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The Rest of my Terminators!


Tommie Soule

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While the site was unfortunately down i got these finished smile.png
Here they all are plus a little back ground smile.png

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IT'S COLD OUTSIDE......


He watched the red snow. The red snow both ran and settled, clotted and
melted, a duality that Sithric Jarnskeggisson observed in all things.
He stared, breathed deep and ran the portents.

Trees rushed by and futures flitted in between them. Wyrds and
malificarum, both hunter and hunted danced eternally in the winter
forest and this dance tells a tale, a possible tale or an impossible tale.

Sithric's still form frost-glistened as he read the wood, a pall of
vapour rose from his slightly open mouth, while in his head his wolf
form stalked and panted in the glades and gorges of possibility. His
terminator armor insulating him from the cold allowed the winter
elements to blanket him while he hunted his Lords wyrd in the winter
wood.
The wood was quiet. The white snow lay untracked, the trees
sentinel still. His wolf form stopped and pierced the dark of the wood
with it's eyes. Deeper and deeper he gazed. Deeper he inhaled taking in
the scents of wyrd and malificarum...... nothing.... no thing.... no
things!! Wyrd and malificarum are what make things and in return things
make them!

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Sithric
woke, ice, frost and snow cracked and sloughed of his armor whiting out
the running, clotting blood. He turned and Made for the inside where
the Wolf Lord was. Something bounced off his hip as he hastened, a doll
of some kind, Sithric ignored it but it did not ignore him.
'My Lord!' it began hurriedly.

Sithric turned 'You are Vostroyan!' he exclaimed in his deep drawn
accent. 'You know you should not sneek and slithe around when a priest
stalks the winter woods?'
'I know Lord, I...'
'It could be the
death of you. Lay you on the ground and make red snow' Sithric
threatened as he pierced the newcomer with his yellow eyes.
'Lord the fleet is mobilisi...'

'Especially when you wear those funny hats on small bodies' Sithric
carried on. He inclined himself lower so the hair of his shock beard
intruded on the Vostroyan troopers face, forcing him back.
'Lord I INSIST! The fleet is mobilising and the High Commander is..'
'I know' intoned the Rune Priest
'Y- you know?'
'Yes. I know' Sithric purred. 'To Barabbas we go, the fourth planet'
Sithric turned and marched. The trooper just stood. The red snow seeped and clotted back up through the white out.
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