"Arrakthura, the horrible weapon was alive, I tell you. The man who held it had no face; his eyes dim burning holes behind his mask, wielding the great and terrible assembly with one great arm, the other a shattered stump capped by a silver medallion. He had paid greatly for the power he now used to cut a great wide swath through our ranks, as evinced by his flesh's unholy, fetid pallor and the keloid scars dotting his remaining arm. In order to loft the powerful assembly, it had been made enormous, thick and knotted as a tree trunk and flexing in thick bunches as he drove the very steel of hell into man after man, crippling, maiming and killing in single blows. The weapon had grown to his immense fist, veins visibly driven into the mass of flesh at his forearm, puslating with a life not of this world.
There were only a handful of the hundred of us who survived that encounter. None of us could stay with the army from that day forward; even now the sickening swings of the cursed weapon cast a chill over my memories.
-Gustav Antonin Malachek,
His Majesty's Third Infantry, retired"
Last edited by Irish_Jim; September 17th, 2006 at 03:34 AM.
"You may have noticed my brain is no longer pristine." - Spider Jerusalem