A day in the life

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[Morgan]

OOC: To serve as a place to get some people's feet wet, I am starting up this thread. All posts within should be made in character, in the word of warhammer, this means no pulling out guns, no nuking etc, no chuck norris, and the like. Anyone is free to post at any point, just jump in and it could be something as simple as walking by and sneering at another character. Roleplaying other people is not permitted unless you have consent from said person. Even if you've never roleplayed before, I encourage you to give it a shot, we are not harsh judges by any measure. Most of all, have fun!


Morg rolled off his makeshift desk in his chamber, his head still spinning from the night before. "By Gork those Supplicium guys can throw a party." He thought to himself, drawing himself up he wandered over to the door, stumbled a bit, and stepped into the hallway. Members of the Legion were going about their normal activities it seemed, screams were coming from the labyrinths below, a Chosen was in the room across the hall sharpening his axe. Morg gave a half wave as he made his way down the hall to the feasting room. Grabbing the daily battle reports as he went from various members of the Odji-Mortis. Entering the hall, the vast array of creatures at the command of the Legion were having their daily feedings, some a bit more gruesome than others. Morg crossed the room to the large kegs of blood wine and poured himself a glass as he sat down in a dark corner, and began to try to make sense of the battle reports through his blurred vision.

[Kutulu]

From a shadowed side-corridor, Kutulu walked in- Dream Shredder across his back.  He picked up a medium-sized barrel of blood-wine and held it atop one shoulder.  As he turned to leave, he noticed Morgan in the corner.

"It goes well with the McDwarfins," he said in a ragged-monotone voice.
 
"That plus Unholy Charms makes for a well-rounded breakfast.  It's Merrily Malicious!"

Knowing he'd disturbed the goblin an adequate amount, Kutulu left down the same shadowed corridor.  Soon, he would dine on his prey.  Later, his prey would die.

[Zarthol]

From the stair case a Dark Elf appears in light black armor, where a cloak raps around her you see a Spider clasp holding it together. You see only a hint of her silver hair around her face as the hooded cloak hides any other facial features you can see. She slowly walks up the spiral stairs up to the corridor where the greenskin is sitting...

"Hail sir Morg"

"Has the Green done anything of use as of late?"

*giving no chance for Morg to enter she continues on*

"I have finished the torturing of a Stunty prisoner we caught in the last attack, with my superior skills in torture, I have brought him to give up yet another camp where his men lay....sleeping even now...Soon they will be sleeping for...eternity"

"What news do you have from the reports?"

[Retr0Rob0t]

*Grimbad stomps into the room walking staright up to Morg then coughs ignoring the odd Dark elf*
" Na matta your 'oblems witch. Me 'attle reports gon missin! Me 'ust borrow yours before me 'ed out for sum WAAAGH!"
*Before Morg can say somthing Tambor grabbs the reports and begins his attempt at reading it on the other side of the room grunting at ever word he can't read*
"Ya outa teach me ow ta read somtim"

[Morgan]

Morg lets out a slow sigh, looks upward, under his breath he says, "It never ends..." He looks back down at the dark elf in front of him. "Well, apparently, the battle reports say, Tambor needs to learn how to read. Don't you have something to go stab or maim in some gruesome horrible fashion?" Then picks up his glass of blood wine, drains it, wanders back over to the keg, gets a refill, then decides to wander down to the stables to hear the latest reports from the scouts, and hopefully find his war-boar so that he might escape these damp dark corridors for a few hours.

[Retr0Rob0t]

"Dat Morg neva loosens up. He be allway walk around wit dat sad face sayin orda's. He only happy when he tourturing a follower of da order or completly drunk on da battle field. Sum call 'im wise but me just call 'im crazy"
*Looking threw morg's things, he finds a book called How to Cook a Dorf with Their Own Mount*
"Ahh! I may give good old Morg another chance"
*He then takes the book and goes to find someone to read it to him*

[Zigzag]

*Mean while down at the stables....*
*Morgan sees Zigzag running to him in the distance*
"Der is a pak uv' 'wenty pointy earz cumin 'tords da fort!" he said while panting out of breathe.
"Und dey gotz a siegy 'ting, wut shud' we do?"

[Drakan]

An echoing screech is heard as a large door is pushed open, the towering shape of a hulking Chosen of Tzeentch is barely visible within the surrounding shadows.

"Look what I stumbled upon boys, well this is what is left of them"

Drakan Vargas steps into the dimly lit room to reveal himself, dragged behind him was the bloodied remains of a High Elf Shadow Warrior. Barely alive the body gets tossed into the middle of the room, all eyes staring furiously at the enemy.

"I found a scouting party outside, scouring the surroundings for our cathedral of death. This one is all that is left, I could have slain him as with the others but where is the fun in that? Let him be interegated, he has information we all could make use of...."

[Squiggie]

*Squiggie is pulled in to the room by an enormous Squig on an all-to-flimsy looking leash*

Oi!  Dat wun's still squirmin'!  We's shuld let Fangs 'ere 'ave a nip at 'im!  'E ain't 'ad a bite ta eet since we's busted up dat 'ummie par'y las munth...

I 'erd elfses ans'r qwestions beter wif no 'ands...specially if dere da magik types...

[Malkaris]

Coming into the mess hall was a stout and rather bulbous dwarf. His beard was long and raggity. His eyes deep in his skull. His clothes were brown and tattered revealing bits of his reddish skin underneath. He wore boots covered in something brown. Upon his head bore a tarnish crown of copper, chipped and scratched. Behind him he pulled his donkey, a small and shaggy beast.

He was Ubar Dungbeard, King of Mount Whoflungpoo... the court jester of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica.

[Morgan]

Morg turns to answer Zigzag but is interrupted by the commotion of Drakan's entrance. Turning away from the orc he wanders over to the high elf laying on the floor, a far off look in his eyes, and the last words of a prayer on his lips.
"Couldn't you've been a bit more considerate to the knowledge within? His mind, like his body is shattered, and useless to us."
With a quick stroke, Morg whips his staff across the face of the high elf, snapping his neck.
"Now, supposidly according to this orc's babbling," he said to Drakan, "theres 19 more of them out there, take a few minions, and deal with it. And please, if your going to bring back something to throw in front of me, make it worth my time."
Morg looked at Fangs, who now looked saddened at the lack of movement in the high elf.
"Get used to disappointment."
Then turned away and began preparing his mount.

[Zemok]

As Morgan prepared to ride from the stables, there was a loud commotion outside.  The horses within the stable began to whinny in panic, the whites of their eyes showing their fear as they kicked against their stalls.

Outside Zemok rode up to the stables on his Nauglir, accompanied by most of the Blood Avarice.  They and their mounts were covered in blood and gore, though none of them appeared seriously injured.  
Several of the Cold ones had arrows protruding from various parts of their anatomy, and one even had a broken off spear haft jutting from its scaly side.  They seemed not to notice though, and stood their ground easily, if anxiously, awaiting their masters commands.

"Apparently they did not expect a pack of cold ones and Druchii to be waiting for them." Zemok said.

Noticing the confused stares from the parties exiting the stables, he said. " Oh, I must have forgotten to send you the memo concerning the Approaching High Elves.  No matter, they are no more." He said sarcastically.

"Have the greenskins do something useful and send them to dissasemble the battering ram, would you?"

[Zarthol]

*Follows the sounds of commotion in the general direction of Morg*

*Looks down at the dead high elf*

* In a soft tone the Dark elf states *

"Sure if you would bring more prisoners to me to question, instead of killing them before they get here!"

"Well since it seems the others appear to be incompetent in their battle hungry cries, I will go with my brethren myself and head to the village I found out about earlier"

"If any wish to come along, you must be as silent as possible."

*heads off to rally her brethren*

[Zigzag]

*Zigzag heads out with his pet Crisscross, a few other gobos, and orcs for da muscle to tear apart the siege weapon*
*While salvaging all they can from the point eared catapult, Zigzag notices a shiny thing around the apparent raid leaders neck*
"Wut is dis", he thought to himself.
*It was a silver amulet with the shape of a two vipers twisted around eachother in the middle*
*After picking up it off the dead elf and staring at it for a bit, he suddenly realised that there was something in between where the two vipers were twisted*
"I betta' get dis to da' bos' rite away!" he thought.
*Soon after, the salvaging mission was done and Zigzag was running as fast as he could to get this secret amulet back to the leaders in the fort*

[Drakan]

Drakan returns to find his prisoner dead.

"So I see you got the information out of him quickly then?" he remarks with a sneer

A goblin scurries to the Chosen's feet

"No sir, Morgan felt that this one wasted his time and slew him where he lay"

"WHAT! Incompetent fools, that one held something that we could have used to our great advantage. You think that I seek to waste time bringing in prisoners when there is blood to be spilt?"

Drakan Vargas unsheathes his daemon blade, The Devil's Will and brutally lops off the head of the messenger.

"Good thing I kept one of his trinkets for myself"

May 2012

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