript runes etched along the length of the blade responded to the wyrm's presence, filling the ghostly gladiator's undead mind with a powerful hate from old times, filling the hollow space where his long desiccated heart had once been with the same cold flame that surrounded the drake-slayer, Morkai.
As the massive serpent's head snapped after the first Star Wing that had shot it, the second flew in close along its flank, allowing Krell to lean in and sweep his flaming blue ensorcelled blade across the Dune Dragon's scale covered ribs.
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Post by Pharaoh Khubris on Sept 20, 2024 5:29:09 GMT -8
The storm of sands and lightning continued to rage on around Mos Eisley. Such was Khubris' control of his magic, that the God King of Tatooine did not need to maintain his focus for the spell to remain in affect. Urusai swooped down underneath the massive floating pyramid and scooped up dead bodies and infected Womp Rats. Mean whilst Tusken Raiders and Jawas made their last rounds before making their escapes from the city as the Lord of the Sands tunnelled through the Star Pyramid. Some of their number had already lost their lives due to falling debris, but they would not be the last ones.
Aboard the bridge, Khubris had little care for what was happening that far outside. If his forces mostly managed to retreat, then they would be rewarded. Those that did not escape would be crushed for their foolishness. For now, The Dragon of the Sky had his attention solely upon Skrolk Dungclaw. Nothing else existed for the ancient warrior but him and his foe and what ever weapons or tools he might use.
This meant that as soon as the swarm of botflies, Khubris was ready to defend against them. A stream of wind and sand was siphoned off the storm into a swirling vortex shield. Any insect stupid or daring enough to get close was turn apart apart by the winds and sand being whipped around at extreme speeds. Despite the pestilent Verminlords best efforts, Khubris was not fooled as the botflies first obscured the Ranats rotting visage before forming into multiple shapes in the form of his opponent. But even though some might be fooled into thinking Skrolk was teleporting about, Khubris could feel the festering sickness that was the Verminlord. Khubris was no saint by any means, he would gladly murder and put to the flame every off-worlder that dare desecrate Holy Tatooine. But some trespasses were more vile than others, and this Ranat had committed one of the most abhorrent.
As Khubris sensed the approaching attack from Skrolk, he waited until the last moment as the botflies parted and the massive mace came swinging upwards. The Lord of the Twin Suns hooked his burning blue khobesh blade under the cursed mace as he took a step back with his right foot. The electricity sparking off the Sith Iron flanged head zapped across his chest while Khubris levelled his pistol toward the Ranat and shot off 3 rounds in quick succession. At this range, aim was not needed as they were fired from the hip guaranteeing at least one would find its mark or at least graze him
Urusai continued to fill the stormy skies, going after any craft that was trying to escape the immediate area of the Star Pyramid. They swarmed into any open troop bay and sacrificed themselves to be sucked into engine turbines. Flying craft were spiralling out of the sky through a combination of the flying creature strikes and the calamity of the sand storm where cyclones grabbed anything in the air and threw it around like a child's toy. Lightning struck through vehicles, frying the controls and the occupants within. None aboard the Maw were going to escape far from the wrath of Pharaoh Khubris.
The Lord of the Sands let out a bellowing roar as the pair of missiles impacted the side of its face, indeed drawing is focus to the lead fighter. But as it felt the blade sweep along its armoured ribs, it let out a snarl and spewed forth a third cloud of glittering smoke which was caught within the slipstream around the Star Pyramid. It would take the pilots a lap around the floating fortress or a coming back around to be hit by it. but once they did, their intakes would be flooded with the spiced smoke which would make its way into their cabins to be inhaled by the organics within. The Lord of the Sands swung around, disappearing back into the Pyramid with a final swing of its tail aimed at which ever fighter came in close first
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,406
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
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Post by Dragus on Sept 21, 2024 5:32:57 GMT -8
As the Plaguemaker was hooked by Khubris' ensorcelled khopesh, Skrolk smiled, wide and foul and putting on full display his festering diseased fangs. POP! His smile held. POP! POP! Powerfully propelled bullets from the Iron Law ripped through the virulent Verminlord's bloated belly, sinking deep into the diseased layers of ranat flesh. Only instead of exploding as one might expect of the baradium packed round, the shell deteriorated into rusted fragments, the incendiaries contained within having begun decaying the moment they entered the Arch-Plague Priest's wasting miasma. By the time the bullets had plunged into his rotten tumor ridden gut, the chemicals had already been rendered inert. A bubble of bile burst in Skrolk's throat and threw up a black ichor across his chin, but otherwise his filthy grin held, despite having still been shot three times in the stomach. Upon his elevation to Verminlord, Skrolk had been infused by the Harbinger of Decay with a sliver of his power, a virulent green shard of kyber split from the Heart of the Mountain that resided in the Famine Lord's famed Occulori. Engraved with the darkest sorceries of Pzob, the viral shard gifted the Plague Priest with an unearthly endurance, tapping into the same diseased currents of the darkside as the Sith Virologist currently besieging the worlds of Mandalore. "Tickles." Hissed Skrolk, giggling maniacally as he applied renewed strength to his maggot weeping mace and swept it down towards the side of Khubris' knees, allowing gravity to make up for the fact that he couldn't build up speed for a more powerful stroke this close to his foe.
Already the massive pyramid shaped mobile construct hovering over the storm encircled city of Mos Eisley was begin to suffer mechanical failure, listing on one side towards the ground, its huge armoured bottom smashing through the tallest structures in the city as though they were made of sand. Orange fiery flares erupted across the hull as escape pods jettisoned away, striking the city and surrounding area more like projected artillery at that close range to the ground, causing some of the pods to blow apart as they made contact with the surface. The luckier ones were slowed by the inhabited homes that made up much of the capital, coming to a safe arrest in the totaled basement of a former home, now reduced to rubble. The more desperate lifeforms aboard the ship flung themselves out airlocks and hangar bays, risking a hard three to four story plummet rather than remaining aboard when the star pyramid inevitably smashed into the ground. Even this was met with sharp resistance. Winged repto-avians swarmed in through these openings, making the bays more perilous than usual. Some of the smarter cultists rallied behind Sithspawn goaded up from the beast pens further in, using these mutant monstrosities as siege weapons to tear through the pests, others using their bulk as a shield from the blowing sands blowing into through the open hangar doors.
Elsewhere... We're coming back around for another shot at that dragon! Said the lead pilot over the static laced channel, leading them in a follow up attack. Circling back around was by no means easy, the storm was arguably the bigger threat than the dragon, but these men were compelled by a more immediate fear. Neither man wanted to end up as Krell's new manflesh cape. Banking around the last corner, the lead Star Wing plunged into a strange pink glittering cloud, obscuring his view from the cockpit and working its way past the seals. The pilot let out a cough as he took in a deep lungful of spice smoke, his pupils enlarging to encompass his entire eye, his pleasure centers exploding in ecstasy. His worries and fears faded away even as the engine intakes choked on smoke and the snubfighter veered towards the ground, exploding seconds later as it struck a Mos Eisley cantina. The second Star Wing carrying Krell on its back was suffering the same symptoms as it plunged into the pink sparkling cloud. Seeing the nose of the starfighter dip, Krell stepped forwards carefully and drove a spiked gauntlet down through the transparisteel canopy, punching a hole straight through it to take hold of the controls and pull back on the steering yoke. As the snubfighter angled towards the hole in the Maw's side, a massive boney tail swept out and smashed the Star Wing apart, scattering it flaming metal fragments across the side of the hull.
Yet as the dragon's tail rose back up and disappeared into the hole in the dreadnought's side, a nightmarish metallic figure might have been spotted by a keen eye, clinging to spikes sticking out of its end.
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Post by Pharaoh Khubris on Oct 11, 2024 20:55:58 GMT -8
Khubris had hoped one shot might hit, but it was most pleased when all three found their mark. However, that pleasure soon died as the bullets did not explode as was intended. He could feel the wave of sickness rolling off the Ranat, but he did not believe it would have been strong enough to defeat baradium rounds. No matter, Khubris thought, there was more than one way of exploding a rat. He slipped the Khopesh free of the mace and managed to barely step around the mace as it came sweeping down towards his knees. A stream of high speed sand branched off and into the bridge, aiming for Skrolks centre of mass to distract the Ranat Lord as Khubris pushed backward. He put some distance between himself and the vermin's rotting corpse before unleashing another series of three shots, this time aimed toward the floor near Skrolks feet. His body might be able to render the rounds inert if they entered it, but nothing could be done for those that missed the Ranat Verminlord.
The Lord of the Sands paid no mind to what was happening behind him as the massive Greater Krayt Dragon plunged through armoured decks and internal systems. Its massive claws gripped and tore everything apart with equal strength, exposing sealed areas to unsealed areas. A casual observer might have compared it to as if the dragon was swimming through a sea of metal and machinery. A new hole would burst forth from the Pyramids opposite side, followed by debris being flung out as The Lord of the Sands dipped and dived back into the massive ship.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,406
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
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Post by Dragus on Oct 12, 2024 13:07:07 GMT -8
After a few minutes of the Lord of the Sands rampage through the mechanical guts of the massive star pyramid known as the Maw, the hovering city sized dreadnought didn't have enough intact parts to keep it airborne, and so it dropped towards the ground. Its eastern most facing corner came down first as its repulsor banks failed before the others, striking the sand covered road cutting through Mos Eisley before burying itself in the dirt as the rest of the falling warships weight came down behind it. Buildings and long standing structures were pulverized by its passage, which despite the short distance of its fall, the large surface area of the flagship made it all the more devastating. A tidal wave of debris scattered in all directions, burying many of the recently impacted escape pods in sand and rubble, plowing over anything in its way. Smoke belched from the hull from a hundred different wounds gouged from the inside out, pouring into the sky where it was sucked up into the sand storm, blotting out all visibility in a choking veil of grit, spice, and carcinogens. Anything living inside the sorcerous ecosystem of the crashed ship fought to free itself from its burning remains. Two head battle hydras and sword fanged drexls took to the sky alongside cawing uvaks and fire belching Roon Dragons. Chrysalide Rancor, Terentatek, and cybernetically enhanced Roggwart stalked through the streets after leaping to safety, smashing through roofs and running a muck through the chaos of the storm. It was as though in the breaking of the Pater Mutatis' mobile alchemy lab and bestiary, a portal into the mind of the malevolent Master of the Alchemical Arts had been opened, spilling a tide of sinisterly inspired Sithspawn into the streets of Mos Eisley. Beasts at heart, the menageries spread to all corners of the besieged city as they sought to escape the Greater Dust Drake, currently glutting itself on the Maw's bleeding innards.
No more than a prickly parasite to the massive Sand Wyrm, Krell's journey from its tail towards its neck went largely unnoticed, especially as it swam through durasteel bulkheads, scraping the former tomb guard of Freedon Nadd's armour against everything it past on the way. A lesser servant of the Famine Lord might have succumbed to injury or the weakness of the flesh, but not the nightmare knight, whose spiked gauntlets never faltered as his bulky armoured form crawled hand over hand towards the beasts head. Inured to pain and driven by a relentless need to fulfil his oath, the spectral knight inevitably reached the base of the Great Krayt's neck, just as the creature emerged into the open space around the warships power core. The bright lights briefly held the creature's attention, allowing Krell to spring into action. He reached a powerful metal arm behind his back and grasped the handle of Morkai, causing blue arcane flames to engulf the greatsword before it even cleared the possessed warbot's drexl scale scabbard, as the sorcery imbued into the ancient relic of Pzob was awoken by its current owner's mere touch. Rising to stand, Krell took the ensorcelled blade into a two handed grip, holding it out across his body, wreathing his sith iron armour in unnatural light. "Be with the Eye, Wyrm!" Snarled Krell in a spectral whisper while the beast was distracted by the main reactors flickered lights. The champion of Famine chose that moment to leap off its back, where the Krayt's neck met its shoulders, spinning in the air as he dropped down past the giant dragon's chest. Trailing a tail of blue etheric fire, Krell raked the cold crystal ostrine edge of Morkai across the Sand Wyrm's scales as he plunged towards its clawed feet.
"Oh ho ho!" Croaked an impressed Skrolk as the Pharos sand spared him from having his desiccated knee caps obliterated by the Plaguemaker. The Plague Priest coughed up maggots as he chuckled in deranged merriment, enjoying the dance of death fought between himself and this rival warlord. If this Pharaoh Khubris was auditioning for the Famine Lord's cabal, he was certainly putting on a good show, but Skrolk wasn't about to be shown up by some resurrected upstart too stubborn to stay buried beneath the sand. Continuing to swing his massive maggot spewing maul, he gradually increased its momentum until it became a wrecking ball in the Vermin Lord's pustule covered paws, rattling the durasteel deck plates rusting beneath his filthy feet as he came at his foe with renewed verminous vigor. His charge was arrested as the floor beneath them began to tilt on an angle, followed by a large rumble as the Maw crashed into the city, causing Skrolk to loose his balance and stumble up on his toes as Khubris fired his baradium rounds into the deck. The Iron Law blasted holes through the rotting floor that flung rusted shrapnel towards the bloated rodent, shredding the diseased meat of his legs and slicing open the bottom of his belly, causing several coils of pestilent intestine to spill out of the hole. Only the deck didn't stop there, as the room continued to turn upside down as the crashed star pyramid's impacted corner hit bedrock and caused the whole structure to teeter up on that one balancing point.
As gravity turned the far right wall into the new floor, Skrolk thought fast, removing one virulent paw from his mace and plunging it into his disembowelled belly. Grabbing hold of his intestines, the Vermin Lord gathered up a few coils of slack and then twirled the length of digestive tract above his fly shrouded head like a lasso with his left paw, releasing it at just the right moment to snag a door security panel on the far left wall, which was now the new ceiling. "Yippie!" Snorted Skrolk, swinging by his intestines across the room, dragging the maggoty mace held in his right paw through the air as he flew towards Khubris.
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