QuintonBeck
2014-12-29, 10:41 PM
Two months the Megadeth Khaboss' horde had ravaged the countryside of the Clanships and the carnage spoke well to their ability with a blade and the cruelties of their minds. Currently the horde was camped in a clearing within the Twilight Forest that the orc horde had burned clear in a previous attack on a Zahn traveling caravan. Night hung strangely in the air here within the Clanships which made the camp stir with a discomfort that was quick to turn to violence. Campfires burned and chunks of flesh that looked disturbingly bipedal were roasted over them. Stakes bearing the mutilated organs and heads of captured or killed natives of the Clanships marked the perimeter in a grisly scene. Orc Khas, marked by their distinctive facial tattoos around their left eye, mingled with the horde but the Khabosses stood apart, their entire faces obscured in black ink, surrounding the central tent that marked the command center of the camp and the horde.
A great black banner bearing the sign of Stormskull fluttered in the breeze off a mast sticking from the central pole of the tent and a warm glow lit the hide walls and cast eery silhouettes of the inside. The Tzaltec ambassador had been scouted far prior to his arrival and tracked to his arrival at the edge of camp where he was greeted by a collection of hungry faces filled with sharp teeth. Were he not bearing the seal and bearing of a foreigner not of the Clanships he would have been at best turned away and at worst joined the meat on the spits. Yet he was distinctive in his Tzaltec regalia and while at first the Khas had speculated he was an emissary from Guilder come to beg for mercy from the mighty Megadeth his revelation of his actual origins had raised only further questions. It was at that point a Khaboss had become involved, approaching the ambassador and after sniffing him with his large pig-like nostrils and checking him for weapons, in turn threatening him with extreme violence were he to draw one but not making move to remove them from his person he led the ambassador to the central tent. The Khaboss had entered, leaving the ambassador to be examined and stared at by the other Khabosses for five minutes or so before reappearing and roughly gesturing for the ambassador to enter the tent.
Inside the tent it seemed as if the ambassador were stepping almost completely out of the world outside. Inside the floor was carpeted in fine rugs, woven in beautiful patterns. Chests of fine wood set around the tent and were topped with breath taking works of art, many depicting not orcs but a species of green skinned and orange haired humanoids though one hung over the large bed that lay on the far side, plush and filled with pillows and women (both orcish and of the species depicted in the paintings) that depicted who could only be the Megadeth Khaboss himself. Standing in a warriors pelt of some great kill that hid only his sensitive pieces the painting depicted a giant of an orc. Blue skinned and covered from head to torso with black patterns intricately patterned and swirling like some vast ocean. In the image he held in one hand a mighty axe whose blade was half again as wide as his chest and in the other a crown of red metal, or no it was iron, but drenched in and dripping blood. Below the painting, lying in the total nude and surrounded by the women the ambassador had noticed before was the man himself, the Megadeth Khaboss depicted in his hanging portrait.
In person he was far more terrifying, his face was more greatly twisted than it was portrayed in the painting with a jutting lower jaw marked by tusk-like canines sticking up from it and scars twisted down his face and shoulders that had healed poorly and marred the images the tattoos created. Despite the irregularities regarding his surface appearance however the painting seemed to have matched his great stature and imposing figure for as he rose from the bed to address the ambassador his movements betrayed a warrior-king's motions. He said nothing, simply snarled to one of the women who leaped from the bed and fetched him a robe made from the fur of some great beast. He pulled it on slowly, maintaining eye contact with the ambassador then took a slow, measured, martial step forward. Then another and he began to circle the ambassador, sniffing at him before stopping again before him.
"You are not of Gilter," he said at last his voice was thickly accented but of a tone and pitch that was not nearly so barbarous as the ambassador might have expected, "You are a Zaltek? Gilter says of you much bad. Gilter try kill Stormskull with drink so what Gilter know of bad soon to change. What want Zaltek with Stormskull? Not drink?" The Megadeth Khaboss' face split into a toothy grin that if not for the implied humor might otherwise have had less savory implications.
A great black banner bearing the sign of Stormskull fluttered in the breeze off a mast sticking from the central pole of the tent and a warm glow lit the hide walls and cast eery silhouettes of the inside. The Tzaltec ambassador had been scouted far prior to his arrival and tracked to his arrival at the edge of camp where he was greeted by a collection of hungry faces filled with sharp teeth. Were he not bearing the seal and bearing of a foreigner not of the Clanships he would have been at best turned away and at worst joined the meat on the spits. Yet he was distinctive in his Tzaltec regalia and while at first the Khas had speculated he was an emissary from Guilder come to beg for mercy from the mighty Megadeth his revelation of his actual origins had raised only further questions. It was at that point a Khaboss had become involved, approaching the ambassador and after sniffing him with his large pig-like nostrils and checking him for weapons, in turn threatening him with extreme violence were he to draw one but not making move to remove them from his person he led the ambassador to the central tent. The Khaboss had entered, leaving the ambassador to be examined and stared at by the other Khabosses for five minutes or so before reappearing and roughly gesturing for the ambassador to enter the tent.
Inside the tent it seemed as if the ambassador were stepping almost completely out of the world outside. Inside the floor was carpeted in fine rugs, woven in beautiful patterns. Chests of fine wood set around the tent and were topped with breath taking works of art, many depicting not orcs but a species of green skinned and orange haired humanoids though one hung over the large bed that lay on the far side, plush and filled with pillows and women (both orcish and of the species depicted in the paintings) that depicted who could only be the Megadeth Khaboss himself. Standing in a warriors pelt of some great kill that hid only his sensitive pieces the painting depicted a giant of an orc. Blue skinned and covered from head to torso with black patterns intricately patterned and swirling like some vast ocean. In the image he held in one hand a mighty axe whose blade was half again as wide as his chest and in the other a crown of red metal, or no it was iron, but drenched in and dripping blood. Below the painting, lying in the total nude and surrounded by the women the ambassador had noticed before was the man himself, the Megadeth Khaboss depicted in his hanging portrait.
In person he was far more terrifying, his face was more greatly twisted than it was portrayed in the painting with a jutting lower jaw marked by tusk-like canines sticking up from it and scars twisted down his face and shoulders that had healed poorly and marred the images the tattoos created. Despite the irregularities regarding his surface appearance however the painting seemed to have matched his great stature and imposing figure for as he rose from the bed to address the ambassador his movements betrayed a warrior-king's motions. He said nothing, simply snarled to one of the women who leaped from the bed and fetched him a robe made from the fur of some great beast. He pulled it on slowly, maintaining eye contact with the ambassador then took a slow, measured, martial step forward. Then another and he began to circle the ambassador, sniffing at him before stopping again before him.
"You are not of Gilter," he said at last his voice was thickly accented but of a tone and pitch that was not nearly so barbarous as the ambassador might have expected, "You are a Zaltek? Gilter says of you much bad. Gilter try kill Stormskull with drink so what Gilter know of bad soon to change. What want Zaltek with Stormskull? Not drink?" The Megadeth Khaboss' face split into a toothy grin that if not for the implied humor might otherwise have had less savory implications.