Standing atop a throne of sickly green flesh and maggots was a massive man-thing, its body swollen beyond the impossible, with holes and wounds where green viscous liquid constantly slithered down its obscured sides.
Its maw, able to completely swallow a man whole, let out laughter as its rows of decaying and black teeth made the maw of its mouth release a breath so deadly that even the air surrounding it seemed to become dead.
From the throne, down the steps of sickly green flesh and flies, were two poxwalkers dancing and celebrating as nurglings poured and drank green liquids from their skulls for cups.
At a sudden clap, the air within the room seemed to die as a sickly green fire rose from the bodies of the poxwalkers that had been dancing. The fire grew and grew. The surrounding daemons and zombies cheered in happiness and exultation as their grandfather opened a portal within the former throne room of the Emperor of New Ghis.
Flies poured from the fire as liquid of the same colour poured like an endless tide, along with thousands of maggots and toads with eyes covering their whole bodies.
The fire seemed to pull back as the visage of a giant blob of a thing sat—if not melded itself—to a cauldron, which it stirred with one hand, while with the other it constantly flung pieces of its body into the swirl of green colours.
The blob, seated upon the throne, suddenly rose and knelt along with the walkers and daemons surrounding the portal, as a laugh—ancient, new, dying, and the cries of a newborn—escaped the circular maw that was the blob's mouth.
"Bilemaw! How I love to see you again!" the 'being' sang in happiness as the blob now called Bilemaw had a smile larger than most people's waists marring its face.
"I welcome the Grandfather of Disease and Rebirth!" Bilemaw shouted with the surrounding daemons as Nurgle looked upon his greater daemon with seriousness in its rather happy eyes.
Nurgle looked upon his Bilemaw with evident happiness, yet that happiness was replaced with seriousness.
"My sweet, swollen child… some fools dare lay claim to that which festers under my blessed hand. Go now, Bile, and shamble northward. There walks a mortal—Nazareth—ripened perfectly for my caress.
I would see him welcomed into our jolly, dripping family… let him breathe deep of my gifts and bask in the warm, eternal glory of decay."
Bilemaw simply stood, his bulbous body bouncing as slabs of flesh melted and rejoined at his elephant-like feet.
"I will bring this new brother into the fold for you, my father," Bilemaw declared as the surrounding daemons shouted in excitement.
Nurgle simply looked at his son with love as the green fire keeping the portal open started to thin, and with another clap, the tear in reality closed. Bilemaw looked at where his father had just been and then at the daemons standing in trepidation for his words.
"Well? Get the boats ready! We march north! We shall claim what our god demands for the eternal bliss of rebirth and decay for NURGLE!!!" Bile roared the final statement as the daemons within the throne room rushed outwards, spreading the words of their god to any walker or daemon that would listen.
— Location — The Great Pyramid of Yunkai —
Skarbrand sat lazily on a hastily made throne of skulls as bloodletters lashed towards human slaves with their whips of fire.
Many things had happened which had dulled the army of Khorne, setting and marching towards Luminar. First was Barristan Selmy; that foolish human tried to challenge Rendack.
Obviously, the outcome was simple: Selmy lost his arm. The fight, if you could call it such, was pathetic; not even their god would want to rewatch it.
Selmy was ultimately removed from their army's command structure and placed within the toy things for other bloodletters to use. What really infuriated Skarbrand was that the knights loyal to Selmy didn't follow him in rebellion but instead stayed quiet.
His god hates those who betray or deceive, like those blue-coloured wizards or those purple-covered masochists.
Many had died during the restructuring, as those with little power seemed to gain confidence—so much so that even a daemon called Raz, or something, tried to challenge Skarbrand. This foolish daemon, with barely two hundred years of fighting experience, was easily cut down. Skarbrand didn't even feel any excitement at the fight, only pity at the lack of fire within the single swing that cut the daemon in two.
Skarbrand mulled atop his throne as a portal of red and bronze fire appeared in front of him. Immediately, something psychological and instinctual made Skarbrand kneel as the visage of Khorne, seated upon his throne, came through the portal.
Skarbrand could feel his god's anger as he tried to lift his head, but a hand made of bronze forced it downwards and into the marble below his makeshift throne of skulls.
"SKARBRAND. I WANTED NAZARETH, THAT SON OF THE ANATHEMA, TO BE MINE, AND HERE YOU ARE SITTING AROUND WITH MY LEGIONS!"
Skarbrand couldn't even mutter a word to counter his lord as a sensation of loss overwhelmed his body. Within a second of light, Skarbrand was forcibly pulled through the portal, appearing within Khorne's bronze-covered hand.
"SKARBRAND! IF YOU DO NOT CLAIM HIS SOUL FOR ME WITHIN EIGHT DAYS, I WILL PERSONALLY CAST YOUR SOUL, STRIPPED OF MY BLESSINGS, INTO THE ETERNAL WELL SURROUNDED BY MY REALM!"
Skarbrand fully collapsed within Khorne's hand, unable to mutter a word of repentance as he felt his soul being forcibly pushed back into its psychic body.
The feeling of his soul being pulled away from its mortal coil made Skarbrand's spine shiver with fear and anger as another bronze hand appeared from the portal, pointing directly into Skarbrand's soul.
"EIGHT DAYS, SKARBRAND… EIGHT DAYS!!!"
The portal of red and bronze collapsed within itself, leaving ash and blood where it had once floated.
Skarbrand wanted to shout at his god, shriek his frustration at the army given to him, the foolishness of these so-called 'generals', yet he held it within himself as he stood with his wings fully flushed open and breached through the ceiling.
Like a red comet, Skarbrand flew high within the sky as he roared with his might.
"Legions of Khorne! Our Lord calls for us to march. Eight days is our god's decree. Within those days, we shall spread blood and chaos throughout the whole of Luminar, and I SHALL TAKE THAT BASTARD'S HEAD!"
The legions of Khorne that had sat around previously became active as they roared in response to Skarbrand's orders. As they marched north, the captives they had were killed outright, their blood and skulls used to summon more daemons.
The followers shrieked in anticipation for the bloodshed to come, whilst above the city Skarbrand flapped his wings as his anger boiled and bubbled, and he eyed the direction of Luminar.
(AN: Hope you enjoyed)