Azaha
17-01-2006, 00:15
It was a large barren world. The surface of the dead planet was windswept and dry, it had not seen moisture for centuries, if not thousands of years. There were no mountains, hills, or even sand dunes. Only crusted cracked dry dirt to cover the landscape.
On this barren landscape, a large ship sat landed on the dry earth, the crust cracking and spreading, barely able to hold the behemoth.
Not far from the site stood a being. A being that was beyond grotesque. Completely covered in a slimey green and gray color, its once spacemarine armor fused to his skin. From both wrists shot out two large hands, clawed and full of sores, one hand missing two fingers, but the wounds never healed. His head which sat on the nearly three story high body was hunched forward at a sickening angle, the head jutted out and bled. The armor that was on him fully, the arm and leg armor, was bloated, on the verge of bursting it seemed. His chest and stomach were engorged with pestilince and desies, forcing the front of his body to jut out as far as his head.
In one hand sat a plaguesword. It was twice as long as a normal human was tall. Runes surged and glowed a sickly green, while unknown desieses were teeming upon the blade.
He was large, and surged with power. He was blessed by his father, the father of all who followed him, the patriarch, the loving dad: Nurgle.
He bellowed his sickly deep voice, which sounded as if it had multitudes of fluid built up. The external mic of the nearby ship caught the words, and sent it into deep space.
"Warriors of this Galactic Empire! Prove your worth to me! Show me that I have not joined some pitiful alliance! Show me your power! Show me your skill! Show me this is not in vain. I challenge those who are worthy to stand toe to toe with death incarnate itself!"
On this barren landscape, a large ship sat landed on the dry earth, the crust cracking and spreading, barely able to hold the behemoth.
Not far from the site stood a being. A being that was beyond grotesque. Completely covered in a slimey green and gray color, its once spacemarine armor fused to his skin. From both wrists shot out two large hands, clawed and full of sores, one hand missing two fingers, but the wounds never healed. His head which sat on the nearly three story high body was hunched forward at a sickening angle, the head jutted out and bled. The armor that was on him fully, the arm and leg armor, was bloated, on the verge of bursting it seemed. His chest and stomach were engorged with pestilince and desies, forcing the front of his body to jut out as far as his head.
In one hand sat a plaguesword. It was twice as long as a normal human was tall. Runes surged and glowed a sickly green, while unknown desieses were teeming upon the blade.
He was large, and surged with power. He was blessed by his father, the father of all who followed him, the patriarch, the loving dad: Nurgle.
He bellowed his sickly deep voice, which sounded as if it had multitudes of fluid built up. The external mic of the nearby ship caught the words, and sent it into deep space.
"Warriors of this Galactic Empire! Prove your worth to me! Show me that I have not joined some pitiful alliance! Show me your power! Show me your skill! Show me this is not in vain. I challenge those who are worthy to stand toe to toe with death incarnate itself!"