Age of Sigmar: DEATH – Rufus Eisenhans

So, having recently got back into AoS I decided without due care and attention to ressurect my Undead – and bring back the Skeletons that I loved so much back in the 90’s

So without Further ado, may I present my undead Deathrattle army

http://bit.ly/2sxamtQ

Allegiance: Death

Leaders
Wight King with Baleful Tomb Blade (120)
Necromancer (120)

Battleline
Black Knights (120)
Grave Guard (320)
Skeleton Warriors (80)
Necromancer (320)

Total: 1080/2000

====================== Fiction ======================

In the beginning she had known two things about her mistress, and neither of them helped her in her current predicament. Tied to large a stone altar by heavy hemp rope, she failed to see how the knowledge of her mistress’s sex nor wisdom would help her at all. In fact, it was the former that had meant that she had underestimated the old lady – she was a lot stronger than she looked.

Now, as her mind cleared she saw that said Mistress was over in the corner of the room, humming to herself as she prepared something foul smelling over a fire. The fire did little though to warm the room which looked was an old carved stone room, cuboid in shape with the Altar in the centre. The floor was mostly lost in shadow and out of her line of sight, but the edges were far enough away to see, and was completely covered with bones, skulls and other macabre pieces.

She tried to get the gag out of her mouth, but with no hands and it being tied in place, it was impossible. She started to strain against her bonds, but they were too strong.

“Ah!” The old woman said “The young one awakens. Perfect.”

Leaning heavily on her staff, the old woman turned around to face the altar. Wisps of hair hang lankly from her mostly bald head. Warts and a hooked nose jutted out above her lips, which were covered in a light fur of hair. Her frame was hunched over, though the multitude of layers of dark material hid the rest of her body from view.

“How you feeling dearie?” Her mistress asked as she leant over, and reached forward placing her cold hand on her prisoner’s forehead. The younger woman tried to resist and pull away, but the pressure increased, holding her head still. Then younger woman’s eyes darted back and forth, desperately looking for escape. She struggled again and then gave up, starting to cry, her whole body wracked with sobs. She mumbled “please” which came out as a muffled sound around the gag.

“Oh silly me!” the Crone said, as she then looped the gag out of the younger woman’s mouth.

Licking her lips, and continuing to cry, the younger woman said the word again. “Please”

“Oh my! You don’t think that I’m going to listen to pitiful plea’s do you dearie?” She grinned a nearly toothless grin. “I thought you knew me better!”

The Sobs continued as she tried to summon up the energy to answer

“But… but but… I did everything you asked!” She finally blurted out

“That you did my dear, that you did!” She said releasing the girls head and walking back to the cauldron. “And you will continue to do so”

“But, I don’t want to die!” the younger sobbed “Please”

The older woman sighed, and seemed to shrink somewhat in her ragged robes.

“Neither do I…” she started stirring the pot again and then reached into her robes to bring out a small dented brass goblet. With a deft movement she dipped it into cauldron and drew out a large portion, being very careful to not get any on her hands.

“and, you are going to help me!” and again she smiled her rotten grin.

She walked over to the Altar once more and placed her walking staffs curled and bent frame against the altars stone. With one hand she gripped the younger girls head, running her hand through her hair, and gripping it sharply, while with the other she brought the cup to the girl’s lips.

“Drink it now dearie and I’ll let you go” as she tipped it up. The younger girl had nothing within her with which to resist and she took a large draft of the bubbling black liquid. It was rank, smelling of decay, blood and something else, something horrible and unnatural. Then as the half way mark was reached, the cup was removed.

“See that wasn’t too bad now was it?”

Initially nothing happened, and the younger girl was reminded of the potions that the old one used to make up to drug the nobles who came to visit her. Once drugged they would become her play things, and it was those images of what the old woman did then, rather than the taste, that made her start to gag.

“Oh no you don’t!” The old Woman said, quickly placing the cup down before moving her hand over her prisoners mouth and started to stroke the neck. “That’s it Roberta, down it goes”

Roberta’s eyes went glassy as she completely relaxed, staring out of focus at the ceiling. Then slowly, out of the very corners the white began to darken, as if tendrils of darkness were bleeding their way into the eye. After a few moments both eyes were completely black.

“Good girl.” she smiled and then reached into her robes. She then took a small leather bag out from under her robes, opened it and took a pinch of whitish powder, and sprinkled it into the goblet. Replacing the bag within her robes, she picked up the goblet and began swilling the liquid around within it before with a sudden motion she then threw the contents of the goblet down her throat.

Swallowing it all, she ran her finger around the now empty cup, before licking it, and her lips. Smacking them together in enjoyment, she belched happily, as the same darkness started to appear in the corners of her eyes. This Darkness was slightly different, closer to the colour of old dried blood than black. It covered her eyes completely, not even the iris remained.

She then reached into her robes again and drew out a very large dagger with a handle made of Bone wrapped in leather. Raising it above her head in a two handed stance she drew in a great breath…

“Old Man! What are you doing in this Temple of Evil?” Came a very masculine voice from a shadowy doorway.

She sighed and slowly lowered the Knife.

“Woman”

“I said… Old… Wait? What?” the mans voice stuttered, as he stepped into the light. Dressed in Archaic Armour that would better suit something out of a Olde World Brettonian Fairy Tale, with his visor raised, moustache bristling. His left hand held a shield and where his right held open the wooden door. There was a large sword scabbarded at his waste, with a glowing green gem mounted in its hilt.

“Woman.” She said staring malevolently at him, her red eyes definitely adding to the effect. “Im a Woman.”

The Man stumbled a little, his face reddening heavily.

“Erm sorry” he said before coughing. “Old Woman! What are you doing in this Temple of Evil?”

She smiled her toothless grin and replied without missing a beat

“I am the last priest… oh buggerit” suddenly without warning she raised the dagger and plunged it down into the still comatose girl upon the altar. She then screamed out “Iä Nagash cf’ayak’vulgtmm, vugtlagln vulgtmm”

“Lady Protect me! A Foul Witch!” the knight said and drew his sword and advanced.

She staggered back, leaving the blade sticking upright. Then snarling she grabbed the leather bag from beneath her robes and threw it into the bone strewn corner, before announcing in a large clear voice, “Klaatu barada nikto” coughing the last word. Then stumbling more than walking she moved to place the Altar between her and the knight, grasping her staff as she did so.

Almost immediately, the bones in the corner started to move, shaking and coming together in the semblance of a man. As the first Skeleton moved, stepping towards the knight, more bones started doing the same, and all around the room, Skeletons burst forth from the piles of bones.

“Arg! No Witch, A Necromancer!” as the Skeletons attacked. He smashed the first two apart with swings of his sword, the green gem flashing brilliantly, before a third grabbed hold of his legs and he tumbled to the floor.

Meanwhile the old woman, suddenly froze, and wracked with spasms, screamed silently. The body on the Altar matched her movements as much as it could with its arms and legs bound. Then from the Wound on the chest, curling around the dagger, a Blue-white spirit raised and probed its way towards the Old Womans mouth, before pouring in suddenly, which caused her to shudder even more. As it vanished from the wound the flesh disappeared from the body on the alter.

In but an instant it and the fight between the Skeletons and the Knight was over, and the Woman leant forward on her staff. Reaching forward she picked up the clean bleached bone skull, raising it up she spoke into where its ear would have been.

“Two things you must know about me: One I am a Woman, and two, I am Wise”

===================================================

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