Hello, Heretics, so I came up with a cool idea that I think will be a good story to delve into. This is in the 40k setting, and some of you may recognize the characters in this beginning scene. This is a story mainly about
: Daemons. Once again, not sure where this will go, but we'll see where this takes us
EDIT: I realize that this beginning might confuse some people. I will begin a revision tomorrow to add more clarity to everything. As it stands now, this is mainly a follow up to The New Word.
A voice on the edge of Mirathir's mind whispered into her thoughts. You wish to repent. It is not easy.
The Forlorn City. Nothing more than a daydream of some deity's twisted vision of heaven made a reality. This was a plane of pleasant dreams and good intention exploited to meet the whim of voracious demonkind. A far-flung realm in the warp that was beneath the heel of no Dark God. Bliss and ignorance reigned supreme in this isolated kingdom. A Demoness once ruled over everything within this heavenly bastion. She spread her religion of enlightenment and eternal life across the stars. All in the effort to lure the souls of mortals into her realm. Souls that she branded and made her own, cursed and twisted into her minions.
The angelic voice would not leave her consciousness. This eternity you live is a lie. Do you not remember what you were?
Mirathir was one of her chosen prophets, ancient and powerful too.
The fallen eldar prophet's ire was rising. Trade your leash to another master. It is not all bleak prophecy. You can be free.
The religion of the New Word was lost with the demise of its creator. The tyrannical Demoness was cast in the abyss by one of her own. Her own hopes were dashed at the height of her ambitions. For she would have done what few entities of her power had ever dared beneath the eye of the Dark Gods. She had invaded real space and brought her word to the mortal plane. Now she would never return. It did not help matters when that traitor happened to be one of your few remaining friends throughout the millennia.
Mirathir smiled. I trade this leash to this entity in faith that she may rend these bonds placed between us. Be gone, spirit, I shall not suffer such an irritating wretch to challenge me.
Dazzling sunlight drifted through glassless arches into the throne room. The floors were built of alabaster marble and furnished with fine sapphire rugs. Golden braziers hung from the cupped hands of angelic statues that held up the ribbed vault ceiling. The more Mirathir inspected them, the more alien and out of place they appeared in this hall of demons. The Raven Prophet wore an elegant white robe with a gold trim. The blasphemous markings singed onto her face made her embarrassed when she looked upon the beautiful faces of the mortals that tread the throne room reverently. Her long raven hair spilled across her shoulders and down the small of her back.
A voice reminiscent of the sound of rushing waters spoke to her. The Raven Prophet looked up toward the throne that appeared to be built by stone that shined as if pieces of the moon. The Demoness that sat upon it was inhumanly slender, but robust with densely corded muscle. Her skin was the color of crystal green waters, her eyes dark as the abyss. Long columns of raven hair poured down her demon-forged armor and spilled across her four arms, which sat upon four arm rests. She lacked her former master's curved horns, but possessed a beatific face of a female humanoid creature.
Nyst revealed beatific and sharpened teeth in a wolfish grin. “For millennia, I dreamt of the day that I would awake from my eternal slumber and rise again. On the damned planet the humans called Tarmathon IV, I was cast into limbo. My former master, Ba’zariah, had thrown the very essence of my mind into the raw storm of the warp. I asked myself, ‘Why would my most beloved master do such a thing’? I had already searched the past for an answer and found it a rather base irrationality of hers: primal fear.
“For I, my dearest one, am no mere pawn of the Gods. I am not put into place lightly, pretending to be the most critical piece in the puzzle. I know that am only one thread in a myriad of others that the deities of the immaterium control. If eternity has taught me anything, it is that demonic kind of certain magnitudes should never be content with weaving threads for those above them. They should desire to weave just as many threads for themselves.
“When I was eventually discovered by you in ruins you had no right sifting through, I finally foresaw my opportunity to tip the scales in my favor. I schemed for another millennia alongside you, guided you toward a more… enlightened damnation. One not wrought with so much pain, suffering, or madness. By your side, I regained my mind and my power, but it was never enough. It would never be enough until the Demoness of all our nightmares had perished by a clever ruse.”
Mirathir listened, a knowing smile on her lips. “I never knew you detested our master so fiercely. I assume your silence was intended so as not to tempt fate too early?”
Nyst inclined her head in agreement. “It was. Yet even so, Ba’zariah was too arrogant to ever suspect betrayal from another she had so thoroughly weakened. Vengeance was incredibly sweet in that moment. Not even a taste of bitterness on the tongue.” Her forked tongue slithered over her teeth. “I savored what little I could, but now she is gone forever. I would be remiss to say that I do not miss her. Even if only to rend her soul for all eternity.”
Mirathir replied in her soothing tone. “Let us not look to the past. Our alliance with the Thousand Sons is broken. Our invasion of Tyrannus has been broken. We should look to the next threat of conflict.”
“Simple.” Nyst grinned. “That would be here, in the Forlorn City. The minions of Khorne have come for our souls. Their legions are at our gates or so they say. I must turn them back.”
“Those are demon wars, Nyst.” Mirathir shook her head. “These conflicts, do they not happen often? I mean in the mortal plane. The Imperium maybe on the brink of collapse, but it is regrouping.”
Nyst groaned with impatience. “Imperials, Imperials, it is all you ever talk about as of late. It will take them centuries to rebuild what has been ruined. Do not concern your weary head with these cretins. If I must war in the mortal plane, I would choose a new foe to combat. After all, you forget that there are multiple threats that plague the Marathon Sector.”
“Nyst.” Mirathir said. “We are attempting to win a war. Not wreak utter devastation because it is enjoyable.”
Nyst answered with a smug grin. “The young Tau could defeat you if you ignore them long enough.”
The Raven Prophet knew how displeased she must have looked. “More of your intuition or actual prophecy?”
“That answer.” Nyst winked mischievously. “Is not for mortal ears, no matter how blessed by a fallen god. Be gone, Shape Shifter, and see for yourself. When you have seen the truth, gather an army from your liberated stronghold.”
Mirathir arched a brow. “And what will you do?”
Nyst boasted, confident. “Challenge the Blood God’s slaves. I’m afraid I can spare you no angels. I must call every demon to my host!”