Wantubeetchu
A Warhammer Fantasy story from /tg/ involving Lizardmen.
The Legend
They were crumbling now, Wantubeetchu could see it. The saurus warriors were all but smashed into paste, the slink regiments scuttled off somewhere and The oldblood Tzatlpuutuu was dragged underneath a screaming tide of Norsemen, carnosaur and all. In fact, it was quite assauredly the end of his beloved temple city.
Unless he could rouse lord Izakanta to the wakened world.
Wantubeetchu scuttle over his lords girth as he nervously eyed the oncoming army of chaos, he poked at a errant flabby bit and moved back towards the head. He looked at his Lords face, it was so calm and serene ( though, there was a bit of a frown there) even in the midst of their annihilation.
"Please your most Spacious one! PLEASE! Wake up! We are going to lose everything!"
Izakanta didn't even stir, his face still set in the same focused sleep. Wantubeetchu clicked testily and began to poke his lord's slumbering eye's.
"Wakey wakey eggs and.... grubs!"
Still nothing, Wantubeetchu began to get rather irritated, here he was, about to exit this mortal realm and lose all the progress in The Great Plan and his GLORIOUS LEADER couldn't even be concious enough to even LOOK AT IT. The army was marching towards the gates now, the gate that the floating throne and it's cargo of slann and skink were in front of.
"FOR THE LOVE OF SOTEK WAKE UP YOU STUPID OLD FART." Screamed the skink.
He let out a sharp gasp as he felt the slanns' shoulders shift and he lost his grip. A tremendous yawn was let out of the Mage Priests cavernous maw, heard even above the din of marching feet not 200 feet away. Smacks were heard as the great Izakanta locked his lips, scratched his stomach and blearily opened his eyes.
The Norse stopped 50 feet away, unsure of why this toad like monstrosity was blocking their way. No words were spoken as the two parties sized each other up. The silence continued for a whole minute until is broken by a grumbled/croaked:
"What the hell do you want?"
The Norseman cheif was taken aback for a moment but rallied quite quickly saying;
"I HAVE COME IN THE BLOOD GOD'S NAME. I AM HERE TO RIP YOUR SKULL FROM YOUR SHOULDERS AND OFFER UPON THE BURNED CORPSE'S OF YOUR WARRIORS! I AM HERE TO BURN, LOOT AND DESECRATE THIS CITY IN THE NAME OF CHAOS , I AM THE SCOURGE OF TELHEIM, THE SLAUGHTERER OF KAZ'NATH THE---"
The rant continued on, the soldiers seeming unwilling to risk stopping their cheiftains speech. Meanwhile Wantubeetchu spinner around from the back gazed at his lord in wonder. They have only gotten three words out of him in the last three hundred years, a whole sentence was a gold mine of wisdom. Wantubeetchu stopped in his idol dazed musings as he noticed Izakanta's brow hardened and furrowed, and his webbed hands clenched the sides of his throne, quivering slightly.
It was then that Izakanta, decided to give a speech of his own. One that would be forever engraved on the temples walls.
"THIS FROGSHIT AGAIN? AGAIN?" He roared
"EVERY FUCKING TIME I WAKE UP, EVERY FUCKING TIME, IT'S ALWAYS, I AM HERE TO SWALLOW YOUR SOUL, OR, YOUR SKIN WILL ADORN MY MOST DIRE FAGGOT ROBE! OR MY FUCKING FAVORITE, DEATH TO THE OLD ONES! I FOR ONE AM SICK OF IT!
His head snapped sharply towards the now jaw dropped Wantubeetchu
" WHY CAN'T WAKE ME UP JUST TO SAY HI, OR GIVE ME HAND MADE ROASTING POT OR OPEN A DAMN FUCKING PICKLE JAR?"
By now the chieftain had joined wantubeetchu in gawking at madness occurring in front of them. It was then a large muscular hand raised itself over the crowd.
"WHAT?" snapped Izakanta
"What's a pickle jar?"
Izakanta froze, slowly reached out, grabbed Wantubeetchu, placed him in his lap and officially "lost his shit."
The scene therafter was rather hard to describe, as it was mostly obscured by flying viscera, fireballs, beams of light, a rather large statue being dropped and screaming. Lot's of screaming.
"YOU FUCKING LIKE THAT YOU JUGGERNAUT FUCKERS?! HUH?!?"
"Please my lord! Your blood pressure!"
"SHUT UP. OH HEY! YOU THINK YOU'RE GONNA CRAWL AWAY NOW? DO YOU? NOT ON MY WATCH."
"My LEGS!!!"
"GAHAHAHAHAHA."
Wantubeetchu stepped back and looked at the completed mural of that historic event. He dismissed the recently spawned artists and began to fondly survey the painting.
The Great Mage Priest Izakanta, floating above the earth spewing hot death from his mouth, fireballs raining around him. A small feather behatted figure gripping fearfully to his back. The rest of the mural showed the magnificent carnage, a tasteful mix of aforementioned body parts, screaming victims, and a chieftains arm, sticking out from under a statue of Sotek.
Truly it was a great day. Words were written, history was made, and High Slink Priest "Little Annoying Bastard" Wantubeetchu, had lived to see it all. Praise The Old Ones.