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Korthose emerged from the ruined immoltator holding a dead furies head. The battle was pretty much over, the daemons had taking a rough toll but all the "important" ones were still alive. He saw Vetis make his way over to him,

“It would seem that Wyrdcaller seeks an audience, I hope that you, like myself have grand stories to recite about the battle today?”

"stories of battle? These are not the kind of things I live for vetis, although I must admit that ripping humans heads from their shoulders is an amusing hobby."

Just as he finished speaking Korthose saw dwelling fire crash into a rock beside him, it was close and sent him flying a couple of metres. He rolled as he landed to minimise damage. Just then a bolt of tzeentch seared past korthoses right eye, it cought his skin and burned it to a crisp.

The horror would need to have some sort of healing soon or he was going to die, he snarled at wrydcaller and shot a few bolts at him but against the greater daemon it was useless. The attacks bounced off his force field and deflected back at him forcing him to dodge. An idea sprang into the horrors mind, he would need his fellows help though. He turned to see Vetis legging it in the opposite direction. Korthose cursed and sprang after him. "STOP VETIS, HOLD YOUR GROUND COWARD." yelled Korthose. A bolt of daemonic fire thudded into his back knocking him over and searing his flesh. He once again felt the pull of the blue horrors but fought with his might to stay in his body.

He turned over onto his back and looked up at wyrdcaller, why was he attacking him? The other thing Korthose noticed was the disappearance of anon, the lesser being would pay for his deeds. With all his might Korthose stood and sprinted in the direction of anons flight.
 

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Oon'Nu was bleeding thick ichor, his Necron opponent was not much better, their battle had been a flurry of exchanged blows, gauss fired at close range into rancid organs and caustic acids eating into metal. It would have gone on for longer except that Oon'Nu's intestines chose that moment to spill and entangled his gangrenous legs. And the Necrons.
They both went down in a heap of flailing limbs, each attempting to kill the other while trying to regain footing, Oon'Nu lost most of his internal organs to the warscythe and the Immortal had one of its hands dissolved in the viscous fluids that seeped from the daemons organs.

A screech echoed across the battlefield, its suddenness causing both combatants to pause, the daemon looked at the Necron in time to receive a death-glare, which was returned as the Immortal phased out, leaving a small fizzle of energy behind that dissipated swiftly, the PlagueBearer stood and rearranged his internal organs to prevent them getting in the way again and chuckled, that could have been much worse then it had turned out.
Oon'Nu grinned and began heading back towards the Greater Daemons, he had some new disease ideas he'd like to discuss with the Great Unclean One...
He arrived in time to witness Anon's final treachery, which was just great.

He noted that Poxgiver, who was approaching with murderous intent was wounded quite badly, very vulnerable to attacks possibly because of the lack of aid by a Lesser Daemon, ordinarily he would have been affronted by this buuuuut this time it was in his favor so he would instead thank whoever made the decision. He spared a look at the Tzeentchian Great Daemon, in near-perfect health, bad luck for the Schemer's minions.
Oon'Nu glanced at Viralestopheles before moving to engage the Greater Daemon, he dodged the first blow and struck at Poxgiver's wrist, which missed but ah well, Poxgiver was still strong but slower and not at his best, not that his best was far from looking like his worst.

He would have to use maneuverability, that which he possessed, to stay out of reach, darting in to attack after Poxgiver had attempted a blow. It didn't take too long but during the fight Poxgiver managed to seize both of Oon'Nu's remaining Nurglings and crush them back into the vile sludge they had spawned from.
Pity, he had kind of liked those two.
With a deranged laugh he launched into the attack, his gift of unholy might matching and just barely surpassing the weakened Poxgiver, his toxin-ridden sword caused wounds that even Poxgiver could feel, although the diseases had practically no effect. His aim was to cripple and stun Poxgiver under his near-relentless blows and it was working too.
A particularly powerful blow took a nick from of the Greater Daemons sword and a return swing from Poxgiver nearly bisected Oon'Nu, he did lose a couple of layers of scabs but nothing that wouldnt grow on him again.
With his sword weakened and nasty gashes opened in his already rent stomach, not too mention wounds caused by the traitor Anon's Furies, Poxgiver was on the defensive and his sword was finally broken as Oon'Nu's blade found a weakness, this was after a semi-long struggle that ended up with Oon'Nu missing a hand, a chunk of skull and a good portion chest and the associating organs.

He knew that he was not quite strong enough to completely defeat Poxgiver and pulled back from the Greater Daemon, a rasping chuckle accompanied by oozing bile.
"All *cough*yours...now*wheeze*...Viralestopheles*hack*"
Oon'Nu would need a few moments to regain strength, and with his weapon shattered, Poxgiver should be able to be taken down by the other Plague Bearer.
 

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Viralestopheles was ready for Bragi, standing fast, but ready to juke right Viralestopheles waited. Bragi getting impatient finally lunged forward to strike, but was distracted by a necron lord's scream. Viralestopheles met her lunge by grasping her with his large pincers, he then let loose a gout of chaos breath... instead of destroying or burning or melting the daemon, it empowered her, her head grew to enormous size... however the rest of her stayed the same. her body crushed under the weight of her overgrown head, she fell victim to gravity... unable to lift her head she was easy prey at that point. Viralestopheles sliced her head off clean with his plague sword. The head then swollen, burst like an egg sac, and what burst forth was two beasts of nurgle.... no.... one large simiese twin beast of nurgle... their bodies obviously mostly made of brain matter. dripping with sticky juices.

Triumphant Viralestopheles watched as the harpies attacked Poxgiver, killing themselves in his bile in the process. However this greatly weakened him, and when he was ordered to kill his minions, Viralestopheles rejoiced at a chance to take on the brute. However Viralestopheles knew he was formidable even in his weakened state, plus Oon'Nu was closer. Viralestopheles waited till Oon'Nu engaged and was used up before engaging himself. He watched as Oon'Nu sundered Poxgiver's weapon, this is when he knew to move.

Viralestopheles sent in his cohorts next, his remaining 4 beasts of Nurgle, and his new simiese twin. He approached cautiously and watched and he beat each one slowly to death, finally tearing the simese twin in half... Viralestopheles could tell Poxgiver was spent, and exhausted... and that Nurgle's grace had left him... he knew this because of the whispers of Nurgle in Viralestopheles's head, "Kill the unworthy my child".

Viralestopheles rushing like a spider up the girth of Poxgiver's back, stabbed, into the back of the neck of Poxgiver with his large pincer claws, and began chewing his way into the body, like a borer beetle. Poxgiver reached back to try to brush away his attacker, but Viralestopheles sliced off Poxgiver's hand with his imbued Plague sword. Reeling in pain, Poxgiver lunged forward, and Viralestopheles dug in deeper, and began consuming the Much larger opponent. Poxgiver could sense his end and was fading... in a last ditched effort he threw himself on his back, burying Viralestopheles under his girth before letting out his death rattle....

Moments went by in silence ... then in the darkness Nurgle reached out to his new chosen... Poxgiver's body rotted away in mere seconds.. splitting open and bile flowing out with green power.... to reveal a new great unclean one..... VIRALESTOPHELES THE GREAT UNCLEAN ONE!!! Huge and foreboding... his back had taken on the form of a snail, in order to carry his great girth, as his tentacles could no longer carry his weight, but the tentacles had multiplied and grown longer... and at the tip of each one now rested a stinger with a different toxin, poison, pox, or disease in each one. His Plague sword was imbued with power and glowed a bright purple green. and his anus had be come distended and yawned open as a large gaping whole, with teeth and puss filled eyes inside.

The slime trail left behind by Viralestopheles spawned nurglings and they dance in joy around the great unclean one. As he begins the pursuit of Anon. He was betrayed and anon will know the price.
 

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Anon flew steadily towards the Imperial city on the horizon. It would be imperative that he make it to his cult`s lair before any more unfortunate distractions could present themselves. The loss of his prime furies would result in a few revisions to his plan later on, but ultimately even they were replaceable. Especially since he no longer needed to cling to one`s back to fly.

The darkening sky had since blocked out all semblance of sunlight, only the unholy fires of the battlefield behind and the lights of the city before him offered any real illumination. After leaving his former allies to die, he would need to be very careful when next he traversed the warp.

The Lost Blade of the Forgotten God was powerful, but it was not quite ready for the task Anon had in mind. Not yet at least.

- - -

Bonecrusher`s roars of hatred and rage had largely subsided, to be replaced by growling and snarls of pain. Gong`Alt and Tha`Aktos were apparently more powerful than Anon had guessed, and Bonecrusher himself had seemingly lost the will to fight. It was as though he had given up and resigned to his fate, seemingly able to content himself on the fact that his favoured servants would enact his final vengeance.

‘End that little traitor...’ He muttered at last, his rage finally spent.

- - -

Caressela was almost in tears, but could not deny that on some level, she was enjoying this. Against all commonsense, she had been forced to slay her own little sister, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not find guilt. Her very nature forced her to enjoy the terrible deed that had been commanded of her.

‘I`m so sorry little sis.’ She called following a deadly swipe of her sword. ‘I`m really, really sorry.’ It was impossible to miss the utter lack of conviction behind those words as her attacks continued, all the while as she thought of how best to destroy her favourite servant.

- - -

Wyrdcaller had no such compunctions as regret, he would destroy his minions, he would destroy the other survivors, then he would hunt down and destroy Anon for his betrayal. In the way of his kind of course, Anon`s fate was about to be pulled in a vastly different direction to what the little Shadow wanted, Wyrdcaller would make damn sure of it!

One thing worried the Lord of Change. Korthose and Vetis were quite resilient, far more so than was right for a mere pair of Horrors. It was almost as if they were...

--- --- ---

Gong`Alt:: As Bonecrusher falls to his knees, you sieze your chance, leaping forward to strike a blow against your former master. He makes a feeble attempt to defend, but you bypass his block easily and tear one of the horns from his skull, before blowing upon it like a battle trumpet and roaring loudly in triumph. The rest of your update will be sent via PM.

Tha`Aktos: Following Gong`Alt`s attack, you see your own chance for glory, and move in to make your attack. I`ll send the rest via PM.

Lacessera: Caressela is gradually losing her edge as her attacks continue, almost as if her strength is fading. Now is your chance to fight back! Rest will be sent via PM.

Korthose and Vetis: For reasons you can only guess at, Wyrdcaller`s attacks seem to miss you or else only inflict superficial damage. Perhaps Tzeentch has truly blessed you? In any case, a blessing alone will not save you. You will need to think of a more certain way to save yourselves. The two of you need to co-ordinate, develop a strategy to strike from multiple angles and take Wyrdcaller off guard. Convene with each other via PM or recruitment thread.

Viralestopheles: As you travel, you may encounter dregs of abandoned furies, semi functioning necrons or even dazed imperial warriors. Don`t let anything slow you from the task at hand. Head towards the city. Sorry, not a real lot to do until a few others catch up.

Oon`Nu: Following your own transformation, you can either follow your fellow nurglite in pursuit of Anon, or choose to aid your Tzeentchian "allies." Follow Godsmacked`s parameters if you wish, or co-ordinate with Warsmith and Samu3 to attack Wyrdcaller.

ooc: We`re almost there guys, keep it up!
 

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Lacessera continued to dodge and weave out of incoming blows. She knew not what drove Caralessa to attack her, but still, tears fell freely from both of their daemonic eyes. Black whispering clouded Lacessera's mind, and she felt as though nothing would stop the Keeper of Secrets from devouring her. Each swipe seemed to come closer, and closer, and closer...

She's weaker than you...

Lacessera tingled with ecstatic joy at the sound. The whispering in her head had focused, and now Lacessera realised that the Prince spoke to her. In admiration, Lacessera squealed with joy at the very timbre of the god's voice. Caralessa's eyes grew wider, and panic gripped the greater daemon; she knew what was happening. She tried to attack faster, but her blows only became slower, and slower...

You were always my favourite. My little Lacessera...

Lacessera cried with joy, leaping clean over the rapidly diminishing form of Caralessa, and landing neatly behind her. Stabbing inwards, Lacessera tore one of the daemon's claws clean off; it landed with a dull thud, producing a silent scream from Caralessa, and a reverberating, lustful moan from Lacessera.

Yes...yes... kill her, my pet. Ascend. You are my favourite now. My Keeper of Secrets.

Unable to contain her joy, Lacessera leapt atop the fading form of Caralessa. Bringing her head next to that of the dying daemon, Lacessera whispered, giggling:

"Don't worry. I'll make it quick."

With one, clean stroke from her bladed limbs, the head of the daemon fell to the floor. Lacessera backed away, wondering what would happen next. She felt nothing. Standing for a few seconds, Lacessera began to feel annoyed. But then, she heard it again:

Oh, you're perfect. My spoilt little child. Now, ASCEND!

Suddenly, Lacessera fell to the floor, screaming with pure pleasure. Her body was cocooned in a pulsating purple sphere of light, the Orb of Pleasure; what went on inside was too obscene to be described, but the sounds which emanated within caused the dying Sisters within earshot to strip themselves down, and begin thrusting at each other madly, until they died, the high-pitch moans and screams emanating from the Orb driving them insane with lust. Suddenly, the Orb was swept away, like pink smoke; revealing the form of the Keeper of Secrets within.

Lacessera's body had grown, grown even larger than Caralessa was. Her flesh was a pale purple, and pulsating with a sensuous glow. She now had four arms; two upper ones, ending in mighty black claws, and two lower; still with hands, so she could perform all manner of obscenity on her victims. Her head remained much the same; only larger, and with a great, gold stone set into her forehead. Scented, musky aromas were exuded by her sensual flesh, sending any mortal near her giddy. Giving out an almighty birthing roar, at last Lacessera had ascended. The Keeper of Secrets was born.

Turning and surveying the battlefield, Lacessera saw that a new Great Unclean One was making its slow and slimy way towards the city where Anon had fled. The memory of the filthy double-dealing daemon aroused Lacessera; she would make him want her, and she would drive him mad with lust. She was determined.

In a few great leaps, Lacessera had sidled up to the snail-like form of the Nurgle Greater Daemon. Giggling slightly at its odd-looking trail of pus, Lacessera asked it;

"So, who are you? I am Lacessera; my old mistress, Caralessa, is now dead," Lacessera giggled again, "Who are you? I don't recognise your hulking, pulsating lump of flesh." Lacessera laughed again, a sound which was deemed to have sounded sweet and intoxicating to some, and like death itself to others. Truly, she was mighty now.

Yes, my pet...kill Anon, make him feel pain. As much pain as you want.
 

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Bonecrusher had regained himself, and strode forward, now no longer trying to resist Anon's power. "I'LL RIP YOUR HEADS OFF, WEAKLINGS!" He pounced high in the air, decending upon the duo with his axe raised. Gong'Alt dived to the side. "RAAAAAAAARGH!" he roared with rage. Taking a leap forward, Gong'Alt cleaved his flaring Hellblade into Bonecrisher's side, carving a deep wound into his muscle tissue. He flung his weight around, the axe soaring by Gong'Alt's head. He ducked, and ran foward, slicing Bonecrusher's groin and finishing upward. The monster howled with pain and rage as he lowered himself, feebly attempting to hit Gong'Alt with his fist. Seizing his chance of victory, Gong'Alt put a foot onto his closed fist and lifted off, bringing the flaming Hellblade down in a wide arc. It grazed his head, causing very little damage. Then, he finished with a final swipe and cleaved off his master's horn, catching it in midfall.

Gong'Alt slung his master's horn over his back, affixed to a brass chain and howled again, in triumph. He covered his shame of having to be saved by his nemesis with his roaring.

Then, the ground began to shake and crumble as blood pooled out of the emerging cracks. Within seconds the blood had managed to cover many meter of ground, when all of a sudden a giant, daemonic monster burst from the ground, roaring with savageness even Gong'Alt didn't have. Without even a pause, it charged Gong'Alt, metallic jaws opened wide and giant horn positioned fro. This was his chance - his chance to become more powerful than any Bloodletter can ever hope to become! He would much rather die than leave this opportunity to rot. Carefully positioning his legs, Gong'Alt leapt high in the air, and landed upon the Juggernaut's back.

Roaring savagely, the Juggernaut jumped and swerved, violently snapping at Gong'Alt. Adding his anger to his will to tame this creature, Gong'Alt thrust his forearm into it's head. The beast continued to roar, violently throwing itself around. Then, a voice like red thunder boomed into his mind, and his mouth shouted the words aloud OBEY ME! The Juggernaut halted suddenly, a terrified look in its glowering red eyes. Then, following the event, Gong'Alt's horns grew larger and twisted, and he noticed his muscles slightly ripple, his black spots receded into the red of his body. He knew what this meant. The all powerful Khorne himself had promoted Gong'Alt to rank of Herald. He roared loudly with glee, his Juggernaut rearing up. He raised his Hellblade high in the air, the fire flaring large along the edges.

He whispered into the Juggernaut's ear, "I am Gong'Alt, and you are my servant. If you disobey me, almighty Khorne will have you punished, do you understand?" The Juggernaut moved its golden head, suggesting it understood. Despite the fact that this creature looked like a savage metal animal, it is still inhabited by a Chaos-worshipper's soul, and therefore about as intelligent as Gong'Alt himself. "I shall name you Kragh'Laa, but for short, I'll call you Bunny."
 

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Vetis could only ponder what fate had befallen Korthose, the fellow Daemon had called out to him as he had ran from his greater counter-part.

“Stop Vetis, Hold your ground coward!”

He had screamed, it was however to no avail and his demand had been completely ignored. He was most likely dead by now, or at least dying both were the same to Vetis. Peering out from his position amongst the Sister’s of Battle’s ruined lines he could just spot a faint flicker of bright pink lightning in the distance. Obviously something was still going on, who was Wyrdcaller fighting now and would he come for him next? It was not a pleasant thought, to know that he would have to face off against his far more powerful superior. Vetis would have to use everything at his disposable to even stand a remote chance against the winged being, sitting back down Vetis brought up one of his left hands and rubbed the wound on his back. Wyrdcaller would owe him for that, coming to a decision Vetis stumbled out of the trench and headed towards the fighting. Wrydcaller would come for him; he might as well treat himself to the element of surprise.

Unfortunately the task proved to be considerably more difficult than he had first anticipated. Even now Wrydcaller pressed his attack; Vetis was squatting behind the merger amount of cover that some rock formation was providing. In a desperate attempt to slow the greater daemon down he was throwing many of the larger boulders over his head in Wrydcaller’s general direction. Korthose was no-were to be seen, Wrydcaller must have been very thorough if he hadn’t even left a body. Vaulting over his cover Vetis ran out to confront his assailant once more, each time he would fire before taking cover quickly. It was wearing the greater daemon down but Vetis suspected that he would have to clash toe to toe soon at the rate that they were closing in on each other.

“Korthose, if your still out there then get over here!”
 

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Korthose weaved under a ball of daemonic flames, thanks to the coward Vetis's actions he was now facing Wyrdcaller alone. So far he had made no progress, Wyrdcaller had continuously launched attacks at the horror forcing him to run, hide or act like a gymnast and avoid the attacks. Korthose's anger at vetis had made him stay and choose the latter option but he was tiring fast.

He heard a whoosh, he promptly stepped to the right just as a bolt of tzeentch slammed into the ground three feet from him. Korthose raised what a horror considers to be his eyebrow and said to himself "what?" Before that Wyrdcallers attacks had been accurate ever since he met the lord of change. But now attacks were going wide a lot of the time.

Korthose however did not doubt the lord of change's intelligence, he was sure that the greater daemon would find a way around it. And of course he did just that, Wyrdcaller shot a barrage of firebolts soaring into the air at roughly 75 degrees so that when they were beaten by gravity they would pelt the area Korthose was currently stood in. "Shit!" Korthose broke into a sprint into the same direction Vetis ran in, Korthose wasn't going to kid himself, there was no way he was going to be able to defeat the lord of change alone.

"KORTHOSE IF YOU'RE OUT THERE, GET OVER HERE"

The voice belonged to Vetis, Korthose allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction before grabbing up a sheet of scrap metal and turned so nothing that would be thrown by the blasts hit his flesh. The bits of stone, flesh and metal pelted the scrap metal like rain of glass. There was still considerable force that threw the horror onto his back. He groaned as he stood up, the battle was finally taking it's toll on him. He limped towards the other Horror, "I am here vetis, hurry up and help me. You're actions have exposed me to damage I should not have taken"
 

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Viralestopheles continued on, determined no to let Anon escape his punishment. As The Great Unclean on proceeded he killed the stragglers at will, and began their process of converting to nurgle warriors, and beasts.

Soon Lacessera bounded up beside Viralestopheles and spoke to him. Viralestopheles's only answer was to lick Lacessera with a spare tentacle from time to time.
 

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ooc: Okay, anyone who`s missed can cover themselves in the next post. I`ll keep this one brief before the big finale.

--- --- ---

Anon waited at the cult`s rally point. He had been there for about ten minutes and awaited a response from some of the cult members.

This is taking too long. He thought to himself. A worrying doubt began to set in, why were the cultists taking so long to arrive? He looked back the way he came in a moment of paranoia.

No... He thought. It couldn`t be. Putting the thought from his mind, he began to search the area. They were supposed to meet him here, everything had gone to plan, the signal had been sent so what cause was there for the delay?

Rounding a corner, the answer became clear. A lone necron stood. Carrying a scythe and wearing a long black robe not unlike his own, it stood over the eviscerated corpse of one of his cultists.

It turned to face him. Then it laughed before vanishing.

'NOOO!!!' Anon screamed. With his cultists dead, he was basically trapped! He could not hope to traverse the warp alone with no protection! The rituals could not be performed without the cult`s aid!

Something niggled at the edge of his senses.

He turned. It was hazy and indistinct on the darkened horizon, but they were definitely there... It made no sense to him, how could they possibly have survived?!

They were coming. Anon sank to his knees. The invisible necron`s laughter echoed all around him.

How? He asked silently. How long were you following me?


--- --- ---

Tha`Aktos and Oon`Nu: You have fallen behind. Finish your previous updates before continuing with the parameters below in the same post.

Vetis and Korthose: Wyrdcaller`s power has finally waned. It is time to make your move. More updates will be sent via PM

Everyone else: As you approach the city, The darkness at your feet begins to react. Anon has discovered your survival and is attempting to slow you down. You will be attacked by tendrils of darkness sprouting from the ground, as well as shadowy echoes and memories of past foes you have encountered. Essentially, you can create your own foes at this point. Daemons live a long time and you will have faced many enemies in your time. Anon is making your memories real again to try and slow you down, but you must punch through and reach the city where you will come face to face with Anon himself.

All: Where applicable, feel free to help each other out. :)
 

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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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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.
 

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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.
 

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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...

No!

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.
 

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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.
 

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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.
 

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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!
 

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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.
 
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