A Peculiar Debate
Smoke blotted out the blood red sky above Syrenio IV, a planet declared ripe for the slaughter. For Akem'Heka it was the perfect place to to test his newest discoveries, to Sunder flesh, to reduce mighty tanks to nothingness, to turn a proud loyalist worm into a muling wretch. Indeed the weaklings were too busy pelting the Sorcerer's unholy ceramite, too late delay the inevitable. The Thousand Son's golden eyes picked out one who stood out , a Commissar, no doubt to enforce the Corpse-Emperor's will. Akem'Heka's hand balled into a fist, flames of coruscating Warp energy lapped around it and lightning crackled from his force staff. As he reached out his ensorcelled hand, the Commissar began to convulse. Blood streamed from his features, immense weeping pustules manifested in the human's flesh...the same appeared on the men he was assigned to. They then fell to the rubble-strewn ground, their now rotten flesh ruptured, like victim's of the life-eater virus.
Akem'Heka snarled, that was his kill to make. A voice, coming from a throat caked in phlegm,echoed within his mind, feeling the decay of time Tzeentchian?
As it finished it's sentence, the voice's owner emerged from veil of decaying gasses emerging from the slain guardsmen...or rather the mulch they had become. Power armour, once a resplendent light green, was now a rotted bronze, pustules and pale bloated flesh manifested within the ruined parts of the armour. The Nurgle Sorcerer's helmet was encased within the flayed faces of those who dare insult his patron.
Setting aside his outrage, Akem'Heka smiled, "ahhh, Hemorrhago Bileas I see you are not festering within that charnel house you call a ship".
The faces on the Nurglite's helmet moved in accordance with their bearer's words, "and I see your master's capricious whims have yet to render your soul asunder." The faces then twisted into a grotesque parody of a smile "Come to admire my pestulent masterpieces, oh the sweet mortification of their flesh conveys the corruption of the Imperium, do you not agree?"
The Thousand Son, frustrated as he was by this walking mass of maggots, could not help but agree; "true, but it lacks that writhing sensation of change but most importantly it lacks..." Akem'Heka's eye lenses burst into incandescent flame and his staff followed suit, "it packs my personal touch...you took a kill which was rightfully mine".
Hemorrhago laughed, "really Son of Magnus? I did not see our name written upon them...now they go the embrace of my master, to be clutched to his decaying bosom." The Death Guard then brandished an axe caked in the most wretched filth known to Daemon and mortal kind.
Shouting then echoed throughout the streets, more guardsmen to he fed to the grinder. The Sorcerer of Tzeentch snarled "we will settle this later pus sack, right now wr have more pressing issues to deal with" As the first guardsman appeared from around the corner, Akem'Heka snapped his armoured fingers, the human quickly burst into ethereal flames that scorched body and soul alike.
"Bah!! Child's play Tzeentchian" declared Hemorrhago. The Death Guard tore off his helmet, revealing a rotted visage that would drive a mortal insane and spewed forth a sickly green liquid. No sooner as it had hit a guardsman, the unfortunate human's flesh had began to melt.
Akem'Heka's eyes then turned to another human, the Sergeant no doubt. The Thousand Son's sight pierced into the Empyrean itself and gazed at the mortal's soul. Reaching out his hand and plucked the faint light from it's corporeal vessel. With his sight returning to materium, the Sorcerer of Tzeentch admired the results of his endeavour. The human simply collapsed, his men paused in horror at their leader's sudden death. A surge of green flashed in the corner of his eye, the Nurglite hurled himself into the preoccupied humans.
Setting about them with plague-infused axe, Hemorrhago slaughtered the mortl's only to leave one standing. The Death Guard's hand clamped around the human's face, a simple flex of the fingers was all it took to wrench the screaming guardsman's face off. The Nurglite's cataract-ridden eyes caught a vibrant glow and he turned around, "is not too late for your fancy pyrotechnics Tzeentchian?" All he received was laughter.
"I do not think so" replied Akem'Heka. In response a small warp rift opened beneath Hemorrhago's feet, the Plague Sorcerer clung to the edges of reality. The Thousand Son leaned to gloat over his victim, "know this maggot-kin, all change; from purity to putrifaction, from life to death, it all serves the lord of Change's whim."
Hemorrhago roared in outrage, he had underestimated his foe, "I'll see you in Hell Son of Magnus!!"
"After you blighted one" chuckled Akem'Heka as the rift swallowed it's repulsive meal. The victorious Sorcerer than came across the Death Guard's recent trophy and dropped on the faceless previous owner, "here, call it a consolation prize...not that you will be needing it anymore."