figurehead campaign - de laatste fluff

[kimmeken]

PART ONE

A dark place, somewhere in the Scharde Islands…
Morgaena spoke. “A bloodwitch comes, my Lord. She comes alone, we sense she carries fear with her”.
Terminus looked up from the souls he was currently tormenting. He did not acknowledge his soothsayer for her information, but moved towards the centre of the cavern nonetheless. And waited.

Sailing towards a dark place….
Skarre stood looking out over the waves. The sight usually brought her solace but not so today. She travelled towards the dreadful Lich Lord and the tidings she carried were not good. She let her mind wander, thinking back to her last “conversation” with Mortenebra.

A week earlier, on the coast of the Figurehead Island….
They had regrouped on the beaches. What was left of them, that was. The followers of Toruk’s wayward child had broken their armies and sent them running for the ships. Skarre was already embarking the Deathjack, when she saw Mortenebra scutter into view. She had made it then, a pity. Two of Mortenebra’s arms were working upon her own mechanics even as she moved. A battered reaper followed her, the limp form of Derilyss over its shoulder. The necrotech had apparently recovered most of her jacks, but as with Skarre herself, all the undead forces seemed spent. After a few moments, both women stood face to face. Mortenebra started working on Derilyss with one claw as she spoke. “Human. If you had but held a while longer before retreating, the day may not have been lost.”
Skarre immediately bristled. The necrotech exaggerated. The onslaught from the dragonbeasts had been relentless and they had not stood a chance, no matter what her fellow warcaster claimed. She retaliated: “if you had but coordinated with me as you were expected to, we would be dining on their souls instead of standing here bleeding. You are incapable of following orders, Mortenebra, and the fault for this defeat is yours!”

Tensions rose along the beach. Deathjack, long since wired to Skarre’s moods, halted its embarkment and began to turn. Even the undead could sense the confrontation building. In a few moment’s notice, Rengrave and Blackbane had materialized some distance behind Skarre, clearly marking their willingness to defend her. Mortenebra sneered. She could feel most of her jacks returning to active as her lesser nectrotechs worked. Derilyss twitched under her touch and even while the creature righted itself, his master gave him the mental order to quickly find some contingents of thralls.
“Very well, mortal. If it is a lesson in tactics you need, you shall have it. The beach yonder, before you accidentally blow up your own ships while you learn!” . Without waiting for a reply, Mortenebra scuttered off towards the named stretch of sand. As one, her jacks limped behind her.
She found Deryliss waiting with two units of thralls. Good. She took up position across a gulley of water, where a weak river was streaming into the sea. Its water was tainted with the blood and oil from months of conflict on the island.
Skarre, seething with rage, came onto the beach but moments later. An impressive array of pirate forces ligned up besides her. The cannons took aim and without waiting for any signal, she launched her forces. Blackbane raced forward and the ghost cannons started pumping. It was on!

….to be continued….

[Peter van de Worlds' End]

oooh nice

[Peter van de Worlds' End]

in fact astoundingly eloquent again.

[kimmeken]

tnx peter 
als ik het evengoed kon spelen als uitleggen, hadden we deze miserie niet gehad


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…the shallow gully proved to be more of a disadvantage than a benefit to Mortenebra. While her forces were clambering over it to reach Skarre, the revenant crews were carefully picking them off with necrotite gunfire. The Reaper had managed to drag Deathjack all the way to the reach of its wicked claw, but was then unable to finish the job, forcing Mortenebra to back away from the threat of the enormous helljack. It was not looking good…most of her unloving forces were destroyed and she was down to her jacks and necrotechs. She could not help but smile; somehow she was at her most lethal without the bothersome need to direct undead units and usually she was underestimated at that by her peers. She would show Skarre her mistake!
Even as Mortenebra’s offensive potential was temporarily blocked by the witch’s control over the run of Fate, an unobtrusive Deathripper launched forward, coming within flanking reach of the Pirate Queen and thereby implying the threat of a direct arcane barrage on the human. Fear of one’s own life was a great human failure and Mortenebra played that fear well. As she had hoped, Skarre withdrew the battered Deathjack to shield herself, thereby freeing up the entire front. In a measure of moments, all pirates near the water were gone under a blaze of bile and arcane fire. Mortenebra gladly sacrificed the little Deathripper to Death Jack’s fury and slowed down. Patience. Another benefit the undead had over the living. She carefully repaired the Reaper, even as Skarre was able to blow up her remaining Defiler. She gauged the distance to the bloodwitch…it would be close-cut for the Reaper’s chassis to make it in one charge. The master necrotech smiled again. Had she not always said that her living state would be Skarre’s undoing? She invoked her signature magick, allowing her helljack to move faster and attack more precise against the living. It was a done thing now. The reaper barreled forwards and although she survived the first blows, the last burst of focus saw reaper impale Skarre on his long claw.
Mortenebra knew better than to kill her commander…there were some borders one did not cross without angering the Lich Lords. She scuttered over to Skarre, still held down by the Reaper. “Your life is your weakness, witch. Now go explain your failure to Lord Terminus. I am done playing games with you.”

….

Aboard Widowmaker, now…
Those had been Mortenebra’s final words to her. Damn that creature! A mere necrotech with attitude! Lord Toruk employed thousands like her, but only one Pirate Queen of the Satyxis. Surely she was too valued to be cast away on this one failure?
Doubts clawed at Skarre’s usual arrogant attitude, even as Widowmaker was moored and she was rowed to shore. She refused any escort. If she must face Terminus with this news, then let there be no witnesses of her shame.

That same dark place, somewhere in Scharde…
“oh yes, she is close now”, said Selene. “and hateful”, added Hellaena, “she carries so much hate it nearly outdoes her fear of you my Lord”.
Terminus remained motionless. The hard clic-clac of Skarre boots could be heard approaching. She entered the cavern and steeled herself. Terminus had drawn himself up to his full length and his leathery wings were half spread behind him, as to enforce his superiority. She bowed low and then looked him in the eye as she rose. No mean feat, as she could feel his undead eyes gauging the depths of her soul.
“Speak, Skarre Ravenmane, how do you not stand before me victorious? How is it you failed?”
Skarre swallowed once, and then a cruel smile crept across her mouth. She began the tale she had rehearsed many times since she had lain impaled on the beach…”My Lord Terminus, victory was within hand’s reach and would have been ours, were it not for the actions of Mortenebra….”