Doom: End Times (Doom X Warhammer Fantasy)

The Slayer Cometh

The Worlde

The Twin-Tailed Comet soared visibly over the sky. The Winds of Magic had changed. A disruption that would seal the fate of the world. Warp storms and an influx of the Hordes of Chaos have begun marching down south to the Worlde at the behest of the Dark Gods. The Southern population was in riots and hysteria was the norm before they were quelled by the highest authority. Mages all over scramble for answers while kings and generals muster up their armies to brace for the apocalypse. Unbeknownst to them, the Under-Empire were on the move, plotting and scheming their way as cataclysm draws near.

The End Times had come.

But they weren't the only ones in fear.

Far in the North, deep in the lands of the Chaos Wastes, the Dark Gods have felt a wave of disturbance. At first, they had dismissed it as an insignificant itch left unscratched. But the growing presence had begun creeping deep within the bowels of the Warp. This presence was oddly familiar, yet none could know certain of what it was.

The Realm of Change

Tzeentch - The Changer of Ways - became slightly erratic, having grown ever quiet as he looked through the many threads of Fate, though he hid it well enough to not alert the others. An unforeseen obstacle has brought itself into the fold, and for every vision he had seen, there was only death and ruination.

But not to the Worlde. But to Chaos.

For every plan he had conceived, the obstacle would only break through all of his countermeasures. For every step he pushed, the other would only be two steps ahead of him. This was impossible, for he had played the Game over and over, so much that he had taken careful steps to achieve his loose goals.

But not this time. For this was not planned in the Great Game.

But the Changer of Ways was undaunted. He had all of his servants seek out answers in the Material; to find the enigma of this Harbinger, and the solution to stop it. He kept his eyes on the threads, however, knowing that it may always appear before him.

The Realm of Decay

Nurgle - The Plague Lord - stirred in his cauldron, trying to shake off the nagging thoughts that plagued him. Despite humbly stewarding the natural decay in the Old World, he was becoming unnerved by the ever-increasing dread. His foul and festering gut had been bubbling and groaning as if to warn him of things to come. But why would he - the Lord of Decay - be worried? He was the embodiment of Death and Despair, so surely it was acceptable to feel the essence of despair... right?

He swirled into his putrid cauldron, looking upon the foul pool to see its reflection, to see the answers that forbode him. If it was what he had been warned, then he'll humbly accept it... hopefully.

The Realm of Pleasure

Slaanesh - the Dark Prince - laid in hir bed, grooming hir hair to perfection. But this was a distraction to the dark recesses that have been preoccupying at the back of hir mind. Hir consorts and slaves were there to please hir every whim. But they could not sway hir from hir thoughts. This was something else. It was an aching feeling that stirred hir... and She would have it.

She was not as fearful as She should be. It had become present lately and She yearned for it. Everything She desired, She would take it for hir own. The Worlde was always hir oyster. Shamefully, hir brothers would see it be destroyed for their own amusement. She had protested at the idea, but none heed hir words. She was always the "weak one" among the gods, so why should they listen to Hir? She shook at the miserable thought.