The lands formed themselves around the mindframe of End, the Gatekeeper and Lichlord of the realm, the endless fields mountains and forests littered the landscape while the very atmosphere felt grey and depressing. This was paradise to End and the magic from all of the other realms were leaking in and empowering him and the Celestius Deathplains.

These rifts that form pull through Magic and Life for it to to be twisted into 'fuel' for End. Occasionally it will pull through Animals and Adventurers, only for them to be slaughtered by wandering beasts or their minds corrupted to attack each other.

Prophecy dictates that the Lich Lord will be challenged by a small group of adventurers one day into a grand battle which will save everyone's lives in all of the realms as millions die everyday due to Life and Magic itself being stripped into the rifts and dumped into the deathplains.

What End didn't know is that the adventurers have already arrived...

===================================

Ovid was spat put of a swirling rift in the air, clumsily landing onto a bed of drifting grass in the middle of the fields, the clouds above projected a grey fluffiness upon the lands. The rift closed itself up and the only exit back to the Mystical warrior's home realm was cut-off.

Grumbling and snarling about the suddenness and how 'unfair' such a thing happened, he saw several more figures in the open fields being spat out of other portals into the grassy field. In his honest opinion he thought that the best course of action would be to see what strange realm these other adventurers came from. Pulling his oversized hood down, straightening his Metal Scale-Armour out and pulling out his Magic-Infused Claymore, he approached the nearest figure only 100 yards away.

Swchoop!

Ivy was spat out onto the grass-laden soil, tumbling a few times before she came to a stop in an upright sitting position. What...what just happened? She had been chasing a beetle when a flash of light erupted in front of her. The creature had been stunned and confused, and in the next second she ended up here. Dazed an confused, Ivy scrambled to her feet and turned in the direction that she came, just in time to see the magical rift disappear into the air.

...She was trapped here. And this wasn't the first time that a situation like this had occurred. Not long ago, Ivy had been taken away from her home-world and forced into combat at the hands of a cruel and unruly king. It was an experience that she loathed to remember. She had actually lost track of how long ago that had happened, but now that she was in this strange, new place the memories came flooding back through her mind. Ivy took a few steps backwards, her empty eye sockets inspecting the place. Odd enough, it reminded her of her own home; the strange beauty, the feeling of a magical presence in the air, the grass...this calmed the creature. But she couldn't help but feel some underlying threat of danger-

Someone was coming towards her. Or something, more accurately. It was a being whom Ivy was unfamiliar with. From her distance, her heightened vision could easily spot the odd thing it was wielding...a weapon of some sort. Did that make the being a threat? Ivy was unsure whether to act defensive or greet the creature. She decided to stand her ground. A curiosity-infused murmur coming from her throat, Ivy straightened her posture and stared directly at the incoming beast, her striped tail swishing from side to side.

Ovid approached and slowed down as the Wolf-Hybrid infront of him detected it's presence and tried to prepare itself for a battle. Obviously it's never a good idea just to swing his claymore around like an idiot and continue this strange journey alone.

"Stand down, I mean you no harm" Ovid stated confidently. Just to prove his point he lowered his swordsman stance, his claymore pointing downwards with it's tip touching the grass. He held up his other gauntlet-covered hand to prove he wasn't covering any seceret knives or similar. Looking up and down at the Wolf-Hybrid he could sense a faint aura which magic danced around her, the elements of Ice and Earth.

A slightly cold but natural specimin.

Other figures approached slowly from other drections towards the two of them ontop of the slightly raised grassy hill. Ovid borrowed some of the ambient magic to help him jump onto a massive tree branch just behind him and relax cautiously, getting a better vantage point. The sunlight couldn't reach the shiny scale-eplating of his armour through the branches and leaves, therefore he couldn't be seen properly.

"I might be 'friendly' towards you but I would look out for the others approaching" Ovid called out in a slight hush to Ivy, a small smirk appearing from behind his oversized hood.

Xanik held his ground as he watched the two creatures before him meet. It looked like a less-than-friendly confrontation, but he was still cautious. The wolf hybrid was especially worrying; it had an... aura... The other looked like an equal match to Xanik, but he wouldn't take his chances so easily. He approached them without drawing a weapon, hoping he looked friendly. Not a threat. He wondered about these strangers as he drew nearer, trying to figure out who they were, and why they where chosen to be here.

Then again, he was not sure exactly where "here" was.

Xanik had arrived earlier than the others; he waited, shrouded in shadows, as the other beings where dropped into this place. This place seemed to have a familiar feel; he recognized the powerful, dark magic holding this world together. He knew this power made his own strength grow, but it would have a strange affect on the others; it would make them fear others, make them more aggressive, more vicious. He could even now sense the thick tension in the air. It amused him, how these beings suffered from this... spell. Even so, they were in talking distance now, so Xanik, the faceless shadow of a person long dead, felt it was best to introduce himself before something broke out between these individuals. Even though he was heartless, he knew being social, in a case like this, could be the difference between life and death.

On that thought, he cleared the last of the shadows distorting his humanoid figure, and he greeted them with, "Hello, mortals. My calling is Grimn. What might your name be?"

Ovid raised his eyebrow at the tall and black figure who approached both himself and Ivy trying to be 'social', especially when it opened it's mouth and greeted him like he was a 'mortal'.

"I think you need to look much... much closer and be more careful if you really are going to greet us as mortals since we are all infused with abilities that no mere mortal should have" Ovid stated blandly, his figure dropping from the tree and landed precisely on both of his armoured legs, his Magic-Infused Claymore still dangling from his hand pointing downwards.

==========================

In his fortress of flesh and bone End sensed a slight disturbance in the structure of the realm as three figures appeared many miles away in the grassy plains of the lowlands. The Lich Lord snarled and warped out of his throne room and straight onto the roof of the fortress, ioverlooking the onyx-black skies and the dead screaming landscape in which the imprint of Purgatory screamed and burned.

"The prophecy may come true then. They are... fickle things, their meanings not always resembling what one may think it 'will' mean. Only it represents what the outcome 'might' be. I can't allow my death to happen and the precautions I have taken shall preserve my realm and my life... forever"

The Lich Lord spread his skeletal hands out, his palms facing upwards and his hovering form spiked a red aura as strands of the most vile and corrupt magics spewed out of his hands and into the skies above.

"I shall grant them a... test. otherwise I will have to personally eliminate these silly adventurers of prophecy myself" End snarled. He floated back into the fortress to gather his troops and to check that his Soul gem was safe.

At the mountain's edges connected to the grassy lowlands the earth rumbled as something big slowly awoke.

Xanik unintentionally snarled in response to this stranger's hostile stance toward him. It didn't surprise him that he was bitter; this place could do that. He was, however, surprised that he was so confrontational towards an utter stranger. Maybe I shouldn't have called him a "mortal", thought Xanik, Next time, I'll call them immortal, then flay them alive. Xanik tried to hide this spite, speaking with a slightly mocking tone;

"Well, I asked you a simple question; your name,"

Xanik conjured some sort of shadows around him; then released his charm, and continued with a maniacal twinge in his voice;

"Ovid, you shouldn't pick a fight with me; you shou-"

Xanik froze; he sensed a new presence approaching.

So, he claimed to be friendly. Ivy lowered her slightly visible guard, watching him with her eyeless-sockets as he got out of his defensive stance. His face was hidden by a large hood, and she took a pace or two towards him to try and get a better look. Within seconds her attention had switched to the claymore, and she was inspecting it closely, her face a few inches a way from touching the metal, her body crouched.

It was at the arrival of a new figure that she turned back around. What an odd appearance this creature had, a faceless shadowy-thing who was surrounded with a curious vibe. Looking over him a few times, she tilted her head and let out a murmur- it meant nothing, just her response to curiosity. And this creature, well both of them, really, intrigued her.

If Ivy could talk, she would have told them her name. In fact, she hadn't even known about her own name until she had heard it spoken for the first time during her imprisonment- Ivy. And what an odd sound it was to hear. She actually felt better knowing, because now she had a title. A thing of her own that couldn't be taken from her. And she wanted to share this title with everyone and everything else, but it was impossible. Unless...

Looking around, Ivy took a few minutes until she found what she was looking for. She pranced over to a nearby, twisted looking "tree", grabbing a prickly vine that snaked around the trunk with her paws. She proceeded to nudge the plant over to the two, sitting down in front of it, looking at them expectantly. She hoped that they would understand.

It was then that Ivy sense a presence. Like the others, this was new, but it was far away. The air around her suddenly became chilled with a sense of foreboding. The creature whipped her head around and stared in the direction it seemed to be coming from, small green orbs forming in her eyeless sockets. Danger. There was danger about.

It was a strange sensation to feel, being sucked through a hole no bigger than one's thigh while watching the skin peel off of bodies of the people in the tavern, he'd only be so lucky to experience such an event and witness the gruesome scene. Sten's body twisted and turned in the rift between worlds, the pressure behind his eyes felt overwhelming, as if his head were to explode - it was pure agony. Instantaneous relief welcomed him as he was force from the rift, and body skidded across the ground, kicking up grass and dirt. Then the after affects kicked in. Sten groaned sorely; his body ached, he felt nauseous, and all the moisture seems to have been sucked from him. He wanted to close his eye and wait for the pain and nausea to go away as he licked his dry lips. The aroma of the grassland hit him, it was fresh, and the gurgling of a nearby stream graced his ears. He force himself to his feet observing this sudden, unfamiliar environment. What kind of black magic was this?

The gurgling of the stream graced his ears once more.

Sten was pulled from his inner thoughts and eyed the stream. It was one of those streams that led to a river, part of a tributary. Thankfully however, it was large enough to be consumed from. Sten staggered over and pulled out a rag and soaked it in the river water. He put the rag over his open mouth and wringed it of the water it had contained and repeated this processed until his thirst was quenched and left himself gasping for air. The water... it was fresh, but it had no taste. Bland. Nothing. Even the land itself looked a like it had a touch of monochrome. Was it his vision, his prized vision? No. It couldn't have been, he himself looked about as colored as he was before... before whatever had happened. Where was he? Why was he here? He looked around and saw what looked like a man and... a monster? It was some weird translucent wolf it looked like. He didn't notice Gremn. They were about fifteen, maybe twenty meters away. He unclipped his bow from his back as a precaution and carefully took a couple of steps toward the group.

The ground was rumbling, shaking, turning, shifting and sifting. Or at least it felt that way. Damn, there's earthquakes too? Balls, I must be drunk off my ass... I hope...

Who were those people, why were they there? ...Were they the ones that brought him here? If they were, there was hell to pay. Actually, there'd be hell to pay anyways, for whoever did this. For whoever inflicted the mentally scarring images of flesh peeling from the bone.

Ovid saw what Ivy meant and he lowered his guard.
"Sorry that I passed off as cold and guarded, none of us actually know each other and it's only what I have trained myself to do" The Magical warrior explained, rubbing the back of his hood with a gloved hand and a small smile appearing from the only part of his face you could see. Just as another figure approached the three near the tree on the grassy hill everyone could feel the earthquake intensify as a roar in the distance broke out.

=====================

From the mountains a head screeched in rage as it broke out of it's snowy enviroment, the clouds swirling thunderously as it's long slithering body broke free of the rock and the snow and flew away from the mountains where it once died and straight towards the adventurers. It reached the hill where the adventurers resided and flew around them in circles, it's icy breath dropping the temperature by several degrees and icy blasts of magic turning the ground around them all slowly frosty and dangerous.

BOSS BATTLE 1 - DEATHLY WINTER


Battle Music


- All Adventurers are ready to fight!
- Be Careful! The Ground will damage you if you don't keep on the move.
- Be Careful! Deathly Winter uses both Melee and Ranged attacks with it's jaws and ice blasts.

The brutal ork warboss Gitbasha stood over the burning wreckage of yet another Tau settlement, the blueskinned aliens falling apart completely when his boyz charged into their lines bellowing at the top of their lungs, the mekboyz already getting to the task of looting the advanced technology of the Tau and "orkifying it." When he looked around, he took a few deep whiffs of the air, heady with the smell of burning flesh, but he smelled something still very much alive and growled as he looked around and found a Tau Gue'Ves'la, a human auxillary from a world of the Imperium of Man that had come under Tau dominion, trying to crawl away.

"Oi! 'Umie git! Stand still an' die!" Gitbasha roared out of his enormous throat at defeaning volume, causing the man to freeze in panic almost immediately before Gitbasha levelled his enormous twin barelled kustom shoota, bigger than a browning .50 cal by far, and then let rip with the weapon, each barrel lobbing forth 1.00 caliber bullets at obscene velocities with an atrocious amount of recoil and muzzle flash. The weapon was incredibly loud, even by the standards of heavy automatic weaponry, and that was precisely why Gitbasha loved it.

Though he like most orks, believed that aiming was something that happened to other people, the sheer number of shots he put out meant that the human was soon blown apart limb by bloody limb before he could react with his own lasgun. Looking down at the now splattered human, Gitbasha frowned, the human seemed to be pretty sick since his blood was taking a noticeable greenish tinge. Heck, now that he thought about it, pretty much the entirety of the population here was sick and dying.

But the crack of onrushing air caused him to snap out of his ponderings as he swung around and let loose a ripping barrage of bullets from his left hand held kustom shoota, shouting almost as loudly as his weapon as he fired off the inaccurate barrage into space, but the bullets never hit anything living, rather, they were all being sucked into a large and glowing portal. Portals...the greenskin thought about this for a moment and grinned, Portals meant daemons, and daemons were good fighting.

His toothy grin becoming ever wider, the Ork boss raised his power klaw, mounted on his right hand, into the air and bellowed out the orkish warcry and creed of "WAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!" at the top of his enormous lungs as he charged like a maniac into the portal. He didn't seem to particularly care that the portal was doing much of the work for him by violently sucking him in, heck that made him smile even more as it reduced the amount of work he had to do.

Emerging on the other side, he came out on a snowy hillside, the snow crunching under his squig hide boots as he emerged, all three tons of boisterous muscle of him, onto the other reality and looked around, breath smoking in the cold as he snarled. He locked onto the enormous dragon and grinned. "NOW DIS IZ SUM GOOD FIGHTIN'! OI! Scaleboy! Come 'ere so I'z can get stukk in right proppa! WWWAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!!!" He said as he took out his shotgun pistol and loaded up some inferno pellets to really get the burn on.

Charging into the battle, bellowing at the top of his lungs as his semiautomatic shotgun and fully automatic kustom shoota roared out into the distance, filling the air in front of him with a stream of tracers as he charged at the dragon, fully intent on getting into melee with the thing, his grin growing ever wider as the enormous greenskin contemplated how the beast's head would look on his pointy stikk. It was very debatable as to whether he or his weapons were louder as he continued to charge at astonishing speed, the shortening distance between him and his quarry reducing the problems of inaccuracy.

When he was finally close enough, Gitbasha stowed away his ranged weapons and took out his enormous whirring chainaxe which roared into life as he put it in his left hand and had the energy field of his power klaw crackle into coruscating life, the hydraulic machinery in the bionik implant screaming as poorly lubricated metal slid against one another, creating a shower of sparks. Swinging his chainaxe in a massive downward left arc aimed at the dragon's left flank, Gitbasha then threw his powerklaw forward in a colossal left hook meant to knock the wind and guts out of the dragon's ribs.

Not satisfied, Gitbasha charged at the dragon in hopes of knocking it off balance, perhaps even taking the time to try and bite into it's flesh if it were at all practical, roaring and cursing all the while at the reptillian beast as he tried to back off and then take a slice at the quadrepedal beast's upper left arm's lower joint with his screaming chainaxe to try and cripple it before making a slashing uppercut with his powerklaw aimed at it's neck to cut up it's jugular and windpipe before making an enormous haymaker aimed at it's closest shoulder followed by an overhead slash with the chainaxe in an attempt to disembowel the beast.

He didn't care to check the results of his furious barrage, his engineered muscles flexing and pulling as they brought his huge body careening into the glory of battle, special hormones in his body triggering an overtime production of orkoid spores in response to the adrenaline rushing through him. He just drunk deep into the heady glory of battle, this was Ork paradise, a land with great and terrible beasts to fight, and he just hoped it would throw more at him to prove that he was dead 'ard to all.

Ovid snorted as the huge armoured ork appeared from the portal out of nowhere and charged straight at the Frost dragon flying around the hill in circles, snarling as each icy jet hit the hill. The Magical swordsman lifted his claymore up into the air above his head and spoke in a harsh echoey language as the ice slowly approached the fighters. The ice which was going to hit Ovid and Ivy was absorbed straight into the claymore instead while everyone else managed to dodge the next blast of frost by the ice dragon.

The reanimated feeling of ice and gloom filled Ovid as his claymore channeled the elements of the dragon's rage and injected a burst of energy into his body. With an almighty leap Ovid leaped from the ground and managed to grab onto the Dragon's spikey hair as it flew low to try and swipe it's jaws at the Ork. Getting a stable grip, Ovid thrusted the claymore into the neck muscles of the beast at the same time as the mechanical Ork managed to score a deep cut along the Dragon's neck and side.

Deathly Winter roared and spun itself around and around, throwing ovid off of it's pierced neck and avoiding the next swipe from the Ork at close. In a act of vengance the frost dragon flew high and unleashed a humungous ice cloud from it's mouth which projected towards the adventurers.

Ovid managed to recover from his fall quickly enough and saw with wide eyes as the cloud approached them. With no time to think he continuously spun his claymore around and around, protecting as many of the other adventurers as he could who were still on the hill. He couldn't quite get to the battle Ork as the extreme frost started to freeze up the flesh in the Ork's arms and legs and serverly slowed the 3-Ton warrior from moving around.

- Great! Deathly Winter has been critically injured.
- Warning! You must keep moving around otherwise you will be damaged
- Player - Ovid! Ovid has been forced into defense and can't attack untill the cloud is gone. All players defense has been increased.
- Player - Gitbasha! Gitbasha has been slowed down and damaged by the effect of frost. Movement and attack have been temporarially reduced. Gitbasha's health is at 8.5/10

((Patchem's internet is down, so I am putting in his post. I assure you that this is all him, no contributions from me.))

Sten’s balance was violently disrupted as soon as the slender dragon busted free from its rocky crypt, and kneeled down to make sure that he wouldn’t be knocked over. His head darted upward to see what could have caused such a tremor, and his eyes widened, his heart skipped. A… a dragon! Like from the myths and legends… these were different though, the mythic dragons of Elibe were portrayed differently. Stuck in this state of shock, another portal opened behind him. Only hearing the roars of some monstrosity, he turned around to see the large ork charging his way towards him and the dragon. “Oh… SH*T!” He swore as he rolled out of the way of the green mechanical warrior. He got back up quickly in a crouch and pulled out an arrow from the quiver on his back, and drew back his bow. That scare from the ork seems to have been what he needed to snap back into reality.

Sten kept his bow drawn as he slowly stepped back to regroup with the strangers he had seen before the attack, and waited for them to deal with the dragon before he fired a shot. The normally drunken ex-bandit kept his mind keen. If there were a chance his arrows couldn’t pierce the scales of the beast, he shouldn’t be drawing attention to himself. His plan was to let the warriors out there wound it, and see if he can gouge an arrow in a weak spot. Hopefully these men… well, man and monster would be able to identify vital areas. He watched as the man leaped unnatural onto the head of the beast and slashed at its neck while the ork went ape-shit crazy on it.

He watched as Ovid recover beautiful from the fall and kept a sharp eye on the dragon. Don’t let go until you see the scarlet on its neck… he told himself. He made sure not to get distracted by Ovid’s ridiculous sword play, and stayed focused. Come on… He murmured. He couldn’t find a proper time to shoot! The dragon wouldn’t stop moving!

As if fate was determined to prove him wrong at every turn, the dragon stayed still long enough at the right position for Sten to make a shot. His infamous smirk found its way back onto his face. There we go… Sten’s fingers let go of the bow string and the arrow whizzed through the air and vanished through the cloud. Trying to observe through the cloud was hard, but the sudden cry of the beast signified that the arrow had found its mark. And it had, deep into the red glistening wound Gitbasha had inflicted earlier. Sten grunted with amusement. So it wasn’t invulnerable after all.

Determined, Sten loaded up another arrow and pulled back on the string prepared to make another shot when necessary, making well sure to avoid direct line of sight of the dragon. He accidentally backed up further than Ovid’s sword’s range and was chilled to the bone. SPORE, that’s cold! He quickly stepped back into Ovid’s radius, trying to ignore the cold that had just licked his flesh. If he weren’t wearing leather armor by now, he’d be hell of a lot more sorry for slipping up. He turned his concentration back towards the dragon, crouching and making sure to stick close to Ovid, realizing he was the reason everyone wasn’t freezing.

It would all be in vain if someone didn’t kill it soon.

Ovid kept deflecting and absorbing the cloud's frosty mist as it still lingered. The dragon couldn't fly completly properly as it's blood kept pumping out of it's body and raining down upon the hill. It would slowly lose conciousness but the frost will only get more intense as Deathly Winter gets more desperate.

Someone will have to try and make the killing shot quickly.

- Critical! Deathly Winter is bleeding out. The dragon is about to die. A killing blow is possible.
- Critical! The frost cloud is getting more intense. Ovid won't be able to hold it much longer and it will break through and heavily damage everyone if Deathly Winter isn't stopped in time.
- Boost! Moral has been boosted giving everyone a temporary attack increase.

Whatever it was, whatever creature lurked in the distance past the mountains, it had caught her attention. She couldn't explain it, but the tense atmosphere slowly began to increase and-

Ivy flinched when the roar of the beast pierced the air. On impulse she got to her feet, her position becoming defensive, the orbs in her eyeless sockets glowing intensely as she focused on the distant landscape. Sure enough there it was; a huge creature, with a body like a giant serpent, breaking its way out of the mountains. The creature didn't need to get a closer look to tell that it was humungous. It looked pretty angry. After announcing its presence the beast flew straight towards...them! It was heading towards them! Ivy dug into the ground, a growl slowly beginning to rise from her throat.

The air surrounding her chilled. It seemed as though the beast could harness the power of Ice. And what a coincidence that she could, as well. Suddenly, Ivy let out a yelp as she slipped on the ground, which had now been covered in ice. The dragon had begun to attack. Picking herself up, it was a bit hard to regain balance- the creature didn't have any claws. Once she had managed to stand back up, Ivy was smacked to the side as the beast careened past her, it's tail slamming into her side and sending her flying a few feet. A new creature had appeared and had already injured the large beast- an Orc, Ivy thought it was. She seemed to recall seeing a similar being back at the Arena during her time of imprisonment. Curious beings, they were, and battle-hungry. Or more trained in the sport.

Woosh! Out of the corner of her eye, Ivy spotted a strange cloud heading towards them. Instinct told her to turn tail and run, but her mind told her to stand and ward it off, somehow. But how? While she was thinking and ignoring the chaos going on around her, "Ovid" managed to fend off the attack.

The dragon was losing. In fact, it was injured greatly. Ivy could see the blood leaking from its numerous wounds, especially the serious-looking one in its neck. The beast would die soon. Funny; instead of feeling scared, Ivy felt left out. All the other creatures had gone and fought, and all she had done was run and avoid being hurt. That did nothing. She was missing out on all of the fun. But here...here was her chance. It was dying, and she could kill it off! Deliver the final blow! With sudden enthusiasm, Ivy turned tail and bound a few feet away, keeping an eye on the dragon and heading in the same direction. Summoning a large amount of inner strength, Ivy suddenly leaped into the air and landed on the icy ground with a nearly deafening crack! Instantly following the crack a large shard of ice shot out of the ground. This was followed by another, and another...the shards came fast in a line, growing in size, headed straight for the beast.

She was stealing a bit of the dragon's power to use as her own. They shared control over Ice, after all.

The final shard, the largest and sharpest out of all of them, grew right out of the ground beneath the injured beast, impaling it.

Appropriate listening:

The dragon had engulfed gitbasha in a blast of frosty air that was deadening his nerves. But the Ork laughed off the pain, if anything, it only seemed to make him more determined than ever to continue the fight. "Harharhar!!! Itz gonna take more den dat ta stop an ork! Now come 'ere ya scaley git so I can stomp ya!" He roared at the top of his lungs as he took out his shotgun pistol and fired off a massive inferno slug, a burning 1 gauge shell the size of a small dog in terms of mass that burned at temperatures high enough to flash melt steel.

Gritting his teeth through the icy pain as he continued to walk closer to the dragon, he fired the shotgun again, sending another enormous shell dragonward as he tried to come to grips with the beast, his powerklaw snapping and flexing, it's fingerblades coruscating with energy as he let loose a feral growl. He four times more until his gun clicked dry, and then he put the enormous shotgun away and took out his kustom shoota to fire off a hail of tracer bullets that lit up the night in front of him as he charged towards the dragon.

"Now ya git! GET READY FER DA ORKZ!" Gitbasha shouted at the top of his lungs, managing to be even louder than his roaring and ripping gun before he broke off into a charge as fast as his frosty legs could carry him yelling out one ear splitting warcry. This was a cry louder than even his previous shouting. It was more than just a warcry. It was a way of life. It was the very basis of ork society. It was a creed to which all greenskins held dear. It was the ultimate expression of orkyness. It was one, simple word, shouted louder than an artillery barrage detonating at point blank range.

It was "WWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!" As the power of the waaagh flowed through him like the ultimate adrenaline rush, tapping into a portion of the massive gestalt psychic field of the orks, channeling just a smidge of the great orky gods Gork and Mork's power into him as he immersed himself into the power of the waaagh, he moved if just for a few moments, with greatly increased speed.

The WAAAAGH! supercharged him briefly, allowing the Ork enough fury to leap his three ton body plus two tons of armour into the air, arms outstretched as he flung himself at the dragon. If successful, he would land right on top of the dragon's neck and grab onto it with his power klaw and clench the thing into it's neck before biting into it's skull with his teeth and then pulling back to rip out some of it's flesh before bringing his power klaw down on it's head repeatedly to break it's skull to lead up to an enormous swing of his screaming chainaxe to decapitate the beast.

This is what every ork lived for, war, battle, violence. He planned to take the dragon's horns and stick them on a nice helmet for himself to prove to everyone just how tough he was before ripping out it's teeth, as to orks, sharp teeth were currency, including their own, which they went through like sharks. He also considered making a snazzy cloak out of it's hide, that would be orky. Yes, that would be what gitbasha would try to do. And no way he was going to let some 'umie gitz steal his kill!