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The leader of the group of orcs spoke "Than it is settled, we all finish this rat hole then march for Nuln. Our warlord will formalize the agreement after this seige is over."

The orcs attacking the southern wall were making great progress. The hordes now had a secure foothold to scale the wall and were pouring into the city. The large spider machine drew closer now solders could see better details. The beast had an enormous maw, with large burning logs in front of it in various places. Large glass jugs could be seen on the beasts back, like great big boils filled with several month old ale. From the beasts tail end crude smoke stacks were visible, belching out plumes of thick black smoke.

(Sounds familiar coughLOTRcough)

"Where there's a whip, there's a way!"

A chant of daemonic words began to develop, drummers and taskmasters pushing their forces forward. Pikes and blades held high in the sky while heavy drum beats followed the arrival of the hosts of Syrath, marching formations of Bloodletters and Plaguebearers. The chanting increased, the daemons efforts with it, rusted and brass shields where raised as a hail of arrows where fired from the castle, but the hosts advanced;

"An eight sided star, hanging over head!"

Greater and greater chants began to rise, praising the powers of Chaos. A Black banner rose from behind the main force, carrying it stood a Herald of Khorne. Bloodreaper, Champion of Khorne slammed the standard into the ground and drew his Hell-Axe and pointed towards the fortress and screamed a howling battle cry. Bloodreaper roared again and a group of Bloodletters mounted upon brazen beasts rode forward and begun to charge, pushing away allies as they head towards their quarry with their blood thirsty lord with them. The Chanting grew louder and louder as Horrors of Tzeentch joined the fray and unleashed waves of magical fire onto the fortresses walls while Syrath directed them from the air.

"Hang their heads from the standard, drink their blood and crack their bones! Leave none alive, let the city burn."

Tyranic Held his forces back, the daemons were quite capable of taking the majority of the city. And unless the cities defenders fought back, it would be unnecessary for his warriors to die on the walls. He may be a warleader of chaos, but his tactical and strategic mind was still very sound. INstead he had his marauders begin scouring the countryside, burning and pillaging in the name of chaos.

Syrath's assault force had already reached the Orcs and joined the assault on the walls, Juggernauts pounding the walls with their thick skulls while Bloodletters raised great brazsen ladders and climbed up the great white walls, thunderous chants of blood letting and hatred began. A volley of hooks shot up as the Khornate beasts begin to unleash their rage on the swordsman of the Empire along with the Orcs. A Daemonic dance began as the Plague Bearers chanted unholy things while they danced around the giant Warmachines, singing songs of unholy pox and the blights of contatigon. Syrath stood with his wings folded, a sly smirk along his face, that sneaky Chaos lord had fled into the country side. Such cowerdness would offend his Khornate nature while his Tzeentch nature would approves with a dark smile, an enternal battle raged. Chaos, Havoc, his mind was truley a realm of Chaos. He would make this world like his mind, and this fortress his castle, his new home. But for now, he knew this 'Tyranic' was an Intretsing fellow. Spreading his wings he dived from his cliff edge and flew into the cold air, the smell of burning flesh and blood shed was ripe and deliscous, so delectable. It served both his Slannesh and Nurgle sences, such glourious things made him who he was, he landed only meters from Tyranic and like a Hawk circled him;

"Off for a little stroll?"

The mechanical Spider approached the walls, and as it did so a formation of empire troops began to group up on the walls in front of it. As a response the spider began to whir and hiss, the fluids from one of the large boils gurgled out into the spider and a dull roar as the machine took in air. The empire troops tried to run but they didn't start fast enough. a very loud WHOOOOSH was heard around the city as the gaping maw of the spider spat out a huge gout of bright red fire. Many orcs cheered "Go Bessy!" as the rooftops of several houses burned.

The Blighted chaos warriors charge in the path of their allies' Spider-thing, killing any living thing it had missed. Far back, in his encampment, the Hydra chuckles as he continues performing the ritual, green light moving like lightning bolts around him.

On the walls the Bloodletters had cut down scores of Empire soldiers, raising and securing Brass ladders and drinking the blood of the foe like wine and continuing their bloody art by painting the white walls red. The sunlight seemed to falter under the bloody slaughter as the Orcs and forces of Chaos battled further. Fiery rocks where fired over the walls, crashing into buildings and structures with great power and strength.

Tyranic looked at the daemon with equal parts amusement and awe. THe daemons always seemed to evoke such feelings in him. Because he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his patrons would not fell him at the hands of a daemon. It would be a waste of the time and energy they had put into him. And for his patrons time was beginning to run out. This would change at nuln. The daemon seemed to be fairley run of the mill as most daemons went; big scary, feathered. Close enough to Tyranic's favorite prey, griffons. But this was Tzeentch aspected and so deserved his respect. So, with the nine around him, the four commanding the rest of the warriors to set camp and begin to produce great engines of war. He set off down the hill inclining his head towards the daemon to follow.

In the centre of the Hydra's camp, a huge, glowing green portal appears, a warping tear in reality. A lone bird flies through it, comming out the other side as a mewing vulture-like spawn. Then...nothing. The portal remains still, a low, droning noise coming from it, growing louder minute by minute.

"Quiet. Well, I am found of my own voice,"

Syrath began following the warrior, obviously he was not a run of the mill champion, he'd encountered many and most being weak and ill minded. He quickly followed, happy to see what this mortal had to say.

After about half an hour, something very strange happens. Alien and tuneless whistling begins emanating from its oil-like surface, a faint smell of cheese fills the air and several physics-defying insects made of shadow and crystal begin hopping out. A truly insane scene. Suddenly, it all stops, the camp falls pitch black.

Then something huge steps out.

Tyranic walked down the hill with a slow stride that allowed him to take in his surroundings and keep his balance even n the loamy ground. His deeply timbred voice rippled out towards the daemon.
"I have spent more than two hundred years on this plane, fighting, killing and generally causing havok in the name of the Four great ones, and here you are before me, an avatar of the lord of change. Tell me, what can I do for the great deciever?"

"Bring mighty oh Lord Tzeentch something inside the city, an unholy item of magik and Chaos, it will please him, then set this plane alightt with fire of magik and reduce the inhabitants to dust. Start with former allies, and let a circle of deception and Betrayel be weaver into reality."

'They summoned one.' Ulric said, looking towards the city and everything around him. 'Get to the ships. Get the hell out of here.'

'why is evryone leaving? OH DIVINES! WHAT THE H*CK IS THAT!!? RETREAT! PULL BACK TO THE FOREST!!' shouted Gorbaroth as he saw the greater daemon of Tzeentch and heard the chantings 'Leave at once!' and so all the gors, bestigors, ungors, centigors and two remaining minotaurs left the field and searched for shelter in the woods.

'How far are we from the coast?'
'Around a few miles.'
'Allright, stay at bay here.Lets see what those Tzeentchiann lunatics are going to do.'

What the titanic creature was, no one knows, but it is rotting and insectile. It look something like an enormous fly with a bulbous head, spewing filth in all directions. In is wake the very air itself solidifies into nurglings and rot.
With a booming laugh, the Hydra rises, the ritual complete. His temporary ally had been right, he would not waste energy atempting to turn thousands into mewing spawn, he would summon one great one. A second later, the alien portal closes, and the enormous thing roars deafeningly loud, so all hear and know of its dread arrival.

Even the orcs recognised the threat posed in front of them. They immidiately pulled back from the city to watch what would happen between the greater demon(s) and their spider "bessy"

The great horror, with surprising swiftness, makes its way towards the city walls. In is wake, something very strange hapens. Every corpse near to it slowly gets to its feet, twisting and warping. Within seconds, they are transformed into vile plaguebearers, each following the titanic abomination to the city.

The Hydra chuckles far back in the encampment, happy to be performing Grandfather Nurgle's will.

Syrath's armies did not fear fellow Daemons, great as it may be, Khorne and Tzeentch Daemons outnumbered it and refused to show fear. Juggernauts had rallied to Bloodreaper who raised his blade at the sight of the massive beast and snarled, no rotting corpse would take his prize. Screaming a praise to Khorne he charged directly into the breach in the wall with his Daemonic breathen in tow while a rear guard of Beasts of Slannesh began to gallop across the plains before the fortress.

Tyranic turned to the massive daemon that was coming out ofthe breach.
"A gift you say, would that do?"

Without waiting for a reply he tips back his head and lets his arms rise slightly as he draws in breath, and then with a mightly exhultation in his mighty deep voice, screams a single syllable of praise to the dark gods, and all around him his warriors begin to cry into the night as well. Then as one the four champions bring thier legions up behind thier warleader, and they march towards the camp of the Hydra. Tyranic's sword is drawn, icy tendrils trailing from its cursed blade, it will not be shealthed until either he or the daemon are dead..

Syrath smirked and spread his pinions and lifted himself into the air, it was enjoyable to watch the forces of Chaos to fight between themselves. Bloodreapers Brass Knights had withdrawn and come to the Daemonic masters side, the Rear Guard having supported the main force enougth so that the Daemons could break off amd allow the Orcs machine to weaken their defences further. Syrath turned to Reaper and nodded, the Herald roared and charged with his Brass Knights towards the beast screaming praises to Khorne...

The Hydra and his forces charge towards the opposing chaos champions force, screaming praise to Grandfather Nurgle. The titanic horror raises its bulbous head, letting loose a roar of pure, unfiltered insanity and plows into the heretic's force, sending men and limbs flying, those dead rising as foul plaguebearers.

The brass knights slam into the mound of flesh, their flaming blades scarring and melting through the rotting skin and cracking open the thick moles and bulbous puts with slams from the Juggernauts thick skulls.

The roaring horror brings its foot down straight on top of the small, pathetic knights in its shadow. The Hydra slams into three warriors, breaking their spines with a blow of his great sword, his forces tearing into the enemy.

The Juggernauts thick brass and iron hides tear into the foot of the beast while the Bloodletters mounted atop it are thrown off and crushed. Bloodreaper rides around and sneers, riding up to the beast he slams his blade into the beasts knee cap while the Juggernauts go beserk, crashing into anything in their path.

The creature makes what could be called a laugh, ignoring the tiny insects crawling upon it. It again raises its feet and crushes great swaves of enemy forces. The Hydra finaly tatches sight of Tyranic, and rushes towards him. Crushing one of his bodyguard's head with a fist, he shouts at the warlord,

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? YOU FOOL!"

OK, I'm just going to say this. Your things a blob of flesh, can easily kill everyone's men unless their made of steel and is nigh frikken Invunrable.

And is fast.

Obvious Godmodding is Obvious.

blood reaper wrote:OK, I'm just going to say this. Your things a blob of flesh, can easily kill everyone's men unless their made of steel and is nigh frikken Invunrable.

And is fast.

Obvious Godmodding is Obvious.

Its weak spot is sorcery. Easily damaged by magic and can be easily banished. There, happy now?

OK let's see, the fact it's 'destroyed swathes' of troops is ridiculous. But if Sorcery is its weak spot, let's have a go.

Syrath unleshes a goblet of green fire from his maw and a furious bolt of lightning into the creatures hide, another wave of bolts slams into its hide as Syrath lands and roars triumphantly.