The Chronicles of Malaclypse the Mad, Circa BR 2,003 wrote:And so it came to pass that the treachery of Ogel VIII; the Asshole of Angor, The Despoiled One, Traitor to the Majistiks; came to fruition, and the hordes of POOP did spill from their portals in the mountain reaches and flow downhill into the valleys of Anorakistan.
From the ramparts of Castle Perilous, Duke Ludo surveyed the grim battlefield of the siege outside the castle walls. The last of the Duke’s brave knights and thanes were pressing back against the final assault of misshapen and malformed beasts from the Negaverse.
“Actually, some of their stuff doesn’t look that bad...GUUURRRKKKK!!”
Sir Jackanape the Monkey Knight never got to finish his poorly chosen words, as the blade of Malaclypse the Mad, bastard son of Duke Ludo, split the knight’s impetuous skull in twain.
“Things look bad, my son,” said wise Duke Ludo. “But at least we will face the end together, and find glory in righteous battle.”
“Fuck THAT!” roared Malaclypse, “I WANT TO WIN!”
Those were to become the most significant words in Anorakistani history.
What dark forces Malaclypse bartered with and unleashed that day are not entirely known. What is known is that Duke Ludo sacrificed himself by hurling his armor clad body into the waiting maw of a POOP dragon to save his bastard son from certain digestion, and that the bodies of all the Anorakistani dead rose as one in a great army of calcified righteousness known as the Great Do-Over. Snatching victory from the jaws of death and defeat, Malaclypse pushed back the great POOP invasion at the forefront of a swelling tide of undead.
-- From a Brief History of Anorakistan, Vol 6
- An assembly of but a few forces commanded by the Kabal of the Red Hand. The Red Hand is college of necromancers in opposition to the agendas and overreach of the Majistiks. They have used the isolation of Anorakistan to grow quietly, but what their true motivations may be few outsiders can venture.
- At the forefront of this host of undead stands Gnarg the Ginormous, a zombie giant often used by the Kabal as a siege breaker. In the background, perched on an overlooking balcony stands Festerus Ghast, Dread Necromancer of Memnoch, wielding the infamous Aurum Ossum.
- They do not know pity, mercy, or conscience, but only loyalty to the Red Hand. The ranks of the corpse soldiers of the Kabal are filled with dry bones, rusty armor, and jagged blades.
- Chivalry is dead. Fittingly so are these chevaliers. Once great knights in life, now they serve the Kabal as Knights of Death. Overlooking the cavalry is the Carrion King, a fearsome hero of old turned battlefield general for the league of necromancers. Not to be overlooked, stands Tyrion Twilight, the dreaded Twinklevamp of Talongarde and one of the lords of the Kabal.
- Here stands one of the most infamous members of the Kabal, Carcharigoth the Hellmouth, brandishing his fearsome sword and the vile volume of the Versiculum Vermiculus. Whether Carcharigoth is a transcendent sanguimancer or an errant blood demon no one is entirely certain. Behind him stands Lady Arachniadne, the Vampire Queen of Spiders. Below them awaits an example of one of the Kabal's necrotic siege engines and it's zombie crew.
Tides of POOP flooded into Anorakistan, lead by a vanguard of dreaded POOP dragons. At the same time, a general malaise had fallen over the shires and fiefdoms of the realm, and the lords of Anorakistan were slow to the defense of their holds. Armies of negafigs marched across the land, painted in sooty washes and varnishes as if they were the rejected dead of a thousand dusty brickbins. All the while, the Xenox Klerix erected shoddy fortifications in the mountains to guard the negaportals that had breached into Anorakistan.
In Anorakistan’s darkest horror, Malaclypse the Mad emerged as the despot the country deserved but didn’t need. The illegitimate son of Duke Ludo the Enlightened, many rumors circulated of Malaclypse’s questionable heritage. Some said he was a dhampyre or a changeling child and thus inheritor of all manner of cool and awesome powers. Others said his birth was one of cosmic portentousness. Others said he was just another of Duke Ludo's by-blows.
Calling upon the powers of necromancy, Malaclypse raised an army of the dead from those defeated by the Negaverse invasion. In a campaign that became known as the Great Do-Over, the undead forces of Anorakistan pushed back the Naybobs and Nilbogs and POOP dragons and sealed the negaportals that threatened the land.
Following the campaigns of reclamation, a new era began in Anorakistan. Malaclypse had saved the realm, but at what cost? There were those who opposed Malaclypse’s claim to the throne, asserting he was an illegitimate son with no standing under the law. Others balked at the rulership of a mad necromancer. The debate was short-lived though, and those that would not bend the knee soon joined the undead legions.
However, rather than waging genocidal campaigns against the living, Malaclypse proved to be fairly even handed as raging despots go. His obsession was against the lingering negataint polluting the land. It was along this time that the first of the Hollows began to be born. These poor minifigs were afflicted with a spiritual malady where they would rise again after death. It was said that they could be recognized by the shade of their skin, which was a pale pink color like tainted cream rather than the usual healthy sallow shade. These individuals began to be known as Pinks or Peaches, and they became the easy scapegoats for whatever problem of the week might arise.
Eventually this hatred of the Peaches reached a fever pitch, and Malaclypse announced a new vision for Anorakistan.
What followed was the single greatest opera publica in Anorakistani history. The surrounding mountains were quarried to provide bricks to build a massive wall that stretched the length of Anorakistan’s eastern border. Due to cutting corners and a work crew made up of sluggish zombies, the wall was poorly designed. Poor drainage caused rivers to backup and flood the lowlands and quarry pits. Anorakistan soon became a swampy mess, filled with negataint and POOP remnants, with boggy marshes haunted with orks and nilbogs and tribes of dreaded dungans. The mountain ranges are home to surly dwarves, tribes of nomadic shitgoats, and many species of dragons. Errant bands of raiders and negafigs still occasionally arise, and the hills are populated by barbaric clans of minifigs known as the Snake Eaters.Excerpt from the Anorakistan Will Rise Again Address, Circe BR 2,003 wrote: “Everywhere around us, Anorakistan is mocked! The dwarves in the mountains and the elves in the east will not parlay with us. The forces of Noobania grow bold again! And all this even though their safety was bought during the POOP Invasion with Anoraki blood! But I swear to you, Anorakistan will be great again! The world shall ring with our motto, ‘FUCK THAT! I WANT TO WIN!” WE WILL WIN AGAIN! We will drive the pink skins from our land and we will build a great wall to seal them out! AND THE PEACHES ARE GOING TO PAY FOR IT!”
Eventually, Malaclypse fell into seclusion and not long afterwards, he mysteriously disappeared. His personal chambers were found covered in fevered writings and disturbing drawings all painted in what appeared to be his own blood and feces. Numerous papers were scattered haphazardly, in languages undecipherable. The only trace of Malaclypse left behind was his own severed right hand, which seemed to be struck off in midsentence as it scrawled across the chamber walls.
From the Final Writings of Malaclypse the Mad, Circa BR 2,010 wrote: 375
Have you seen the Yellow Sign?
Is this a skully grail I see before me, its handle towards my hand?
O Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from me.
Under a yellow sun there sat a yellow hill.
Upon the yellow hill there sat a yellow keep.
Within the yellow keep there sat a yellow king.
Beside the yellow king there sat a yellow cup.
He is a King whom emperors have served!
TWO GIRLS! ONE CUP! TWO GIRLS! ONE CUP!
If thy hand offends thee, strike it off!
Ooka-wakka ooka-wakka didda-didda-chum!
This is the thing that troubles me, for I cannot forget Carcosa where black stars hang in the heavens; where the shadows of men's thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the twin suns sink into the lake of Hali; and my mind will bear for ever the memory of the Pallid Mask. I pray God will curse the writer, as the writer has cursed the world with its beautiful stupendous creation, terrible in its simplicity, irresistible in its truth--a world which now trembles before the King In Yellow.
Heavy hangs the head that wears the tarnished crown.
We are all of us merely toys in the hands of a feckless and wrathful God.
Tits or GTFO!
FUCK THIS! I WANT TO WIN!
Already put to shame by newer members posting quality army content, I felt it was time to at least throw something against the wall. So this is the start of my Medivo thread in my little sliver called Anorakistan. This faction is far from finished, and it likely won't be my only faction, but I had the opportunity to take some pictures tonight so I went for it.