(Reposted from http://wow-tng.org/showthread.php?23577 ... o-the-Grim ))
Tazzuk grinned darkly as he heard the Shadowblade's plan, her dark voice somehow rising above the gasping pleas of the night elf he currently was strangling. A savage crunch and snap sounded as her neck was broken. The shadow hunter let her body slump to the ground before his knife found her chest, digging out her fresh succulent heart. Fangs bit into his meaty core as he chewed it with reckless abandon, devouring it like a hearty treat.
He looked over the Ashran battlefield, dripping Alliance blood from blades and armor, as though he was bathing in the life fluid. "Xek!" He cried out, his fellow masked troll peeking his head like a rabbit from its hole, sliding up the small hill, dragging along a gnome's corpse behind him. "We gots work ta do..." Tazzuk smiled, "Evah been ta Elwynn, Xek?"
Tazzuk's Reply
Re: Tazzuk's Reply
-Eastvale Logging Camp, Elwynn Forest-
"Please, stop! We'll giv-!" The Common cry was cut short as a serrated blade ripped through soft pinkskin flesh, causing the plea for mercy to turn into a gurgled death rattle. The overall-bearing human's body crumpling to the ground, his head following a breath later a few feet away. The tall, lanky figure of Tazzuk stood up, running a lanky tongue down the breadth of his blade, relishing the coppery taste of blood. His scarlet voodoo-laced armor glowed with a vile aura, the blood turning to wisps of misty blood flowing into the mouths of his bat-shaped pauldrons.
The troll looked about at his work as though an artist gazing upon a masterpiece, a piece of ruthless slaughter and bloodshed, human bodies decorating the ground. Men, women; soldiers and civilians alike...all were brutally savaged and beaten before their deaths. Even the beasts of burden of the Alliance were not spared a gruesome fate, the small village became as though a ghost town, the only ones moving were a small gaggle of trollish figures moving about in the fray.
A sudden coughing nearby changed that, as it became apparent there was one survivor of the massacre left within the ruined logging camp. The voodoo-masked Shatterspear troll cocked his head this way and that, a rattling sound emanating from his decoration. It clacked about, even as his neck unnaturally twisted; bones and sinew popping as his head wholly became upside down. Still, he walked and paced about as though nothing were wrong with him.
Tazzuk meandered over with his lanky gait, blood dripping from him and creating a stained trail behind him. Xek'anjo's rattling ceased as his head realigned itself with another sickening pop. "Eya red-bat, we gotta nudda humie livin'!"" He peered down at the armored form, lying prone, vital fluids leaking from beneath her plated body. The standard of Stormwind emblazoned on her chestpiece and shoulderpads alongside her captain's stripes. Raven black hair cropped short framed her chiseled face, half viciously burned from the soulfire that now played in the soulweaver's hands. "Kin ol' Xek git her soul?" The troll asked gleefully, as though it were a request for a snack.
The leader of the two shoved him aside to glare at the survivor, a heinous smile decorating his face. "Nah nah, Xek....we leavin' dis one alive..." He sneered, seizing her by the hair and dragging her to the village square. She could do nothing but weakly struggle against him as she was unceremoniously thrown amidst the carnage. What once was a post bearing the flag of its proud nation, had become an epicenter for violence. The blue and gold banner torn down and wrapped tightly around a nearby lumberjack's neck as though a noose, his purple and bloated face staring blankly ahead. The large command board next to it, bearing the King's colors had been stained with gore of all kinds.
"Y...you...." The human knight struggled to speak, receiving a harsh backhand for her trouble, a three-fingered hand seized her jaw, forcing her to look into his eyes; the same color as what his armor was lathered in. Tazzuk smiled, brandishing a small knife, running it casually alongside her cheek, drawing more of her precious fluids from the incision.
"Jah gunna stay silent foh now..." He chortled darkly, quickly drawing the blade quickly, splitting her cheek open. Her body refused to give her tormentor the satisfaction of a scream, only emitting a low groan of pain as he laughed in her face. His attention shifted as his trollish minions began dragging corpses around the two as they spoke, an Amani brute bearing a bonesaw. The captain seethed in silent indignation as the saw met the flesh of the body, sawing off one of the arms. Another of the raiding party repeating the process upon another deceased victim. More and more Tazzuk's group desecrated the dead as he played further with his prey still alive, lifting up one of her arms; hand bared.
"...Why...." Was all she could ask as the shadow hunter produced a nail the size of a railroad spike in his hand, he aligned her hand and smiled as he drove the tip into her palm. She could not suppress the scream to follow as the spike was nailed into place along the flag post, her hand sandwiched between metal and wood. She breathed through her teeth as they grinded together, Tazzuk kneeling down to take her other arm.
"Becuz....it be fun ta watch joo pinkskins sqqquiirrrm...." He sneered at her, lost in a frenzied psychosis. As he hefted another spike to impale her upon, his work was stopped when a member of his posse slithered his way to their de facto leader. Tazzuk arched an eyebrow at the strange troll, his mask not one usually worn by his kind, but rather one frequently decorating the Royal Apothecary Society. Animated breathing rasped its way through his respiratory systems as he slogged his way through the bloody work of his cohorts. A small device presented to his master, who looked at it with a maddened glee. "Dat be ready den?" A nod was his answer, soon allowing him to drive in the next nail.
The captain's wailing in the background harried Tazzuk little as his minion worked about her, stringing together some unknown project. A sharp whistle summoned the soulweaver to his side, Xek'anjo's mask rattling once more as he giddily spoke. "Kin Xek hahvest now? Eh eh?" A playful nudge of the elbow caused the shadow hunter to growl as he slapped the offending appendage away.
The disgruntled snarl giving way to a even more chilling grin, "Do eet...let no spirit healah bring dem back from dis..." Taking this as his cue, Xek'anjo skipped gaily off, shimmying up a gore-stained hut. With a happy clap of his hands and two auspicious totems implanted upon the roof did the soulweaver begin his work. Tendrils of dark magic seeped from him, like hungering serpents they writhed and slithered in the air, soon to lash out into what little remains there were of the deceased human populace.
The addled captain could only watch as her charges and fellows soldiers were latched to these void-addled tentacles, and grimace in utmost horror as their very spirits were yanked from their desecrated bodies. Xek'anjo opened his gaping mouth wide, a jungle snake enveloping a deer whole as the souls poured into his awaiting maw.
Tazzuk appeared again before her in a flash, blade dancing upon her skin. "One las' ting..." He said, hand forcing her mouth to open, eyeing the wiggling tongue inside...the knife moving in to caress it...
*shiiiick*
"Please, stop! We'll giv-!" The Common cry was cut short as a serrated blade ripped through soft pinkskin flesh, causing the plea for mercy to turn into a gurgled death rattle. The overall-bearing human's body crumpling to the ground, his head following a breath later a few feet away. The tall, lanky figure of Tazzuk stood up, running a lanky tongue down the breadth of his blade, relishing the coppery taste of blood. His scarlet voodoo-laced armor glowed with a vile aura, the blood turning to wisps of misty blood flowing into the mouths of his bat-shaped pauldrons.
The troll looked about at his work as though an artist gazing upon a masterpiece, a piece of ruthless slaughter and bloodshed, human bodies decorating the ground. Men, women; soldiers and civilians alike...all were brutally savaged and beaten before their deaths. Even the beasts of burden of the Alliance were not spared a gruesome fate, the small village became as though a ghost town, the only ones moving were a small gaggle of trollish figures moving about in the fray.
A sudden coughing nearby changed that, as it became apparent there was one survivor of the massacre left within the ruined logging camp. The voodoo-masked Shatterspear troll cocked his head this way and that, a rattling sound emanating from his decoration. It clacked about, even as his neck unnaturally twisted; bones and sinew popping as his head wholly became upside down. Still, he walked and paced about as though nothing were wrong with him.
Tazzuk meandered over with his lanky gait, blood dripping from him and creating a stained trail behind him. Xek'anjo's rattling ceased as his head realigned itself with another sickening pop. "Eya red-bat, we gotta nudda humie livin'!"" He peered down at the armored form, lying prone, vital fluids leaking from beneath her plated body. The standard of Stormwind emblazoned on her chestpiece and shoulderpads alongside her captain's stripes. Raven black hair cropped short framed her chiseled face, half viciously burned from the soulfire that now played in the soulweaver's hands. "Kin ol' Xek git her soul?" The troll asked gleefully, as though it were a request for a snack.
The leader of the two shoved him aside to glare at the survivor, a heinous smile decorating his face. "Nah nah, Xek....we leavin' dis one alive..." He sneered, seizing her by the hair and dragging her to the village square. She could do nothing but weakly struggle against him as she was unceremoniously thrown amidst the carnage. What once was a post bearing the flag of its proud nation, had become an epicenter for violence. The blue and gold banner torn down and wrapped tightly around a nearby lumberjack's neck as though a noose, his purple and bloated face staring blankly ahead. The large command board next to it, bearing the King's colors had been stained with gore of all kinds.
"Y...you...." The human knight struggled to speak, receiving a harsh backhand for her trouble, a three-fingered hand seized her jaw, forcing her to look into his eyes; the same color as what his armor was lathered in. Tazzuk smiled, brandishing a small knife, running it casually alongside her cheek, drawing more of her precious fluids from the incision.
"Jah gunna stay silent foh now..." He chortled darkly, quickly drawing the blade quickly, splitting her cheek open. Her body refused to give her tormentor the satisfaction of a scream, only emitting a low groan of pain as he laughed in her face. His attention shifted as his trollish minions began dragging corpses around the two as they spoke, an Amani brute bearing a bonesaw. The captain seethed in silent indignation as the saw met the flesh of the body, sawing off one of the arms. Another of the raiding party repeating the process upon another deceased victim. More and more Tazzuk's group desecrated the dead as he played further with his prey still alive, lifting up one of her arms; hand bared.
"...Why...." Was all she could ask as the shadow hunter produced a nail the size of a railroad spike in his hand, he aligned her hand and smiled as he drove the tip into her palm. She could not suppress the scream to follow as the spike was nailed into place along the flag post, her hand sandwiched between metal and wood. She breathed through her teeth as they grinded together, Tazzuk kneeling down to take her other arm.
"Becuz....it be fun ta watch joo pinkskins sqqquiirrrm...." He sneered at her, lost in a frenzied psychosis. As he hefted another spike to impale her upon, his work was stopped when a member of his posse slithered his way to their de facto leader. Tazzuk arched an eyebrow at the strange troll, his mask not one usually worn by his kind, but rather one frequently decorating the Royal Apothecary Society. Animated breathing rasped its way through his respiratory systems as he slogged his way through the bloody work of his cohorts. A small device presented to his master, who looked at it with a maddened glee. "Dat be ready den?" A nod was his answer, soon allowing him to drive in the next nail.
The captain's wailing in the background harried Tazzuk little as his minion worked about her, stringing together some unknown project. A sharp whistle summoned the soulweaver to his side, Xek'anjo's mask rattling once more as he giddily spoke. "Kin Xek hahvest now? Eh eh?" A playful nudge of the elbow caused the shadow hunter to growl as he slapped the offending appendage away.
The disgruntled snarl giving way to a even more chilling grin, "Do eet...let no spirit healah bring dem back from dis..." Taking this as his cue, Xek'anjo skipped gaily off, shimmying up a gore-stained hut. With a happy clap of his hands and two auspicious totems implanted upon the roof did the soulweaver begin his work. Tendrils of dark magic seeped from him, like hungering serpents they writhed and slithered in the air, soon to lash out into what little remains there were of the deceased human populace.
The addled captain could only watch as her charges and fellows soldiers were latched to these void-addled tentacles, and grimace in utmost horror as their very spirits were yanked from their desecrated bodies. Xek'anjo opened his gaping mouth wide, a jungle snake enveloping a deer whole as the souls poured into his awaiting maw.
Tazzuk appeared again before her in a flash, blade dancing upon her skin. "One las' ting..." He said, hand forcing her mouth to open, eyeing the wiggling tongue inside...the knife moving in to caress it...
*shiiiick*
Re: Tazzuk's Reply
The deadened camp lay for a good long while, the silent eerie of the departed stilling the air. The labored breathing of the captain being the only life giving noise to the scene, her eyes bleary and turned to the ground. Her despondent breathing, almost gargling as blood dripping from her mouth freely.
That soon came to change as she heard the thunderous echoes of an oncoming stampede coming forth up the road. Dazed and wearily she managed to tiredly lift her head to rest upon the post she was impaled to. The sounds soon became more and more deafening, signaling their approach. A garbled plea, a sign of warning for the newcomers, a small battalion of armored cavaliers storming their way into the logging camp. Words would not come, a drowning gasp was all she could speak without her tongue to aid, nor did her mouth filling with blood avail her articulation either.
An armored entourage of mounted warriors barged their way into the perimeter, fanning out quickly in an offense-favoring formation. They circled about the destroyed camp, eyes scanning behind their plated visors for any threat.
A knight with colors and stripes matching her own dismounting, walking to the crucified captain with a small escort by his side. The downed warrior could only look up weakly, life fluids dribbling from her lips. A question formed on his lips, only to be silent as his eyes shifted to the command post nearby. Sanguine painted its breadth, forming a scarlet pool underneath its wooden frame. There, upon its broadened face, was a massive emblem of the infamous Grim, formed from the missing limbs of the slain residents, massive spikes holding them in place similar to the sole survivor of the attack. One of the greener recruits' plate helm clattered upon the ground, forced to his knees as he vomited upon looking upon the scene.
The decorated officer shook his head, removing his helm as he eyed the lone remainder of the garrison, thick chestnut brown goatee and well-kempt matching hair framed his masculine face. A brush of the gore-spattered raven hair from her forehead as his eyes shined empathetically to hers, words failing him as well. "Search the perimeter!" He bellowed suddenly, swallowing down rage as his vision scanned the massacre, the desecrated bodies of civilians and soldiers alike decorating the ground in piles of dismembered gore. Righteous indignation filled his breast as he growled underneath his breath, moving back to his newfound ward. "We'll get you out here..." He said to comfort, only for her to desperately and shakily twist her head.
To no avail, as he nodded at a subordinate, the two moving to either side to her hitching post. The downed officer tried any form to warn her liberators of some unknown threat, only to go unnoticed as they mercifully wrenched her from the spikes that held her in place. She groaned, defeated as she flopped to ground in a painful thud. The two moved to help her before a sound akin to a zip line retracting filled the air. Both armored men looked up to see a previously unseen tripwire zip along the length of the flagpole to a small mechanical device hidden underneath the shredded and muddied banner fluttering weakly upon it.
An explosion followed shortly after, a thick blood red fog falling descending over the grounds as fragmented shards of metal rained down upon them. The three nearest the epicenter could do nothing but cough and wheeze as they were enveloped in the scarlet mist, brought to their knees as they gagged upon their own breath.
The last thing they saw of each other, as the red mist caught their allies in its grasp, was to see their fellow Alliance men and women's faces begin to bloat and swell. Purpled veins becoming apparent on their ever-sickening visages as they grasped for air, only to collapse upon the ground in frantic spasms...before finally succumbing to the chemical warfare that entrapped them.
The scene that unfolded within the spyglass soon ceased as a darkened laughter echoed over the hills that overlooked Elwynn, the small device held lazily in the trollish grips. Tazzuk could only laugh all the more as he surveyed the weaponized cloud of Blood Plague envelop the small area of Eastvale from afar. It surrounded the area he and his trollish gang occupied, much like the gas he had unleashes, the psychotic guffawing rounding around his compatriots. Tazzuk lost himself to sadistic glee, truly entertained by the Grim's reply to the Alliance's message.
That soon came to change as she heard the thunderous echoes of an oncoming stampede coming forth up the road. Dazed and wearily she managed to tiredly lift her head to rest upon the post she was impaled to. The sounds soon became more and more deafening, signaling their approach. A garbled plea, a sign of warning for the newcomers, a small battalion of armored cavaliers storming their way into the logging camp. Words would not come, a drowning gasp was all she could speak without her tongue to aid, nor did her mouth filling with blood avail her articulation either.
An armored entourage of mounted warriors barged their way into the perimeter, fanning out quickly in an offense-favoring formation. They circled about the destroyed camp, eyes scanning behind their plated visors for any threat.
A knight with colors and stripes matching her own dismounting, walking to the crucified captain with a small escort by his side. The downed warrior could only look up weakly, life fluids dribbling from her lips. A question formed on his lips, only to be silent as his eyes shifted to the command post nearby. Sanguine painted its breadth, forming a scarlet pool underneath its wooden frame. There, upon its broadened face, was a massive emblem of the infamous Grim, formed from the missing limbs of the slain residents, massive spikes holding them in place similar to the sole survivor of the attack. One of the greener recruits' plate helm clattered upon the ground, forced to his knees as he vomited upon looking upon the scene.
The decorated officer shook his head, removing his helm as he eyed the lone remainder of the garrison, thick chestnut brown goatee and well-kempt matching hair framed his masculine face. A brush of the gore-spattered raven hair from her forehead as his eyes shined empathetically to hers, words failing him as well. "Search the perimeter!" He bellowed suddenly, swallowing down rage as his vision scanned the massacre, the desecrated bodies of civilians and soldiers alike decorating the ground in piles of dismembered gore. Righteous indignation filled his breast as he growled underneath his breath, moving back to his newfound ward. "We'll get you out here..." He said to comfort, only for her to desperately and shakily twist her head.
To no avail, as he nodded at a subordinate, the two moving to either side to her hitching post. The downed officer tried any form to warn her liberators of some unknown threat, only to go unnoticed as they mercifully wrenched her from the spikes that held her in place. She groaned, defeated as she flopped to ground in a painful thud. The two moved to help her before a sound akin to a zip line retracting filled the air. Both armored men looked up to see a previously unseen tripwire zip along the length of the flagpole to a small mechanical device hidden underneath the shredded and muddied banner fluttering weakly upon it.
An explosion followed shortly after, a thick blood red fog falling descending over the grounds as fragmented shards of metal rained down upon them. The three nearest the epicenter could do nothing but cough and wheeze as they were enveloped in the scarlet mist, brought to their knees as they gagged upon their own breath.
The last thing they saw of each other, as the red mist caught their allies in its grasp, was to see their fellow Alliance men and women's faces begin to bloat and swell. Purpled veins becoming apparent on their ever-sickening visages as they grasped for air, only to collapse upon the ground in frantic spasms...before finally succumbing to the chemical warfare that entrapped them.
The scene that unfolded within the spyglass soon ceased as a darkened laughter echoed over the hills that overlooked Elwynn, the small device held lazily in the trollish grips. Tazzuk could only laugh all the more as he surveyed the weaponized cloud of Blood Plague envelop the small area of Eastvale from afar. It surrounded the area he and his trollish gang occupied, much like the gas he had unleashes, the psychotic guffawing rounding around his compatriots. Tazzuk lost himself to sadistic glee, truly entertained by the Grim's reply to the Alliance's message.
