silverspinekeeper

[silverspinekeeper]

[silverspinekeeper]

Jaz'mahnn and his lieutenants

Yes, he is a general of a Slaaneshi Terror Legion. That alone should tell enough.

A shock troop of horror and excessive violence with fancies of patient sieges and almost Khornate brutality, perfect for his place in scourging from Norsca to Kislev to the neighboring mountains during Rulek's campaign for Ursun's power.

To say the least, Kraedaan and he were very passionate rivals for favour and scores in service to their father-gods.

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Gordon: hollering, seething and gesturing at Jazz for being what he is and monstrously protective while being a complete diva

Jazz's POV: *Gordon got heart and pink mist filters, cape whipping and villain seething - LOVING YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL playing in the background, Jazz's whiskers curled into hearts* Mhmh. Mhm. Yes, pumpkin.

[silverspinekeeper]

Anaïs Nin, from The Voice

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what? oh sweetheart no, you're not weirding me out at all. you're weirding me in. keep talking, freak

[silverspinekeeper]

Jaz'mahnn's back claw came out faster than the witch-hunter expected. He was in the middle of condemning the daemon before them. The sound of a tunic tearing was the last thing he heard before a ink-violet claw smashed his head into the wall like a warhammer.

Gore splattered and dripped down as the begging peasant that was just on his knees quivered and shook some more. His shirt tearing more and more as something terrible rose out of his splitting back. Silver spines flaring out with each spinal click. Horns erupting from his skull. One of the hunter's guards charged with a wild holler. It wasn't righteousness - it was animal fear.

The zweihander whirled in the air and saught to carve the emerging thing, instead, another claw caught and snapped the weapon like it was a mere quill stem. The warlike weight suddenly gone sent the fool tumbling. The sweating peasant gurgled and splattered blood with his sweaty face twisting and sinking in like a mask of rubber.

The daemon that was using his skin rose with horrific sultry tease, the draconic head whipped back and flicked, unraveling long silver locks that gleamed and shimmered before becoming a blaze of hellish violet flames.

Long catfish-like whiskers pumping of ichor and flowing as if suspending in water, the gore rolling down his pearl-like hide like rain. The suit of flesh wetly crumbling under as one long leg stepped from its disguise with a monster that impossibly fit inside rose with each pop of his exposed spine to the tail swinging out.

All were frozen to the sight. They thought it was one of the maidens of Slaanesh, the fae that tricked and seduced foolish men and women to terrible deed. No. This was far worse as his shadow rose above them all and power consumed them into a awe-striken fear.

A Keeper of Secrets stood before them and he smiled down at them with a loving grace.

He loved them.

He loved they were all here to die to him.

That momentary beauty turned into taut hatred and hunger, turning into a monster that unhinged its jaws to reveal the rows of fangs and sharp teeth, lunging on his first victim with a realm-spanning shriek!

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Work doodling for armoured Tylacus, first draft of look

[silverspinekeeper]

Chaos Champion Tylacus

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Me just dealing my character creating curse at work. Have a champion under Jaz'mahnn in the grim dark universe of 40,000 years

[silverspinekeeper]

ah, i take it someone tried pulling it and you didnt like it? noted

Someone's', a number of tails. A tail is enticement of combat and affection. It is as important for balance and other signs of social and combat potential. Many foes are tried to pull and deprive me of my limb. Some succeed.

All gave me something back. Usually fatally.

[silverspinekeeper]

do you enjoy your tail being pulled?

"Wanna try it, Little Soul?"

[silverspinekeeper]

Jaz'mahnn snipped his right claw and everything happened; cannons fired, horses lunged, men charged. The thunder waves of war cascades in one booming roll through the air.

The daemon's ears flared to take it all. It hit him like an endearing balm to his burning essence. His left claw lifted. A snip.

Over a ridge, the line of pulsating hellcannons swelled and expelled a rain of screaming souls that arched over the air and dove against the enemy formations. The Keeper of Secrets gestured with his left hand, constructs of gold and flesh pulled greatbows of giant sinew and tendons. Their cursed arrows pulled and released.

They flew and into the chests of officers and knightly champions. One slipped between the port hole of a steam tank.

Jaz'mahnn gestured with the same hand in a open palm to the air. From the hills a herald of his legion blowed a sinful horn and unleashed a wave of armoured knights and riders in a spill of violent and pink and gold, coming to take the flank.

His keen ears twitched, he can hear the clash of another battle not too far off. One of his warbands crashing into a separate regiment, cutting their support. He can no further thought as his palm rested on the long curved hilt jutting from his hip-rested sheath.

There was a snap of a bowstring in the symphony of violence and flying arrow's tail feathers. Great eagle feathers. The taste of woodland magics. A burning star was arching over battles. Not even a blink, he moved by the barest twitch of his arm. His long thin silver blade arched. A zig zag of shimmering motion. The shaft less arrowhead of elvish curse coursed along his blade, Jaz'mahnn elegantly flourished it over his head and eyes keen.

With a flick of his wrist, sent it flying. Not upon his intended assassin, but the chest of Sigmarite hollering his man-god's name. The warrior priest wheezed and flew off his steed, dead before he even touched the ground. His arm clenching a grimoire, burning and devouring the tome of many true names. Including that of the daemon's.

A twitch of his whiskers, the Keeper flicked his arm and his legion of daemonettes and possessed shrieked before charging freely behind the marching warriors and chosen.

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Yall are seeing publically beautiful and undeniably handsome Jaz'mahnn.

Yall are seeing captivating Jaz'mahnn.

Yall are seeing the 'Why Boner' Jaz'mahnn.

Yall aren't allowed to see horrifying Jaz'mahnn.

Jaz'mahnn is a whole general with a obsession of violence.

Yall haven't seen him go off the walls in cenobite violence.

Silverspine isn't just a name.

He have a whole silver-casted spine with hooks connecting with his shoulders and dripped along his claws, studded with soulstones like Ludwig.

He moves like a bullet train when not hip-swaying.

Everytime he is looking at you, there is vivid intrusive thoughts running in his head how he'll play with you.

His patience is not limitless.

He just plays the game.

He sees you right now.

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"Praise to the Silver-spined Praetor! Glory upon his claws yearning for the flesh of our foes! Glory upon him to bless us with his refined majesty, do not hear his song cascading in the beauty of war!? Drink deep the ambrosia of suffering and let your veins burn with his ichor! Give him trouble in the wailing souls of the defeated and begging of the suffering! Give him your soul and let him fill you with his great passion! Glory onto the Hroary Lotus! Glory onto him, for my soul is his and through him, the Dark Prince empower us!"

-Angriss, Duke of the Slashing Moon and Mighty Hero of Jaz'mahnn

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"You foolish compost of flesh and meat, you think yourself my master? You think yourself beyond me in your values, your cunning or your rights born from the womb of a well-bred bitch? You arer nothing but a gnat. An entertainment. A speck of awareness. Bacteria to my very existence. This is but a halt breath for me. You has performed something only the most foolish ever concieve...you have my momentary attention and the price for it will consume everything that you knew and after. Your petty kingdom and all within will suffer for your hubris."

-The Daemon of the Whispering Dagger, He Who Kills By Promise - Jaz'mahnn

[silverspinekeeper]

Some Jaz'mahnn thoughts

Jaz'mahnn might be, by the wyrdness of the Warp, both younger and older than Ludwig. Age is something that only daemons seem to really click on with the complete disrespect that the Realms of Chaos have against linear time. Daemons are living concepts and bits of their gods, some are far older and others are just is.

It is almost impossible to pinpoint many of their genesis. Like Abaddon the Despoiler's sword Drach'nyen is said to be the echo of the First Murder. Many can assume reference of Caine murdering Abel for Human History and it isn't of Khorne's domain. It is no doubt daemons had manifested across space and time amongst different species, Humanity (in 40k) manage to be just the constant reference of certain spirits that are obsessed with their burning bright souls.

Yada yada.

Jaz'mahnn is, right now, a spawn of Ludwig in the form of his original self being a Hyshian Spirit of the Wind before being consumed and reformed by the Fox-King. This is far beyond the World-that-was' destruction, yet his birth echoed backwards into already being a servant of Ludwig in his ascension to Slaanesh's grace.

It is wacky and as much wrong as it is right.

Jaz'mahnn can look any way but, like his concieved progenitor, just prefers his bestial beauty and remain consistent in traits in an vainful pride. Otherwise, he could as monstrous and unassuming as he please.

[silverspinekeeper]

I tend to have intrusive Jazz murder thoughts and the consistent one is him kicking his little (in relation to him) peets through an armored person. Either his Keeper form literally punting them or smol (or similar size) to him Johnny Cage Shadow Kick them.