Vernichtung intro

Clad in armor black as night, the unholy titan takes its first steps.  Its broad, serpentine skull
full of jagged metal teeth hisses with foul green breath that settles like a cloying fog,
sinking to the earth near its knees which stillstand taller than a man.   The thing's armour protrudes
jaggedly as if nailed on haphazardly by a sadistic mind, covering everything except for its hands and
its massive draconic head.  Whatever creature's skeleton the Black Sun used to forge the monster,
they spared no piece.  Its former tailbones, plated in the same black steel as its armor, line
the barrel of a rifle taller than the nearby belltower, built into a blade that oozes the same
miasma of death which pervades the creature's body it drags across the earth, sundering stone
buildings as if they were made of cards.

As the beast turned, roaring its triumphant birth to the heavens with another billowing cloud of
pestilence erupting from it's glittering maw, a coffin can be seen mounted between its shoulder blades
bearing the mark of the Black Sun, with five chainmail-coated pipes spanning out to the creature's
eye sockets, through two armored spigots in the armor near the ribcage, and under the base of its skull.
Worse, however, is the fleshy purple parasiteattached to where a normal tail would have been;
a length of blended metal and muscle that leaves smouldering trails of filth wherever it passes or
touches the earth, with a pair of long blade-clawed arms latched onto the titan's shoulders for
stability. A trio of greyish, semi-human torsos protrude near the head of the parasite, their arms
reaching out and terminating in long bony spines that orient to anything that moves within sight.

In the streets and the square people flee for their lives.  Watching the fleeing living, the undead
monster that is Vernichtung raises its weapon with one hand, and casually slices through entire city
blocks. Swinging left and right, the screams of the dying are only outmatched by the screams of the
living. A few poor souls try to run past it, and flee behind the creature, but find no salvation.
The grey torsos upon the unliving parasite-tail eyelessly sight their prey, raining the few dozen
survivors with harpoons of bone that grow back almost as fast as they fire.
A trio of survivors stumble, only able to stare horrified at the faces of those around them, frozen in
the rictus of death as they bleed out, pinned to the street like butterflies on a corkboard.
Their moment of hesitation ends gruesomely as the sentient tail lifts its mass, and crushes their frail
forms into the stone, smearing to and fro the dead forms until only a red jelly fills the square where they had died.