Blood Bowl 2 - Vampire Crack Pirates Bay |TOP|
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Director: Tomas AlfredsonCast: Kåre Hedebrant, Lina Leandersson, Per RagnarWe all know children are terrifying, but Let The Right One In takes spooky kids and makes them almost too relatable for comfort. Simply trying to survive like countless vampires before her, Eli (Leandersson) strikes up a bittersweet friendship with social pariah Oskar (Hedebrant), offering him salvation from his less-than-ideal home situation. Based on John Ajvide Lindqvist's bestseller and set in Stockholm, it's not just the threat of being offed by a vampire that make this an incredibly effective Scandi scarefest, with themes of loneliness, anxiety and alcoholism helping it slip effortlessly into your bloodstream. It's no surprise Hollywood clamoured for a remake.Read The Empire Review
As the battle raged without him, from the left, right and center, the armies of the Empire, though battered and bloodied, held the line as the legendary blacksmith, Valten rallied his countrymen against the barbarian hordes. Glowing with a golden light, Valten smashed barbarian shields to splinter, and crack skulls in with his powerful dual warhammers. Those around him soon felt courage and zeal unlike anything they've felt in years and fought like fanatics. Soon, even the barbarians were terrified of this mighty warrior.[1s]
With a roar, Belegar charged and the two fought, their attacks parried by the other again and again with such force that it could've cracked stone into dust. But Belegar was wounded and tired, and Queek was still at his prime. With every attack parried, Belegar grew weaker and weaker until finally, Queek dislodged Belegar's shield and shattered his knee-cap. As the Dwarf King stood bloodied but upright upon his last uninjured knee, Belegar glared hatefully at the Warlord. With a cry, Queek swung Dwarf Gouger a final time. Defiant to the bitter end, Belegar struck Queek's weak shoulder-joint with the Warlord's own dislodged sword just as the weapon struck and punctured his own helm. Queek stepped back in pain just as Belegar fell over into his side, the King's eyes never leaving Queek's face even as his life finally left him. Bloodied yet triumphant, Queek severed the King's head and vaulted it high in the air, where the clamour of his warriors filled the very mountain with the victory cry of Clan Mors. The True King was dead and Karak Eight Peaks had fallen at long last.[9s]
Aislinn allowed himself to be taken by Fellheart, and there by the feet of Tyrion himself, the Sea Lord allowed his fate to be sealed. Cursing Tyrion and laughing menacingly, the blood of Sea Lord Aislinn spilled the decks of the Black Ark before the sea had suddenly erupted into a fierce Maelstrom. Lightning crackled in the skies overhead and a colossal wave larger than the tallest tower within the Black Ark reared up and slammed down upon the fleet. Fellheart's fleet was in ruins.
Back at the Temple, Loeun and Ku'gath once more went head to head. His Hippogryph dead after trying one to tear the flesh of the Greater Daemon, Louen drove his sword deep into the creature's throat, while his blood, now a golden fluid, burnt the Daemon with great pain. With agonizing cries, the Daemon lurched back and forth and slammed against the Statue of Magnus the Pious, the construct falling down upon him, pinning him down as second by agonizing second, the greater daemon bubbled away into nothingness until all that was left was a simmering stain. In place of the statue, Louen stood victorious and pointed his sword towards Festus. He ran towards the apothecary yet, as he was tangled by a leech thrown at him, he made a barrel roll and plunged his holy sword deep into the daemon's gut. But Festus was not a full daemon, not yet at least, and the sword and blood did not kill him as it did the Plaguefather. With great power, he smashed an acidic potion upon Louen's face, and with his bonesaw, he hacked at the Champion, golden blood spurting across the pavement. Fighting back the pain, Louen Leoncoeur stared straight into the face of his would-be killer, and cracked a sly grin.
None of this was known half a world away, yet Mazdamundi felt a great disturbance within the world's harmonic balance and sent his warleader a single thought; faster. With haste, a small detachment of the army led a powerful assault through the enemy armies. Running battles between Skink skirmishers and Javelin teams fought against Clan Eshin Gutter Runners and Night Runners all across the pyramid and alleyways, yet the corrupting mist slowed the Skinks whilst the ratmen were invigorated by it. Lord Skrolk himself led his personal army of Pestilens Guard and Bearers of Creeping Death against Kroq-Gar's Cohort of the Copper Sun and Yellow-Crested Cohort. The cracks of Warplock Jezzail teams were heard as high above, Tiktaq'to and his Sky Host swooped down low and let loose a rain of ogre-sized boulders, the sea of ratmen filling the streets having little room to manoeuvre and thus could do nothing but look up and see death raining down upon them. With the Skaven wavering, the Lizardmen pushed hard through the enemy masses. Kroq-Gar was at the forefront of the assault and following in his wake were the Honour Guard of Hexoalt, the greatest and most ancient of the Temple Guard, each warrior possessing the strength and power of even the mighty Oldbloods. In the middle of the cohort stood Mazdamundi himself, his mighty Stegadon stomping its way through the streets whilst the Slann unleashed the powers of the sun-standard and projected an aura of protection for his warriors. Their destination was within sight, the monumental Great Temple of Itza, where at its apex the greatest store of magical power could be harnessed. High above, a large pillar of dark-green light pierced the sky as it headed directly towards the Chaos Moon, the Morskittar Engine having finally unleashed its power. As the beam reached higher and higher, it finally pierced the moon, and for a split second, the Chaos Moon glowed dimly before it sundered and finally shattered and broke asunder. Tidal waves of entropic energy washed outward as chunks the size of continents were slowly falling towards the very earth itself.
Neither able to swiftly end the other, the two warriors disengaged. They circled, surrounded by a bellowing wall of monstrous faces and stinking, hairy bodies. Khazrak's whip lashed out, attempting to ensnare the Graf's shins. It was an old trick, one Todbringer had seen before and he did not fall for it. The Graf stamped down upon the whip's barbed tip, his next steps a lurching charge that put impetus behind a beheading swing. His runefang met the blade of Khazrak's sword once more, the dull clang accompanied by a shower of bright sparks. Todbringer fell back a pace and cursed as the lash cracked out once more, cutting bloody furrows in his cheek. The next moment saw him parrying frantically as Khazrak's sword hammered down against his guard once, twice, three times. On the third blow, Todbringer was driven to one knee, the thick mud squelching beneath his armour. Excited brays rang out around the circle as the Beastmen scented blood but the Graf was not done yet. With the faces of his slaughtered men swimming before him, Todbringer roared his fury and scythed his blade low, hacking through Khazrak's right shin in a spray of gore. 2b1af7f3a8