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The Time of Ending (Chapter Nineteen up)


Skirax

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The warp did exist but it wasn;t till the war in Heaven era(just before maybe) when the Old Ones were messing with the warp and created the enslaver plague. Previously benign beings in the warp began to manifest and become more powerful, ect ect. Then the emotions of the warp linked races slowly created the 'Big Four'. Anyways it doesn't really matter, is neither here nor there.

 

Go Emperor go!

Erm skirax, the chaos gods are huge and the emperor's sword isn't long enough to reach nurgle's heart. How about him gathering pace and he ran straight like a bullet and flew through the mass of nurgle and came out the other end covered in nurgle's heart and gooey bits, but they were eroding his form and he was dying, but then found isha the healing god of eldar, and freed here from her cage, who then saw the emperor wounded and healed him for the upcoming battle? ;)

thanks

antique_nova

Erm skirax, the chaos gods are huge and the emperor's sword isn't long enough to reach nurgle's heart. How about him gathering pace and he ran straight like a bullet and flew through the mass of nurgle and came out the other end covered in nurgle's heart and gooey bits, but they were eroding his form and he was dying, but then found isha the healing god of eldar, and freed here from her cage, who then saw the emperor wounded and healed him for the upcoming battle? :(

thanks

antique_nova

That's actually a very good idea...a very, very, very good idea! You genius! :)

Chapter Four; The Lord’s Temptation

 

The Emperor knelt there, his knees deep in the sand, and the wind whipping around him, tossing his locks back and forth. The sand raced to keep up with the wind, chasing it through the air, scratching the Emperor’s face and bare flesh; he didn’t notice though. He was focusing with all his might, attempting to ward off the temptations that Slaanesh was sending his way. In his mind, a battle raged; between his self control, and his millennia long wish. In the Warp, Daemonettes twisted about him, their usually twisted and perverted forms turned to images of perfection and clad in suggestive clothing, which occasionally slipped and revealed breasts and other provocative parts of their bodies. The Emperor fought with all his strength, sweat streaming down his face, and not from the desert’s sun, which burnt mere centimetres from his face, due to the insanity of the Empyrean. His shoulders rose and fell rapidly as he increased his breathing to try and compensate for his increasing heart rate. One Daemonette came close to him, and draped her hands over his shoulder, bending slowly down until her head was resting on his; two others stood before him, entwined in each other’s grip, tenderly kissing each other.

The Emperor kept his eyes closed.

‘You know you want to,’ whispered a voice from the back of his mind, and he recognised the dulcet yet venomous tones of Slaanesh. ‘You always have, ever since your birth...’

‘I can’t!’ groaned the Emperor through gritted teeth.

‘But the weight of ruling Mankind must press down on you, so much?’ cooed Slaanesh. ‘Let one of my girls take care of you.’ Another Daemonette knelt before him, leaning forward slowly. ‘Go on...’

‘No!’ roared the Emperor, and he stood up, throwing off the Daemonette that stood over him, and repelling back the one before him. He wanted to, so bad, but these were not what they seemed to be; they were disgusting creatures, repulsive and decadent in every way. He screamed in a wave of psychic power, and the false images of the Daemonettes disappeared in an instant, revealing their true, disgusting forms; the trademark claw on their left hand hung loose next to their naked forms, which were so twisted that only a man whose soul was as twisted could have found them arousing. ‘You are poor creatures,’ said the Emperor, his voice charged with wrath. ‘And soon, I shall free you all from your master’s clutches.’ Then he unsheathed his sword, and walked slowly towards the two Daemonettes who were still kissing. ‘And if he will not reveal himself to me, then I shall tear down the veil that he wears to mask his true form,’ he said, before slashing through the two Daemonettes. They dissipated, twisting into smoke and shifting like souls in the desert air.

Then he turned to the two next to him, and cut through them as though they were nothing; once again, they turned to dust. He cut down another, and another, before he came to last one; this one stood there, a blank mask on its face; the Emperor’s upper lip twisted in hatred, and he plunged his sword into the Daemonette’s chest. As the sword penetrated its flesh, it threw its head back and screamed to the sky; its eyes began shining like a new born sun, but the light was a dark, sickening purple. Cracks began appearing at the thing’s chest, stretching out like branches from the deadly tree of Firelord.

The Emperor took a couple of steps back; leaving his sword wedged in the chest of the Daemonette, and could only look on as two clawed hands slowly rose out of the Daemonettes mouth, then placed themselves on the Daemonette’s cheeks.

The Emperor summoned it’s sword, which wrenched itself out of the chest of the Daemon, and flew to his hands; he planted his feet, and stood in a ready stance.

He was about to see the true form of Slaanesh.

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