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Dimensional Clash IX [OOC]  XML
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Zandoo


Civilized Sporeon

Joined: 07/20/2009 08:31:39
Messages: 4545
Location:
I don't know.

Offline

Username: Zandoo

Name: Emma "Emmo" Brock

Sex (if any): Female

Height (you can approximate): 5'6"

Weight (you can approximate): 119 lbs.

Description/Picture:
Only visual representation of Emmo. She has arms and all, but Zandoo cannot draw women.

Universe: Rimworld Clash/ Jawlord's wet dreams

Abilities: Emmo is a brilliant doctor capable of the most complicated of neural operations. She has mastered the art of lobotomy, able to remove almost all of the brain while still keeping the subject alive (albeit a walking zombie useful for mopping the floors) through both her Glitterworld education and her own experience through experiments. Neural operations being her specialty, a Glitterworld degree will have also granted her skill in many other medical fields.

She is also a seasoned manipulator, having toyed with entire armies of pirates for reasons unknown. While genuinely unskilled with weaponry, she rarely lets on her capabilities outside her medical expertise, and often appears as frail and helpless.

Less notable is her passion for cooking and art.

Bio: Born and raised on a Glitterworld, a type of planet often referred to as a technologically advanced utopia, Emmo had everything going for her to be a perfect human being with a moral compass to match, albeit with a small superiority complex.

Unfortunately, during a vacation to an urbworld gone wrong, Emmo experienced a traumatic event that changed her forever. While able to put up a good act, Emmo has absolutely no concern for others. She was able to make friends, sure, and felt sad if one of them died, but she was sad because she lost a friend, not actually because the friend themselves died.

On top of that, Emmo went down a dark path after getting her medical degree, a path that led to Glitterworld law enforcement obtaining a warrant for her arrest. Sick of the regulations and overbearing presence of the Glitterworld's government anyhow, Emmo used this as an opportunity to hijack a spaceship and leave to an environment where she could toy with bothe the brains and minds of others as she pleased without higher repercussion.

She landed on a frontier world at the rim of known space, where she would manipulate the wide array of factions, both good and evil, for the heck of it. All the while she was able to perform her sick experiments in the homes of those who were willing to take her in, often leaving no survivors either because she lobotomized them all, or because pirates tracked her down and killed those that dared to harbor Emmo.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Then the world blew up. The end.

EropsToad wrote:wups
DarkLord979 wrote:Ok... take my five stars...
Jawlord


Civilized Sporeon

Joined: 01/14/2012 19:29:43
Messages: 1746
Location:
I don't even know and even if I did I wouldn't tell you

Offline

Zandoo wrote: Username: Zandoo

Name: Emma "Emmo" Brock

Sex (if any): Female

Height (you can approximate): 5'6"

Weight (you can approximate): 119 lbs.

Description/Picture:
Only visual representation of Emmo. She has arms and all, but Zandoo cannot draw women.

Universe: Rimworld Clash/ Jawlord's wet dreams

Abilities: Emmo is a brilliant doctor capable of the most complicated of neural operations. She has mastered the art of lobotomy, able to remove almost all of the brain while still keeping the subject alive (albeit a walking zombie useful for mopping the floors) through both her Glitterworld education and her own experience through experiments. Neural operations being her specialty, a Glitterworld degree will have also granted her skill in many other medical fields.

She is also a seasoned manipulator, having toyed with entire armies of pirates for reasons unknown. While genuinely unskilled with weaponry, she rarely lets on her capabilities outside her medical expertise, and often appears as frail and helpless.

Less notable is her passion for cooking and art.

Bio: Born and raised on a Glitterworld, a type of planet often referred to as a technologically advanced utopia, Emmo had everything going for her to be a perfect human being with a moral compass to match, albeit with a small superiority complex.

Unfortunately, during a vacation to an urbworld gone wrong, Emmo experienced a traumatic event that changed her forever. While able to put up a good act, Emmo has absolutely no concern for others. She was able to make friends, sure, and felt sad if one of them died, but she was sad because she lost a friend, not actually because the friend themselves died.

On top of that, Emmo went down a dark path after getting her medical degree, a path that led to Glitterworld law enforcement obtaining a warrant for her arrest. Sick of the regulations and overbearing presence of the Glitterworld's government anyhow, Emmo used this as an opportunity to hijack a spaceship and leave to an environment where she could toy with bothe the brains and minds of others as she pleased without higher repercussion.

She landed on a frontier world at the rim of known space, where she would manipulate the wide array of factions, both good and evil, for the heck of it. All the while she was able to perform her sick experiments in the homes of those who were willing to take her in, often leaving no survivors either because she lobotomized them all, or because pirates tracked her down and killed those that dared to harbor Emmo.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil




I choose to choose my version of reality,whether or not It makes sense is of no consequence.
AetheticMonkey


Multicellular

Joined: 06/06/2017 05:04:25
Messages: 101
Offline

Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Ornn

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 30ft

Weight (you can approximate): Incalculable

Description/Picture:

Universe: LoL

Abilities: Ornn is a demi-god, practically immortal and un-slayable, for he will eventually return to physical form. As a demi-god, Ornn has control over the principle aspect of fire and lava, and is able to call upon the latter with much more precision than the former. Ornn is an expert craftsman, and can forge and improve items even further than their original, powerful incarnations.

He also posses immense strength, capable of shattering a volcanic pillar by merely running into it.

Bio: Ornn is the Freljordian demi-god of forging and craftsmanship. He works in the solitude of a massive smithy, hammered out from the lava caverns beneath the volcano Hearth-Home. There he stokes bubbling cauldrons of molten rock to purify ores and fashion items of unsurpassed quality. When other deities—especially Volibear—walk the earth and meddle in mortal affairs, Ornn arises to put these impetuous beings back in their place, either with his trusty hammer or the fiery power of the mountains themselves

Alignment: Lawful Good

Link: http://leagueoflegends.wikia.com/wiki/Ornn

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 09/10/2017 17:13:13

AetheticMonkey


Multicellular

Joined: 06/06/2017 05:04:25
Messages: 101
Offline

Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Clan Mors

Size of group: 100,000+ Slave/Clanrats, 10,000 "elite" Skaven machinery, stormvermin, and monstrous units.

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer Fantasy

Abilities/Equipment: Slave Rats - Although not official considered a part of the army, the Slaverats of many clans still play an important and vital role during the heat of battle. Their main purpose in the battlefield is to swarm head-long against the front of the enemy army, tiring or absorbing much of the fighting while the more proper soldiers of the clan rush in afterwards to support them. They would also do menial task when not in the battlefield, which includes labour, mining, tunneling, or even, in dire times, becoming a reserve food supply for the Skaven army.

Clanrats - Clanrats formed the bulk of most Skaven armies. These warriors would naturally be considered nothing more then Skaven who have risen up to aid their clan during times of war. These troops are usually very lightly armoured, using a variety of weapons and armor scavenged or looted from many areas they have previously raided for goods and weapons.

Stormvermin - These powerful Skaven warriors have been raised from infancy to be the most deadly killers and soldiers in the entire Skaven horde. Stormvermins would naturally be black-furred Skavens, the fur indicating them as the perfect warriors in their society. They would also be naturally heavily armored, given the best food and gear available to them, and living much more luxurious lives then the ordinary Clanrat. These troops are only commited into the front when the battle is turning bad for the Skaven, and the need for more hardened warriors are required to ensure victory.

Plague Monks - the most common infantry fielded by Clan Pestilen, these group of fanatics are utterly dedicated to spread their corruption within the enemy ranks. When they are near the enemy, the Monks will go on a fanatical frenzy, killing their enemy with rusted swords and iron-tipped staff's to infect those they hurt with unimaginable diseases. Due to their diseased bulk, Plague Monks can survive injuries that would normally kill an ordinary Skaven.

Plague Censer-Bearers - A plague censer is a hollow spiked metal ball attached to a lenghty chain meant to be used as a weapon by the Plague Censers. Within the hollow spike, are lethal doses of warpstone and vile contagions that releases a foul greenish cloud that will cause flesh to erupt into sores and fluid-filled blisters. The Censer-Bearers are fanatical in combat, never faltering or retreating, they continue on their murderous rampage until each and everyone one of them are cut down.

Night Runners - The Night Runners are considered the rank and file soldiers of Clan Eshin. Lightly armed and armoured so as to take advantage of their tremendous speed and agility, the Night Runners excel at flanking manoeuvres and lightning-fast attacks. They cannot stand long against heavily-armed or armoured opponents, and are best kept in a reserve role unless no other course is available. Despite their limitations, they are often thrown into the fray as necessary, their lives sacrificed en masse.

Gutter Runners - Gutter Runners are nimble and quick; they would have to be to have survived their apprenticeship in the ranks of Clan Eshin’s Night Runners. They are elite skirmishers and scouts, second only to Eshin’s Assassins in the art of stealth and speed. Their attacks are quick and effective, frustrating their enemies as the Gutter Runners appear, attack, and vanish just as quickly in a flash of smoke or a splash of shadow.
Packmaster - Packmasters are the trainers and handlers of Clan Moulder's various warbeast and hulking monstrosities. These specially trained Skaven are experts at goading their charges - ferocious, half-mad creatures who can turn and attack with no warning. For this reason, Packmasters are themselves cagey and fierce warriors or, if they are not, they quickly end up as another meal for their merciless packs. It is common practice for Clan Moulder to sell both beast packs and Packmaster handlers to the highest bidder.
Poisoned-Wind Globadiers - Similar in appearance to Warlock-Engineers, and in some cases Engineers themselves, these Globadiers are one of the newest in Clan Skryre biological weaponry. Using the deadly Poisoned Wind globe, these ratmen are trained to throws these vile glass orb at the thickest of fightings, using the poisoned fumes to its fullest effect.

Warplock Jezzails - When the need for a more precise shot is required by its Paw-leader, most clans would employ the use of the deadly jezzail team to pick off key individuals within an army. Jezzails are a two skaven team of highly trained snipers employed for the use of assassinating important targets from an extremely long distance. Their rifles, called Jezzails, has the longest range of any other rifle in the Old World, due in most part cause of the dangerous use of warpstone bullets as the main source of ammunitions.
Weapons Team - Clan Skyres make use of specialized groups of Skaven Engineers to handle and deploy weaponry in to the front. These Weapons Team will naturally be attached to other blocks of Infantry to provide Clanrats with much needed firepower.

Warpfire Thrower - One of the deadliest hand-held weaponry in Clan Skryre's arsenal, this weapons team has within their possession an extremely potent and dangerous piece of machinery. The Warpfire-Thrower is a very crude hand-held flamethrower, that showers their foes within a whirlwind of greenish flame, fuelled and fed by warpstone substances.

Ratling Gun - A multi-barrled whirling death-dealing machine known as the Ratling Gun is one of Clan skryre's newest of inventions. So successful and deadly this piece of machinery is to the other Warlord clans that Clan skryre will always run out of Ratling Gun long before they run out of customers to sell them to.
Poisoned-Wind Mortar - A form of mobile light-artillery, instead of hand-throwing the Poisoned Wind globe at the enemy, a projectile launcher strapped to the back of another Gobladier fires the globe while another Globadier loads the ammunition in. The mortar will lob the globe at a longer distance than any Globadier could, giving the weapons team both range and mobility needed to support the troops.

Warp-Grinder - A smaller variant of a similar machine, the larger machinery of this weapon was meant to carve large tunnels within the earth with relative ease, meant to allow passages for whole armies of troops to move with speed through the underground tunnels of the world. Although those machines were larger than the biggest Empire warships, the smaller version acts as a more portable and hand-held one, used for the same purpose, but also as a weapons platform to be used against infantry. Similar also is the need for a two-skaven team to operate; one to hold the ammunition and another to aim the shot.

Warbeasts:

Giant Rats - The most common and cheapest Clan Moulder has to offer, these creatures might at a distance look like normal rats, but on closer expections they have a variety of mutations, a staple of Clan Moulders expertise. Long ago, these Master-Moulders have long unlocked the secrets of breeding, mutating and sergically augment the common rat into a fearsome beast. Standing bigger then the average dog, these rats have a variety of features that only increase the effectiveness in combat, such things includes extra heads, over-sized incisors or claws, spiked tails, and even strong boney plate armour. The far more mutated ones have even exposed ribs, massive boils, and even skinless flesh.

Rat Ogre - The most infamous of Clan Moulders many creations, these beast are one of the largest and most fearsome of their creations within their desposal. Larger then any human, these beast stand taller then two man, and has enough strenght and muscle to fight a whole company of soldiers. The ordinary Rat Ogre is a Skaven to a human, as an Rat Ogre is to a Ogre. Rat Ogres are usually covered with stiches, as many times their Clan Moulder masters has added "modifications" to their already formidable bulk, either adding large saw-like blades, weapon attachments, and even an extra arm to those few Skaven Warlords willing to pay a few extra warp-tokens.

Hell-Pit Abomination - The greatest creation Clan Moulder has ever created, this monstrosity towers any creation Clan Moulder has ever made in their long diabolic history. A massive beast, standing taller then 8 men, and many many times stronger, this engine of destruction is unstoppable in the battlefield, with many not even having the courage to even look at the hideous sight.

Artillery:

Plague-Claw Catapult - For many years, the Clan has worked day and night to make the most perfect disease that will rid the world of all surface dwellers, and the eventual conquest of the Skaven cause. While still failing as of yet, in their contigon, the by-product that was created during the brewing process has proven valuable as a use of war.

Warp-Lightning Cannon - The warp-lightning cannon is the very pinnacle of Skaven ingenuity, a marvel of both magical and scientific engineering, this machine has the power to fire a very concentrate blast of pure warp-lightning at the very heart of an army, so powerful and so potent, that not even castle walls could hold against such an onslaught. When fired, the lightning would arc earthwards unto its victim, and erupt into a cloud of warp-lightning upon impact. The shot flash is to quick to follow, so only its vapour trail could trace the trajectory of the shot.

Warmachines:

Screaming Bell - Of all the diabolical wonder weapons of the Skaven, none is as notorious as the altars known as the Screaming Bell. It is from these unholy altars that the Grey Seers preach their plans of total domination in the name of the Great Horned Rat. With magical invocations, the bells can suck the courage out of the enemy in a single, deafening bell-toll.

Plague Furnaces - The Plague Furnace is a diseased-ridden altar to the Great Horned Rat and an unholy Icon of the Clans power. The Furnace is pushed into battle by chanting Plague Monks, the creaking of the iron-shob wheels audible above the drone of devotional maledictions.

Doomwheel - At first sight, the Doomwheel may look less menacing and even comical compared to the other war-machines of the Skavens, but those that have faced one in battle knew full well of its prowness. The design of the machine is so simple and yet so complex, so utterly Skaven in its inception that its well beyond the understanding of even the top minds of the School of Engineers.

Lords:

Verminlords - Verminlords are living icons of ruin; towering figures possessed of raw power and feral savagery. As avatars of the Horned Rat they can call upon fell energies, manipulating the weak-willed into doing almost anything they will.

Skaven Warlord - To hold the title of Warlord is to rule supreme. In battle these brutal, back-stabbing commanders will do anything for victory, leading from the back, a nice s

Grey Seer - The Grey Seers are powerful sorcerers, capable of channelling eldritch energies in destructive ways - levelling armies with lightning, or summoning ravening swarms of rats. As chief agents for the Horned Rat, Grey Seers wield tremendous influence amongst the Warlord clans, and only a fool would ignore their council.

Heroes:

Warlock-Engineers - the notorious Engineers of Clan Skyre are among the greatest minds in the entire Under-Empire. These tinker-rats are the artificers of Skaven society, blending arcane sorceries with mad science technology in the creation of one of the deadliest machines ever invented in the world. When not manning War-machines or watching over a weapons team, the ordinary Warlock-Engineer would naturally have the power to channel and cast magic in the traditional way as other races.

Plague Priests - The rank of a Plague Priest is the highest obtainable rank within the clan, the ones higher then them are the Plague Lords, the most senior of the Plague Priest. A Plague Priest is a Skaven who has a deep understanding of the foul magic their clan has harnessed over the ages, and as such, are capable magicians who can vomit geyers of lethal substances, or curse their foes from afar making them erupt in putrid boils.

Eshin Assassins - Eshin Assasins are capable of infiltrating virtually any fortress and eliminating any enemy. The Council of Thirteen regularly uses them to eliminate rebellious Warlords and disloyal Grey Seers. Their services are also sold to whoever may afford the price demanded by Clan Eshin. They are also capable of committing sabotage, like burning ships or houses, poisoning wells and/or food supplies. Operating mostly alone, they are also capable of concealing themselves inside a regular Skaven infantry unit to better slay an enemy champion amidst the confusion of battle.

History: Clan Mors is one of the most powerful of the Warlord Clans, ruled by the equally ruthless Lord Gnawdwell. Due to recent victories and prodigious expansion, Clan Mors is very near to matching Clans Eshin, Pestilens, Moulder, and even Skryre in sheer power and influence. Together, the four Great Clans might easily crush Mors, much as they have destroyed other upstart clans in the past. Yet Mors continues to flaunt its power, and none are certain why the Great Clans have failed to act as they are expected to.

The Skaven of Mors are uncharacteristically united as one, and exhibit a loyalty to their leaders unheard of in Skaven society. Even those Skaven who have been conscripted into Mors from less fortunate clans are soon heard voicing praises to Gnawdwell and his staff. None are certain if this loyalty is a result of sorcery most foul, as of yet undiscovered drugs, or the product of something else that has yet to be discovered.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Clan_Mors


Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Clan Pestilens

Size of group: 100,000 Slave/Clanrats. 10,000 warmachines/beasts/elites

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer Fantasy

Abilities/Equipment:Slave Rats - Although not official considered a part of the army, the Slaverats of many clans still play an important and vital role during the heat of battle. Their main purpose in the battlefield is to swarm head-long against the front of the enemy army, tiring or absorbing much of the fighting while the more proper soldiers of the clan rush in afterwards to support them. They would also do menial task when not in the battlefield, which includes labour, mining, tunneling, or even, in dire times, becoming a reserve food supply for the Skaven army.

Clanrats - Clanrats formed the bulk of most Skaven armies. These warriors would naturally be considered nothing more then Skaven who have risen up to aid their clan during times of war. These troops are usually very lightly armoured, using a variety of weapons and armor scavenged or looted from many areas they have previously raided for goods and weapons.

Stormvermin - These powerful Skaven warriors have been raised from infancy to be the most deadly killers and soldiers in the entire Skaven horde. Stormvermins would naturally be black-furred Skavens, the fur indicating them as the perfect warriors in their society. They would also be naturally heavily armored, given the best food and gear available to them, and living much more luxurious lives then the ordinary Clanrat. These troops are only commited into the front when the battle is turning bad for the Skaven, and the need for more hardened warriors are required to ensure victory.

Plague Monks - the most common infantry fielded by Clan Pestilen, these group of fanatics are utterly dedicated to spread their corruption within the enemy ranks. When they are near the enemy, the Monks will go on a fanatical frenzy, killing their enemy with rusted swords and iron-tipped staff's to infect those they hurt with unimaginable diseases. Due to their diseased bulk, Plague Monks can survive injuries that would normally kill an ordinary Skaven.

Plague Censer-Bearers - A plague censer is a hollow spiked metal ball attached to a lenghty chain meant to be used as a weapon by the Plague Censers. Within the hollow spike, are lethal doses of warpstone and vile contagions that releases a foul greenish cloud that will cause flesh to erupt into sores and fluid-filled blisters. The Censer-Bearers are fanatical in combat, never faltering or retreating, they continue on their murderous rampage until each and everyone one of them are cut down.

Night Runners - The Night Runners are considered the rank and file soldiers of Clan Eshin. Lightly armed and armoured so as to take advantage of their tremendous speed and agility, the Night Runners excel at flanking manoeuvres and lightning-fast attacks. They cannot stand long against heavily-armed or armoured opponents, and are best kept in a reserve role unless no other course is available. Despite their limitations, they are often thrown into the fray as necessary, their lives sacrificed en masse.

Gutter Runners - Gutter Runners are nimble and quick; they would have to be to have survived their apprenticeship in the ranks of Clan Eshin’s Night Runners. They are elite skirmishers and scouts, second only to Eshin’s Assassins in the art of stealth and speed. Their attacks are quick and effective, frustrating their enemies as the Gutter Runners appear, attack, and vanish just as quickly in a flash of smoke or a splash of shadow.
Packmaster - Packmasters are the trainers and handlers of Clan Moulder's various warbeast and hulking monstrosities. These specially trained Skaven are experts at goading their charges - ferocious, half-mad creatures who can turn and attack with no warning. For this reason, Packmasters are themselves cagey and fierce warriors or, if they are not, they quickly end up as another meal for their merciless packs. It is common practice for Clan Moulder to sell both beast packs and Packmaster handlers to the highest bidder.
Poisoned-Wind Globadiers - Similar in appearance to Warlock-Engineers, and in some cases Engineers themselves, these Globadiers are one of the newest in Clan Skryre biological weaponry. Using the deadly Poisoned Wind globe, these ratmen are trained to throws these vile glass orb at the thickest of fightings, using the poisoned fumes to its fullest effect.

Warplock Jezzails - When the need for a more precise shot is required by its Paw-leader, most clans would employ the use of the deadly jezzail team to pick off key individuals within an army. Jezzails are a two skaven team of highly trained snipers employed for the use of assassinating important targets from an extremely long distance. Their rifles, called Jezzails, has the longest range of any other rifle in the Old World, due in most part cause of the dangerous use of warpstone bullets as the main source of ammunitions.
Weapons Team - Clan Skyres make use of specialized groups of Skaven Engineers to handle and deploy weaponry in to the front. These Weapons Team will naturally be attached to other blocks of Infantry to provide Clanrats with much needed firepower.

Warpfire Thrower - One of the deadliest hand-held weaponry in Clan Skryre's arsenal, this weapons team has within their possession an extremely potent and dangerous piece of machinery. The Warpfire-Thrower is a very crude hand-held flamethrower, that showers their foes within a whirlwind of greenish flame, fuelled and fed by warpstone substances.

Ratling Gun - A multi-barrled whirling death-dealing machine known as the Ratling Gun is one of Clan skryre's newest of inventions. So successful and deadly this piece of machinery is to the other Warlord clans that Clan skryre will always run out of Ratling Gun long before they run out of customers to sell them to.
Poisoned-Wind Mortar - A form of mobile light-artillery, instead of hand-throwing the Poisoned Wind globe at the enemy, a projectile launcher strapped to the back of another Gobladier fires the globe while another Globadier loads the ammunition in. The mortar will lob the globe at a longer distance than any Globadier could, giving the weapons team both range and mobility needed to support the troops.

Warp-Grinder - A smaller variant of a similar machine, the larger machinery of this weapon was meant to carve large tunnels within the earth with relative ease, meant to allow passages for whole armies of troops to move with speed through the underground tunnels of the world. Although those machines were larger than the biggest Empire warships, the smaller version acts as a more portable and hand-held one, used for the same purpose, but also as a weapons platform to be used against infantry. Similar also is the need for a two-skaven team to operate; one to hold the ammunition and another to aim the shot.

Warbeasts:

Giant Rats - The most common and cheapest Clan Moulder has to offer, these creatures might at a distance look like normal rats, but on closer expections they have a variety of mutations, a staple of Clan Moulders expertise. Long ago, these Master-Moulders have long unlocked the secrets of breeding, mutating and sergically augment the common rat into a fearsome beast. Standing bigger then the average dog, these rats have a variety of features that only increase the effectiveness in combat, such things includes extra heads, over-sized incisors or claws, spiked tails, and even strong boney plate armour. The far more mutated ones have even exposed ribs, massive boils, and even skinless flesh.

Rat Ogre - The most infamous of Clan Moulders many creations, these beast are one of the largest and most fearsome of their creations within their desposal. Larger then any human, these beast stand taller then two man, and has enough strenght and muscle to fight a whole company of soldiers. The ordinary Rat Ogre is a Skaven to a human, as an Rat Ogre is to a Ogre. Rat Ogres are usually covered with stiches, as many times their Clan Moulder masters has added "modifications" to their already formidable bulk, either adding large saw-like blades, weapon attachments, and even an extra arm to those few Skaven Warlords willing to pay a few extra warp-tokens.

Hell-Pit Abomination - The greatest creation Clan Moulder has ever created, this monstrosity towers any creation Clan Moulder has ever made in their long diabolic history. A massive beast, standing taller then 8 men, and many many times stronger, this engine of destruction is unstoppable in the battlefield, with many not even having the courage to even look at the hideous sight.

Artillery:

Plague-Claw Catapult - For many years, the Clan has worked day and night to make the most perfect disease that will rid the world of all surface dwellers, and the eventual conquest of the Skaven cause. While still failing as of yet, in their contigon, the by-product that was created during the brewing process has proven valuable as a use of war.

Warp-Lightning Cannon - The warp-lightning cannon is the very pinnacle of Skaven ingenuity, a marvel of both magical and scientific engineering, this machine has the power to fire a very concentrate blast of pure warp-lightning at the very heart of an army, so powerful and so potent, that not even castle walls could hold against such an onslaught. When fired, the lightning would arc earthwards unto its victim, and erupt into a cloud of warp-lightning upon impact. The shot flash is to quick to follow, so only its vapour trail could trace the trajectory of the shot.

Warmachines:

Screaming Bell - Of all the diabolical wonder weapons of the Skaven, none is as notorious as the altars known as the Screaming Bell. It is from these unholy altars that the Grey Seers preach their plans of total domination in the name of the Great Horned Rat. With magical invocations, the bells can suck the courage out of the enemy in a single, deafening bell-toll.

Plague Furnaces - The Plague Furnace is a diseased-ridden altar to the Great Horned Rat and an unholy Icon of the Clans power. The Furnace is pushed into battle by chanting Plague Monks, the creaking of the iron-shob wheels audible above the drone of devotional maledictions.

Doomwheel - At first sight, the Doomwheel may look less menacing and even comical compared to the other war-machines of the Skavens, but those that have faced one in battle knew full well of its prowness. The design of the machine is so simple and yet so complex, so utterly Skaven in its inception that its well beyond the understanding of even the top minds of the School of Engineers.

Lords:

Verminlords - Verminlords are living icons of ruin; towering figures possessed of raw power and feral savagery. As avatars of the Horned Rat they can call upon fell energies, manipulating the weak-willed into doing almost anything they will.

Skaven Warlord - To hold the title of Warlord is to rule supreme. In battle these brutal, back-stabbing commanders will do anything for victory, leading from the back, a nice s

Grey Seer - The Grey Seers are powerful sorcerers, capable of channelling eldritch energies in destructive ways - levelling armies with lightning, or summoning ravening swarms of rats. As chief agents for the Horned Rat, Grey Seers wield tremendous influence amongst the Warlord clans, and only a fool would ignore their council.

Heroes:

Warlock-Engineers - the notorious Engineers of Clan Skyre are among the greatest minds in the entire Under-Empire. These tinker-rats are the artificers of Skaven society, blending arcane sorceries with mad science technology in the creation of one of the deadliest machines ever invented in the world. When not manning War-machines or watching over a weapons team, the ordinary Warlock-Engineer would naturally have the power to channel and cast magic in the traditional way as other races.

Plague Priests - The rank of a Plague Priest is the highest obtainable rank within the clan, the ones higher then them are the Plague Lords, the most senior of the Plague Priest. A Plague Priest is a Skaven who has a deep understanding of the foul magic their clan has harnessed over the ages, and as such, are capable magicians who can vomit geyers of lethal substances, or curse their foes from afar making them erupt in putrid boils.

Eshin Assassins - Eshin Assasins are capable of infiltrating virtually any fortress and eliminating any enemy. The Council of Thirteen regularly uses them to eliminate rebellious Warlords and disloyal Grey Seers. Their services are also sold to whoever may afford the price demanded by Clan Eshin. They are also capable of committing sabotage, like burning ships or houses, poisoning wells and/or food supplies. Operating mostly alone, they are also capable of concealing themselves inside a regular Skaven infantry unit to better slay an enemy champion amidst the confusion of battle.


History: The plague-ridden monks of Clan Pestilens emerged from the Lustrian rain forests centuries ago. Their initial contacts with the Under-Empire were less than peaceful, but after a time an accord was reached and Clan Pestilens became a productive segment of the Under-Empire. Riddled with disease and contagion, the Skaven of Clan Pestilens are devout worshippers of the Horned Rat. Though they recognize the Horned Rat’s other attributes, they focus on his ability to create, control, and spread plagues.

After the clan’s workers and captive labour are taken into account, the majority of Clan Pestilens’ military strength lies in its Plague Monks. The Plague Monks are religious zealots dedicated to the worship of the Horned Rat. Their bodies are riddled with plague, and so used are they to pain that they barely feel it any longer. Combined with their religious fervour, this resistance to pain makes the Plague Monks incredibly capable combatants, especially en masse.

The Plague Monks believe that the rest of their Skaven brothers have been misled by the Grey Seers. They feel that the average Ratman has been blinded to what they profess to be the true face of the Horned Rat; namely, pestilence itself. The clan’s overriding goal is to bring the rest of the Under-Empire into the fold, while avoiding declarations of heresy from the Grey Seers. Appeasing the Grey Seers for the time being is the only way to succeed. In time, once their victories have been secured and the rest of the Skaven clans have been won over, the Grey Seers, too, will follow their example, or die.

Like the Grey Seers, the Plague Monks, Priests, and Deacons of Clan Pestilens believe the time of the Great Ascendancy is fast approaching. Pestilens’ peculiar twist on this mythology is that the Horned Rat will only allow such a victory if the majority of the Under-Empire has converted to their form of worship. How else can one explain the failures wrought time and time again by the bumbling campaigns of the Lords of Decay.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Clan_Pestilens#Overview

Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Lord Skrolk

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 4'7

Weight (you can approximate): 80 ibs

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer Fantasy

Abilities: Lord Skrolk is a capable sorcerer and meele combatant, he wields the Lore of Decay with exceptional precision and fervor.

Rod of Corruption - The Rod of Corruption is a mighty staff with a large flail at the end. Those that are struck or are near this unholy artefact instantly decay or die by its corruption.

Rod of Corruption - The Rod of Corruption is a mighty staff with a large flail at the end. Those that are struck or are near this unholy artefact instantly decay or die by its corruption.

Bio: Lord Skrolk, is one of the most legendary disciples of decay within Clan Pestilen and one of the 9 legendary Plaguelords. That Lord Skrolk walks the world is an affront to nature and a sign of the power of the Great Horned Rat. Plants wither and die where Skrolk treads and the very air seems to congeal and darken, as if stained by his baleful presence. Skrolk is ancient, having existed many spans of even the most long-lived of his foul kind. Rather than weakening with age, Lord Skrolk is possessed with a diabolic vitality that belies the years and the heaped diseases he carries.

Indeed Skrolk is bent and gnarled by the weight of countless corruptions. The flesh that is not hidden by his tattered shroud is leathery and covered in a layer of dripping buboes. Even worse, the mysterious hunching growths promise something still more virulent. Each new pox only toughens the aged Plague Monk, who himself has become a disease that walks. Lord Skrolk is one of the Plaguelords, the rulers of Clan Pestilens under the direct command of Arch-Plaguelord Nurglitch, he-who-is-tenth on the Council. It was the sight of the radiant corruption of the Arch-Plaguelord that caused Skrolk to claw out his own eyes, as he wished to see no other vision to obscure that last glimpse of perfection. Despite empty sockets, Skrolk moves assuredly and claims a magical sight that sees in vivid hues of decay. Despite his seeming blindness Skrolk's reflexes are rather amazing.

He can catch a fly out of the air - or rather, he could if any flies were able to enter the aura that emanates from his loathsome hide. Insects literally drop dead from the noxious fumes surrounding Skrolk, and only extreme devotees can abide his presence. In battle Lord Skrolk leads from the front so he can unleash his rabid fury. He bears the Rod of Corruption, a dreadful staff of spiderwood, iron-capped with spikes and covered in writhing runes of power. Many censers hang from its chains, wafting foul vapours. Lord Skrolk occasionally carries plague scriptures with him, and on occasion will bear one of the sacred volumes of the Liber Bubonicus, the toxic tome of ultimate disease.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Lord_Skrolk


Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Queek Headtaker

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 6'5

Weight (you can approximate): 250 ibs

Description/Picture: The one on the rock

Universe: Warhammer Fantasy

Abilities:

Bio: Queek, like many Skaven before him, was born unto this world within the many Breeding Pits owned by the burly warriors of Clan Mors. Queek's litter was born large and black-furred, a sign that these Skavens shall grow up to be true killers within the violent and unstable society of their Clan. However, Queek was by-far the largest of his lot, and in time, he eventually devoured his own brothers even before he opened his eyes or fully grew out his fur. Seeing great potential within Queek, Warlord Gnawdwell personally took Queek under his wing and trained him extensively to be his new protegee. As such, Queek was given the finest luxury that can be afforded by a Skaven of such high status.

He was given the best food, the greatest arms and armor, and was hand-reared by Gnawdwell personally to become the ultimate warrior. When Queek grew to be 4 years-old, the young Skaven has arisen swiftly through the ranks and earned himself a string of victories to his name. The majority of Queek's exploits have always been in the tunnels, lairs and caves beneath the surface of the Worlds Edge Mountains. The Warlord's fame grew exponentially as word of his deeds and conquest spread across the length of the Under-Empire.

His first major exploit was his daring attacks against the Greenskin stronghold of Black Crag, where he personally slew Big Boss Morglum Blacktooth in combat. Morglum would later become Queek's first trophy amongst many others that is to follow. It is said that the severed Orc head whispered instructions on how to find "Dwarf Gouger", an ancient magical spiked-maul forged during the time of the Goblin Wars many centuries ago. At the time, Queek was still a mere Chieftain, but it was widely believed that he led the attacks that claimed the Night Goblin lairs near the ruins of Black Crag for the glory of Clan Mors. Having first pick of the spoils, Queek took Dwarf Gouger as his own signature weapon.

Queek would later lead another assault against Warlord Ikit Scratch and the traitors of Fester Spike. Demonstrating a greater degree of his otherwise inept cunning, Queek was able to trick Warlord Ikit into thinning his battle-line just as Queek personally led the spearhead straight into the heart of Fester Spike. The head of Ikit Stratch would later be placed upon another spike within Queek's growing trophy rack. Thanks to his many deeds and growing infamy, Queek would later be promoted by Lord Gnawdwell, replacing the once also legendary Sleek Sharpwit as the new Skaven Warlord of the City of Pillars. For many years afterwards, Queek fought a never-ending war of attrition against the armies of King Belegar and the hordes of Warlord Skarsnik.

Queek would later make another appearance upon the Skaven assault against the Dwarfs of Karak Angkul, where he was convinced by the deviously cunning Grey Seer Thanquol to attack the Dwarf Hold while it was left undefended. Queek and his army attacked without any major opposition until he was blocked by a newly assembled army in the next upper deeps. Queek, not taking failure so lightly, forced Thanquol to summon forth Verminlord Vecteek into this plane of existence to help him win this battle. The ritual ended in utter failure, as instead of summoning forth a Verminlord, Thanquol summoned the Bloodthirster Skarbrand instead. Even for a warrior as fearless as Queek, the Warlord could not beat such a monster, let alone even face it, and instead called it quits and hastily left the battlefield.

His latest exploits includes Queek being given command of an invasion horde of nearly a hundred-thousand strong, a force meant to destroy the great stores of powerful runic weapons within the armories of Karak Azul. Needless to say, despite the best efforts of the old and grizzled Warlord Sleek Sharpwit and the deviously pious Grey Seer Razzel, Queek's headstrong nature resulted in a disastrous defeat. et, out of the clutches of defeat, the deviously cunning Sleek Sharpwit have managed to string a series of events to his own benefit, leading Queek towards Black Crag where he hopes to instigate a war between the Orcs and the Dwarfs of Karak Azul. It was from there that Queek not only battled and survived an encounter with the legendary Gorfang Rotgut in single combat, but he also had the chance to lure the entire army of Karak Azul into a pitch battle. With the entire weapon stores of the hold given to this costly battle, Queek had achieved the mission given to him, and upon his trophy rack laid a new addition to his own collection. Knowing about his scheming, Queek sought out the old Warlord and make him pay for his manipulation. Warlord Sleek was able to, with the aid of Warpstone, fight the Headtaker to a standstill before the grizzled Warlord gave in to his tired old age. Sleek's severed head is now one of Queek's most prized possessions, so much so that Queek can still be seen talking to the old Warlord, listening to his hard-earned advice.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Queek_Headtaker


Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Grey Seer Thanquol & Boneripper

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 4'6, 15ft for Boneripper

Weight (you can approximate): 90 ibs for Thanquol, 2000+ for Boneripper

Description/Picture:



Universe: Warhammer

Abilities: Like all Grey Seers, Thanquol was given a magical Staff and a warpstone amulet as a badge of his status as Grey Seer. These artefacts of power were formerly held by his former mentor, Master Grey Seer Sleekit. Ever since his untimely death, Thanquol was given rights to his personal belongings, and thusly kept his Staff and Talisman as a kind of memoir to his masters unfortunate demise. Thanquol knows several spell from his long history spent studying the Dark Arts, which includes shooting Warp-lightning from his fingers, sending tendrils of magical energy to tear the skin and flesh of his enemies, learning how to summon the dreaded Black Hunger and the Sphere of Annihilation, and finally knowing the incantations and having enough magical power to summon even the fearsome Verminlords into battle (with the aid of the Hand of Vecteek of-course)

Warp-Amulet - An anceint amulet of power, this artifact was made from the purest Warpstone, and formerly wielded by his former mentor. Before his Masters death, Thanquol stole the amulet from him and scurried away into the darkness leaving Sleekit to his fate. Thanquol just had enough time to savour the look of disbelief on his Masters face before hundreds of tons of rock and debris fell upon his former Master. The Amulet is an ancient artifact from long long ago, during the time before the creation of the Council of Thirteen, and the reign of the first 13 Grey Lord who ruled the fledgling Under-Empire during the time of the Great Migration.

Staff of the Horned Rat - A magical staff normally issued to all Grey Seers, the staff was also the former possession of his mentor before his death. The Staff is tipped with a bronze icon of the Horned Rat, where most of his sorcererous powers manifest before being thrown towards his enemies as spells of devastating power.

Boneripper: For most of his later life, Thanquol has always been in the possession of a Rat Ogre in some shape or form. Larger then any Skaven, these beast stand taller then two man, and has enough strength and muscle to fight a whole company of soldiers by itself. His newest and most latest Rat Ogre however, is a cyborg, half Rat and half machine, with reinforced armour plating and a warp-fire thrower in his other hand. Such is the power and strength that this creature possess that very few manages to destroy it. After 20 long-years of service, Thanquol was given his 13th and final Rat-Ogre -- an albino white-furred creature with pink eyes and stubs of growing horns, with his cyborg variant who most likely died a gruesome death after serving the Grey Seer in the 20-years span between his latest contact with the duo, Gotrek and Felix.

Boneripper 1: Slain by Gotrek in Skavenslayer.
Boneripper 2: Slain by Felix in Daemonslayer after Felix threw a dwarf bomb at the creature which Boneripper accidentally swallowed.
Boneripper 3: Slain by both Snorri & Gotrek in Dragonslayer
Boneripper 4: Slain by Lord Skrolk in Grey Seer.
Boneripper 5: Slain by Deathmaster Snikch in Temple of the Serpent
Boneripper 6: Wounded by a gunpowder explosion in Temple of the Serpent and later eaten by Thanquol
Boneripper 7: Is the Re-animated body of the first Boneripper. Made possible by Clan Skyre's combined use of sorcery and machinery. Gifted to Thanquol in Thanquol's Doom. Despite suffering heavy damage the seventh Boneripper is still up and running.
Boneripper 8 - 12: Unknown
Boneripper 13: Slain by Gotrek on the deck of a Skaven submersible in Elfslayer

Bio: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Thanquol#History

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Thanquol
InfestedThunder


Multicellular

Joined: 09/09/2016 02:12:29
Messages: 491
Offline

Username: InfestedThunder

Name: SCP-973

Sex (if any): N/A

Height (you can approximate): 973-1: 14 feet long 973-2: 6'5''

Weight (you can approximate): 973-1: several tons 973-2: n/a

Description/Picture:
SCP-973 consists of two entities. SCP-973-1 is a police cruiser, resembling those used by ███████ state troopers in the early 1970s. The vehicle appears to be in an advanced state of disrepair: eyewitness accounts have consistently mentioned large dents in the doors and hood, a heavily cracked windshield, heavy rusting, and a loose rear bumper secured with duct tape.

SCP-973-2 is reported as a Caucasian male in his late forties, wearing a ███████ state trooper uniform dating from the same time period as SCP-973-1. Subject is described as balding, slightly overweight, and having a handlebar mustache.

Universe: SCP Foundation

Abilities: SCP-973 will manifest at night when another vehicle enters the designated territory, and is believed to be triggered by the target vehicle accelerating over a certain speed. This limit varies, with the average being in the area of 88.5 km/h (55 mph), but it can range anywhere between 53.3 km/h (35 mph) and 112.7 km/h (70 mph). No predictable pattern or connection between differing limits has been found as of yet.

When this limit is broken, SCP-973 will appear approximately 0.4 km behind the target vehicle and will chase down the target at high speed with the siren and flashers on. This is accompanied by a looping message played on the target’s radio, consisting of the phrase “Run, [EXPLETIVE DELETED]”. In ██% of cases, the target will flee with SCP-973 in pursuit and will be overtaken in 1-6 minutes. At this point, [DATA EXPUNGED].

The remains of thirty-four individuals and nineteen vehicles have been found within 6.4 km of the affected roadway. The range of damage done to bodies includes evisceration, rape, [DATA EXPUNGED], and three cases where the body had been damaged by the impact to the point that visual identification was impossible. Five survivors are within Foundation custody, all suffering from varying degrees of mental trauma. The recovered vehicles showcase heavy impact damage, both environmental and inflicted, and severe burn damage to the interior.

Bio: Addendum-1: Destroying the roadway affected by SCP-973 has proven ineffective. The demolition of part of State Route ██ in 1983 led to SCP-973 relocating itself to its current position.

Addendum-2: 08/██/20██ - Attempt to capture and contain SCP-973 fails, resulting in the death of nine agents. SCP-973 is believed to be wounded, but is not incapacitated, re-appearing nine days later. Firsthand accounts indicate a change in SCP-973-2's appearance, as shown in this excerpt from the post-mission interview of Agent ████████:



Addendum-3: SCP-973’s area of effect seems to be expanding, as does the window of time that manifestations occur. Security protocols have been adapted to this.

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Link: http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-973

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Username: InfestedThunder

Name: Changeling

Sex (if any): N/A

Height (you can approximate): Varies

Weight (you can approximate): Varies

Description/Picture:


Universe: Warhammer 40,000

Abilities: The Changeling has the ability to assume the shape of any creature to use for trickery, to sow mistrust and confusion, and while not in battle to play practical jokes on the unwary. The Changeling has altered so many times that even he has forgotten his original appearance. Only the God Tzeentch remembers it, and keeps it secret as a means of controlling the Changeling.

Bio: The Changeling's schemes are not limited to the mortal realm, and he has been known to play tricks on even Gods of Chaos themselves, such as cutting Slaanesh's hair as the Dark Prince slept or putting Nurglings on Khorne's throne, creating a mess the next time the Blood God sat down.[3]

Roaming the galaxy and Warp alike in search of committing both practical jokes and devastating mayhem, the Changeling has appeared on the battlefield as a mirror-image of a hero, his comrades unable to tell the difference between the two until it was too late. It was the Changeling who in the image of Lord Solar Macharius ordered the retreat on Goranna just as the real Warmaster was about to direct his forces to the front line. As a Grot, the Changeling sabotoged Warboss Gitsmasha's favorite Shoota, blowing the Warlord and his retinue to smithereens as soon as it was fired. On one occasion, the Changeling even took the shape of a Keeper of Secrets and answered the summoning of a traitorous Imperial Governor whose palace was besieged by Dark Angels. There, the Changeling traded the souls of the desperate man's daughters for a "powerful artifact" to turn the tide of the siege, but turned out to be a stolen Ravenwing teleporation beacon.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Changeling

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Username: InfestedThunder

Name: Epidemius

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 7'5''

Weight (you can approximate): 800 pounds

Description/Picture:


Universe: Warhammer 40,000

Abilities: Epidemius rides on a rotten palanquin borne aloft by Nurglings. The Nurglings also serve as his guards, and act as his assistants by secreting ink for his quill, growing parchment-like strips of skin from their backs that could then be torn free, and counting on a death's head abacus on the back of the palanquin. Unlike the constant babbling and giggles of usual Nurglings, however, these are silent, as they understand the importance of Epidemius's task, and suffer his ire whenever they break his concentration.

Even as Epidemius surveys and takes notes of the spread of filth and decay, Nurgle becomes aware of his learnings, and distills the information for future experiments and brews. For this reason, Epidemius focuses on his task even in the midst of battle, for if he were to make an error or untimely observation, Nurgle's anger would be dire indeed.

Bio: Epidemius is Nurgle's chosen Tallyman, and one of the seven Proctors of Pestilence who preside over the Plaguebearers. He is charged with cataloguing the potency of Nurgle's many diseases, and is constantly moving through both Daemon and mortal worlds, seeking out new strands of virus, fresh species of bacteria, and innovative symptoms of contagion.

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Link: http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Epidemius

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Username: InfestedThunder

Name: Kairos, Vizir of Tzeench

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 30 feet tall

Weight (you can approximate): 1.5 tons

Description/Picture:


Universe: Warhammer 40,000

Abilities: Kairos is able to see into the future, rambling on about future events from both heads. However, if asked a question, one will speak the truth, but the other will speak a falsity which is just as convinicing as the truth. If sent into battle, he is the Fateweaver, and is nearly unstoppable, beating his foes by knowing their future moves.

Bio: Although Tzeentch could see all of the past and present, he was unable to grasp all of the uncountable threads of the future. The need to overcome this one weakness took Tzeentch to the mystic Well of Eternity at the very centre of reality, where space and time originate and end. However, even Tzeentch was afraid to enter the roiling currents of the well; so instead he sent his Lords of Change, but none of them ever returned. Finally, Tzeentch grabbed his vizir Kairos and cast him into the well. This time, Kairos survived, just. But when he resurfaced, Kairos was unnaturally aged, hunched and wizened. His mighty pinions were reduced to feeble vestigial remains, and he now had two heads. Henceforth, Kairos held both the knowledge of the future and the resulting insanity, and sits at Tzeentch's right side as his Oracle. He is constantly mumbling madly, and suddenly bursting into rambling tirades about events still to happen. Eighty-one Lords of Change are tasked with recording every word of the Oracle. A few mighty individuals, mortal and Daemon alike, are granted an audience with the Oracle for the completion of the most challenging of tasks for Tzeentch. The Oracle knows the answer to all questions; but only one head will always answer the truth, while the other simultaneously delivers a contradictory answer, which is false but equally believable. The resulting riddle invariably leaves the petitioner baffled.

On the rare occasion that Tzeentch sends Kairos to the mortal battlefield, he is known as Fateweaver. He and his daemonic bodyguards are truly unstoppable, for he is able to use his great magical power and incredible prescience to influence the course of the battle. However, if any unexpected harm comes to him, Kairos often retreats back to the Warp, afraid that his treacherous master might have intentionally hid that future from him.

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Link: http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Kairos_Fateweaver

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Username: InfestedThunder

Name: The Foundation

Size of group: 40,000 personnel and various vehicles (APCs, Helicopters, etc.)

Description/Picture:


Universe: SCP Foundation

Abilities/Equipment: The Foundation is in use of the most advanced military-grade equipment available, with even more advanced containment technologies than thought possible.

Mobile Task Forces (MTFs) are elite units comprised of personnel drawn from across the Foundation and are mobilized to deal with specific threats or situations that sometimes exceed the operational capacity or expertise of regular field personnel and — as their name suggests — may be relocated between facilities or locations as they are needed. Mobile Task Force personnel represent the "best of the best" of the Foundation.

Mobile Task Forces vary greatly in size, composition, and purpose. A battalion-strength combat-oriented task force trained to deal with highly aggressive anomalous entities may consist of hundreds of troops plus support personnel, vehicles, and equipment and can be deployed in whole or in part to deal with threats across the globe. However, a Mobile Task Force can also be a small, specialized intelligence-gathering or investigative task force that may have fewer than a dozen personnel if that is deemed sufficient to accomplish their goals.

While in the field, task force members often pose as emergency responders, local or federal law enforcement, or military personnel appropriate to the region in which they are operating. Mobile Task Force Commanders can also request the assistance of local field units or personnel stationed at nearby Foundation facilities in order to accomplish their missions.


History: Operating clandestine and worldwide, the Foundation operates beyond jurisdiction, empowered and entrusted by every major national government with the task of containing anomalous objects, entities, and phenomena. These anomalies pose a significant threat to global security by threatening either physical or psychological harm.
The Foundation operates to maintain normalcy, so that the worldwide civilian population can live and go on with their daily lives without fear, mistrust, or doubt in their personal beliefs, and to maintain human independence from extraterrestrial, extradimensional, and other extranormal influence.

Their mission is three-fold:

Secure:

The Foundation secures anomalies with the goal of preventing them from falling into the hands of civilian or rival agencies, through extensive observation and surveillance and by acting to intercept such anomalies at the earliest opportunity.

Contain:

The Foundation contains anomalies with the goal of preventing their influence or effects from spreading, by either relocating, concealing, or dismantling such anomalies or by suppressing or preventing public dissemination of knowledge thereof.

Protect:

The Foundation protects humanity from the effects of such anomalies as well as the anomalies themselves until such time that they are either fully understood or new theories of science can be devised based on their properties and behavior. The Foundation may also neutralize or destroy anomalies as an option of last resort, if they are determined to be too dangerous to be contained.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Link: www.scp-wiki.net/about-the-scp-foundation



Username: InfestedThunder

Name: Skarbrand the Exhiled One

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 35 feet tall

Weight (you can approximate): 2.5 tons

Description/Picture:


Universe: Warhammer 40,000

Abilities: Skarbrand is a Greater Daemon of Khorne, a Bloodthirster. Greater Daemons manifest as huge, terrifying creatures capable of slaying scores of warriors and destroying even main battle tanks. They have strange, sorcerous powers drawn from the psychic energy of the Warp and are virtually impervious to mortal weapons. Summoning such a creature demands a high price, for it takes a tremendous amount of psychic energy for a Greater Daemon to achieve corporeality in the material universe. The price is always a sacrifice, the death or possession of a living being that acts as a gateway from the Immaterium into the material realm. The rampant energy of the daemon passing through into the material universe inevitably destroys this host. As such, the sacrifice is not usually the one performing the summoning.

Bloodthirsters are the Greater Daemons of Khorne, the Blood God. Of all the daemons, they bear the greatest resemblance to the stereotypical Judeo-Christian demons of ancient times, having a human body, cloven hooves instead of feet, leathery bat-like wings and horned canine or humanoid heads.They wield a whip and a massive, double-bladed battleaxe simultaneously in battle. As the greatest daemonic manifestation of the Blood God, the dreaded Bloodthirster is one of the most powerful warriors that can be found on the battlefields of the Warhammer 40,000 universe.

Bloodthirsters' appetite for slaughter and bloodshed is beyond mortal comprehension. They are said to be masters of melee combat, and the only mortals capable of overpowering them one-on-one successfully in battle were the Primarchs of ancient days. All Bloodthirsters are clad in the Brass Armour of Khorne and the mighty battle axes they wield were forged before the Skull Throne of Khorne by the heat of his wrath. These terrible weapons then have the essence of another Greater Daemon bound into them.

Bio: Skarbrand, once the mightiest of Bloodthirsters, was the most favoured of Khorne. No daemon had served the Blood God more faithfully or shed more blood than Skarbrand. This mighty Bloodthirster once led the greatest of Khorne's daemonic legions, slaughtering untold millions in the cause of murder. Worlds were left ravaged in the wake of the carnage wrought by the Greater Daemon as well as the realms of the other Chaos Gods with equal rage. Skarbrand's undoing was a result of his utter dedication to destruction.

Tzeentch, the Lord of Change, had noted the aptitude of Khorne's favoured slaughterer and through his guile and manipulative whispers, fuelled the anger of Skarbrand against his lord. Through Tzeentch's machinations, he continued to change the skein of the Bloodthirster's fate, goading and taunting the daemon lord into committing ever greater acts of bloodletting. He stoked the creature's rage into incandescent fury, until Skarbrand took up his axe and struck a blow against his master when Khorne's attention was elsewhere. Though a mighty blow that would have felled an army, the Bloodthirster's strike merely opened a minute chink in the armour of the Blood God, attracting his desolate gaze. Enraged at his servant's temerity, the Blood God's anger was terrible to behold. Khorne snatched up the wayward Bloodthirster by his throat and proceeded to throttle him until all that remained of Skarbrand's personality and thought had been driven out, leaving only the burning rage that had powered his fateful axe strike. After dragging the Greater Daemon to the pinnacle of the Brass Citadel, he held aloft the Bloodthirster for all within his realm to see, an example to all who dared to challenge his rule. Khorne then hurled Skarbrand across the Realm of Chaos.

Skarbrand blazed a trail of fiery destruction, a rage-filled meteor flying across the realms of the Chaos Gods, leaving scorched devastation in his wake. When he finally crashed to a stop, the daemon lord carved a great canyon with his landing, his leathery wings torn asunder by the force of the impact. Exiled for eternity, the frustrated Skarbrand bellowed his wrath towards the heavens. He then set upon an eternal path of slaughter that would dwarf all the bloodshed that had come before it. Spurred on by his mindless betrayal, Skarbrand has become the mindless embodiment of wrath incarnate. Bloodshed and war inevitably follows wherever he treads. Oceans of blood have been shed in the name of Khorne with his legendary twin daemon-axes. But all this slaughter is for naught, for Khorne has no mercy in his black heart. Skarbrand's exile is eternal. Skarbrand continues to serve the Blood God more loyally than ever, despite his tortured banishment from his lord's realm.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Skarbrand_the_Exiled_One

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Username: InfestedThunder

Name: The Masque

Sex (if any): Female

Height (you can approximate): 18 feet tall

Weight (you can approximate): 500 pounds

Description/Picture:


Universe: Warhammer 40,000

Abilities: Cursed by Slaanesh, the Masque is forced to dance forever, using her double-masked stick as a weapon. The masks of the staff change in accordance to the situation.

Bio: During the eternal conflict within the Realm of Chaos between the Chaos Gods known as the Great Game, Tzeentch managed to trick Slaanesh into facing Khorne in combat. For all his might, the Prince of Pleasure could not possibly hope to stand up to the Blood God and win, and Slaanesh was defeated and humiliated by his arch-nemesis. Sensing the dark mood of her master, the Masque took it upon herself to lighten Slaanesh's mood, and presented herself before her master, performing her most energetic and scintillating dance ever. Alas for the Masque, Slaanesh's humiliation coloured all his thoughts, and instead of his usual laughter and joy at the sight of the Masque's spectacular dance, the Prince of Pleasure saw only mockery and barbs against his wounded pride in each perfect combination of dancing moves.

Slaanesh's emotions came to a boiling point, and the Prince of Pleasure unleashed his frustrations on his handmaiden, branding her as a traitor, and placing a fell curse upon her, proclaiming that if she so wanted to dance then she must dance forevermore without pause. And so it came to be that the Masque was forced to dance eternally across space and time, for both mortal and immortal audiences. As she reenacts Slaanesh's greatest conquest and victories, her mask changes to match the roles of the characters she plays, in a manner eerily similar to the way a Harlequin troupe performs. Her curse has brought her to dance for the most improbable of audiences, from taunting the servants of the Blood God at the very doors of Khorne's citadel, to humiliating her former lesser peers amongst the Daemonettes. Yet the Masque has turned Slaanesh's curse to her advantage: the lure of her masterful display is so enticing that any who see it are inevitably compelled to join in the performance. Even other daemons are not exempt from the Masque's enchantments. As her dance goes on, the tempo rises, with the Masque's unwitting chorus struggling desperately to keep up with her. Ultimately, those enticed by her spell will dance themselves to death, using up their last ounce of strength and dying breath in an attempt to keep pace with her twirls and somersaults.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/The_Masque_of_Slaanesh

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 08/21/2017 23:27:44


AetheticMonkey


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Name: Valkia the Bloody

Sex (if any): Female

Height (you can approximate): 7'2

Weight (you can approximate): 400+ of muscle.

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer Fantasy

Abilities: Slaupnir - The Gorequeen's spear was forged for her in her former life by a great blacksmith of Norsca, named for a terrible daemon of Norscan myths. The barbed spear of Valkia has slain kings and paupers alike, ripping out their hearts or striking their heads from their body with single, mighty blows. The weapon bears the blessings of Khorne and can tear through the mightiest armour and toughest hide with ease.

Scarlet Armour - The mail of Valkia is eternally drenched with blood. It has been blessed with the power to sap the strength from those who face the battlemaiden in melee combat.

Daemonshield - Valkia still bears the horned head of Locephax upon her shield, the daemon's black eyes beguile those who seek to strike her, causing them to become distracted in battle, and causes their resolve to weaken.

Bio: In her original existence, Valkia was born as a child to a dead mother and a Cheiftain of a nomadic Barbarian tribe called the Schwarzvolf, which means Black Wolves. Known by her father as Lille Venn, which means in their tongue as Little Friend, Valkia always had dreams of venturing to the Far North and claiming the rewards gifted to the greatest Champion of the Gods. But her tribe was at war with another, and by the tender age of ten, she fought her first battle as a Shield-Maiden and won.

Many years after this great battle, the fortunes of the Schwarzvolf grew once more. Despite being at the ripe age of eighteen, Valkia had not taken neither a husband or even a lover. As such, her father took Kata, a friend of Valkia as a wife and bore him three children, one of which became a son. Yet the old Chieftain of the Schwarzvolf grew sick by an illness and the tribe once more was struck with misfortune. A recently decimated tribe of Norscan Farmers asked Chieftain Marrac for shelter, and reluctantly agreed to protect and aid his people. This garnered him the ire of his people, seeing his actions as weak and pathethic, particularly by his own daughter. In a climatic moment, Valkia took advantage of the worsening situation and ruthlessly killed her own father as well as Radek, her first and perhaps only true mortal lover, and took possession of the tribe from her weakling father.

The moment she took up the act of killing her own father, the daughter King Merroc knew as a child was no more. She soon became a ruthless killing machine, bent on nothing but glory and bloodshed. She slew all those that opposed her, culling the weaker members of her tribe and even going as far as to kill her own step-mother, killing her own step-sisters and sparing only her infant half-brother. Soon, she managed to even gain the respect of the Bloody Hands, a fierce warband of Marauders which came to seek out the Norscan farmers Valkia's father sheltered.

With the alliance forged, the bounty of the spring and summer combined with the careful rationing that was imposed on the growing tribe proved to be exceptionally effective and as such, losses of life over the hardest weeks of the dark winter were minimal. There were still a number of casualities however; the elderly, the infirm and infants who were too weak to survive the earliest days of life. For Valkia, the long months of winter were a trial unlike anything she had ever anticipated. Juggling the demands of her people with the frequent incursions from small tribes who thought they could somehow take on the might of the Schwarzvolf was tiring.

She had never realized just what leading her people would mean. Politics. Not all the dealings with small tribes were making short work of the more aggressive ones – and the Schwarzvolf did that with increasingly brutal style. The number of heads placed on poles around the perimeter of the camp grew almost daily. Valkia encouraged competition between her warriors; offering a prize to those who could take the most skulls in a battle. It kept them keen and eager. Under her leadership, the Schwarzvolf were gaining a reputation as a bloodthirsty, relentless band of warriors. For some that acted as a deterrent and for others, it served as a challenge. For a handful, it opened up interesting trade possibilities.

The might of the Schwarzvolf had grown exponentially in a few short years. Valkia’s ability to act diplomatically when the occasion called for it had begun to diminish proportionately. To refuse the will of the Schwarzvolf was to invite ruin. She even married the son of the Chieftain of the Bloody Hands and bore him two daughters, heirs to the throne of the Schwarzvolf. Yet the two lovers could never share power together, and in one act ruthless act, Valkia also slew her own husband in cold blood during a ritual ceremony.

When a servant of Slaanesh, a Daemon Prince known as Locephax, came into Valkia's hall and, smitten by her feral beauty, commanded that she abandon the life of a monarch to service his depraved needs as a harem-girl, the proud warrior-queen truly flew into the berserker rage and demanded a duel between her and the Daemon Prince. Thinking that the Daemon could easily best a woman in battle, Locephax gladly agreed and staged the battle on the morrow. At dusk, Valkia fought the Daemon Prince without the need for even armor and for a day and night the two fought hard. In the raging maelstrom of sparks and blades, Valkia slowly succumbed herself into an inner rage which saw her through the fight.

With a mighty thrust, Valkia struck off the Daemon Prince's very head with her barbed spear. Victories, Valkia affixed the severed but still whispering head of the daemon to her shield, and swore before her tribe that she would carry it to the Chaos Wastes and place it at the very foot of Khorne's throne. Such a boast shoulnd't be taken lightly, but everyone in the tribe knew that their Queen would go to any length to earn the favor of her newfound God.

As she traveled north, the daemons of Slaanesh dwelling within the Wastes fell upon Valkia, eager to avenge the insult she had made to their master. Though Valkia was a fierce warrior of Norsca, not even she could stand long against such a horde of abominations. Though she and her followers fought valiantly, the Queen was eventually torn to pieces by the daemons. In spite of her failure, her valour and courage had pleased Khorne, and so the Blood God saw fit to intervene. The sagas of the Norse say that Khorne's roars shook the very foundations of the earth, that his bellows made the mountains themselves tremble and woke Valkia from death. Khorne then took Valkia in his burning grasp and twisted her into a more pleasing form -- forging her anew in the fires of his wrath.

He bent back great horns from her skull, gave her the long, bestial legs of a Bloodletter and pulled back great, bloody wings from the flesh and muscle of her shapely back. Reborn as a mighty Daemon Queen, Khorne set upon her a new task: She would now descend every dawn onto the battlefields of the mortal realms, and fight alongside those worthy warriors of Norsca and beyond who served Khorne and from the ranks of their dead she would bear warriors who died in glorious battle to the Halls of Khorne where they would fight on the Blood God's legions for all eternity. Thus, the Gorequeen, the Shield-Maiden of Khorne, was born. This ascension was prophesized in the oral traditions of some tribes of Norsca -- having spoken of great, winged daemons with mighty spears bearing warriors to the Realm of Chaos. On her return to the North, Valkia was met by some such tribesmen, who had invariably fallen to their knees in adoration of her before she had even spoken a word.

To cut all ties to her former humanity, Valkia led her followers south towards the lands of her former tribe. There, she mercilessly killed all of her former people, butchering them to the last and feasting upon their flesh. In the climax of that battle, Valkia came to blows with her only living daughter who resemble every bit of her mother when she was still a mere mortal. But the fate of the battle was never far from doubt, and with a single swift thrust of her clawed hand, she ripped her heart out, the young woman gurgling blood as she gave her last dying breath to protect her people. Last to die by Valkia's hands was her own half-brother, the last of her family line. Long ago, her younger brother once looked up to her, but when he came before Valkia this one last time, he knew that death was coming and he was at peace. Giving out one outstretch hand to the sister he once knew, Valkia ruthlessly ripped his head out of his body, and with her prize seized, he allowed her berserker army to kill all the men, women and children that remains. Thus has she finally severed all ties to her mortal life and fully embraced herself as a instruct of her god's dark will.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Valkia_the_Bloody


Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Egil Styrbjorn

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 7'0

Weight (you can approximate): 500+ pounds of muscle

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer Fantasy

Abilities: Styrbjorn is amongst the deadliest warriors in all the world; having defeated countless mighty foes, including a Dragon Ogre Shaggoth and most recently, a favoured Grail Knight of Bretonnia, a swordsman thought to have been the equal of the legendary Ludwig Schwarzehelm himself. Armed with his mighty hellforged battle-axes, Garmr and Gormr, he carves through steel and flesh alike with terrifying ease. His naturally prodigious strength is further augmented by an unnatural constitution, as the blessings of his god has made him capable to shrug off even the most terrible of blows with ease.

Garmr and Gormr: The twin hellforged battle-axes of the High Jarl of Strovengaard; ancient daemon weapons forged in the realms beyond flesh in honour of the bloody wolves said to accompany Khorne the Blood God on his wild hunts across the heavens, which drive the sun to cower and flee before the god's fury, creating the alternation of night and day in Norscan mythology. The axe heads are thus forged in the likeness of howling wolves, and are heavy with infernal power, possessing the captured essences of Bloodthirsters. Inset into their hafts are red stones the colour of blood, which serve as the eyes of the wolves. These gems burn with unholy power as the axes taste the blood of Styrbjorn's enemies, wailing and screaming with delight as they kill. The mighty weapons are capable of splitting fully armoured men in two from crown to sternum, and in Styrbjorn's hands can deliver truly mighty blows.

Chaos Plate: Forged of blackened steel and adorned with grizzly trophies and foul emblems, the Chaos Armour of Egil Styrbjorn is forged to bear the likeliness of howling wolves. The very shoulder-plates themselves are forged in the visage of snarling, tusked wolves, which heightens the armour's ferocious appearance. All enclosing, the armour is spiked and segmented, particularly around the gauntlets, which lends great lethality to Styrbjorn's unarmed blows.

Bio: Egil Styrbjorn attained leadership of his clan by defeating his own father in single combat, hacking his head from his shoulders and thus ensuring his passage to the Blood God's halls of battle. As a result, the ancient hellforged axes, Garmr and Gormr, heavy with infernal power and the bound essence of raging Bloodthirsters, became his to wield on the battlefield. Holy artifacts of his forefathers, they had been passed down the line of High Jarls for generations.

Under the chieftain, the Skaelings of Strovengaard attained many glorious and bloody victories in their countless raids and battles against their rivals; the neighboring Norse tribes, such as the mighty Graelings and Vargs, the countless Kurgan horse-clans, and even the slant-eyed Hung barbarians to the far east. Along the way, Styrbjorn had, as many warlords of Norsca, made an alliance with the Chaos Dwarfs, specifically with the Dwarf Lord Zumarah, in order to avail their craft, particularly the mighty Hellcannon, Ereshkigal-Namatar; so named for the twin daemons of blood, fire and industry bound in its creation. While Styrbjorn was wary of the excessive greed of the Dark Dwarfs, the power of the daemon construct proved great enough for him to tolerate the presence of the Dwarfs, paying them their geld of slaves and gold without rancour after every victory bought with the fury of the powerful Hellcannon. He had become particularly impressed with the weapon's might during his war with the rival Aesgar clan, as its power had reduced their mighty fortress to a flaming ruin within moments.

Styrbjorn had taken many consorts from amongst the womenfolk of Strovengaard, for many women of Norsca are desirous to share their beds with warriors who bear the stigmata of the Dark Gods'. From these countless wives did Styrbjorn sire a brood of 13 progeny of all ages, amongst them were Hrefna and Fraygerd, sword-maidens of consummate skill and deadliness. Yet not one amongst his wives could give to him a son -- a true warrior who could carry on the name of the warlord name after his death. The hoary bearded champion was troubled by this, and long awaited a sign from the Dark Gods to reveal the woman who would be blessed with the honour to carry his true heir. It was under Styrbjorn's reign that a Bretonnian was inducted into the tribe, and this was no slave taken upon a raid, but a male child adopted and set under the guidance of the tribe's shaman; a boy who had drifted across the northern seas on a rickety fishing coracle half-dead, but with a defiant glare in his eyes born from hate and desperation. Styrbjorn's god-touched eyes saw the power radiating from the boy and perceived the mark of the Dark Gods upon him, for he had the ability to tap into the powers of Chaos and command the Winds of Magic, what the Bretonnians ignorantly knew and feared as 'Fay-touched'. Thus did Styrbjorn see the favour of his gods in taking this child as his own, and taught the child the ways of the Skaelings -- the ways of war, how to honour the gods with one's actions, and how to live and die with the honour befitting a man of Norsca, and named him Bjarki, or "Little Bear."

Styrbjorn had slain tens of thousands of foes in battle, and had amply demonstrated the favour of his god Khorne by doing so. Amongst some of his greatest achievements was to duel a mighty Dragon Ogre Shaggoth atop the high Knife Peaks of Norsca, amidst a mighty storm conjured by the Dark Gods that woke the beast, defeating the primeval horror in single combat and carving its very heart out from its chest. He alone faced a great serpent of the Undersea, spearing it through its belly and dragging it ashore before cutting its head from its neck. He took leave of his clan for a time to wander the darkened roads of the Chaos Wastes and smite the numberless monstrosities there to further show his power. He had ran with the terrible Ulfwerenar, hunted alongside the hulking white-furred Beastmen of Norsca, the Ymgir, and had feasted at the tables of the terrible Bloodbeasts of Khorne. This and more Egil Styrbjorn, wielder of the legendary daemonaxes, Garmr and Gormr, had done; for the bloodthirsty Chaos Warlord was truly the beloved of his grim god, and Khorne had lavished his favoured champion with blessing upon blessing. Clad in black, impenetrable Chaos Plate forged in the likeness of wolves, his long blonde beard and hair streaked with iron, a sign of an elder warmaster who had been the doom of thousands of foes. His pale eyes blazed with the fiery rage of Khorne, and his ornate Chaos Plate was festooned with trophies of his brutal and bloody victories. He stood as a true avatar of his god's power, and it was clear to many that he was long ahead on the path to ultimate glory and godhood in his own right.

In 2502 IC, Styrbjorn made preparations for a massive invasion of the far southern kingdom of Bretonnia -- realm of the horsemen, when his seer, the shaman Bjarki, received a blood-vision from the Dark Gods of the woman destined to bear Styrbjorn's daemonic son. The Realm of Chivalry had for far too long gone unmolested by Styrbjorn and his raiders, and the mighty warlord knew at once that the gods had answered his prayers. Determined to at last ensure his legacy, Styrbjorn did bid his legions of battle-hardened tribesmen to take to their dragonships that they might make war upon the horsemen once again.
Styrbjorn's longships initially made landfall on the great island of Landri, off the coast of Lyonnesse, located in the far north-west of the country. Though there were literally thousands of inlets that made up the archipelago of north-western coast, Landri was by far the most significant of these barren isles, able to support a relatively large and modestly prosperous population. It was also reputed to have been protected by the Lady of the Lake, though this was soon proved an erroneous assertion, and though it was true that the people of Landri had often paid homage to the god Mannan, offering sacrifices unto him that he might guard the seas from the fury of the Chaos raiders, whatever supplications they had made to that god proved insufficient to protect them from Styrbjorn's brutal invasion. The Norscans had made landfall upon the isle with the coming of winter, and despite the seas having roiled and heaved with fury, their fleet had emerged unscathed by the grace of the Dark Gods. Styrbjorn's legions; composed of bloodthirsty axe-men, feral Ulfwerener and mighty Huskarls bedecked in hulking Chaos Plate fell upon the meagre defenders of Landri and slaked their thirst for death with the blood of the innocent. Styrbjorn himself made short work of all those who dared his wrath, slaying both mere militiaman and sorcerous priestess of the Lady of the Lake alike with terrible ease. His raiders had closed in on the isle from both sides, thus blocking off all routes of escape from their rage. Those who could not fight thus clambered their way to take refuge in the only place left that could afford protection -- the Holy Abbey of the Lady, for which the Isle was so famed. Though he had raided the Bretonnian coastlines many times, Styrbjorn had paid little attention to the faith of the men there, having long been disgusted with the weakness of the south. Having once hailed from the land himself, Bjarki explained the role of the Lady, describing her as a petty deity of little true power, and her clergy as doddering women who were weak of both body and mind. Striding into the chapel, beholding a statue of the Bretonnians' goddess, the warlord had felt all the more disgusted. Here, in his mind, was a weak and degenerate god; not one of power and might like the gods of the north. The dying priestess who tended the chapel spoke of how the Lady would defend her people and avenge the Norscans' desecration of her holy place, but Styrbjorn scoffed at this disingenuous statement and retorted to the dying priestess the Norscan prophecy of the End Times, where the Dark Gods who descend from their halls and lead the men of the North in the final conquest, and of how Khorne, God of War and Death, would strike down the weakling deity of Bretonnia. In order to further demonstrate the weakness of the southern gods compared to those of the north, Styrbjorn personally destroyed the holy statue of the abbey depicting the weeping image of the Bretonnian deity. As no divine retribution fell upon him, he had established the superiority of the northern gods.

Those few amongst the people of Landri who had fought to the last were given an honourable death by the axe and the sword, in honour of Khorne, Lord of Battles. Those far more numerous who had begged and bargained for life were left impaled upon great brazen stakes to die by inches, their foul cowardice robbing them the dignity of honourable death. The blackened throne of Styrbjorn was taken out from his kingship and placed within the defiled chapel, his very presence so tinged with the daemonic that it further despoiled that once holy place. The Norscans made sport of those few survivors of their raid, and ransacked the wealthier homes for plunder. As the roiling of the sea had delayed the rest of his longships, Styrbjorn and his warriors thus stayed at Landri, awaiting the rest of his mighty Skaelings to join him in despoiling the kingdom further inland. Amongst those forces were the mighty Tuskers, the hulking war-mammoths of Norsca. Though Styrbjorn had utmost faith that his warriors would easily overcome any foe, he nonetheless wished to see the terror that would grip the horsemen upon bearing witness to those magnificent monstrosities. When the rest of his longships reached Landri, he marshalled his forces further inland, intent on finding the woman prophesied to bear his promised son.

Though the decision to wait at Landri for the rest of his forces to gather rankled with some elements of his followers, particularly the Chaos Dwarfs, Styrbjorn silenced all dissenters in his ranks easily enough. When the rest of his forces finally arrived after two days, the Skaelings made the push further inland. In particular, Styrbjorn was beginning to truly pursue his goal in the southern land. The seer had prophesied that the consort, now revealed to be a powerful sorceress of the Kurgan tribes, was even now making way north to meet with Styrbjorn, as the gods had decreed. They would meet on the eve of a great battle against the horsemen, where Styrbjorn would gain a great victory, and on the eve after, in sight of the daemon-moon Morrslieb, they would conceive their child together. Concerned that the mother of his son would come to peril alone, despite Bjarki's claims of her great power, he nonetheless charged Bjarki and a lesser chieftain known as Kveldulf to take a pack of horsemen southwards to the crow fields where the battle with the armies of the Bretonnians was to take place, and bring her to him. Meanwhile, Styrbjorn turned to plot his victory over the armies of Lyonesse, L'Anguille, Bastonne and Couronne.

No mindless berserker Styrbjorn, the elder warmaster embodied also the bloody tactical mastery of his Lord, and had plotted the downfall of this enemies since the time of hearing of where he must invade. He knew that the Bretonnians would, given the reputation of the Norscans, underestimate their foes, believing them limited only to a full frontal assault. Styrbjorn had sent a force of Marauders ahead of the main horde to harry the Bretonnian forces of Duke Adalhard of Lyonesse, while the rest of his warriors moved inward, slaughtering and plundering supplies. Duke Adalhard met Styrbjorn's vanguard, but only succeeded into fighting them to a standstill. Skirmishes with the Norscans continued after that initial engagement, with the Northmen attempting to gauge the full strength of the Bretonnian defenders, and to hold them off while Bjarki and Kveldulf roved the western countryside, searching for the prophesied bride. Dispatched by the King himself, the forces of L'Anguille too marched for the defense of their southerly neighbours, despite the lingering border dispute between the two Dukedoms. Bjarki and Kveldulf soon succeeded in finding the Kurgan witch, Haegtesse, pale-skinned and darkly beautiful, the sorceress had forcibly taken possession of a younger body, supplanting the soul that had originally resided there that she might be able to bear the Norscan's daemon-son, as it was foretold. Brought into the Skaeling war-camp, on the eve of the battle to come under the gaze of Morrsleib. Though her eyes settled hungrily upon the Skaeling warlord, their coupling had been decreed by the Gods themselves and was to take place under careful ritual, with the lifesblood of Bretonnians to baptize the product of their union. The next day the first snows of winter had come early, unnaturally so some had thought. The Skaelings had assembled into a wide advance, with a strong center comprised of the mighty, heavily armoured Huskarls. As a predominately infantry army, given the Norscans' general mistrust for horses in the thick of battle, it was thought that the Skaelings would position themselves atop an elevated position, such as the great motte just behind their position, but instead they had marched forward to engage the Bretonnians in open battle. The field was seemingly poorly chosen; a wide flat plain with little in the way of hills, rocks or trees to obstruct the charge of heavy cavalry, thus, it was a theatre of war that favoured the Bretonnians' tactics. Duke Adalhard had intended to launch a single, devastating heavy charge that would cut through into the center of the enemy horde, where Styrbjorn was thought to have dwelled, thus routing the Norscan invasion. The Pegasus Knights, however, could not deploy along with the rest of the army, due to the inclement weather.

It was a simple strategy on the part of Styrbjorn's adversary, Duke Adalhard, but one that had nonetheless been exploited effectively by countless Bretonnian generals. The army of Duke Adalhard marched under the banner of Lyonesse, the Banner of Thierulf, depicting the legendary hero and companion of the great king Gilles le Breton standing victorious over a mountain of Orc corpses, framed by a halo of holy light. It was said that the hair of a Elven princess had been woven into the banner, and that any army that fought under the standard would never know defeat. Ten thousand heavily armoured knights charged forth, with several hundred kept behind as a tactical reserve, at the barbarian ranks. The Norscans unleashed their corrupted war-hounds at the charging horsemen, the unbridled fury of the mutated beasts blunted the charge, slowing the Bretonnian advance. The Norsemen too began to charge at their foes, though slowly, as though anticipating something, and overhead, a crimson light thundered into the sky. Here was the herald for the first phase of the Skaeling battle-plan; for the thundering crimson fire was the signal to unleash the blazing fury of Ereshkigal-Namtar. The hellcannon's arcane payload of daemon-fire smashed into the mass of knights, even as they themselves crashed through the Norscan battle-lines. Hundreds of knights were slain by the first barrage, burned and cooked alive in their own armour. Flesh bursting into flame along with tabards, banners and horseflesh, and blood boiling and bursting in veins, mingling with plate armour turned to quicksilver.

The majority of knights who had survived the barrage stubbornly renewed their pursuit of the now retreating Norscans, despite the fact that it was very clear that the Norscans were attempting to draw the knights deeper into their midst. Only when they found themselves encircled by thousands of giant, black-armoured Chaos Warriors did the knights realize that they had been duped into charging the foe's center, which had given away to them intentionally with little resistance. It had been a simple, yet excellently crafted ploy on Styrbjorn's part, and it was now clear that few Bretonnians would leave the field alive. The hammer had now fallen, and the savage fury of the Northmen saw thousands of knights and yeomen alike slaughtered and torn apart. Even with that, concealed Marauders emerged violently out from under snowdrifts, roaring bestial war-cries as they leapt from their concealments and fell upon knights and peasants left out on the rapidly disintegrating army's edge. The shining army of Lyonesse had been brought to its knees. The defeat of the enemy was assured now, and the Bretonnian ranks, gripped by fear, were already being torn asunder even further from within as elements of the army began to push for retreat. The inevitability of their deaths warring with their inherent pride. Nonetheless, Stybjorn had one last malignant hand to play; for his mighty war-mammoths had taken to the field. Towering beasts with rage burning in their eyes, touched by the Dark Gods, they smashed the ranks of Bretonnian and Norscan alike with earth-shattering force. A trio of the behemoths slaughtered hundreds of knights as Norsemen hurled axes and javelins from their howdahs, slaughtering hundreds. Styrbjorn himself sat in one of these howdahs, surveying the glorious carnage with delight. At the sight of the Norscans' monstrosities, the remaining knights quit the field in panic, their honour forgotten, and Duke Adalhard was grievously wounded. Though his body was recovered, the army of Lyonesse was utterly and decisively defeated.

With that victory in hand, the eve was devoted to the enactment of the ritual to conceive Styrbjorn's daemon-son. Eight of the tribe's mightiest were sacrificed for the ritual, having given their lives gladly for their master's service. Under the sight of Morrslieb and the Dark Gods, in the presence of daemons and spirits who had crossed forth from the Realm of Chaos to bear witness, it was thus clear to Styrbjorn that his son would be favoured indeed, and so he took Haegtesse under the sight of the Witch Moon, and a daemon-son was conceived. Haegtesse herself had one hand to play however, and after Styrbjorn had taken her, she offered him a goblet which he drained in a single drought. The cup itself held a dosage of Whorlsroot, a deadly herb known to kill men in a wasting fashion. In large enough quantities, it could kill outright, and Haegtesse had laced the warlord's goblet with enough to kill one of the immense Tuskers of Styrbjorn's horde. His god-given constitution allowed him to survive long enough for Bjarki to concoct an antidote, something the Kurgan had not foreseen. Haegtesse had intended to birth the child alone, and then sacrifice it to the Gods to attain immortality. given how her decrepitude was beginning to consume the bodies she claimed to prolong her life all the more rapidly. Bjarki hurriedly brought his adoptive father back to health, and Styrbjorn awoke burning with fury, incensed that the woman would be so brazen as to try to kill him, and worse, try to kill his son. The Kurgan had not gone far, and had not counted on the Skaeling shaman having the knowledge necessary to save the Chaos Lord, and had thus not managed to get far before Styrbjorn caught up with her. Shocked by his survival, the hag could barely summon her daemons to aid her before Styrbjorn's fist had sent her screaming to the ground in pain. Captured, she was taken back to the warcamp, an arcane device of Khorne, a black cage etched with runes of the Dark Tongue and filled with blood, was placed upon her head to arrest her magic.

Having accomplished what he set out to do, Styrbjorn was ready to leave Bretonnia, though the initial decision had rankled with some of his tribesmen and allies, particularly the Chaos Dwarf Zumarah, who had yet to receive his payment of slaves from amongst the captures thralls of the raid. Zumarah had gone so far as to threaten to take his geld from amongst Styrbjorn's own tribe, specifically singling out his daughters, but the Chaos Lord made light of that threat, reciting an old proverb about the fury of Skaeling women, and would not be deterred. Any challenge to his decisions he quelled with violence. Realizing the birth of the Skaeling daemon-child would herald great devastation for Bretonnia when father and son returned to her shores, Morgiana Le Fay, Fay Enchantress and leader of the Cult of the Lady, charged one of her disciples to prevent this from coming to past. To this disciple, she afforded the aid and protection of the Grail Knight Reolus, a warrior reckoned by many within Bretonnia and beyond to be amongst the most elite swordsmen of the Old World. The two traveled to Castle Lyonesse, where Adalhard's army had fled. Joined by a contingent of knights, the Bretonnians crept into the Skaeling camp under the cloak of sorcery, while Styrbjorn and his warriors rejoiced and celebrated their great victory in the lands of the horsemen, the tribe's skalds regaling them with the saga of the berserker, Knut the Bloody. The Bretonnians succeeded in capturing Haegtesse, along with the unborn child. When he realized this, Styrbjorn flew into apocalyptic rage, his god-touched bellow carrying easily through the winding halls of the fallen temple of Landri, rallying the Norsemen to battle. Eyes ablaze with the fire of Khorne, Styrbjorn vented his anger upon the assailants, hacking men from crown to sternum as he frantically attempted to prevent the Bretonnians from fleeing. Ultimately however, the warlord's prize was stolen away from him. Burning with fury, the Skaeling Chaos Lord swore that he would slaughter every last man, woman and child of Bretonnia in order to save his son.

Norscan longships began sailing from their rallying point on the Isle of Landri, making beachhead upon Lyonesse's shore once again. The sight of the dreaded sails of the Skaelings, combined with the utter terror the devastating defeat suffered by the Duke's army caused, led to the peasantry almost rioting in fear, frantically attempting to book passage to the island stronghold of the count. The Norscans sacked the townships of the Lyonesse mainland, plundering the settlements for supplies with which to carry out their coming siege; creating siege ladders, battering rams and makeshift catapaults. A barrier was formed around the island, created by lashing hundreds of longships together, while all the while hundreds more made beachhead, unloading their cargo of bloodthirsty warriors and feral Chaos beasts. When the last thousand made it ashore, the vast horde of High Jarl Egil Styrbjorn had finally gathered, and the Champion of Khorne led them in a blood-curdling war-cry. The Norscans began the siege by building a defensive emplacement, far out of range of the Bretonnian trebuchuets, for the mighty hellcannon that had been instrumental in their prior victory. Its power would now be all the more necessary for the coming siege. The first offensives were to probe and weaken the defenses of the great citadel; the opening wave consisting of blood-maddened berserkers. Though the thousand-strong wave was defeated, they had inflicted grevious casaulties upon the defenders -- 19 knights and 200 peasant levies. Though Castle Lyonesse had stood unconquered for nigh 1500 years, no man was quick to forget the bloody defeat they had suffered at Styrbjorn's hands, and some began to whisper it was better simply to give the barbarian king that which he sought. Regardless, the battle looked set to continue. With the second assault, the fury of Ereshkigal-Namtar was once more unleashed. The daemonic fire of the hellcannon lanced into the battlements of the castle, reducing the topmost towards to molten rock, sending flaming debris in all directions and killing hundreds of men-at-arms. The next barrage was just as devastating, and though Castle Lyonesse had stood undaunted agains the hail of cannonfire of the Empire's warmachines, not even its ancient stone could withstand the power of raging daemons and dwarf-craft. Realizing that the siege would end in defeat unless the enemy's artillery was neutralized, the Grail Knight Reolus led a sortie forth to destroy the cannon, which he succeeded at, banishing the daemons too that had been bound to the cannon's iron and steel. Nonetheless, this was but a mere setback to the grizzled Styrbjorn, for though the hellcannon was no more, the Bretonnians had revealed a damning truth when their priestess parted the seas that their champion might lead his sortie; the waters of the strait were not but thirty feet deep. As masters of the sea, this knowledge would proven devastating in the hands of Norsemen.

The Norscan offensives soon restarted, and with even greater lethality. The next wave was filled with heavily armoured, blood-crazed Chaos Warriors and grizzled veterans eager for the chance to die honourably in battle. The warriors smashed into the defenders on the battlements, reaping a hefty toll from the Bretonnian knights. While they were driven back, yet another wave was all too ready to attack, affording the Bretonnians no breathing room for which to recover. The defenders were thus forced to quickly shore up their defenses, in spite of mounting casualties and weariness. Regardless, the true blow of Styrbjorn was not marshalled on the walls, but rather in assigning a special task to Bjarki and a cadre of warriors, including his nephew Eilif. Having 'questioned' prisoners of war, the Norscans uncovered the existence of a secret route into the castle (the latrine chute, incidentally). Bjarki and his warriors made their way to the mechanism that operated the castle portcullis, slaughtering their way through the opposition they encountered on the way. A score of Sveinbjorn's dragonships arrived, sailing the shallow strait and through the portcullis, each ship with a hold filled to bursting with bloodthirsty berserkers too long denied the glory of slaughtering their foes in the name of Khorne, and with the arrival of these warriors came the sounds of deafening trumpets, heralding the coming of the great war mammoths that had wrought such havoc on the battlefield amongst the knights of Lyonesse just three weeks prior. Stomping their way across the shallow strait, carrying yet more warriors in their howdahs, the mammoths would allow the invaders to bypass the walls entirely. Like living battering rams they hammered open the mighty gates of the castle, allowing the elite of the Norscan army -- Styrbjorn's mighty Huskarls, each a powerful Champion of Chaos in his own right; massive giants encased in unholy armour festooned with bloody trophies and fetishes declaring their brutal piety, charge into battle. With contemptuous ease did these warrior-kings slaughter everything that stood before them, hacking through armour, flesh and bone. But they are as children next to the fury of their lord and master.

With massive battle-axes in hand blazing with fiery power as they claimed life after life, as if pleased with the blood their master shed, Styrbjorn slaughtered his foes in their scores, a bloody god of war astride the battlefield, his twin axes wailing and screaming as they hacked off limbs and heads from bodies with every swing. With every life he took, the warlord roared and bellowed, laughed and sang; reveling in the screams of the dying, the geysers of blood streaming from the severed necks and the pleasing sound of shattering bones as he crushed their skulls and tore asunder their bodies under his axe blades. The Norscans' assault forced the remainder Bretonnian army to retreat to the inner keep. From then on, the Norscans started to besiege that building. In the surrounding area, the Norscans had desecrated the sacred temple of Manann that stood on the outskirts of the island, slaughtering the Hermit Knights who protected the holy place, before murdering the venerable priests and tearing down the statue of Mannan in honour of their blasphemous gods, eliciting cries of outrage and sacrilege from the defenders on the battlements of the keep.

Styrbjorn ordered wave after wave of men at the keep, uncaring of the mounting casualties as victory lay so close. Thousands of men were slain with minutes, so great was the scale of bloodshed, but it made no difference, for the Norscans were winning -- swiftly and surely. It was thus Egil Styrbjorn, a raging warlord of the Norse, an Exalted Champion of the Blood God, whose puissance and tactical acumen had allowed him to take the legendary castle of Lyonesse were all others before him had failed, and at such an unfathomably quick speed as well. It staggered the nobles of Lyonesse that it was a savage raider of the northern seas that had finally brought them so low. As the Norsemen began to hammer the gates apart, a wailing cry pierced the air -- the birth scream of the daemon child that was Styrbjorn's blood-son. An excruciating sound that echoed not only in the mortal realm, but also in the madness of the Realm of Chaos, existing in both simultaneously. Those to attuned to the Winds of Magic fell to their knees in agony upon hearing the cry, and even those not gifted with the powers of magic felt their souls tremble before the scream of this unnatural birth. Only the father, Styrbjorn, was not unmanned by the sound, but rather beamed with pride and joy that the gods had at last answered his prayers.

Though Styrbjorn's advisers had protested his decision to parley with the Bretonnians, he had remained adamant in his decision to throw down the gauntlet before them, challenging their greatest warrior to a duel in order decide the fate of the siege. He would not leave the life of his beloved son to chance, for who was to say that the Bretonnians would not smother him to death as the keep fell, or throw him from the battlements out of spite. It was, after all, what he would do in their position. Styrbjorn thus offered his terms; the greatest warrior amongst the Bretonnians would come forth to face him in battle. If he prevailed, the horsemen would bring out his son. If he failed, then he would be dead. In either case, he pledged the Skaelings would grant the Bretonnians mercy and return to their homeland.

Styrbjorn's choice had brought some murmurs of bewilderment amongst the Skaelings, for many men had lost sword-brothers in the battle to take the keep, and now that they were to offer the Bretonnians mercy had elicited great disapproval from many. Amongst these malcontents stepped forth the Dwarf Zumarah, with whom it was a gravely rankled to spare the Bretonnians, as he was yet to receive his geld of slaves and gold for his services. He angrily accused Styrbjorn of being a coward and oathbreaker, which angered the prideful Norscan king greatly, and the two fought. While Styrbjorn was a true paragon of warfare, Zumarah was an ancient Dwarf Lord who had forged his strength and skill across countless centuries, and so were evenly matched. Ensorcelled obsidian clashed with hellforged steel as the two warriors matched their titanic strength. Though Styrbjorn was easily twice the height of Zumarah, the Chaos Dwarf was as implacable as the mountains, and weathered each of the warlord's crushing blows with iron resolve. The two warriors traded a dozen blows in barely the space of a single heartbeat, such was the fury of their battle. Styrbjorn struck his mighty armoured fist into the Dwarf's broad face several times, each blow strong enough to shatter stone, but still the Dwarf would not fall. Zumarah hammered his greataxe into the Norscan's side, but this likewise did not phase Styrbjorn, who held Zumarah in place and rained many unforgiving blows down upon him. The Dwarf Lord threw the Skaeling Jarl back, and charged forth screaming to deliver his killing blow. Grasping the haft of one of his daemon-axes, Styrbjorn threw the mighty blade at the loping Dwarf, striking him square between the eyes and killing him instantly. Styrbjorn's god-touched flesh quickly knit itself back together, and he retrieved his holy weapon from the Chaos Dwarf's skull, roaring a challenge for any other who sought to dispute his rule. No man stepped forward.

Styrbjorn shouted again at the battlements, Bjarki serving as his translator, demanding that the Grail Knight Reolus, whom he had briefly met during the melee in the castle courtyard, to come forward. For the High Jarl judged the paladin alone amongst these southern whoresons as being able to provide him an adequate challenge. Realizing the battle was all but lost, Duke Adalhard agreed to these terms, asking for an hour's time to make the arrangements.

Egil Styrbjorn stepped forward from the endless ranks of his bloodthirsty country-men, his weathered, bearded face ritualistically painted a daemonic red in honour of his god under his massive horned battle-helm. His stride was that of a man supremely confident in his ability, of a man who had slaughtered whole races single-handed, and who had trod entire nations underfoot. Half way before the keep he bellowed his challenge, his voice reverberating with unholy power. To oppose him stepped forth the holy knight Reolus, legendary Grail Knight of Bretonnia, whose very eyes burned with fay-light. In his hand the anointed warrior held the mighty blade Durendyal, which sang with holy might. The two gods of war faced each other, but separated by a mere twenty paces. Crossing blades, Styrbjorn's incredible strength and savagery pitted against the knight's inhuman skill and speed. The spectacle of these two champions exchanging blows, both exhibiting strength and skill far beyond that of mere mortals was breathtaking; a glorious battle that would live long in the songs and legends of Bretonnia regardless of the outcome.

The two gods of war clashed, Styrbjorn's unmatched, brutal strength pitted against Reolus's sublime swordsmanship. Though the Grail Knight succeeded in drawing first blood, this elicited no cheers from the Lyonessans, who merely watched the battle impassively, for no blow Reolus landed upon the mighty Norscan seemed to halt his terrible onslaught; every blow of his came perilously close to crushing the Grail Knight where he stood. The battle took a sudden and dramatic turn when Reolus finally bypassed Styrbjorn's defenses and impaled him with the length of his holy longsword. Enraged, Styrbjorn gave Reolus a back-hand blow that sent the Grail Knight sailing thirty yards backward in the air, sending him to crash upon the hard-packed ground. Arising groggily and broken from the terrible blow, Reolus turned his gaze upon his Northern adversary and silently willed him to die. What happened next stole the breath of all who saw it.

In defiance of Morr's rightful claim upon his soul, in defiance of his own mortality, in defiance of all sane and logical reason, the Chaos Lord dragged the great blade Durendyal out of himself. The gifts of Khorne had served him well, for whatever wound the blade had dealt quickly healed, leaving Styrbjorn no worse for wear, filling his adversary with abject terror. Yet out of respect for the fighting prowess he had shown, Styrbjorn kicked the discarded blade Durendyal back to its master, and allowed Reolus respite to prepare himself for the next phase of their battle.

The two warriors clashed again in a furious contest of arms, soon the Chaos Lord and Grail Knight were spent. Styrbjorn was struck with a dozen wounds that wept blood, while Reolus bled profusely from his forehead where Styrbjorn's daemon-axe had dealt but a glancing blow, and his armour was rent asunder and battered from the Norscan Jarl's blows, not to mention the massive, bleeding wounds that had been dealt to the Grail Knight's thighs and shoulders by the Khornate champion's brutal assault. Reolus did succeed in severing one of Styrbjorn's hands however, but this did not prove much in the long run. With a roar, Egil Styrbjorn launched himself again at his foe, kneeing the knight in his sternum with sickening force, driving his breastplate inward and wrenching the once-immaculate armour further out of shape. Reolus swung desperately at the Skaeling, but Styrbjorn caught the blade with the forearm of his severed hand. With a jerk, he disarmed the great knight. Using his body's momentum, Styrbjorn brought his screaming daemon-axe wailing in a murderous arc that hacked the Grail Knight's head from his shoulders, sending it flying through the air in a shower of blood, an expression of utter shock etched upon its features. The men of Lyonesse let out a cry of utter shock and horror as their holy champion was felled, which was all but drawn out by the roars and adulation of the Skaeling hordes as they celebrated their lord and master's triumph. In turn, that sound was eclipsed as Styrbjorn raised the severed head of the Grail Knight to the heavens, and roared his victory to the bloody throne of his god Khorne, who looked down upon his favoured champion with great pleasure. For a moment, plain to all who beheld him, Styrbjorn's form was superimposed with the image of a towering black daemon bathed in fire and blood, with but a single hand, gripping a familiar wolf-headed axe -- an image of the glory that Khorne had always intended for him. With a guttural roar, the Norseman demanded his son to be brought to him.

The Bretonnians honoured Reolus's pledge, and delivered the daemon-son of Styrbjorn to his father. The child was strong, large for his age, the promise that one day he would nearly match his father's strength and height clear to see. His eyes the same ice blue, there was little outward indication of the evil of his bloodline. Yet nonetheless, the child's wailing screams died as he was set into his father's arms, and he looked upon the daemonic face with delight. Styrbjorn beamed with pride, raising his son into the air and declaring him to his clan, who cheered at their future Jarl. His advisers were now ready to press the attack, to spill the blood of the Lyonessians and garland the throne of Khorne with their skulls. But Styrbjorn refused; for he had defeated a mighty foe this day -- a champion the equal of any man or beast that he had ever fought, and sought to honour his memory by keeping to his word. But despite that, Styrbjorn left the Bretonnians a warning; in the years to come when his son was ready to take up axe and sword, the Skaelings would return and would finish what they had begun this day. The Norsemen took to their longships in glory and victory, rejoicing in the thousands upon thousands they had slain, the plunder they had taken, and the triumph of their lord. They had bested the mighty knights of Bretonnia on their own terms, and conquered their mighty keep when no others before them could. It was but another victory in the long saga of Egil Styrbjorn.

A mighty destiny lies before Styrbjorn, for the gods themselves have decreed his ascension. To this day he remains High Jarl of the Skaelings of Strovengaard, devoting himself to conquest and to the raising of his child -- who himself has taken after his father to become a mighty champion of Chaos. Tales of the warlord's mighty deeds persist throughout the North, and the men of Bretonnia will not quickly forget the great violence done to them by this barbaric Lord of Chaos. Over the decades, Styrbjorn has only grown in power, and his army of battle-hardened Norsemen has only grown more numerous and deadly. Shaggoths, Zars, Jarls, Dragons and Daemons alike have bled their last upon the wolf's head, and thousands more will yet follow them unto violent graves at the Norseman's hand.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Egil_Styrbjorn
AetheticMonkey


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Joined: 06/06/2017 05:04:25
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Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Glottkin

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 7ft+ For the brothers, 20+ft for the Third

Weight (you can approximate): 400-500 for the brothers, +2 tons for the third

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer Fantasy

Abilities: Ghurk Glott is a heaving mass of flesh, attacking with a Flailing Tentacle and scooping hapless victims into his Lamprey Maw. His brothers Ethrac and Otto ride upon his festering, boil-encrusted shoulders; Ethrac casts foul spells while Otto attacks with his Poison-Slick Scythe and unleashes a Pestilent Torrent of corrosive filth from his swollen gut.

Bio: The story of the Glottkin began in the Empire, on the coast of the Sea of Claws. The father of the triplets was Olios Glott, a humble Nordland farmer, and their mother was Ethra Greenblood, a magic user schooled in the Lore of Life. After witnessing a bloody Norscan invasion, Olios and Ethra stowed away with the Empire armies that sailed across the Sea of Claws in search of retribution. However, where their comrades wrought bloody vengeance upon their Norscan foes, Olios and Ethra instead brought enlightenment. By teaching the crafts of the farmer and the healer to the savages of Norsca, they hoped not to perpetuate the cycle of violence, but to break it.

Deserting from the Empire's armies under cover of darkness, the two emissaries slowly carved out a new life in the north. Olios raised a humble house for his wife and tilled the stubborn ground around it; Ethra acted as a wise woman, influencing many of the fjord clans. Over the course of the winter, Ethra’s belly swelled to prodigious size - that year her womb nourished not one child, but three. But a jealous Norscan hag cut Ethra’s finger with a rusted knife, and the shallow wound became badly infected. Unable to heal herself from the gangrenous curse that flowed in her blood, the wizard cried out in the night, begging the gods to save her children from the lethal infection. Father Nurgle was listening, and sent a daemon fly to alight on the pregnant Ethra’s gravid belly. Instantly the infection’s deadly grip lessened, and less than a week later Olios delivered three strong triplets near the rugged cliffs of the Fjordling tribe. Each child bore a three-lobed birthmark, the sigil of the Lord of Decay, but their delighted father was ignorant of its significance, never knowing the doom his sons would one day visit upon his former homeland. He named his children Otto, Ethrac and Ghurek, and counted himself among the luckiest of men alive.

The triplets that became known as the Glottkin grew tall and strong in the hardy north, and over time each showed great promise. Ethrac in particular was a quick study, drinking in the local occult lore his mother had mastered. Otto and Ghurek, meanwhile, were more physically inclined, wrestling each other often atop the treacherous fjords and seeking out the youths of the nearby Fjordling tribe to spar with. For a time, all seemed well, and the Glotts brought the arts of the civilised realms to their adopted people. Otto helped his father harvest his crops with a great scythe of his own making, Ethrac aided his mother in rituals of fecundity that coaxed verdant life from the Norscan ice fields. Only Ghurek proved wayward, more interested in brawling and chasing women than helping his family in more wholesome pursuits.

Though the Glottkin’s parents worked hard to promote peace, they could not dissuade the Norscans from the seaborne raids that were so deeply ingrained within their culture. In the autumn of 2506 IC, the forces of Nordland came in search of retribution once more. Over a thousand state troops made landfall to bring war to the fjord tribes that had taken the Glotts into their culture.

This time the triplets were at the fore of the fight. Otto hacked away with the same scythe he had used to reap his father’s harvest, Ethrac used his darkest growth-magicks to turn his foes into obese boulders of flesh, and the brawler Ghurek flattened soldiers and champions alike with his fists. Still it was not enough, for the black powder weapons of the Nordlanders could kill at fifty paces, and the great cannons, winched up to the clifftops from the gun decks of their galleons, took a gruesome toll. The Glottkin fought hard as their people were cut down around them, blood dribbling over the lips of the cliffs and down into the crashing waves below.

The triplets soon became surrounded by the bloody confusion of melee. Through the crimson fray, the trio glimpsed their mother and father being cut down by Nordland halberdiers. Their greatest tie to civilisation cut, all thee enraged Glottkin cried out as one for vengeance. The seeds of mayhem, planted within their souls by Nurgle, watered by the blood of battle, finally began to bear fruit. Otto cut men down like autumn corn as his scythe swung left and right. Handgunner bullets thudded into his chest and even his face, but they did not break his thick, mutated skin. Ethrac, meanwhile, found his magics became ever more destructive, reducing men to pools of black slime and causing writhing maggots of dark energy to gnaw his foes apart from inside out. Lastly, great Ghurek was filled with a daemonic strength, the warrior punching clean through torsos and guts, before finally heaving a great cannon up by its muzzle and, wielding it, clubbing his foes over the cliffs into the bloody sea. The Empire army broke under the fury of the Glottkin’s onslaught, and their legend began in earnest.

Since that fateful battle, Nurgle bestowed gifts upon orphaned triplets with every passing year, spoiling them as a generous grandfather would his grandchildren. Little by little, the Glotts would become very different men. Ghurek grew ever larger as his ravenous appetite for life turned into desperate gluttony. Eventually man became monster as Ghurek's growing strength sapped his ability to reason. Known for growling a corrupted version of his own name, ’Ghurk’ was refashioned by his adoptive grandfather into an obese spawn-thing so large that his brothers took to riding him into battle. Great horns sprouted from his shoulders, fetid pustules carbuncled his back, and his arms mutated hideously, one into a gawping lamprey-like maw, the other into a muscular tentacle, the better to grasp his still wriggling victims and sate his terrible hunger. Ghurk could slay giants and ice drakes alike, devouring their corpses and later defecating heaving mounds from which wondrously disgusting new forms of life would emerge into the light.

Embittered by the loss of his mother and father, Ethrac's heart darkened. His spells became ever fouler, the types of life they propagated vile and unwholesome. The sorcerer burnt his parents’ bodies on a brazier that he has borne ever since, the stinking scent of burnt offal drawing clouds of flies wherever he roams. The remains of his parents still smoulder there to this day, a cremated reminder of the vengeance their sorcerous son has yet to wreak.

Of all the triplets, Otto embraced his new destiny with the most fervour. He became a true devotee of Nurgle, intending to sow unbridled life across the world in every manner and form, no matter how stomach-churning. His scabrous body bloated and became as tough as bark. Though the wounds he suffered on his steady rise to glory often did not heal completely, the contagions that drizzled from his opened guts grew so virulent they were soon weapons in their own right. Otto took to coating the blade of his scythe with his own poisonous juices whenever he went into battle, cementing his reputation as a harbinger of plague. Of all the brothers, Otto is the most driven. His taste for carnage has seen the roaming Glottkin triumph against the worshipping warbands of Slaanesh, Tzeentch, even of mighty Khorne. Yet, despite their growing favour in the eyes of their patron, it was only when Archaon approached them to lead his vanguard that the triplets began their deadly journey in earnest...

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Glottkin


Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Orghotts Daemonspew

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 6'5

Weight (you can approximate): 300+

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer Fantasy

Abilities: Though Orghotts considers himself a mere shadow of the warrior he will one day become, in battle he has always proved to be a force of terrible destruction. Heavily armoured and all but immune to physical wounds, those fast enough to land a blow on Orghotts' stout frame invariably find their attack shrugged off, and a decapitating blow levelled at them in return. Even those of his blows that do not truly connect can be lethal -a single scratch from the Rot Axes will fester and turn gangrenous in a second, laying the victim low even as Orghotts barrels past in search of fresh opportunities to prove his worth. Those assailants that do manage to penetrate Orghotts' armour and pierce his skin quickly learn the truth behind his name.[1a]

Whenever the warlord’s flesh is cut open, a gout of daemonic ichor spew out with shocking force. Its vitriolic potency is enough to burn through steel and dissolve the flesh beneath. It is a testament to the length of Orghotts’ violent odyssey that more men have been killed by his tainted lifeblood than by the blades of the latter-day champions that march alongside him. The daemonic vitae that runs in Orghotts’ blood proved unpredictably useful in the harnessing of Whippermaw, the pox maggoth that the warlord rides to war. Orghotts first encountered the monstrous maggot- thing slumbering in the quagmires of the Eternal Lagoon. Guided into the stinking morass by a vision of Nurgle's fecund favour, Orghotts wisely waited until Whippermaw was in a digestive torpor after devouring a swamp drake before approaching the beast.

The maggoth slammed a long claw into Orghotts’ neck, but just as its long tongue whipped out to ensnare him and yank him towards its two gnashing mouths, the scent of daemon ichor gave the beast pause. Seeing his chance, Orghotts caught the beast’s lashing tongue in his gauntlet and swung up onto its back, using the whip-like appendage as an improvised rein with which to yank the pox maggoth left and right until it had learned to obey his commands. Any other warrior would have been swiftly thrown off and chewed in half, but the scent of Nurgle’s favour ran in Orghotts’ veins. So it is that he rides a powerful pox maggoth to this day, a beast just as impervious to harm as its master. As the scale of his deeds grows ever greater, Orghotts’ chances of true immortality become greater with every passing night.

Bio: Icehorn Peak is situated in the far north of the world, on the penumbra of the Realm of Chaos, and the people that eke out a living from the god-touched wilderness are well used to seeing the shimmering landscape disgorge entire hosts of daemons. Orghotts has dwelt on the margin of his master’s domain for several centuries, for the ichor that runs in his veins lends him a sham immortality that has extended his lifespan to many times that of the oldest human.

The Realm of Chaos ebbs and flows across the lands as the power of the Dark Gods waxes and wanes, and at times its has spilt over the mountains to consume Icehorn Peak and those who dwell in its shadow. Orghotts has, at times, even walked the twisting pathways of the Garden of Nurgle, though instead of being the transcendent paradise he had hoped for it proved instead a tantalising hell. The SPORE King wandered the Realm of Chaos at one step removed, able to see the garden unfold around him but unable to breathe in the nostril- blasting scents of its bright fungus or taste the rancid spores that floated lazily through the air.

It was a vision of heaven dangled in front of his aching senses, granting not peace but instead inflaming Orghotts’ desire to appreciate Nurgle’s gifts fully. The only things he was able to touch there were a pair of rot-bladed axes that he found embedded deep in the trunk of a twisted tree that had once been a dreaming life-wizard. The axes were of mortal origin, and though it took every ounce of his strength, Orghotts wrenched them loose and took them for his own. He fights with these plague-caked Rot Axes to this day, a permanent reminder of the time he stood upon the threshold of his destiny.

There was a period in Orghotts' history where he would regularly consort with - and even consume - the daemonic servants of the Lord of Decay in an attempt to contract Nurgle's Rot. He did this in the hope that he would die from the spiritual disease and become a Plaguebearer, as had so many lesser tribesmen before him. Devout as he was, he felt sure that the Lord of Decay would take pity on his devoted disciple and reforge him in immortal form. Ironically, the same unnatural resilience granted to him by his half-daemon nature kept him from the embrace of death and the nirvana that lay on the other side. Nurgle's Rot claimed him as a vessel, even reshaping his mortal form so that the single horn of a plaguebearer sprouted from his skull in place of his left eye, but it did not claim him completely as he had hoped. Though he has since spread that most transcendent of diseases to countless mortals, Orghotts remains stranded on the mortal plane.

Like countless warlords before him, Orghotts walks the path to glory in search of his god’s favour. This treacherous road leads only to death, to transformation into a mewling Chaos spawn, or - for a rare few - to immortality as a daemon prince. Though Orghotts’ daemonic allies have intimated that even daemon princes bear the stigma of the mortal seed that birthed them, he strives for that status nonetheless, for if he wins favour enough to cross the divide he will at last become a true immortal.

In his quest for Nurgle’s approval, Orghotts has sailed in search of glory on many occasions. He has led entire tribes south across the Sea of Chaos, through the wilderness of Norsca and into the Empire. He fought at the Battle of Kislev's Gates during the Great War Against Chaos in 2303, challenging and swiftly slaying the warrior priests and grand masters of the Sigmarite armies sent to stop him.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Orghotts_Daemonspew
Megaman177


Multicellular

Joined: 03/23/2015 18:00:05
Messages: 286
Offline

Username: Megaman177

Name: Jonus Alabaster

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 6'0”

Weight (you can approximate): 170 pounds

Description/Picture:


Universe: Dimensional Clash

Abilities: Jonus is an exceptionally strong man and a clumsy but nonetheless brutal combatant. He subsists on Joy provided by Uncle Jack, which represses his hunger, thirst and traumatic memories in-addition to keeping him happy and obedient to his Uncle. Taking after Jack, he too wears a Happy Mask that stretches his facial muscles into a smile. His specialities include manual labour, skirmishing and botany. He wields a wooden baton as a weapon.

Bio: Jonus Alabaster originally lived as a labourer in Nirn along with his wife Janice Alabaster and young daughter Olivia Alabaster. A tragic assault possibly enacted by a scatting robot left the Alabasters' quaint home in ruin and lead to the disappearance of Olivia. This event plunged Jonus and Janice into a deep state of desperation and despair, that being until they were found by Uncle Jack. Intent on making Wellies out of the couple, he offered them resources like expensive clothing, Joy and Happy Masks, which Jonus was quick to accept. After Jack introduced himself, Jonus rapidly transformed into a grinning Wellie and joined his Uncle for a good laugh. This convinced Janice that Jack was the solution to her and her husband's problems, but after taking a couple of Joys herself, she had an unpleasant reaction which magnified the trauma of what she had been through. She became a screaming mess, and Uncle Jack advised the drugged-up Jonus to deal with her, knowing full well she was a Downer. Unable to recognize her under the influence of Joy, Jonus made a vicious effort to strangle his wife and succeeded in murdering her.

Having forgotten all about his sorrows and his family, Jonus joined Uncle Jack as a Wellie.

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Link: None

-

Username: Megaman177

Name: Michael Airlines Food Trolley

Sex (if any): Trolley

Height (you can approximate): 4'0"

Weight (you can approximate): 60 lbs

Description/Picture:


Universe: Dimensional Clash

Abilities: Whenever things go awry, the Michael Airlines Food Trolley will almost inevitably make things even worse. It's sensitive to being pushed/moved, and as such somebody can accidentally send it on a destruction derby if they aren't gentle. It holds a supply of aircraft food such as crisps, nuts, chocolate, water and sandwiches, as-well as delicate plates, cups and tea/coffee supplies. These delicate bits are more secure than the food, but still prone to flying off and killing people. The machine installed on top of it is rigged to pour out sulphuric acid, for whatever horribly twisted, diabolical reason.

Generally speaking, the Michael Airlines Food Trolley is very durable, destructive and not very useful.

Bio: The Michael Airlines Food Trolley is a refreshments cart residing on Michael Rosen's plane to Jamaica. It is responsible for numerous cases of manslaughter and grievous bodily harm. Recently, it has destroyed the plane's cockpit and deserted its passengers on a Lego Nazi Golf Course.

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Link: None

Zandoo


Civilized Sporeon

Joined: 07/20/2009 08:31:39
Messages: 4545
Location:
I don't know.

Offline

Username:

Name: Usoara Aducator

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 5'10"

Weight (you can approximate): 138 lbs.

Description/Picture:

Universe: Through Darkness [OC]

Abilities: Usoara is a master of electrical manipulation, able to pull energy out of his surroundings and bend it to his will. Having studied the specialized field in electric magic, technomancy, he is able to quickly understand binary programming systems and use his abilities to program them as well. This does, of course, reach into the realm of manipulating the human brain, though it is a much more complicated machine, and he would rather stay away from giving people brain damage. With his degree in technomancy, Usoara also has a limited knowledge of engineering.

Of course, his main gimmick is his way with electricity. Being able to use his power depends heavily on his own willpower, and prolonged, excessive use can be draining if he is mentally not up to the task. Powerful, vibrant emotion can also serve to fuel his abilities.

He cannot create electricity, only manipulate already existing energy. Literary knowledge has taught him how to split the atom through considerable effort, but, as with messing with the electricity in people's brains, this goes against his philosophy. Not only that, but splitting the atom requires close proximity, and the energy released is too unstable.

Also he has terrible night vision, though bright lights do not affect him to a high degree.

Bio: The world Usoara comes from is shrouded in a dissolving darkness wrought by the disappearance of the sun many years ago. Any amount of darkness larger than a small room has the potential to warp and twist into the dense fog that threatens to rip the world apart. It is entirely up to mankind to keep itself alive against this threat.

Born to a wealthy family of photomancers, Usoara's life had been planned out for him by his mother and father long before he was even conceived. His name, in the upper-class' language, literally means 'Light Bringer'.

Unfortunately for them, Usoara found himself enthralled by electricity and the technological revolution taking place by electromancy's new, specialized field: technomancy. Of course, he would never delve into his passions as to not disappoint his parents and end the long line of photomancy his family was known for.

When he enrolled in the only school of photomancy as an adult however, he found he could no longer appease their desires, and took his destiny in his own hands. To the dismay of his entire bloodline, Usoara pursued the laborious goal of becoming a technomancer. He was promptly disowned, and his parents tried for another child.

While initially heartbreaking, Usoara did not let this deter him from his passions. He was determined to be the greatest electromancer that had ever lived, and push the boundaries of technomancy. He got a PhD in both electromancy and technomancy, and would use these talents to become the bringer of light he was destined to be.

Alignment: Lawful Good

Then the world blew up. The end.

EropsToad wrote:wups
DarkLord979 wrote:Ok... take my five stars...
Jawlord


Civilized Sporeon

Joined: 01/14/2012 19:29:43
Messages: 1746
Location:
I don't even know and even if I did I wouldn't tell you

Offline

Username:Jawlord

Title or Classification:SCP-1147

Compositon or parts:unclassified species of plum tree whose seeds, designated SCP-1147-1, can be planted in practically any substance.

Height (you can approximate):Variable,dependant on substance

Weight (you can approximate):Variable,dependant on substance

Description/Picture:

Universe:Secure,Contain,Protect Foundation

Abilities:Able to grow in any substance, earthly or otherwise,able to grow in the form of substance grown in and retain properties of said thing.

History or creation:The original specimen of SCP-1147 was discovered growing from the steel base of a lamp post in ████ ██████, Georgia, where it was believed to be an art installation by the local population.

Danger if discovered and used by parties of malevolent nature:Somewhat

Link:http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-1147


I choose to choose my version of reality,whether or not It makes sense is of no consequence.
AetheticMonkey


Multicellular

Joined: 06/06/2017 05:04:25
Messages: 101
Offline

Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Gravelord Nito

Sex (if any): Unknown

Height (you can approximate): 12ft+

Weight (you can approximate): Unknown

Description/Picture:

Universe: Dark Souls

Abilities: Superhuman Physical Characteristics, Death Manipulation, Disease Manipulation, Poison Manipulation,Soul Manipulation, Immortality (Types 1 and 3), Magic

Bio: Nito, the first of the dead, is one of the original Lords who found a Lord Soul at the dawn of the Age of Fire. Of his life beforehand, nothing is told, and only his title gives a base from which to theorize. His soul, the Death Soul, turned him into a living manifestation of illness and death, a mass of skeletons held together by the miasma of the Death Soul. He, along with the other Lords, waged war against the Dragons, and issued the killing blow by unleashing a miasma of death and disease upon them.

After the war with the dragons, Nito descended into the Catacombs, and slumbered within the Tomb of the Giants. Even in that state, he could administer the death of all life and offered much of the energy of his own soul to death itself.Travelers brave enough to find their way into his tomb would pay their respects and become a Gravelord Servant. They would use the Eyes of Death to cause hostile spirits to invade other worlds, spreading death throughout them, which allowed the multiplication of the Eyes of Death, which in turn allows death to increase exponentially. While Nito sees all death, and induces all death, his servants return with Eyes of Death to prove that they have done their tasks. In return for their service to him, Nito accepts these offerings, and presents his servants with more power.

It is thought that Nito possessed the Rite of Kindling, a power sacred to ancient clerics, which allowed them to strengthen the flame of Bonfires. In time before the player's mention, a being known as the "Pinwheel" stole this power of Nito, holding on to it until the Chosen Undead meets the Pinwheel. This power was also sought after by occultists who wished to abscond with the power of Nito, to destroy the Gods, and perhaps the other Lords, though their plot was foiled and they died in Nito's domain. These events are considered ancient history, in a timeline between the fall of Oolacile and the Chosen Undead's arrival.

In their attempt to fill the Lordvessel with powerful souls, the Chosen Undead intrudes upon the underground cavern that housed the sarcophagus of Nito, who awakens and defends himself from his attacker. Even with him dead, his soul persists, as it is the manifestation of a fundamental concept. Though the world appears to forget Nito, his original power over life exists alongside the Death Soul, which lives on to this day and allows his patronage to exist in the world.

He is theorized to be the creator of the Milfanito and the Fenito found in the Shrine of Amana and Undead Crypt respectively in Dark Souls II, as they are considered creations of the "Great Dead One" and of "the one who gave us the first death" respectively, though Nito is also thought to be the "Old Dead One" whose soul was reborn as The Rotten. Despite the accuracy of such ideas, it is clear that his influence extends beyond his own death, and that he could still exist in some form.

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Link: http://darksouls.wikia.com/wiki/Gravelord_Nito

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 08/27/2017 04:14:46

EropsToad


GalacticGod

Joined: 08/02/2009 04:12:46
Messages: 10809
Location:
Dating Papyrus

Offline

Username: EropsToad

Name: Spawny

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 2'7"

Weight (you can approximate): 45.2 lbs

Description/Picture: (Spawny is the Rabbid seen in Bowser Jr.'s grasp in the center of the image.)

Universe: Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle

Abilities: Spawny, when agitated or stressed, unleashes a beam that combines two or more objects or entities within a 5 yard radius of each other, creating things such as the Pirabbid Plant or the Phantom of the Bwahpera. His naïve personality makes him vulnerable to being taken advantage of, and he is easily spooked, leading to the unpredictable nature of his power. Combination, however, is reversible, either by defeat of the combined entity, or via Spawny's power.

Bio: Spawny started out as an ordinary Rabbid. However, when he and many other Rabbids were transported via the Time Washing Machine to an inventor girl's workshop/Mario collection, Spawny curiously swiped a device known as the SupaMerge and used it to fuse other Rabbids with objects, doing so to create Rabbid Peach and Rabbid Mario. When Spawny enters the Mushroom Kingdom however, his appearance is differentiated from the other Rabbids.

When he was still a regular Rabbid, Spawny was mischievous, curious, and playful like his fellow rabbids. Always causing trouble without thinking about the consequences. After his transformation, Spawny became timid, naïve, and childlike. This causes Bowser Jr. to take advantage of him, pretending to be his friend so he could use his abilities. Because his power comes from fear and stress, Spawny has little to no control of his abilities.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Link: https://www.mariowiki.com/Spawny#cite_note-Mask-4

AetheticMonkey


Multicellular

Joined: 06/06/2017 05:04:25
Messages: 101
Offline

Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Lord Kroak

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 6'7

Weight (you can approximate): 30ibs

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer

Abilities: Standard of the Sacred Serpent: The standard is in the form of a huge golden serpent coiled around the standard-pole. Its forked tongue faces the foe and if any enemy approaches Lord Kroak, the serpent is awakened and writhes, hisses and spits like a living creature, animated by Lord Kroak's residual power. It is a matter of great debate among the Mage-Priests as to whether this standard represents Sotek, since Lord Kroak perished many centuries before the emergence of that god. However, it is quite possible that Lord Kroak knew that Sotek was destined to emerge and had already begun to venerate or even invoke him in the deep thoughts of his inscrutable mind.

Golden Death Mask: Lord Kroak’s golden death mask protects the mummified head of the venerable Relic Priest. Its most striking features are the two staring eyes made from smooth white and yellow gemstones inlaid to represent the all-seeing and unblinking eyes of Lord Kroak, staring out of eternity and watching over his minions. The hypnotic effect of the mask hinders foes attempting to attack him.

Ceremonial Mace of Malachite: This is the magic weapon which Lord Kroak wielded in his lifetime. Now he cannot swing it as before, but its magical power remains just as useful to him. The Mace has the magic power to negate any magic weapon used against Lord Kroak in hand-to-hand combat.

Amulet of Itza: This amulet, in the form of a lizard from a meteoric crystal, protects the mummy of Lord Kroak from hostile magic spells by dispelling them.

Glyph of Potec: Lord Kroak's spirit, which lingers within his mummified remains, exists in the supernatural world and so is vulnerable to the supernatural forces of the Undead. To guard against this, Lord Kroak's mummy bindings are inscribed with the arcane Glyph of Potec, increasing damage to the Undead who are in contact with him twofold.

Bio: When Lord Kroak was still alive upon this world, he was one amongst many of the First Spawning who participated in the time known only as the Great Catastrophe, where it was said that a tear between the rifts of space and time was formed and Chaos flowed like a river upon the world. It was here, during this ancient time of battle after battle that the First Spawning all fought, bled and died against the daemonic onslaughts. And it was here that Lord Kroak, the last and most greatest of the First-Spawning, fought a desperate last stand upon the City of Itza, the first and greatest of the Temple-Cities.

When city after fortress-city fell, at last the way was clear for the Daemonic Hordes to besiege Itza, the First City and lynchpin of the Lizardmen’s arcane defences. Itza was under the protection of Lord Kroak, first of all Slann spawned upon the world and the mightiest of mages. The energy dome that surrounded Itza crackled with energy, turning Daemons to dust as they railed against it. Yet after years of strain, even Lord Kroak could sustain such mystic walls no longer, and with a final surge, he exploded the barrier outwards, flattening the surrounding jungle. A hundred thousand Daemons were banished in an instant. Nevertheless, the remainder swarmed into Itza.

Of all that long war, no battle was more fiercely fought than the one amongst the streets of Itza. Only an epic stand by Lord Kroak’s army of Temple Guard prevented the Daemons from overrunning the Great Pyramid. For many days and nights, the elite Saurus warriors stood firm on the lofty Bridge of Stars. Using his reservoirs of energy, Lord Kroak prepared his final incantations. As the last of the Temple Guard was cut down, Lord Kroak spouted forth spells that were the preserve of gods, raining fire from the heavens to vaporise the foe. Time stood still as the fabric of the universe strained at the outpour of sheer power.

Yet eventually even Lord Kroak succumbed. A dozen Bloodthirsters, protected by the favour of their dark god Khorne, fought through the deluge of spells and reached the top of the pyramid. There, they fell upon Lord Kroak’s form, ripping him apart in a savage instant. So overcharged with arcane energies was Lord Kroak that his spirit fought on, refusing to let even death hinder him. Set free of his flesh, Kroak’s radiant will soared above the ruins, scourging the invaders with a divine light that was like unto a second sun. The First City was saved.

Although Itza was delivered, the war raged on. Across the globe, the younger races also faced the Daemon legions. Despite retreating to their mountain holds, the Dwarfs had been decimated. The Elves of Ulthuan suffered tremendous loss, but in the end, their mages enacted the Great Ritual - a spell that created a vast vortex that drained away swathes of the magic that flooded the world. Deprived of their lifeblood of magical energy, the Daemons disappeared back to their seething realm, yet the world was irrevocably damaged, now transformed into a world saturated with magic and monsters.

In the wake of the defence of Itza, Lord Kroak’s loyal Skink attendants lamented the death of their almighty master, whose body was scattered far and wide. Diligently, the Skinks collected every last scrap of that ravaged body and, with great reverence, the remains were swathed in resin-soaked wrappings. Thus was created the first Relic Priest, of which many more have been created. The Lizardmen have found the spirits of these departed Slann so powerful that they often linger near their former bodies. In times of need, a Relic Priest is brought forth from hidden crypts to enact once more the Great Plan of the Old Ones.

Now, behind the enigmatic visage of his golden death mask, he can no longer communicate, but his spirit form can still interact with the material world. Some vestige of power resides in him still, a distant echo of former glory, yet strong enough to unleash destruction upon his enemies. At need, his shrivelled and lifeless husk is brought forth from Itza, and it has guided the Lizardmen to yet further victories.

Alignment: Lawful Good

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Kroak


Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Mazdamundi

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 6'7 sitting

Weight (you can approximate): 400+

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer

Abilities: Cobra Mace of Mazdamundi: Shaped like the gaping mouth of a hooded cobra, this mace has a sentience of its own, and strikes out with lightning speed to defy Lord Mazdamundi's foes. It can be used to 'bite' the magical weapons of Mazdamundi's foes.

The Plaque of Tepec: Mazdamundi may use one of the sacred clay plaques of the pyramid of Tepec in Hexoatl to counter an enemy spell. The plaque shatters into a thousand shards upon use.[1c]
Plaque of Xoloc: Mazdamundi may also use one of the sacred clay plaques of the pyramid of Xoloc in Hexoatl in order to power one of his spells. The plaque crumbles to dust when used.

The Itxi Grubs: Mazdamundi always carries with him a gourd containing a handful of dried Itxi Grubs. These are very potent magical grubs which absorb raw magical power from the ground. When the Mage-Lord eats the grubs, he gains the magical energy contained within them. He has to eat the whole gourd-full of grubs to gain a significant effect on his own magical powers.

The Egg of the Quango: Mazdamundi possesses the last remaining egg of the mysterious Quango. This is a relic from the time of the Old Ones which was found in a secret chamber during the rebuilding of the great pyramid temple of Pahuax. Until that time only the name of the creature was known and its existence was mere legend. No-one knows exactly what will hatch out of the egg. The egg however, shows no sign of hatching on its own and has been dormant for millennia.

Sunburst Standard of Hexoatl: The standard depicts the sun with a Slann stylised face. It is believed to be Chotec who was one of the Old Ones and patron god of Hexoatl, within which city he is considered superior in the hierarchy of gods to Sotek. Chotec is believed to be in the sun, or like the sun in his power. This golden totem inspires nearby warriors, whilst blinding their foes with its brilliance

Lord Mazdamundi has spent countless centuries studying the glyphs of the Old Ones and perfecting these four awesome geomantic spells which are unique to the Slann. No other wizard of any race can ever use them. Only the mind of a Slann is capable of the mental concentration required to cast the spells and only a Slann could pronounce the incantations.[1b]

Move the Mountains: Lord Mazdamundi concentrates his mind upon a hill, causing it to tremble and shake and forcing any upon it to be incapable of doing anything but holding on to the hill, lest they fall down it or be crushed by falling rocks.

Ruination of Cities: Lord Mazdamundi concentrates his mind upon a building or group of buildings, or a stone wall or bridge. The structure will shake, crumble and rapidly collapse into a heap of rubble that is thereafter very difficult ground to operate upon.

Earth Line: Lord Mazdamundi causes a line of damaging magical energy to come toward him from a straight ley line in one direction, causing damage to or outright killing any foes in its path.

Part the Waters: Lord Mazdamundi can cause any water feature on the battlefield to be crossed by a causeway of dry land which rises up from the bottom or is created by the waters receded from each side. The causeway is wide enough for a rank of four Saurus to cross over, which is therefore wide enough for Stegadons and a palanquin. There is no limit to the length of the causeway. Mazdamundi can use this spell to part the sea itself!

Bio: Mazdamundi, Lord of the Solar-City is the oldest and most powerful of the living Slann Mage-Priests and the current ruler of Hexoatl, the City of the Sun. At the Dawn of Creation, Lord Mazdamundi was instructed by none other than Lord Kroak himself, making Mazdamundi his successor. With a matchless mind unfathomable to others, Mazdamundi is obstinate in his ways and will not be deterred from that upon which he has decided. Although it took many interruptions to his thoughtful contemplations, at last the great Mazdamundi has fully bestirred himself, shaking off the lethargy that has afflicted so many of his kind. In the last few centuries he has become the most proactive of all the Slann.

When riled, the Lord of the Solar-City will levitate his palanquin-throne atop the largest Stegadon that can be found. The current beast, a colossal specimen named Zlaaq, has served Mazdamundi for almost five hundred years. Once aloft on his mount, Mazdamundi will march out at the head of the armies of Hexoatl. With a flick of his wrist, Mazdamundi has smashed cities and doomed armies. His Great Purpose does not allow for mercy. Lord Mazdamundi has studied the lost plaques more than any other Mage-Priest, including those found most recently. His epiphany is that the Lizardmen have failed to accomplish the first of the Old Ones’ decrees — the extermination of those races not part of the Great Plan. Mazdamundi believes it is pointless to divine the next stages of the Great Plan until the first is complete; to do so would only invite further error.

Alignment: Lawful Good

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Mazdamundi


Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Kroq-Gar

Sex (if any): Male

Height (you can approximate): 8'3

Weight (you can approximate): 500+ of muscle

Description/Picture:

Universe: Warhammer

Abilities: Hand of Gods: Kroq-Gar can create a searing ball of light in the palm of his hand, which can then be directed at his enemies.

Revered Spear of Tlanxla: This weapon was said to have been wielded by the warlike Old One deity Tlanxla as he rode his sky chariot into battle. It hums with ancient energy, and those struck by it are overcome by doom-laden visions that sap their will to fight.



Bio: Kroq-Gar, known as the Last Defender of Xhotl is an ancient Saurus Oldblood, the last of the remaining Saurus warriors from the now ruined temple-city of Xhotl. The spawning that brought Kroq-Gar into the world produced a handful of other Saurus, each marked for greatness. In the instinctive ways of battle-cunning these warriors were unsurpassed by any of their kind, and each possessed an innate dominion over the native beasts of the jungle. Kroq-Gar’s spawning coincided with the rearing of a brood of mighty Carnosaurs, and he claimed the largest and most ferocious as his own.

Kroq-Gar had been serving his temple-city for only a few centuries when the Great Catastrophe occurred. Although Kroq-Gar and his spawn-kin fought many epic battles and destroyed entire armies of Daemons, the never-ending onslaught eventually caused the defenders to take refuge within their temple-city of Xhotl. There, the magical barriers of the Mage-Priests saved them for a time, but eventually collapsed. Taking advantage of a surge of uncontrolled energy, Daemons manifested themselves inside the temple-city, butchering the Slann before Kroq-Gar could ride to their aid. So did the full power of Chaos swarm over Xhotl.

Although his temple-city was in ruins, Kroq-Gar and the surviving army fought their way out, buoyed by their own rage and the last blessings of their Mage-Priests. En route to their freedom, they sent many Daemons back to the abyss. For centuries thereafter, Kroq-Gar carried on a running battle in the jungle, the last army of Xhotl dwindling around him. By the time the Elves enacted their Great Ritual, only Kroq-Gar and his ageless Carnosaur Grymloq remained. It was none other than the great Lord Mazdamundi, High Slann Mage-Priest of Hexoatl, that summoned Kroq-Gar to his temple-city, choosing him to lead the great Saurus armies that remained. Mazdamundi gifted Kroq-Gar with the ancient artefact known as the Hand of Gods, with which he could sear the flesh from his enemies’ bones. Since that day, Mazdamundi has assigned Kroq-Gar the sacred task of exterminating those creatures not part of the Old Ones’ Great Plan. Over his long existence, Kroq-Gar has fought many wars — leading the armies of Hexoatl, or joining other hosts to aid them in battle. There is no continent upon which Kroq-Gar and Grymloq have not fought, but for the last defenders of Xhotl, the battle is not yet over.

Alignment: Lawful Good

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Kroq-Gar


Username: AetheticMonkey

Name: Lizardmen of Hexoatl

Size of group: 40,000. 200,000 skinks, 10,000 Saurus, 5,000 beasts, 4,500 Kroxigors, 50 Slann.

Description/Picture: Nice video of them in action

Universe: Warhammer

Abilities/Equipment:

Saurus Warriors - Saurus are brutish yet disciplined creatures. Even unarmed, they are extremely dangerous — their sharp claws can gouge grooves into rock or tear out a foe’s throat with ease. Their muscular tails can smash a man’s ribcage and their mouths are full of enormous dagger-shaped teeth.

Skinks - Skinks take up weapons during their many patrols as well as to join the fighting during times of war. As troops, they range between reckless audacity and sudden panic. Their skittish nature makes them much more prone to fleeing than the stoic Saurus. They are typically used in two different types of formation. Most commonly, the Skinks advance before the bulk of the main army, harassing the foe’s advance with hails of darts.

Chameleon Skinks - Chameleon Skinks do not dwell within the temple-cities, but instead strike out deep into the Lustrian jungles. Some spawnings roam in groups across the land, while others instinctively guard a home territory — most often a neglected monument long lost to the jungle. From there, they join Skink patrols and stalk rogue beasts when they inadvertendy enter sacred grounds.

Temple Guard - The Temple Guard are a revered and uncommon spawning of Saurus. They were created to protect the Slann Mage-Priests and the temple-cities in which the Lizardmen dwell. To their tasks, they dedicate every fibre of their beings, displaying a single-minded determination that will result in either the safeguarding of their charges or their own deaths.

Kroxigors - Kroxigor are giant crocodilian relatives of the Saurus. They are hulking creatures, their bodies consisting of slabs of rock-hard muscle and their massive jaws bristling with razor-sharp teeth. They move in silence, save for the heavy thumping tread of their feet. When enraged, they unleash their only form of speech — a blood-curdling roar that reverberates across the jungle.

Cold One Riders - The Cold Ones are foul-tempered and dim-witted reptilian creatures. They emerge from subterranean lairs to prowl in packs throughout Lustria. They are hunched bipedal beasts with muscular legs, but when Cold Ones move at speed, they often use their forelimbs for balance and to achieve a more rapid pace. These shortened arms come into their own, however, at the conclusion of a hunt.

Terradon Riders - Skinks have mastered the art of riding Terradons by capturing Terradon hatchlings young enough that the beasts bond with their future riders — no easy matter considering the height and precariousness of Terradon lairs. There is a great demand for these Terradon Riders as messengers and scouts, and they are exceptionally useful in battle.

Ripperdactyl Riders - The Skinks who survive bonding with their Ripperdactyls are bold warriors, the most elite of their small kind. Once mounted atop a Ripperdactyl, they forgo javelins and blowpipes, for the blood-hungry beasts they ride cannot be stopped from plunging down upon foes. Instead, they arm for close combat, donning ceremonial helmets and carrying shields and long spears.

Jungle Swarms - When threatened by invaders or when amassing an army to march on distant lands, a Skink Priest will call unto himself one of the jungle swarms. What crawls, creeps and slithers forth is mind-boggling for warmbloods to behold — a living carpet of creatures that moves in a writhing mass. In battle, they wash around the legs of a foe in a wave, hissing, spitting and plunging sharp fangs into unprotected flesh. The smallest of their kind can slip between even the slightest crack or arm oured joint to deliver a mortal sting.

Salamander - Salamanders are giant, predatory creatures that stalk the swamplands and estuaries of Lustria’s jungles. Propelled by four thickly muscled legs and a powerful tail, they are swift-moving creatures whether on land or in water. Salamanders are voracious hunters, and their favoured method of catching prey is to swiftly close the distance, moving through underbrush or even submerged under water.

Razordon - Barbed Razordons are covered with a profusion of great spines — hardened spikes made of bone that project menacingly out of their bodies. As a defensive protection, this razor-sharp body armour serves to deter all but the most determined of creatures, and even the most monstrous of Lustria’s many apex predators will think twice before attacking a Razordon.

Stegadon - Stegadons are mighty beasts that have dwelt within the primeval jungles since long before the coming of the Old Ones. They are bulky creatures whose heads are covered by armoured crests, out of which project massive horns. With bony scales and spikes shielding their bodies, there are few predators that dare challenge them.

Bastiladon - Known to the Skinks as the Bastiladon, this hulking quadruped is perhaps the most heavily armoured beast in Lustria. It is a walking fortress, a living bastion covered in a rock-hard bony skin, and then further protected by massive iron-like plates — a natural armour so dense that it can, sometimes, thwart the bite of the mighty Carnosaur.

Troglodon - Their clammy presence revealed by ominous hissing, the great beasts known as Pale Death, or Troglodons, are amongst Lustria’s deadliest hunters. Lone cave-dwellers, Troglodons haunt subterranean grottos, emerging only to feed. These creatures are virtually blind, but hunt using senses other than sight.

Carnosaur - The jungles of Lustria are filled with a cacophony of sounds, but all come to a dead silence when the bellowing roar of a Carnosaur reverberates through the land. Not even the dense undergrowth can drown out that roar, which can be heard for many miles. It is a sound that sends shivers of fear through even the most hulking of behemoths, for it can mean only one thing — a Carnosaur is on the prowl.

Slann Mage-Priest - The favoured servants of the Old Ones, the Slann have considerable intellect and magical abilities, and rule the Lizardmen as venerated Mage-Priests. Although not physically menacing - their bodies are toad-like with large heads and bulbous eyes - with a flick of their multi-jointed fingers, Slann can topple cities, engulf foes in flames or open vast vents in the ground below.

Saurus Oldbloods - The most powerful of their kind, Saurus leaders are more than eight feet of savage reptilian muscle. The highest rank given is the title Oldblood, while those beneath them are known as Scar-Veterans. They are perfectly designed killing machines, their martial prowess further enhanced by battle experience. To their foes, be they ancient nemesi or simply those who trespass upon the sovereign territory of their masters, the Saurus leaders are nothing less than the vengeance of the Old Ones made manifest.

Skink Priest - On occasion, a Skink spawning will not produce an entire cohort from the pools of life, as is the norm, but instead only a single Skink will issue forth. These individuals are marked by the Old Ones and destined to lead, or otherwise achieve greatness amongst their kind. Those Skinks attuned to the energies of the world and that show an aptitude for magic are the Skink Priests, the most intelligent of their kind. Their role is to become the personal attendants of the mighty Slann Mage-Priests, and act as the prophets of the Lizardmen.

Skink Chiefs - Skink Chiefs are the leaders of Skink society, second only in command to the Skink Priests. In the Lizardmen chain of command, Skink Priests direct their orders to Skink Chiefs. These are Skinks who have been marked for greatness. While the Priests attend to prophecies, it is left to the Skink Chiefs to execute orders.

Saurus Scar-Veterans - Saurus Scar-Veterans, also known simply as Saurus Leaders, are the most powerful of their savage kind. More than simply eight feet of savage reptilian muscle, Scar-Veterans are perfectly designed killing machines, their martial prowess further enhanced by battle experience. To their foes, be they ancient nemesis or simply those who trespass upon the sovereign territory of their masters, the Saurus leaders are nothing less than the vengeance of the Old Ones made manifest.

History: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Lizardmen#History

Alignment: Lawful Good

Link: http://warhammerfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Lizardmen
Megaman177


Multicellular

Joined: 03/23/2015 18:00:05
Messages: 286
Offline

Username: Megaman177

Name: Vestal

Sex (if any): Female

Height (you can approximate): 5'6"

Weight (you can approximate): 125 lbs

Description/Picture:

Universe: Darkest Dungeon

Abilities: The Vestal is equipped with her mace, holy book, armor and robes. Using her mace, she is able to strike opponents from a close range. Through her mace, she can also perform ranged attacks. Judgement creates a thunderbolt which will smite an enemy as-well as heal the Vestal herself, Dazzling Light summons a shaft of light to stun the target (as its name might suggest) and Illumination stabs the opponent with a sword made of light in-order to prevent them from dodging attacks. Both Dazzling Light and Illumination will increase the ambient light around the Vestal by a small amount. Using her book, she is able to heal a single target of her choice with Divine Grace or alternate to using Divine Comfort, which evens out the healing across up to four targets, including herself. The book can also perform Hand of Light at a closer range, which if successful will hinder the target's aim and damage output. A swing from the Vestal's mace as-well as Hand of Light are both moderately more damaging to Unholy enemies, such as the undead.

When at rest (i.e. camping), the Vestal can use a range of religious skills to help allies recover and bolster them. Sanctuary prevents ambushing while healing anyone who has been on the brink of death, Pray relieves multiple allies' stress while giving them all a small amount of protection, Chant relieves a single target's stress and gives them additional stress resistance and Bless increases an ally's accuracy and ability to dodge. Both Chant and Pray are endlessly more effective for religious allies, though.

The Vestal benefits from her armor making her more durable.

Bio: The Vestal is implied to have been taken from her parents and placed in a convent at a young age, where she was taught to strictly follow the 'Light'. Part of this included rejecting any impulses such as lust. The experience was not pleasant, evident by the Vestal suggesting that she faced rather extreme punishments and that she lived amidst unsavoury people. Two trinkets that can be acquired for the Vestal, namely her diary and a necklace of beads, suggest she may have struggled with indecent thoughts and been sent to the Darkest Estate to atone.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Link: https://darkestdungeon.gamepedia.com/Vestal

Jawlord


Civilized Sporeon

Joined: 01/14/2012 19:29:43
Messages: 1746
Location:
I don't even know and even if I did I wouldn't tell you

Offline

Username:Jawlord

Name:A lot of Lego GNK Droids

Size of group:Too many,like 10,000

Description/Picture:

Universe:Lego Star Wars

Abilities/Equipment: power generators on legs. They were programmed with very basic intelligence, so they could understand simple commands.
However, there is an extra that will make him walk extremely fast and jump higher than any normal character in the game LEGO Star Wars: The Complete Saga

labeled "Super Gonk"

History:
A Gonk Droid was a type of droid that supplied power to various electronic devices. The Droid made an appearance in all of the LEGO Star Wars video games released to date, but has no purpose at all in the games, and is infamous for his extremely slow walking pace. However, there is an extra that will make him walk extremely fast and jump higher than any normal character in the game LEGO Star Wars: The Complete Saga. The name "Gonk" refers to the droid's full name, which is "GNK Power Droid".


The Gonk droid has a main box, supported by two short legs, and two feet. Out of the seven parts used, three are Dark Stone Grey, and four are Medium Stone Grey. The main box has Black printing. The old variant has a body made from a mailbox-type brick while the new variant is brick-built.


The Gonk Droid's official name is the GNK Power Droid, but it was nicknamed "Gonk Droid" because of the low honking noise it made, which sounded like the word "Gonk". Gonk Droids were, put simply, power generators on legs. They were programmed with very basic intelligence, so they could understand simple commands. They were often found on under-developed planets, were there was no electricity grid, or in mobile operations, such as the military.

Alignment: True Neutral

Link: http://lego.wikia.com/wiki/Gonk_Droid


I choose to choose my version of reality,whether or not It makes sense is of no consequence.
 
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