Voice of Thunder (Warhammer Fantasy)

[The Yosemite Bear]

note the following is all there is so far.


The Taleweaver scuttled about his library, The Daemon looked like a monstrous spider with beastile clawed hands. He filled his ink pot with venom from his fangs and retrieved a volume from his shelves, here he had collected all the stories of all the souls trapped within his webs of fate.

The weaver opened the book to the tale of a pawn he had been manipulating to become a hero, a champion of his patron. Years ago he had pushed the once human soldier and his comrades into the catacombs to foul the ambitions to his lord's great rival, Nurgle who was working in concert again with that pretender the Ursurping Horned Rat.

The Taleweaver had poisoned the soldier with enough fate to survive the plague weapons, and report back to his masters, but not enough to stop the warpstuff from changing him. To the weaver the mutations were not a setback, or a curse as the pawn saw them, but signs that the pawn was destined to be a great hero, and it would cut him from the cloth of humanity, where too many of the books still served. It didn't matter though try as they may, they were still trapped in the Weaver's webs.

Now striking the page with venom again, the weaver had found that his pawn had shied away from humans, living as a ghostly figure, ambushing beastmen, orks, and other minions of the gods. Well that was simply not to do, it was time again to write the story of the pawn, and not leave it to it's devices. It had to become either a champion of his patron, or a hero of man, that would bring the curruption from within.

The wanderer looked down on the battle that was forming below, The servants of an elector count's bastard arrayed their meger forces against those of the beasts. The wanderer could never be accepted by humans, for he was now a mutant, larger and broader then a man should be, muscles had swollowed up his neck protecting him, while his lungs were great bellows that burned with fire on his every breath.

He saw the Ogre like beast ready to flank the humans, in frustration he bellowed out a command. "STOP! FACE LEFT! PREPARE TO RECEIVE CHARGE!" the words echoed above the din of battle, they were louder then the human skin drums the beasts carried, or the precussion of the handgunners. The orders were obeyed without thinking.

From his perch he directed the ragged battle line to victory, they now moved like a well oiled machine, like the army of a great imperial city. The wanderer remembered what it had been like to be a soldier of the empire once, long ago. Purhaps the outcast would welcome him?

[The Yosemite Bear]

yes, no matter what he does, he is still a pawn. and yes, his power is the ability to speak louder then just about anybody and his military commands are recieved like a benegesserit witch's voice power. Oh and PS like discworld's death he speaks in All Caps to signify that yes the character really is that loud.