Doom: End Times (Doom X Warhammer Fantasy)

Black King, Red Queen

The Warp

A meeting was called among the Dark Gods themselves. Khorne was the one to uphold it as he realized that the others remained distressed and hysterical with the Hellwalker's arrival. He was immune to his presence, of course. Given his title as "war god", his mind was thankfully intact. And as much as could laugh at their misery, it was becoming detrimental to their followers and were needed for the Everchosen's schemes.

All the gods sat in their respective seats. And what the Blood God witnessed was completely laughable and somewhat pitiful.

To his right, Tzeentch was jittering and shaking in his seat; constantly clattering his teeth while shifting and morphing his form exponentially than usual, all the while scribbling notes on his paper before throwing them over his shoulder. To his left, Nurgle kept bawling and weeping while still holding on to a completely soaked, disease-riddled piece of napkin in one hand. And finally, sitting opposite of him was Slannesh, who in many ways got off worse than the other two. Still in hir ridiculously pink bathrobes, with countless empty bottles of elixir alcohol lazily strewn on the table, she looked absolutely miserable compared to even the Plaguefather himself; glaring back at Khorne who was nonetheless unphased.

Seeing the state of things, it was high time that Khorne himself had to step in and get the others back in shape.

"It appears that there has been... distress in our realm. As you all know by now, the Doom Slayer has come to this world. Which most likely means that Hell has failed to contain him. However, I believe it's best that we enact with our business as usual, and that all of us presume with the current present." Khorne suggested. This earned a snide remark from the Dark Prince.

"Of course, the warmonger has the brains to be the diplomat while Tit-Snitch here is snivelling and trembling with fear." Slaanesh sneered.

"IT'S TZEENTCH! AND I AM NOT SNIVELLING!" Tzeentch snapped. "I-I just need to make calculations and contingencies to avoid further derailment from existence."

"WhAt's ThE PoINt?" Nurgle wheezed. "THe DeSTROyeR haS retURNeD! We ShOUlD juST gIvE uP aNd PAcK evERyTHing we HavE AnD rUn."

"And where to, you waste of flesh?!" Slaanesh snarled. "Do you honestly think we can just up and leave like last time?! We have lost the means of opening up another dimensional gate after those bastards tricked us and threw that rabid dog to our direction!"

"W-Wait!" Tzeentch jumped. "If they have failed, perhaps we can somehow send a message and lend in a peace offering! Surely they woul-"

Suddenly, Dark Prince threw an empty bottle at the ever-changing god, who was too distracted to notice the glass shatter in his face; causing him to squawk and clutch his own face at the retaliation.

"SCREW THEM!" She screeched. "I WOULD RATHER HAVE SIGMAR'S HAMMER UP MY ASS THAN SAY SORRY TO THOSE SHIT STAINS!"

"oF COuRsE, yOu wiLL." Nurgle gurgled. "It'S tHE oNLy ThINg yOU'Re gOOd At."

"Still hung up on Isha?" She retorted. Nurgle jumped out of his seat and began hurling literal garbage, which was met with an even more repertoire of insults from his fellow god, followed by Tzeentch joining on the three-way battle. Khorne watched in silent annoyance as he listened to the colourful language involved.

Tired of their childish tantrums, Khorne stood up from his seat and slammed his axe onto the table before them.

"ENOUGH!" He yelled in command. The impact from the axe was enough to disquiet the other three, forgetting whatever argument they had earlier. The axe disappeared and the table began to reform after. Tensions had lowered, but not eased. Khorne spoke up once more.