Post#6 » Tue Dec 09, 2014 12:38 am
A lil something to commemorate, and maybe get the word to a long lost mate...
A Reckoning with Rebirth
‘Tis Monday, December 8, 2014, yet somehow transmogrified in time and space to an… era, it would seem (as placing the exact date seems a tad difficult since being ripped from my place of slumber, but all in good… time, if you will) that feels familiar and all at once not; as if “newness” could be used in such a bastardized manor to describe where I now am versus where I… seem to have been for what seems an eternity. Limbo, is not all it’s cracked up to be my fellow warriors.
And yet I continue to digress; apologies to the (impatient) reader, in whom I hope to instill a sense of utmost urgency. Which may, dear audience, pull every last one of you through the Warp, back (and yet… forward) to a time of rememberance, reunion, tinged with a hint of loss, but only enough so to balance out the surge of hormones all warriors, gender disregarding, of course, that every last (lost) one of us felt.. no, still utterly feel when even the most fleeting of memories of those fine, fine days, locked in and lost to “the battle” wherever it happened to bloom; the hot patches at the back of the knees, quickening of the warrior heart, the adrenaline surge as, side by side we march… no, HURL ourselves at the enemy in a blinding surge of red amongst that sea of blue (or red, if said warrior has lost all sense of Change), not to decimate the enemy; no their numbers are vast and wide, no different from Destruction; but to be engaged in endless pursuit of the next kill...
Ahhh, “Destructionnnnnnnn….” Does it not drip with the rot of Chaos, of the very Undivided, Itself!? A true Destruction warrior can literaly feel the surging of Change, of Waaagh, of pure unadulterated Rage accompanying the slicing of souls and the darkness that brings… One can smell it in morning air, drifting, lazily on the breeze, yet as rich as the syrup from innards drying on the fingertips, the tang of copper coating the back of one’s tongue…
So it is that I am again, supplanted, yet as reborn with the knowledge of my prior existence; not with trepidation as in that beginning, but with a longing anxiety, a soulful hunger to engage worthy opponents in battle (and the worthy are not hard to find in our opponents, as they team like roaches among their ranks; worthy roaches nonetheless…) with vast knowledge gleaned, in my former time here, from great and feared leaders the likes of Ooul, Hittnstuff, Fistandantulus, Akalulz, Dijimon, Greetz, Slacker, Jokerloz, and the mighty Cueleen (oh, how I long to be with her here again, in this most glorious of times… oh, Cueleen… You are the greatest loss I’ve born since the dEAth gOd rent our universe from stem to stern, as if snuffing out the last torch or candle after one has finished counting one’s ill-gotten booty, ripped from the corpse one just created before the hunk of meat makes its ripe-sounding connection with graveyard earth… glimpse your smile as you lead hordes into battle, the glint in your eye as the Chaos flashes through your hair…).
And so it is, no longer am I Cult. Reborn, or rather, re-existing, by the hands of humble ‘spinners of war’, gods among men whose only desire is to hover above this vast, vast field of battle, this expanse of WAR, likewise enjoying and revelling with all warriors, regardless of caste or culture, light or dark, Destruction or Order. These beings are to whom, as of this day, I owe my very ‘re-existence’ and rebirth as a knowledgeable-if-not-half-naked Marauder of Chaos, servant of T’zeench, once again, to my great Pride, beholden to T’char Zannek and his queen, who, believe this or don’t, still hold court in our famed Inevitable City! No, ‘tis truth an’ I’ve seen Her with mine own two eyes and the eyes of both my Brutal and Monstrous gifts! She stands, my good reader, as never before, as if anything so cold could be so absolutely pulsing with energy. But don’t take my word for it, my fellow warrior. As a minstrel of legend once coined,”Come, as you are; as you were; as I want you to be…”
Come, stand atop the Apex once again and stand in a field of lightning none but T’char Zannek or T’zeench, perhaps even, thirsty Khorne, himself, accompanied by, and inexorably linked, as if they themselves were Chaos Undivided; lustful Slaanesh, putrescent Nurgle: the four corners of the Warp, as we all should be at this grand time and place: United again, Undivided again.
Undivided we teetered on the brink of complete mutiny of the god-among-us, Spongel, as it (some still find it a slight-at-race to refer to Orcs’s n’ Gobbos as “it” [or ‘itzes’ as they say], but as they don’t seem to mind, bein’ mushrooms n’ all, I’m able to bear the burden) attempted to keep us (as if any of “us” could be kept from this momentous occasion) from jumping about and false-starting in such anxious anticipation, it seemed as though we would grind our teeth to bits gnashing them as we were (hmmm, “Gnash”; now that sounds like a moniker one could wear among company, among Soldiers-in-battle… food for thought, eh?), or shake ourselves apart while Choppa after Choppa flailed their weapons as if trying to take flight and be the first to arrive front lines-- and then, as if drawn from one breath among us all, it happened…
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
WAAAGH!!!
And with that we lunged at the shallow moat-like creek flowing just outside our Dark Brethren’s Chrace encampment, which became for a short time, dammed-up as it were, from the sheer number slashing across it’s face enroute to fresh, fire-cooked meat after a few days running hunt, with sparse victuals for it, and the salivary glands deluge with the feral need to indulge one’s senses, sate the hunger of Life, from Death.
Now is the time to take a stand. The Return of Reckoning is upon us all, and it is glorious.
-Dedicated to Ooul
(Haven't written anything in ages, banged this out right after the event. Good times!)
*edit: copy-pasted the text, but spaced off how to get the image up here =/
Last edited by
Gnash on Sat Dec 13, 2014 6:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
"You're not 'someone' in this world until you're hated."
-GaruchillaJoe
"Warison"
-A bugle call to attack
