Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 17, 2017 14:03:29 GMT
The planet of Tau Volaris had become a war-zone, fraught with danger as the many empires of Ancerious present slaughtered each other in support of their rulers and factions, or whatever other reason they brought themselves to this wasteland. But little did they know that despite the war-time horrors their soldiers might've encountered up above, something far worse lurked down below.
Far off from the battle field, in the deepest and darkest part of a massive pit mine, hidden away from prying eyes, amidst a field of corpses, lay the massive and intimidating form of the draconian, Jormundgand, himself. His large, blood soaked, serpentine body lay coiled around mountains of armored, mangled bodies that had died in the field of battle, all of varying origin and faction. the sounds of hundreds of bones breaking accompanied with the symphony of armor crumpling and bodies shifting under his constriction was the only thing to distract from the noise of flesh being torn apart within his many hungry jaws as his many serpent-like heads on their many long and winding necks, moved about freely in the pit, consuming the bodies one by one while more corpses fell from above. His main head, horrifyingly stuck in a wide toothy grin revealing his many large and knife-like teeth, crushed the armored corpses in his jaws effortlessly and by the dozens, letting whatever fell off drop back into the pile of bodies that lie beneath hm.
The only reliable source light in the pit came from the draconian's ruby-like soulshard which glowed a deep and ominous red, yet still bright enough to make the contents of the abyss clear enough to see in graphic detail. The ground was no longer visible at this point as a massive pool of blood had filled the bottom of the pit, coating the ground in a mix of Jormundgand's own oil-like blood which poured from his massive arms like a fountain and dark red blood of his food.
in the dim light of the sky above. Torn, gangly shapes scuttled, or walked smoothly along the rims or the roads that lined the walls of the vast mine. Some huge and hulking, moving with limbs that resembled things from the nightmares of the insane, their positions on the sides of the vast hole almost like insects picking at an open wound in the flesh of the planet. torn flesh, black stone, and deeply glowing crystalline forms catching the light that got through the clouds, muddled with ash turned to a maroon mud by the blood that had spilled on the ground as they had passed back and forth, Each of them carrying one, if not several torn and armored bodies to the places along the edge of the hole where the mine became almost vertical, The miners having dug straight down in search of a particular vein of material. With lithe deliberate movements, they took to tossing the dead forms they carried out into the massive pile that lay below them, falling end over end, Limp limbs flailing in the air.
Driverless Vehicles rumbled among them on the mining roads lining the walls, massive mineral haulers designed to carry away the harvested ore by tons. Their pilots cabs either empty, or crushed around the body of a pilot in a way that almost seemed cruel. Their massive house sized buckets piled high with bodies collected from battlefields across the planet and deemed too damaged to utilize. Blood from countless wounds and fatal abrasions on their mutilated cargo running down their yellow painted sides, going to a hot ozone smelling steam where it hit the machines nuclear based sinks, Impaled by the crystalline growths that had impaled them and now fed on the nuclear heat. A familiar arcane energy and glow surrounding the mechanics of the machines like a twisted form of deep blue Saint Elmo’s fire.
In a silent rhythm, the ore carriers paused, backing up in the reddish mud and blowing ash and ozone smell, edging to the side of the hole with a precision that seemed machine-like. Before upending their buckets, dumping the masses of dead deeper into the mine, adding to the massive field that the entity had created from its refuse, feeding the draconian coiled below, before rumbling back upward along the road. Seeking to repeat the process as it had done countless times. Collecting from the massive mounds of the dead brought to the complex that surround the mines.
The war which waged above fed the draconian well, but his purpose there was far more sinister than to merely feed upon the corpses of the fallen soldiers who gave their lives for their empires. Those who had begun their day happy to make their leaders proud only to die miserable and alone in foxholes as nameless soldiers. Jormundgand's true purpose on this planet, a purpose no other would be aware of but the church, was to oversee a rite, and patron a new generation of survivors, a new wave of deadly and experienced fighters, in his own holy name. but more importantly, to fill a power vacuum he so luckily stumbled upon before his brethren had become aware, and take advantage of his elder draconian brother's misfortune. The thought caused him to stop his savage feeding for just a moment, just long enough to release a loud, howling laugh into the night sky.
Far off from the battle field, in the deepest and darkest part of a massive pit mine, hidden away from prying eyes, amidst a field of corpses, lay the massive and intimidating form of the draconian, Jormundgand, himself. His large, blood soaked, serpentine body lay coiled around mountains of armored, mangled bodies that had died in the field of battle, all of varying origin and faction. the sounds of hundreds of bones breaking accompanied with the symphony of armor crumpling and bodies shifting under his constriction was the only thing to distract from the noise of flesh being torn apart within his many hungry jaws as his many serpent-like heads on their many long and winding necks, moved about freely in the pit, consuming the bodies one by one while more corpses fell from above. His main head, horrifyingly stuck in a wide toothy grin revealing his many large and knife-like teeth, crushed the armored corpses in his jaws effortlessly and by the dozens, letting whatever fell off drop back into the pile of bodies that lie beneath hm.
The only reliable source light in the pit came from the draconian's ruby-like soulshard which glowed a deep and ominous red, yet still bright enough to make the contents of the abyss clear enough to see in graphic detail. The ground was no longer visible at this point as a massive pool of blood had filled the bottom of the pit, coating the ground in a mix of Jormundgand's own oil-like blood which poured from his massive arms like a fountain and dark red blood of his food.
in the dim light of the sky above. Torn, gangly shapes scuttled, or walked smoothly along the rims or the roads that lined the walls of the vast mine. Some huge and hulking, moving with limbs that resembled things from the nightmares of the insane, their positions on the sides of the vast hole almost like insects picking at an open wound in the flesh of the planet. torn flesh, black stone, and deeply glowing crystalline forms catching the light that got through the clouds, muddled with ash turned to a maroon mud by the blood that had spilled on the ground as they had passed back and forth, Each of them carrying one, if not several torn and armored bodies to the places along the edge of the hole where the mine became almost vertical, The miners having dug straight down in search of a particular vein of material. With lithe deliberate movements, they took to tossing the dead forms they carried out into the massive pile that lay below them, falling end over end, Limp limbs flailing in the air.
Driverless Vehicles rumbled among them on the mining roads lining the walls, massive mineral haulers designed to carry away the harvested ore by tons. Their pilots cabs either empty, or crushed around the body of a pilot in a way that almost seemed cruel. Their massive house sized buckets piled high with bodies collected from battlefields across the planet and deemed too damaged to utilize. Blood from countless wounds and fatal abrasions on their mutilated cargo running down their yellow painted sides, going to a hot ozone smelling steam where it hit the machines nuclear based sinks, Impaled by the crystalline growths that had impaled them and now fed on the nuclear heat. A familiar arcane energy and glow surrounding the mechanics of the machines like a twisted form of deep blue Saint Elmo’s fire.
In a silent rhythm, the ore carriers paused, backing up in the reddish mud and blowing ash and ozone smell, edging to the side of the hole with a precision that seemed machine-like. Before upending their buckets, dumping the masses of dead deeper into the mine, adding to the massive field that the entity had created from its refuse, feeding the draconian coiled below, before rumbling back upward along the road. Seeking to repeat the process as it had done countless times. Collecting from the massive mounds of the dead brought to the complex that surround the mines.
The war which waged above fed the draconian well, but his purpose there was far more sinister than to merely feed upon the corpses of the fallen soldiers who gave their lives for their empires. Those who had begun their day happy to make their leaders proud only to die miserable and alone in foxholes as nameless soldiers. Jormundgand's true purpose on this planet, a purpose no other would be aware of but the church, was to oversee a rite, and patron a new generation of survivors, a new wave of deadly and experienced fighters, in his own holy name. but more importantly, to fill a power vacuum he so luckily stumbled upon before his brethren had become aware, and take advantage of his elder draconian brother's misfortune. The thought caused him to stop his savage feeding for just a moment, just long enough to release a loud, howling laugh into the night sky.