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post #111 of 118 (permalink) Old 02-16-11, 06:04 PM
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As Bonecrushers essence faded back in to the warp, Tha'Aktos did not feel triumph. Yes, he had managed to bring down a mighty blood thirster, even if it was alongside Gong'alt, but that rat Anon was escaping with every passing second. He longed for that things death, and would not rest until his soul was his.

He bent down to pick up Bonecrushers fallen axe. He suddenly began to feel stronger, like Bonecrusher's might was seeping in to his warp-infested veins. His muscles burned with the fury of a mindless god, his anger manifesting tenfold. He suddenly felt his feet lift off the ground; his arms rose on their on accord towards the sky as Tha'Aktos rose above the battlefield; the corpses of the false Emperors minions scattered carelessly across the blood soaked ground.

Power surged through him. Then he felt pain. Unimaginable pain. He felt his muscles rip and tear, his face expand and his head sprout horns. His skin was replaced by skin as hard as ceramite, thicker than even the hide of a juddernaught.

Suddenly, he crushed in to the ground; his former life-blood eviscerated from his body. What emerged was something he was not expecting.

He was now Tha'Aktos, Bloodthirster of Khorne.

(ooc - Let me know what I should say in next post as I think I've caught up now?
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post #112 of 118 (permalink) Old 02-25-11, 05:06 PM
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Gong'Alt rode Bunny down the street, a vicious snarl on his red face. How could Anon do this to them? How could he betray all four Gods of Chaos and escape unharmed? Nonsense. The Gods made them Heralds, a testament to their capabilities. Now, they had one final mission to prove the Gods their worth. They had to stop Anon.

Darkness flowed around him like a thick mist. Bunny made a sound of uneasyness, and Gong'Alt felt it too. The mist begun to rise up in wisps, until some of it actually began to form shapes. He recognized them at once. They had long, elongated heads, broad bodies, and two large serrated swords. They took the form of Tha'Aktos, Gong'Alt's nemesis. The mist settled around their forms, as the energy was turned solid. The mist shot a snarl in his direction, and charged. Bunny twirled around, smashing her long horn into Tha'Aktos' shadowy form. The creature tumbled back, and disappeared with a *poof*. The mist hung limp in the air before floating somewhere else to reform.

Gong'Alt's hellblade ignited with a large, bright flame, brought upon by his rage. Screaming, he willed Bunny forward, swinging his large blade at the charging shadows. They disappeared at the slightest wound, just to reform themselves once more. Bunny was doing considerably little, with her short reach.

Gong'Alt smiled savagely, as he struck his blade through the misty forms of Tha'Aktos. He was so blinded by delight and rage, that he failed to notice the
increasing number of foes, and their resilience. Minutes had gone by, and there were at least fifty of them, charging savagely into Gong'Alt's reach. His hellblade jabbed at the nearest form, and to his surprise, it was stuck. Forcing his strength, he yanked it free, and finished it off with a swing. He can't kill them. "Go! Go!" he hissed, still swinging his fiery blade. Bunny kicked off and ran, batting aside oncoming attackers with her long horn, and solid metal head.

They were pouring in now, leaping from broken windows of tall buildings, and emerging from shadowy alleys. "Stop fighting me, daemon! I am Khorne's chosen! The Blood God favors me! You cannot defeat me using Tha'Aktos, a pitiful whelp, not even fit to feed the Flesh Hounds!" he screamed, hoping Anon would hear. Then, the figures before him froze and dissolved, returning the black mist that they once were.

If someone lacks intelligence, than he is not stupid, because one cannot be stupid without intelligence.

If someone reverts to having to complain about your grammar, then you already won.

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post #113 of 118 (permalink) Old 02-27-11, 10:51 AM
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Default Vetis

“I am here Vetis! Hurry up and help me, your actions have exposed me to damage I should not have taken!”

Sparing a moment to shift his gaze to Korthose, Vetis could see that his fellow Horror was hiding behind a rather large segment of what must have formally been a vehicle of the Sisters of Battle. Somehow he had pried it from the wreckage, either way it did not appear to be doing him much good as shot after shot impacted onto its metal hind and sent Korthose spiraling down to the dirt below.

“You know full well that is not my job to oversee your own personal safety, now I’m going to make another push so use the time that I buy to find some real cover and start shooting back.”

Rock, sand and dust alike were made airborne as Vetis vaulted over his rapidly diminishing cover only to be pelted with a tremendous torrent of fire. Trying desperately to shield his eyes from the destruction that revenged the earth all around him Vetis pushed onwards. Wrydcaller was getting desperate to, his shots were wide and his power faded with every waking moment. It was evident that he wanted to finish this now, the sheer amount of fire that he was pouring into the pair below told Vetis that much.

A brief Exchange of fire was all that would be left of his former master, his shots were less frequent and their strength was laughable. Backhanding a few of the projectiles away from his position Vetis could not help but ponder this strange turn of events. Wrydcaller was a greater daemon of the almighty Tzeentch, how is that he could become so pitiful in the face of his own servants? Suddenly, Vetis finally felt a sense of understanding settle over his conscience, and he knew that it was time to finish his former mentor, once and for all.

Drawing from all the power that was available to him Vetis retaliated, rippling the air with a dozen Bolts of Tzeentch. Despite Wrydcallers attempts to shield himself with his own staff, the shots tore his being apart, scything through his winged form and sending it tumbling back down to earth.

Very Good

Echoed a voice within his mind, slightly puzzled Vetis was about to ask its name but it continued without giving him the opportunity.

You have fulfilled my wishes, I am pleased with you Vetis. You have to give yourself more credit, while your former master may have once been strong you must acknowledge that all things must change. Is this not the nature of our very existence? Now rise my servant, take what I have said and rise to your post! For you are now one of my most exalted.
The Herald of Change

Lightning cackled in the skies above and the Disk of Tzeentch materialized below his feet.
Anon was next.

Originally Posted by Unforgiven302 View Post
It's called a meltagun because "microwave over gun" is retarded

Things a Guardsman would say
" Why do the Orks have one of our Basilisks?"
" Quick get that spotlight over here if our lasguns can kill then that mean's it must be a template weapon!"
" Lighter, X ray, tanning machine dang weres the kill setting on this lasgun?"
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post #114 of 118 (permalink) Old 03-06-11, 01:23 PM
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As Lacessera skipped down towards the fleeing Anon, laughing softly as she got closer to where he had escaped. Her laughter was a rippling peal, exciting and enthusing, cackling and dark, rough and hoarse... Lacessera stopped dead. She knew that laugh. That evil, sickening, hateful laugh. The laugh that had imprisoned her for so many years, the laugh that had been her master before Caralessa had freed her at long last. The laugh which had meant her torture, her service, and her every pleasure, lavished upon the owner of the thrice-damned laugh.

Turning, Lacessera saw her nemesis returned. The Dark Eldar Archon stood, bedecked in his black armour, his crying blade softly weeping, and his wretched face contorted in laughter. Lacessera had long been this alien's servant; captured, then bound by foul energies, Lacessera had been unable to fight, unable to escape to the comforting beyond of the Warp, and forced to serve. This man had abused Lacessera, putting her through all manner of torture before ordering her to comfort him with all the pleasures of the Dark prince. For years Lacessera had been nothing more than a sexual slave; and whilst this endless pleasure would've appealed to Lacessera, she could not enjoy it due to the binding chains that had made her nothing but a mindless slave.

The Archon drew a whip, causing Lacessera to recoil in hatred; this whip had been covered with the same runes which had bound her chains. Lacessera knew what to do.

Roaring with graceful, primal fury, she leapt into the air, her clawed arms opening viciously. She slammed onto the form of her old master, knocking him to the floor. Quickly, faster than lightning, the whip slashed out, holding one of her arms in its grip. Immediately Lacessera felt the same, cold numbing sensation flood the arm, as is began to control her...


The cry of Slaanesh pierced the runes of the Archon, unwilling to lose the newest and favoured Keeper of Secrets. Lacessera heard the cry, and felt her strength flooding back. The face of the Archon contorted as Lacessera pulled the whip towards her, whilst bringing her clawed arms inwards to slice the Eldar open. He could not stop it: the Dark Eldar lord was torn apart, his mauled corpse unrecognisable as it flew into the distance. Lacessera cried with the feeling of victory, to the purrs of her Dark Prince in her ear.

Continuing back along the path, it was not long before another opponent materialised in front of her: one that she had never managed to defeat. A mighty Bloodthirster, by the name of Blackblade, reared up in front of her, armed with an axe and a blade, and with mighty red wings. Lacessera had once angered the daemon by flouting her flesh in front of it until it was gripped with such a fury that it had tried to kill her. Lacessera had escaped, but barely. Now, however, she was stronger. Still, another little play-about was irresistible.

Oh, Lacessera... you are so naughty.

Lacessera danced forward, cavorting around an axe-swipe, and, leaping past the sword-thrust, whispered in the ear of Blackblade:

"Want another go, honey? I'm ready for you..."

Lacessera had angered the daemon, who swept at her with both arms at once. The Keeper of Secrets nimbly dodged.

"Oh, don't be so rough! But then again, I'm a rough girl..."

Lacessera leapt forward, catching the irate Khorne daemon off-guard. Her claws raked along his thighs, creating deep gashes, before sweeping upwards and catching the bull-like head of Blackblade. Lacessera leaned into her swipe, breathing the Breath of Slaanesh into the wounds. It wasn't long before the Khorne daemon became groggy and slow. After a few, half-hearted swipes, the daemon dropped its weapons, and staggered towards Lacessera's pale flesh dumbly.

"Now now, you're not nearly as much fun..." tutted Lacessera, neatly decapitating her foe with a swipe of her claws. Skipping over the weakly spasming corpse, Lacessera headed on to her true foe.

It would take more than a few memories to stop her now.

Give a man a match, and he's warm for a day.

Set a man on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life!

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post #115 of 118 (permalink) Old 03-07-11, 11:09 AM
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Oon'Nu stood back to watch the transformation of Viralestopheles, a Great Unclean One! What a most pestilential blessing to receive, truly the former PlagueBearer had been favored by the Grandfather.
As for himself he could feel new surges of toxins and myriad disease flow through his body, it strengthened him and it changed him, his body twisting as a seizure violently wracked his frame.

Chitinous plates burst from his flesh in a welter of pus and rot-black blood, the plates sliding into place and covering the Daemon's entire body in a living armor, his fingers fused into dull talons of gnarled bone, multiple blisters formed on his face and as they burst eyes blinked where the sores had been. His many eyes were black and glinted with malicious mirth, teeth ringed his mouth all the way down his esophagus as sharp mandibles pushed their way out of the old bones of his jaw.
His body swelled til he was a good two heads taller, and a lot wider, then he had been, his body expanding to allow room for the changes wrought upon him by the Grandfather's favor.

Oon'Nu groaned in something akin to pain as two pairs of arms burst from rotting skin, smaller pincer-like ones from his chest and larger ones underneath his first ones; writhing tendrils burst from the back of his head, forming a living mane of venom-dripping barbed tentacles.
His body stopped shaking slowly as he examined his new body, finding it adequate for his purposes he summoned his flies, which crawled out of rents in his skin and began to head towards the city.

A new Herald of Nurgle walked, leaving rot and biting corpse-insects in its wake.

He wished to reveal his full displeasure to Anon. The Betrayer had a lot to answer for.

He had lost some time due to his transformation, but with the enhanced muscles in his new legs, ground was covered quickly; he flexed his fingers and paused as he neared the city, the dark around his feet was shifting, reacting to his presence, a shape formed out of the shadows.

Oon'Nu smiled as he recognized it, dear Kjarl, a Space Wolf that Oon'Nu had fought when the Daemon had been younger, he remembered that battle fondly, the Space Wolf had been most persistent and annoying, constantly disrupting Oon'Nu's task of spreading pestilential blessings.

It had ended with the Wolfs body being broken, though last the Herald had heard was that Kjarl was entombed within a Dreadnaught, or a wall, same difference.
He chuckled, and this was Anon's attempt to delay him? Making him fight memories of his past?
He could see other shapes beginning to loom out of the darkness, R'htor'Nxkra, a Tzeentchian Herald he had helped bring down, Ky'Or, a Tau Shas'O he had taken particular pleasure in disemboweling and multiple others.

He simply waved a talon and Kjarl disappeared, axe still raised and defiance etched on his face as he faded, none of this was quite real and Oon'Nu would not allow his memories to be blatantly paraded for him to fight.
He ignored the others and they faded as he entered the city, Anon could not dissuade him from getting vengeance.

I do commissions (Mostly non-human) on DeviantArt, PM me if you want a drawing of a character or whatnot. Descriptions are needed as I am not a mind reader

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post #116 of 118 (permalink) Old 03-12-11, 06:27 AM Thread Starter
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Default The Final Confrontation...

Anon glared hatefully back at the array of powerful daemons now standing before him.

Tha`Aktos, now a mighty Bloodthirster.

Gong`Alt, A herald riding atop a snarling juggernaut.

Lacassera, a lithe and graceful Keeper of Secrets.

Viralestopheles, a swollen and massive Great Unclean One.

Oon`Nu, a large and powerful Herald of Nurgle.

Korthose, a Lord of Change.

Vetis, a herald flying upon a blazing disc of light.

They stared back, some scowling with hate, some smiling in anticipation, and some remaining passive. Sighing deeply, Anon was left with nothing to lose. No. Not quite nothing...

He drew the necron forged sword and held it aloft. A weapon with the power to slay the gods themselves, and he was afraid of a few pathetic daemons?

'Alright then.' He said, brandishing the weapon. 'It`s time for this to end.'

--- --- ---

Everyone: As Anon lifts the blade above his head, the swirling darkness that has engulfed the world responds to his call. The shadows engulf you, cutting you off completely from anything else until only you and Anon stand opposite each other in a world of shifting memories and nightmares.

As far as each character is concerned, YOU are the only one fighting Anon.

Anon raises the sword to you and issues his final challenge.

Greater Daemons: Anon will not fight such a superior foe on your terms. Before you can attack, Anon transforms, becoming a mighty dragon, a snarling behemoth, gigantic wyrm or some similarly large and impressive form. The necron sword is invigorated by his power as well, remaining in his grip and transforming into a much larger version of itself.

Heralds: Anon will not transform against you, but keep in mind he wields a weapon capable of destroying star gods.

Fighting Anon will be no simple task for any of you.

From here, it is completely up to you to decide your character`s success or failure. You have permission to control Anon`s attacks against you and his words if you wish. Do you win? Do you fail? Are you annihilated, banished or do you survive?

In any case, you will not be able to claim or destroy the necron made sword.

Nonsense is our Salvation

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post #117 of 118 (permalink) Old 03-13-11, 12:14 AM
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Gong'Alt approached the large form of the daemon prince Anon. Then all of a sudden, like a light switch flicking off, everything disappeared. Or so he thought at first. His eyes adjusted to the intense darkness, and realized it was just that: Intense darkness. Wisps of mist flicked around Anon's muscular legs, and formed up in large quantities, violently swirling around in a large circumference, caging the two opponents together. Anon marched towards Gong'Alt. His eyes were featureless in the blackness, but his entire face was illuminated in a bright, neon green cast by his large sword he carried. Energy coursed along its long blade like water flowing in a brook. The weapon was imbedded with alien runes, temporarily glowing a bright white, before fading again to reinitiate the cycle. The energy highlighted Anon's snarling mouth, and fearsome visage. The sword was the only source of light. Anon's hooves pounded on the rockrete floor, as he strode towards the Herald. Even Bunny seemed to cower in fear at the approaching monster.

Gong'Alt stroked her head, and but was captivated by the beautiful weapon he held. Then, Anon's voice boomed over the darkness, echoing off unseen walls: "You are Gong'Alt, Herald of Khorne, are you not?" Gong'Alt didn't tremble when he spoke, nor did he waver. "Yes. I am the Almighty Khorne's chosen, the living will of the Lord of Skulls. You are Anon, a petty, traitorous fool!" Anon laughed loudly, a chorus of booms and glee. "I am a fool!? Me!? Are you so stupid, little daemon!?" He stopped in his tracks, a mix of anger and humor eerily illuminated on his demonic face. "I hold in my hand a weapon capable of destroying ENTIRE PLANETS!" he roared, rage filling his voice. "The steps are complete! Victory is already in my grasp, and I won't let you stop me! You fools followed my plan perfectly! Now, I am more powerful than any God imaginable!" he threw his arms in the air, his voice raging uncontrollably. "This was all part of my plan! You can't possibly win!" Gong'Alt willed Bunny forward slowly, readying his hellblade by his side. "Ha! Ha ha ha! A pitiful little bloodletter like you is going to defeat a daemon prince, who holds in his hand a tool capable of killing BILLIONS!?" Gong'Alt struck, his hellblade poised for the daemon prince's neck. It hit its target, slicing straight through. Anon roared in rage, more than pain, and struck out, knocking Gong'Alt back. Quickly, Gong’Alt remounted Bunny and ordered her back. She charged into the darkness of the "arena", the brute rampaging close on her tail. Then, he stopped. "Come out and fight me, whelp!" he bellowed into the darkness. He couldn't see him. The glowing alien sword acted as a beacon - Gong'Alt would always know where Anon was, but Anon himself couldn't penetrate the darkness with his eyes. Bunny slowed to a halt, and Gong'Alt circled around, moving to get behind him. Anon jumped around, bringing the sword to bear on nothing. A large streak of energy filled the air where the blade swung, and the horrible shriek of splitting wind sounded.

"Come and fight me like a man, whelp!" Anon bellowed. Gong’Alt knew he couldn't win in a one-on-one fight, however he could win if he made use of the inky darkness around them. Easing Bunny to a crawl, he prepared his next charge. They would strike Anon from behind, and Gong'Alt would sheath his hellblade into the monster's neck again. Without a cry for bloodlust, he charged, as quietly as possible. Anon wheeled around all too slowly, and Gong'Alt managed to cling onto Anon's back, bringing his hellblade to bear into his neck once more. Daemonic organs burst and spewed, but that wasn't enough to slow the beast. Anon yelled and threw him off, before charging madly towards him, the neon green light highlighting his furrowed eyes and roaring mouth. Gong'Alt rolled out of the way of the blade, a shriek sounding as it came down beside him. He got up quickly, and ran back into the darkness, Bunny coming in close behind: He wasn't foolish enough to fight the daemon in an even fight.

Anon put a hand to his aching neck, and held out his sword to the darkness. One more blow and his head would be cleaved from his shoulders. Then, an ingenious thought came to mind: An idea so great, not even Gong'Alt himself could do anything to counter it! His mouth rose to a feral grin. He would fell the daemon within minutes.

Gong'Alt mounted Bunny once more, and began circling around the perimeter of the "arena", not even appearing as a shadow within the thick blackness. Then, a roar sounded over the roomy rink, coming from Anon's traitorous mouth: "You were never Khorne's favorite, little daemon. Tha'Aktos was, and he always will be." Gong'Alt's temper began to rise, and a slight red glow appeared on his hellblade. Gong'Alt retorted aloud: "You fool! If Tha'Aktos was Khorne's favorite, why was I awarded a Juggernaut?" Anon laughed, and bellowed back in return, "That's because he didn't want to turn you into a Bloodthirster!" Gong'Alt narrowed his eyes, and his teeth gnashed. "That's right, I am fighting Tha'Aktos in a different vision, whelp! A Bloodthirster is to a Juggernaut what Tha'Aktos is to you: A god!" Gong'Alt screamed, rage overcoming him. His hellblade flared wildly, the hot white flame pierced the darkness around him. "THA'AKTOS IS NOT BETTER THAN ME!" he yelled. Anon grinned monstrously. Now it would be an even battle.

Gong'Alt immediately realized his weakness, but was too blinded by rage to care. How dare he claim that Khorne favored Tha'Aktos over Gong'Alt!? After all the blood he's shed in Khorne's name!? He smacked Bunny on the head continuously, to get her riled up as she charged, red eyes fixed intently upon the target. Gong'Alt's narrowed eyes flared violently in the fire of his hellblade, while Anon's were lit up by the cold green of the alien energy. A single more blow to the neck would be enough to finish him. Anon was prepared. Anon struck out lightning-fast with his ancient blade, discarded energy trailing in its wake, tearing the air with a loud squeal. Gong'Alt rolled off of Bunny, just in time to avoid being hit by the second blow. Looking to his left briefly, he saw the Juggernaut run back into the darkness, leaving without a trace. The coward! She would not fight by her master in possibly the final hours of his mortal life. He rolled forward, narrowly avoiding the blade by his head. Coming up, he slashed his blade at Anon's midsection, but the beast leapt back slightly. Anon laughed and lunged once more, a savage smile looming over him. He could run back into the darkness, but Anon would know where he was, unless he controlled his temper, but that's as easy as putting a starving dog in front of meat, and telling him not to eat it. Gong'Alt rose up, just to receive a powerful blow to the chest, knocking him meters away, onto the ground. Anon took a long stride forward.

Gong'Alt tried to push himself up, but was quickly intercepted as Anon slammed his hoof upon Gong'Alt's chest. "Now, bloodletter, it is over." Just then, Bunny charged from the darkness, her long, broad horn smashing into Anon's midsection. He howled in pain, as his genitals were crushed and splintered. He brought the sword down in front of him, punching straight through Bunny's large body without any effort. She squealed feebly, before exploding outright in a burst of bright green light. Screaming in fury, Gong'Alt sprinted forward, leaping off the ground towards Anon's head. He grabbed on tightly, and managed his hellblade over to the daemon's neck. "DIEEEEE!" the flaring sword sliced clean through the neck, finally severing the spine and taking the head with it.

He leapt off, and panted heavily, staring over Anon's headless corpse. The discarded head rolled over to Gong’Alt’s feet, and he saw the last expression on Anon’s monstrous face: Fear. Gong’Alt laughed loudly with glee. Now, he has earned himself a title: Gong’Alt, the Destroyer of Traitors!

If someone lacks intelligence, than he is not stupid, because one cannot be stupid without intelligence.

If someone reverts to having to complain about your grammar, then you already won.

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post #118 of 118 (permalink) Old 03-31-11, 04:51 PM
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Lacessera snarled in anticipation as she neared Anon. Her revenge, for Caralessa, neared, and with Slaanesh as her patron, Lacessera knew she would succeed. She was a Keeper of Secrets, the ultimate daemon given a perfect body. As she ran, sighs were exuded from the earth underneath her as it cried out for her caress, the ground itself desiring her attentions. She was the aspect of war in its most beautiful form, ascended into the ranks of Slaanesh's most favoured. Tonight, she would recline in the Well of a Thousand Sins, and the next night in the Den of Depravity, and after that... the Bed of Slaanesh himself, amongst the few favoured whom will be honoured with the Pleasure of the Dark Prince. But first, she must defeat Anon.

As she neared the daemon, she called out in a sensual voice:

"Give in, Anon, give in to me... I'll make you feel like the only thing in the universe. To me, you are..."

She could see the strains of sexual temptation etched across Anon's face, but they were short-lived. Suddenly the blade he held shimmered a ghostly green, and Anon snapped back to attention. The skies darkened, and Lacessera was shrouded in a black mist.

She felt the mist pawing at her, and at first mistook it for the kind of attention she normally pursued. Caught off-guard for a moment, Lacessera giggled as the mist swished through her loin-cloth, laughing as it trickled its way down her abdomen, and as it coiled around her breasts.

Suddenly, almost a second too late, she threw up her claws into a block: the Necron Blade slashed out, much bigger than its original form, clanging off her claws and disappearing again. Lacessera snapped into focus, but still the mist felt at her, probing and swishing around her, trying to divert her attention and make her fall into a pit of pleasure.

Lacessera tried to dart out of the mist, but it seemed to continue forever. Suddenly, the blade slashed out again, and again was blocked. Lacessera pressed forward, however, to pursue the attacker; she was forcefully blocked, however, by a wave of mist that formed against her, dense as rock, and even more tempting than the last tendrils that had probed her. Lacessera let out a gust of breath as she was winded.

To her surprise, Lacessera's breath melted away the mist utterly, leaving a space of clean air. Lacessera began spinning, and unleashing her Breath of Chaos. Soon, however, fierce columns of mist formed around her, pushing against her. Now Lacessera gave in; surrounded by pleasure-inducing Chaos Breath, and now a fresh onset of the sensual mist, Lacessera could not resist. She fell to the ground, exuding even more Breath, and rolling on top of herself, letting her ravages run wild. Soon all of the mist was gone, but in its place was the Breath of Chaos; surrounding Lacessera like a pink veil, rendering her helpless.

Anon chuckled from behind Lacessera as he approached. The Necron blade glimmered in his grip. Lacessera's essence was beginning to unravel, as she couldn't stop her insane sexual ecstasy. She rolled on the floor, crying out orgasmically, unable to defend herself, and unable to stop the infinite pleasure. Her daemonic form began to writhe, as she slowly dissipated into the Warp.

"Oh no you don't," muttered Anon, plunging the blade into Lacessera's writhing body.

Lacessera let out one, final, high-pitched squeal, as she experienced the Final Pleasure; death.

However, her essence, already loose, would not be so easy to destroy. The Necron blade was wreathed in pink mist as Lacessera dissolved, her spirit sucked into its icy depths. She would have no power against this blade; she was an impotent observer, but nonetheless, bound to the blade. Soon, the pink gas disappeared entirely, floating away into oblivion.

Anon nodded, thinking Lacessera destroyed, as her last cries echoed across the landscape. Deep in the Warp, this cry was matched by the howls of Slaanesh, as a second of his favoured fell.


Far away, on a distant planet, a warrior, clad in bone and flame, looked up. He too heard the scream of the daemon.

He was afraid.

Give a man a match, and he's warm for a day.

Set a man on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life!

Cato Marquand
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