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Adam ran as fast as his legs could take him, the walls of the corridor seeming to close in upon hims with each footstep. Risking a glance backwards, he saw the wall of darkness at his heels, almost engulfing him.

‘Gyaaaahhh!’ He screamed, absolute terror gripping his heart. The laughter of the shadowy creature echoed louder and louder in his ears, his legs getting weaker by the second.

Finally, he collapsed, his last moments before he blacked out resounded with a chilling voice.

‘...At last...I have found my vessel...’
--- --- ---

The meeting chamber of the four powers seemed vastly empty without the gods themselves upon their thrones. Furies had been dispatched to each of the realms to deliver the message, the daemon known as Anon had requested the presence of the four, but never would they deign to enter the presence of such a lowly denizen of the Formless wastes.

Instead, they had each dispatched one of their servants to tend to the matter for them. Amighty Bloodthirster stood in front of the Brass throne of Khorne, a lithe Keeper of Secrets stood before Slaanesh`s cushiony lounge, Nurgle`s vast and rusted dais was tended by a Great Unclean One and a sniggering Lord of Change hovered before the great Pedestal of Tzeentch.

Each of them was accompanied by a group of daemonic champions, who bickered, conversed and glared at each other across the chamber like children.

The four masters silenced their servants as the last member of the meeting entered the hall. Veiled in a robe of pure darkness that seemed to swirl and flow smoothly as the creature moved.

‘Anon!’ The Bloodthirster, Bonecrusher, bellowed at the newcomer. ‘What nonsense have you that requires the attention of those shuch as us?’

‘It is a pleasure to see you as well, Bonecrusher.’ Anon said, lacking any sincerity whatsoever. ‘You are surely aware of the threat posed by the star borne, are you not?’

‘The ones without souls?’ Poxgiver asked. ‘What possible threat can they be to us here?’

‘Though they are somewhat of a hindrance in the mortal realm...’ Bonecrusher growled.

‘Precisely.’ Anon continued. ‘Recently, I have learned of a device that may alleviate our problem. It lies hidden on an imperial world and could end the threat of the star gods forever.’

‘Really?’ Caressela perked up. She had been bored so far but the mention of an imperial world caught her interest. He two present servants, basking in her intoxicating presence, revelled in her excitement. One of them pressed her form to the larger daemon`s leg, being stroked in return as Caressela returned the sensual favour.

‘Bah!’ Wyrdcaller scoffed. ‘Everyone knows that only the eldar`s cursed weapons and the might of our own masters are the only things that can destroy the star gods of the mortal realm. ‘ The four daemonic horrors stood behind him laughed. In their ees, such was common knowledge and Anon was simply making a fool of himself.

‘Yet, your master remains typically unhelpful...’ Anon muttered softly.

All eyes snapped to focus on Anon as he uttered these words.

‘You dare mock Tzeentch?!’ Wyrdcaller descended to stand before the shadow, dwarfing the smaller daemon and glaring down menacingly. ‘You cannot possibly comprehend the scope of your words! I should destroy you this instant!’

Everyone waited.

‘But perhaps...’ The Change Lord said. ‘I might forgive you if you tell me your true name.’

‘Ever the schemer?’ Anon said passively. ‘Very well. Come closer.’

Wyrdcaller leaned in close, his arrogance unbound. Anon leaned forward also, and whispered...

‘WHAAAAHHH!!??!’ Wyrdcaller recoiled in horror, clambering desperately to remove himself from Anon`s immediate vicinity. ‘How did you...? How could you possibly know?!’ He screamed.

‘I trust I can count on your support then.’ Anon said.

Wyrdcaller struggled, as if trying no to speak. ‘...yes.’ He muttered finally.

‘Hmph.’ Bonecrusher grunted. ‘I will go with you, not for your sake, but to drown this world in its own blood!

‘Indeed.’ Poxgiver conceded. ‘The chance to further our Lord`s work canot be passed up.’

‘Ooooh!’ Caressela shivered. ‘This is exciting isn`t it?’ She giggled, squeezing one of her servants tightly in her grip as she spoke.

‘I am pleased to hear it.’ Anon said. ‘Meet me at the borderlands of the Formless wastes in one revolution of the black sun. I will be waiting.’

And with that he turned and left.

--- --- ---

All: Anon has just left. You can take this opportunity to speak to the other characters if you wish. Like it or not, an alliance has just been forged, and the four Greater Daemons have adjourned to discuss further, leaving the rest of you in the antechamber. You can ask the others what they make of this strange leader, you can taunt your rivals, or you can remain silent.

Afterward, you will leave this place and return to the palace/fortress/garden/labyrinth that you came from, and prepare your forces. You will summon a cohort consisting of between five and ten of your fellows, and when you are ready, your master will lead you to the designated area in the formless wastes.
 

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Yorn growled and walked around the chamber uneasily, he wasn't killing so he wasn't happy. As he walked around he bumped into a Horror, but instead of pulling away, Yorn just kept going and knocked the Horror off its feet.

Worthless piece of Warp energy.'
And with that Yorn went for the exit.

Yorn ducked a slow swing from a pathetic Human, he then came up and ripped both of his knives up the humans ribcage, penetrating its heart instantly and destroying all of its major organs.
Yorn was getting bored of this, he had killed three other Humans and they had been no match for him.

Yorn walked off from the blood arena, he was bored of killing such easy targets, he wanted to fight great enemies, like the Loyalist Space Marines. Yes, that would be fun.
Yorn called up five of his most trusted Bloodletters and made sure they were ready for war.
 

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Korthose fumed with anger that this deamon had dared mock his lord, He made a mental note to himself that he would definetly doublecross him when he got the chance. An evil plan began to formulate in his mind, Korthose cackled to himself. Even if the deamon was a blasphemer his words taunted his mind could this puny futile being realy know of something to match the power of the great god tzeentch and how is it that a servant of the lord of change is not the one to find this valuble piece of information? For now i will go along with him........ for now.


"Vetis, Tor'aknar, Xerphon Asazzod what say you? is this thing worth following?"
The three horrors gave thier replies, "I go now brothers to make ready" and with that Korthose left the building taunting the plaugebearers as he left.

Korthose arrived at his library soon after thanks to the miracles of warp travel, he was greeted by one of his flamers who informed him of the goings on in the library. Being a tzeentch deamon Korthose was desparate to know all and if he didn't know everything that happened at his reside he was as useless as a bloodletter armed with a sponge.
Korthose called 2 of his flamers and 8 of his horrors to the main gate. He informed them of the metting that took place and they swiftly left to meet wrmcaller.
 

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Gong'alt couldn't help but stare at the Daemonette wretches. Fire flared through his eyes and his hand clamped so hard around the hilt of his hellblade that ruby blood was drawn. Had Bonecrusher not ordered them to fall back, he surely would've slayed every-single one of them! No one has ever survived Gon'alt's attacks: He only died three-hundred and forty seven times in his immortal life! Turning away from the hateful female-like daemons, he pounded past his other two brethren. He grunted with contempt at how large he was compared to them.

Gong'alt entered his blood soaked homeworld once more, where his cohort awaited him. Ten Bloodletters of the might God Khorne. They all stood silent before him, large Hellblades clasped in their hands. As brutal as they were, Gong'alt used em mainly as a mobile shield. Staring them down one final time, Gong'alt roared animatedly "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!". The daemons roared back. "now, my brothers, it is time to ravage humanity once again."
 

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This was an interesting turn of events, a being of the formless waste asking for help from the all mighty Tzeentch? Such a thing was not unheard of just uncommon. The lowly being of Anon of course would have to be punished for such impudence in the face of Tzeentch then again he supposed that he should have seen it coming from such a misguided and aimless soul that has yet to see the glory of Change. Perhaps the fool could even be manipulated into joining the vast family of Tzeentch? Only time will tell but for now the precession seemed to be coming to a close and Anon was moving to exit the room.
Korthose, a fellow Horror like himself turned to address him and the others.

"Vetis, Tor'aknar, Xerphon Asazzod what say you? is this thing worth following?"

Vetris gave Korthose’s question a brief thought it was obvious; of course they would why let all the other Gods take the glory which belongs to only Tzeentch ?

If such benefits our master Korthose, we shall show these pathetic wastes of warp space what a true servant of Chaos is capable of!”

Vetris turned from his brethren and panned his head to all the other minions of the various gods. The Bloodthirsters were of no concern they were just brutes whose minds were linear and easily manipulated. Slaanesh had brought its own servants to they were creatures of pleasure and their presence was fine by Vetris as long as they don’t interfere with his masters grand and ever-changing plan. But the Foul, putrid sacks of filth that seemed to infest the warp these days known as Nurgle daemons were also here, Such creatures are not even worthy to serve as Tzeentch’s foot stool. When the opportunity arises then they would have to be dealt with.

Leaping back into the realm of his own mighty Lord, Vetris summoned his numerous minions. They were like children only young spawns they had yet to taste the many years of experience that Vetris had and savoir the sweet taste of killing their first Loyalist marines. They were a vast assortment of differing shapes and personalities and numbered a total of ten.
“Kin, today our masters have struck an alliance with our more naïve brothers and we go to war”
Vetris said nothing further and decided to let his little ones anticipation swell for the coming battles, it would give them something to ponder. For now however his other champions would want to speak with him and he set off to see them.
 

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Tha'aktos stood beside his lord bonecrusher, revelling in his promised words of bloodshed and slaughter. It had been too long since he had wrecked havoc on an Imperial World, and he longed for the corpse-god followers skulls.
He glanced around the room, snickering at Anon's unrespectful words of Tzeentch. His eyes set on the spawns of nurgle. Filthy creatures he though, how he longed for this so-called alliance to be over so he may kill them in honour of the all-mighty khorne.
Lastly, his eyes set on the loathsome daemons of slaanesh. He stared in disgust at the touching, and the pleasure emanating from them. He did not take his eyes off them for the rest of the meeting, his hatred burning within in retinas.
His hands rested on his dual hellblades throughout the meeting, ever-ready for a fight. As the meeting ended, he turned to follow gong'alt out of the room. He smiled at Gong'alt, even though taller than he, Tha'aktos was much broader.
Leaving the room, he saw his small 12-daemon cohort of his most trusted and ruthless servants of khorne.
Tha'aktos said 5 simple words "To battle! For the blood god!"
 

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Tor'aknar glared menacingly at Anon. Who was this pathetic daemon, unfavored by Tzeentch, to coerce Wyrdcaller in such a base and boring way? In the blink of an eye a thousand different schemes of Anon's demise raced through Tor'aknar's mind. The thought of that blashphemer burning in the Master of Fate's fire filled Tor'aknar with such savage joy he couldn't help but cackle maddly. Still, the daemon had learned Wyrdcaller's true name, if Tor'aknar was correct, which he always was, and that showed Anon had information worth getting.

"Vetis, Tor'aknar, Xerphon Asazzod what say you? is this thing worth following?" Korthose gibbered.

Turning to his fellow champions of Tzeentch, Tor'aknar smiled viciously.

"It matters not if Anon is worth following, all that is worth is the leverage he has over Wyrdcaller. Our Master expects results from us and I will deliver, unlike those pustulent children of the Pox God." Tor'aknar multi-layered voice echoed hoaresly. Looking past the servants of Tzeentch, Tor'aknar saw the brutal forms of Khorne's bloodthirsters talking in their gutteral accents and the delicate daemonettes non-chalantly talking to one another. Last, and most certainly least, Tor'aknar saw the disgusting children of decay. That pure warp-spawned daemons of Tzeentch must serve alongside the Lord of Decay's ilk chaffed at Tor'aknar's very being.

Releasing his form back into the beautiful Sea of Souls, Tor'aknar drifted through the currents of the warp towards his Master's library. A swirling mass of warp, ever changeing and never the same thing greeted Tor'aknar as he entered Tzeentch's realm. Immediately, Tor'aknar psychically summoned his minions. In an instant 9 brightly colored floated over to him and morphed into their true forms. Though they were young compared to Tor'aknar, a thousand different strands of Fate were woven and destroyed by them every second. If a mortal could ever understand the mind of a daemon, they might be able to figure Tor'aknar was happy before they went mad.

"My Horrors. My Flamers. We go to do the Weaver of Fate's will!"

Though they said nothing, the 5 horrors and 4 flamers skin glowed brighter, showing their approval and joy.

Releasing their form, Tor'aknar lead his troupe through the Empryean following a shoal of Screamers
 

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Lumina stared toward the minions of Khorne, her usual seductive smile on her face. "Oh, how boorish those blood-monkeys are... no time for the pleasures in life..." she thought, before chuckling as one of them drew its own blood as it glared at them. Eyes flitting to her left, she winked at Lacessera in a lurid, knowing fashion, her smile widening very slightly.

As the daemons started leaving to gather their cohorts, she sauntered around Caressela to Lacessera's side. "This should be enjoyable... those brainless blood-monkeys looked ready to explode just seeing us. Can't wait to see how far I can push them..."

After Lacessera's reply, she sauntered off into the Warp, gliding effortlessly to her 'cohort' of fellow Daemonettes, who just happened to already be gathered, revellling in their own sensuality. She grinned luridy as she watched them for a few moments - she'd taught these young ones well...

"Oh ladies, time to be going..." she called in a sing-song voice, to a chorus of dismayed - and a few unrelated ecstatic - moans. "Now now, you don't have to stop when you join our little gathering..." she said, before floating off to join the gathering of daemons, her cohort of eight Daemonettes close behind.

It would be funny to see the reaction of Khorne's blind followers when an orgy of Daemonettes arrived in mid-revel...
 

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Krankheit stood next to Pox Giver as he debated with messengers from the other three lesser gods. When the four agreed on a truce though, Kran was disturbed. He didn't want to have to deal with the followers of Tzeentch and all their planning he just wanted to spread more and more of his Grandfathers gifts across the galaxy...however if that means teaming up with other lesser beings he would do it.

He looked over at the Khornate daemons. They weren't as bad as the other two, but nonetheless they were simple-minded and never could think farther than violence. Then there were the Slaaneshi daemons, weird, disturbed, kinky-sex daemons that weren't meant for the battlefield and Krankheit made a promise that he was going to show his opinion of them when he gets the chance. Lastly there was his least favourite group, Tzeentch plotters, daemons that were the pure definition of all talk. He hated that all the Tzeentch daemons would just plan and plot then do nothing. He just realized then a Khornate daemon staring at him, Oh the thoughts he must be thinking. Krankheit thought to himself. "Best be watching the birds." Krankheit said in his guttural voice over to the daemon, pointing over to the daemonic schemers. Then he noticed they were looking over at his kind, and he glared over to them before turning to his brothers, Oon'nu and Viralistopheles. With a slight nod of intent to them and a sickly smile he started to depart, as he walked by the Tzeentch daemons he spat a gobbet of blood, pus, mucus, and saliva down on the ground next to them. "Lets see how tough you schemers are in battle." he said before leaving the room completely and heading back to the Garden.

At the Garden, Krankheit walked through the foliage of disease, the sickly sweet aroma of decay rose from the plants around him and he smiled in his moment of happiness surrounded by disease. A small nurgling appeared on a tree next to him, and Krankheit nodded to it. "Go and round up my followers and your brothers." he whispered to the nurgling. "Tell them to collect their favourite and most effective diseases for we soon break through to the real world to spread the gifts of our Grandfather. The nurgling made a happy confirming noise as it slips back through the foliage.

As he walked further down the path he came to his personal spot in the Garden. he looked at all his plants, he smiled to himself, Grandfather would be pleased he had successfully created a few necrosis diseases that he had been dying to try on humans after his last few died before he could cure them again. He ate and digested some of the putrid leaves creating new sacs of pus on his body. He looked down and checked that they were in place, and also refueled some of his other sacs of his favourite poisons, and grabbed a few more before attaching the fleshy hoses on his swords to two sacs and heading back to the entrance.

When he got to the entrance his group was already there and prepared for their incursion. Krankheit looked at the four plague bearers. They were slightly smaller and thinner than Krankheit and they only had a few sacs instead of Krankheit whose body was covered with giant sacs. Instead of sacs of already pre-made poisons the plague bearers had flesh pockets on their body where they had stored their own concoctions as well as some of his personal brews. Along with them were dozens of nurglings that ran like a carpet around the plague bearers. Krankheit knew that the nurglings would become useful when it comes to advancing on the enemies, they will do their duty on tying up the enemies, and also if it comes to it...and it always does...they would do their duty as meat shields for the plague bearers to get closer.

"Lets get going." He whispered before he started heading out, his disciples in tow...
 

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Viralistopheles stood by Poxgiver, gently caressing him with his tentacles. Always agreeing with poxgiver. Though he did not know why the Tzeentch were allowed to live. He assumed Poxgiver was just being sneaky.

Viralistopheles just wanted to spread some plague around and agreed to the truce. He headed back to His personal Plauge wastes. A cesspool of waste the size of a lake. There were thousands of Nurglings swiming in his poxes. They swarmed when they saw Viralistopheles coming. Lifting him like a wave to the center of the bog of cesspools. There his minions were waiting for him, six beasts of Nurgle. Viralistopheles is proud of his beasts.

Summoning them up and Heading to meet his master, Viralistopheles takes on last look at his home, not knowing if he will ever return.
 

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Lacessera coiled herself around the leg of Caressela as the strange daemon spoke. Lacessera kept herself occupied with moving her body up and down her mistress's legs with slow, agonising sensuality. At one point, Caressela got so excited that she picked up Lacessera; the touch of the greater Slaaneshi daemon proved intoxicating to Lacessera, and she cried in ecstasy, writhing in her grip. As it tightened, her pleasure only grew higher, until she gave out a soft squeal, at which her mistress released her. Lacessera fell to the floor, and once more intertwined herself with the leg of Caressela.

After the daemons had finished their silly little talk, Lumina appeared at Lacessera's side. Lacessera greeted her with an ecstatic kiss, before listening to what she had to say.

"Oh, I agree," giggled Lacessera, "if only those big, hulking blood-monkeys," at the word "monkey" she gave out a small laugh, "were followers of Slaanesh. They'd make such excellent play-mates..." Lacessera entertained herself with the illusion, before snapping back into reality.

Stalking forward, Lacessera threw up her beautiful black hair at the rabble of daemons, before following her sister-daemon into the Warp. Gathering her cohort of daemonettes, Lacessera gave them all a sensual welcome.

"My daughters," she cried, after her revelry had finished. In the Warp, even time itself is distorted; whilst to them their excessive pleasures had seemed like hours, it was merely minutes in mortal time.

"We must gather for war!"

With that, she headed to her mistress.
 

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Oon'Nu listened to the Greater Daemons squabble with a smile on his face and hacked a stringy wad of lung tissue into his hand, which was promptly eaten, never know when the viruses on it could be used later.
He grinned through broken teeth at the various comments of rival Daemons and of his fellows and stepped backwards, through a vile looking rent that had opened up and into a noxious wasteland. The Plague-Bearer chuckled to himself and began walking, in no time he had reached what looked like a misshapen cancerous bulge protruding from the desolate landscape of disease clouds and flies.

The tumor trembled and released a cloud of flies, the insects buzzed around Oon'Nu and entered his body through a wet rent in his side, filling his lower intestines with the buzzing and scurrying of hundreds of tiny disease-bearing flies, they swelled his belly and would provide a pleasantly awful surprise to the one who eviscerated him.
He laughed at the feeling, it tickled and he could barely keep from scratching at them; he was soon provided with a welcome distraction as four of his fellow Plague-Bearers and five Nurglings, which scampered up his gangly frame gleefully, like children they were...

With his forces in check Oon'nu gurgled out a command and stepped back through a rent in reality, knowing where to go and heading there, a moment before he stepped through he took one last look around. He did so love his Wasteland and did not know if he would see it again; he let out a hearty, if sickening, laugh.

Why was he thinking like that? If he 'died' his essence would return and coalesce back here.
 

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Xerphon stood by his mentor, wyrdcaller the lord of change. He scoured his surroundings, the room itself was inhabited by servants of each of the gods. In his side, Wyrdcaller and another three horrors like himself, all servants of Tzeentch the changer of ways. Right in front of them in the other side of the room stood a Bloodthirster which was known by the name bonecrusher, with him stood three daemonic champions of Khorne, three bloodletters, they were not to smart, easily manipulated, their whole life was revolving around killing. After noting the daemons of Khorne, Xerphon looked to his left, Slaaneshians, they were led by a keeper of secrets known as Caressela, they shall be worthy adversaries, although they were always occupied with pleasure they could think, unlike the common Bloodletter. To his right Poxgiver, a lord of decay which served Nurgle obviously, his minions, the plague champions surrounded him, all swarming with every kind of disease imaginable, Xerphon never fully understood the plague gods worshipers. What is there to worship? The only thing that Nurgle wanted was spread death and decay and this does not help anyone. On the other hand Tzeentch the almighty changer, he wanted everyone to evolve, to get better, this Xerphon could understand.

Everyone settled down and Anon, the minor daemon who summoned this meeting spoke, he said much, and nobody was pleased at the end. A rather interesting event was the fact that Wyrdcaller apparently feared Anon, Xerphon guessed that Anon somehow managed to find out Wyrdcaller's name, or something rather unpleasant that he was planning. At any rate once Wyrdcaller submitted all the other demons agreed to help. As he finished speaking Anon told them to meet him in the borderlands of the formless wastes in one revolution of the black sun. For a moment everyone were silent and then Anon walked away. As soon as he exited everyone began to move, some speaking, taunting or just being silent. Xerphon was one of does who stayed silent, he preferred thinking things through and as he had nothing to say he just stayed silent and observed. He ignored any attempt to speak with him and after a minute he just walk away and traveled through the warp back to his labyrinth.

He did not spend to much time in the labyrinth as he was hunting for ancient knowledge most of the time. He made his was to the library, there he stored all his tomes, scrolls, books, etc... Actually they really weren't his, some he "lent" from people the others he stole, the smallest part of the knowledge here he actually did find by himself and this small part was the most valuable. He gathered his horrors, they were more of librarians then warriors. Yet as he stood in front of them he informed them of the alliance which was made. They were eager and ready. So they waited for Wyrdcaller to summon them.
 

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Adam watched helplessly as Vivian was claimed by the shadows. He rushed forward, desperate to save her, desperate to make amends. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He couldn`t let her die...

'Don`t be stupid!' She screamed back at him. 'Run! Run you idiot, run!'

'But I can`t...' Adam stammered. His words died as the sight unfolded before him.

'RUUUUUNNN!' Vivian`s scream echoed endlessly as she died, Adam bearing witness to the horrifying spectacle of her life force wrenched from her flesh, her soul dragged screaming into the darkness while her body was consumed, fading out of existence until there was nothing left but the formless shadow that had slain her.

Finally finding the will to move, Adam fled, out of the room and down the corridor.


--- --- ---

Anon stood at the designated location, accompanied by three furies. The winged daemons had served him for a time now, enough to have developed some semblance of loyalty, but he did not doubt that they would feast on his essence should the oppurtunity arise.

'They come help us?' One asked, a burly male fury he had named Bragi.

'Yes.' Anon replied. 'They will come.'

As if on cue, the warp rippled and they began to appear, one cohort after another.

'Excellent.' Anon said to himself. Soon, they were all here.

'Well?' Bonecrusher demanded. 'Will you keep us waiting? On with it!'

'Hmph.' Anon shrugged. 'Very well.'

Turning his back on the massed daemons in a remarkable display of arrogance, he uttered several incantations and signed several sigils in the air with his hands. The shadowy runes he formed swirled around him as he wove them.

Finally, taking his sword, he held it aloft. The swirling runes in the air bound themselves to the blade, and with a mighty downward stroke he created a great tear, through which the target world lay...

'Forward.' He commanded. Without even a backward glance, he proceeded.

One by one, the cohorts followed.

--- --- ---

All: You will traverse the rift in the order you post in. A first come first served policy here. :biggrin:

When you emerge, you see a well crafted city before you. They are in the middle of some kind of celebration, a parade for the local militia is in progress celebrating some victory over a previous foe. Must have been quite a narrow victory, as there are less than a hundred soldiers left. Pathetic.

There is no sign of Anon or his Furies.

Khornate Daemons: Bonecrusher bellows the command to kill. to slay in Khorne`s name and take skulls for the skull throne. He encourages each of you and your minions with strikes from his whip, fuelling your anger. Will you pile into the civilians with savage glee, or leave the unworthy in favour of the battle hardened militia?

Slaaneshi Daemons: Unlike the Khornates, you yearn to experience every sensation you can. You may join the fight, or you may leave the area and look for someone else to have fun with. Several streets away, a private party was being prepared for the officers of the parade, and many of the local aristocracy are already there. They are as yet unaware of the incursion.

Nurgle Daemons: Unlike the others, you feel no compulsion to differentiate between soldier and civilian, Nurgle`s gifts are for all to share. Naturally, those that resist must unfortunately be put down...

Caressela and Poxgiver have not come through the rift yet.

Tzeentchian Daemons: As soon as you arrive, Wyrdcaller speaks of hidden knowledge buried on this planet. For the time being however, there are souls to be gathered. Roam the streets, slay any mortals who stand in your way. Keep an eye open for any library or museum, such places are havens for knowledge and Lore.

All: The choices you make will affect your rewards and punishments.
 

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Yorn roared with anger and bloodlust as he charged through the rift.
'Skulls for the skull throne, Blood for the Blood God!' Yorn screamed as he charged at the procession. The civillians scattered and ran, fearing for their pitiful lives.

Yorn crushed a human child with a powerful kick as he made his way directly for the Militia.
'Kill the weak, kill the powerful, kill everything in the name of Khorne and Blood!' yelled Yorn, his Bloodletter bodyguard racing after him as he dived head first into the militia.
 

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Tha'aktos followed bonecrusher and Yorn through the rift, his voice vomiting a hail of incomprihensible words, but where no doubt attributed to his patron lord. With fury that could only be seen from one of Khornes champions, he cut his way through the civilians, paying no attention to them, as he charged towards the militia.

He wished to test himself, and he knew these civilians would prove no challenge. Still, he killed as many as he could on his way to the milita. He had counted a total of 28 souls maimed by his dual hellblades.

He finally reached the militia, and now the real battle would begin....
 

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Unable to contain his patience, Gon'alt charged in after the other two Champions of Khorne, his hand-picked cohort close by. Pausing brielfy, he noticed a familiar face to his right: Lumina... They had fought once in the never-ending wars of the Warp... She had defeated him once in battle. Baring his large, pointed teeth, Gong'Alt threw his weight to the side and viciously slammed into her. Smiling widely, having his anger vented, he joined the rest of his bodyguard.

The scene before him was glorious! Helpless civilians ran, cowering before the bloodthirsty daemons of Khorne. Cursing himself for being too slow, he quickly joined in the combat, his hellblade ignited as intense adrenaline shot through his body. Screaming aimlessly, Gong'Alt swung his serrated blade in wide arcs, slicing through half a dozen people with a single strike. His cohort joined in with the cacophony of screams as they, too enterred the fray. The mortals were so concentrated in this one area, that he needn't even move from his spot! His screames then turned to laughter, as he rejoiced in the blood-letting! Never had he spilled so much blood!
 

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Tor'aknar shivered as Anon ripped a tear between the empryean and the flesh-realm.

"Forward" Anon commanded before disappearing into the portal.

Following Wyrdcaller's trail, Tor'aknar leaped through the portal into the human's realm following deamons of the other gods.

Tor'aknar shivered as he broke through into the materium. Taking in a deep breathe, Tor'aknar savored the feeling of reality screaming against his presence. Sensing him like a beacon, Tor'aknar's minor daemons came screaming out from the portal, squaking and laughing in happiness.

Tor'aknar silenced his minions as he looked up at Wyrdcaller.

"There is knowledge here servants of the Changer of Ways. Tzeentch's plan's may be furthered on this planet." Wyrdcaller mysticaly whispers. Tor'aknar smiled hungrily at the thought of stealing more knowedge for the Great Manipulator.

"We must be patient and subtle though my servants." Wyrdcaller commanded to Tor'aknar's disappointment. "We must play the loyal fighters for now. Go. Rampage among the lesser god's daemons. Slay any of the mortals you wish. However, seek out centers of learning these humans have. Smell out their scent and raid them." Wyrdcaller spoke before taking off to his own agenda.

Tor'aknar needed no further encouragement. Raising his four arms up and pointing into the city.

"For Tzeentch!" Tor'aknar roared, his mouth stretching farther out than it was meant to.

Not looking to see if his fellow champions were behind him, Tor'aknar lead his minions past the chaotic tide of humans fleeing and the Bloodletters and Bonecrushers champions butchering them. Standing between a kill and one of the Butcher God's mindless minions was dangerous; Tor'aknar had learned that quick serving Tzeentch. Like a savage pack of daemonic beasts, Tor'aknar and his minions rushed into the city, slaying the fleeing flesh-things indiscriminitely.

Leaping into the air, Tor'aknar landed on two fleeing humans, his talons on his feet burying themselves into their skulls. "18" Tor'aknar screeched before dashing off.

Vibrant colors raced over his body as he continuously warped his flesh's color. Stretching one of his arms out, Tor'aknar engulfed another weak human in warp-fire. Tor'aknar laughed, a high pitched and evil laugh, at the sight of the human screaming in agony as his flesh melted off him. This was truly liberating!

Coming to a halt in the middle of the street, Tor'aknar sniffed the air. He could sense the soul-lights of men of knowedge! Guiding his minions, Tor'aknar raced down the street and cut through several alleys before bursting through a gate onto another street. In front of him across the steet stood a librarium, the scent of knowledge wafting up his nose at the closeness of it. He could taste the fear emanating from the scholars and keepers inside.

Melting the door with warp fire, Tor'aknar laughed as he dashed through the halls of the librarium, ancient texts and documents residing on each bookcase. A flesh-thing in the rich clothing broke from his hiding spot and fleed from the Tzeentchian daemons. Smiling viciously, Tor'aknar jumped on top of a bookcase and leaped in front of the exit the human was about to reach. Stumbling back and falling, the scholar desperately tried to flee before the daemon. Tor'aknar grabbed the scholar by the collar and stretched his mouth out wider than the human's skull. Smiling at the sight of the man cowering and wailing in fear, Tor'aknar brought his razor sharp teeth through the human's neck and devoured his soul.

Instantly Tor'aknar swallowed the human's memories,hopes, dreams,goals, everything. A thousand strands of fate were woven and broken as Tor'aknar devoured the soul-light of this flesh-thing. Tor'aknar laughed viciously, he was truly fulfilling the Great Manipulator's plans! Breatheing heavily, his chest heaving and his flesh changing colors every second, Tor'aknar maddly laughed watching his minions slaughter and devour the flesh-lights of the other mortals.

Tor'aknar feasted on over 5 more souls before he disappointingly noticed all the flesh-things were dead. From the consumed knowledge of his and his minions kills, Tor'aknar knew every piece of literature within this library: He knew the ruling dynasty of the planet for the past 4,000 years, the visious plague that had engulfed the planet half a millenium ago,the royal families of the planet dating back to the founding days of settlement, every bit of history and knowledge the librarium contained was absorbed into Tor'aknar's consciousness and, through him, Tzeentch's.

Knowing nothing else of worth was left in the librarium, Tor'aknar performed the only logical thing left to a daemon of Tzeentch. Tor'aknar raised his arms and unleashed warp-fire into the old, dry, dusty books. Quickly catching on, the horrors and flamers unleashed their own warp-fire all over the librarium. Tor'aknar cackled as he calmly walked out of the burning librarium, his daemons in tow. Ancient artefacts of knowledge, preserved for thousands of years and nowhere else availabe, were destroyed in by Tor'aknar in a heartbeat.

Letting his minions have fun and aimlessly slaughter as many of the weakling humans as they want, Tor'aknar amusingly strolled down the street. Madness and anarchy were spreading and Tor'aknar was thrilled that he was the Changer's tool of change. Engulfing a chain of humans fleeing the carnage, Tor'aknar smiled evily as he heard the hoops and hollars of his fellow champions daemons causing their own mischief in the city. Psychically summoning his minions, Tor'aknar raced off looking for more destruction to cause.
 

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Krankhein moved slowly through the portal with his cohort behind him. As he bursts through to the realm he smiled at the death around him. Bodies were already strewn across the street, and with a quick glance and a nod, half of the nurglings screeched as they scurried across to the bodies to infect the bodies with Grandfather's gifts. While the lesser daemons were dealing with the already dead, the rest of the nurglings followed the plaguebearers and Krankheit to the living.

While advancing towards combat Krankheit looked at the other plaguebearers, "Find me survivors" he muttered with phlegm flying from his mouth. "Find me more test subjects so I may create more gifts." With that the four plaguebearers diverted away from Krankheit and moved towards a more calm section of the battlefield

After what felt like an eternity he finally hit the line of combat. Right when he hit Krankheit vomitted on the nearest person reducing most of their body mass to a goo like substance, and even as he moved on nurglings ran up and started drinking the goo. Slowly Kran made his way through the battle slicing and infecting any living flesh he could get his hands on.

When he made it to the other side of combat he looked around. Some of the corpses that the nurglings had infected had stood up and were starting to pool together, the nurglings herding them away from the combat and back to the portal. The plaguebearers had done the same only with still living and unmolested (not a slaaneshi joke xD) humans, Militia, men, women, and children all crying as they were herded to the portal as well. With a look of satisfaction Kran turned and headed back through combat.

When he made it back to the portal the corpses and the humans were all waiting there along with his cohort. Krankheit looked over his shoulder to look at the nurglings that followed him into combat. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven...three of them hadn't emerged yet, so Kran paused slightly to see if they were coming. Another two came out their bodies even more bloated than the others. The last there wasn't any sign of.

He'll be back at the Garden by the time I get back. Kran thought to himself. He was a daemon, and these daemons in his cohort were just that his cohort, but he had a slight family sense to them. The nurglings were his children just as he was Grandfather's child, and to lose one of them gave him a slight pang of sadness, but then he brought his mind back to the present.

"Get the zombies to take our prisoners back to my Garden," He whispered. He grabbed one zombie dressed in a tattered and bloody militia outfit, and all his wounds were covered in a pus-like substance the nurglings had with them. "When you get there I want you to find a nurgling by the name Froth he will guide you on where to take them, then you may wander my garden until Grandfather finds you worthy enough to elevate you" Krankheit said, raising his voice to a normal talking level, the other Nurgle daemons that has stayed with him for milennia flinched at the raise knowing him not to be one to raise his voice, but the zombie simply nodded and with that, him and the rest of his kind had herded the prisoners back through the portal to Kran's Garden. He smiled as it happened knowing that when he got back he will be able to create new gifts to spread. But that is for later He thought turning around to look at the combat. "Now we spread the gifts of Grandfather just as he wanted it." Krankheit muttered the Nurgle daemons moving towards combat again...
 

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Reality the sensation was liberating, the warp was a fine place but it was always nice to just get away from it for a while, a little change never hurt that much Vetris could never deny. Before him stood the sprawling streets of mankind, humans were packed into every square inch of ground and seemed to be celebrating some sort of army precession. His fellows however had since managed to change that as humans now ran ramped amongst the streets in a desperate attempt to flee the carnage that was being sown by the servants of Khorne and Nurgle. It was pure and utter chaos somehow Zombies had even come into the fray, presumably raised by the foul Nurgle types that they had dragged along with them.

His servants emerged from the tear in reality that was their gateway to the other side and began to laugh manically at the death set before them. Vetris restrained them from leaping off without him; Tzeentch only known’s what sort of slaughter they could wreck if he let them go off by themselves. Not that such was a bad thing but Tzeentch had other plans and their skills were required elsewhere, beyond the simple task of butchering these humans.

Vetris summoned his minions to fill in behind him and “bid a’du” to his fellow Tzeentchean’s before taking off down the street in search of the power that was knowledge. Every so often he would throw daemonic fire at a human that seemed to be troubling him particularly but proceeded casually through the human city as though nothing was happening at all. He let his smaller ones off their tight leash a little and they took to the battle at hand, keeping pace with him but cutting down any of the humans unfortunate enough or stupid enough to cross their path.

It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for, a huge building rose from the ground in front of him. It was a giant among men towering far higher than any of the smaller less important buildings around it. Banners of diligence and duty hung from every available space and the Imperial Aquila was raised proudly and boldly above the massive front doors. It was an Administraum information centre only a small one compared to the ones they would have further towards the worlds Imperial palace but it would suffice for the time being. Vetris burst through the doors and gave his small ones full reign over their own actions willing them to burn and maim. Hundreds of administration staff had been packed into the small cubicals from which they worked in. But they were no challenge many broke and ran others stood in sheer terror barely able to believe the Daemonic presence that had invaded their home world. Of course there was resistance of sorts but the poorly guards were of no concern and were cut down without a second thought their bodies completely incinerated by the daemons unholy fire. But what a time to be had! Information was to be found in every corner and every desk; financial reports, suburb layouts, street names many minor things. But some held value and includes reports on the local PDF forces in the city.

Once the building had been harvested Vetris summoned his minions to him and bowed to the remaining humans in mocking gesture before taking to the battle on the streets.
Anon had been right after all, this was going to fun.
 
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