Justifications
Bodies were scattered on burning pyres fashioned into effigies that would please the dark mother. Since the birth of the twins the muses had been increasing their attacks against both the forces of the blood god and these “Dawnbringer Crusades” that the godking sigmar hopes will re-civilize the realms. This now purged outpost was merely the latest example of Sigmar’s failures. The Children were spared, Ishabella never had it in her to harm the young. They had potential that could be harnessed. with the right training these young men and women could become great artisans in war.
One of the slaangors brought the surviving general to face Ishabella and her court. The look of horror on the man's face said it all. The devastation, savagery, the... artistry. It was beautiful even if he could not see it. “This is your chance to join us general, your men fought hard and demonstrated great skill, we always desire for capable artists in our war against those who would stifle us.” The lord of pain; Alcibiadus inquired. “I would rather die than join you degenerates.” The old general defied. Silence fell over the court for a moment as they considered his statement. The foul purple skinned demon with a massive horn and braid then voiced the verdict. “Fine, we will not strip you of your right to choose your fate, so we shall allow our new followers and the never-born sculptures to make art with your body.”
Six Days past, for six days he bled and suffered as he begged for death, On the sixth day the leader of the warband confronted him, wielding a long glaive, she caressed the general with its edge. She was nearly twelve feet tall, long black hair kept back by an elaborate headpiece fell to her waist behind her, Purplish-Grey skin made her resemble these demons who cavorted around her, but she was still distinctly human, four arms each tipped with delicate looking hands with razor sharp nails played with the dangling jewelry that hanged from her clothing. She was clearly a woman going by her body but her androgenous face hinted towards her past. “Do you have any last requests before I give you a magnificent ending” She asked. Her deep amber eyes locked with the face of the dying general.
He coughed up blood, his vision beginning to fade, he simply asked “Why?”
Ishabella smiled, this was her favorite question, she began to speak her tale like the old oracles who once ruled her tribe.
“I was there when the worshippers of the blood god broke into my home and slaughtered all those who wouldn’t join them, we worshipped Sigmar like all good people did, but we were a tribe of storytellers and artists, not wanted by the Goretide. ‘Weak’ they called us as the killed my people, the few who tried to fight back did valiantly buying us time for some of us to escape. But then I saw the woman I loved whisked away in a flash of lightning When I tried to save her. I ran, what I lacked in strength I made up for in speed and cunning.”
“Eventually I found others like me, displaced by the Khorne and abandoned by Sigmar, we became each other's muses in our fight for survival, always striving to make more and better art. It’s not our fault that others don’t see our works for what they truly are. I strive to help bring others under my wing and bring out the greatest potential for all of them. Excess in the truest form in our art. The Dark Mother, Slaanesh remade me into a form that allows me to live how I want, be my truest self. Same for all those in my cavalcade. All my generals inspire each other to make art both on and off the field of battle. They are all beautiful and I love them for this. No one will be denied to chance to be excellent, not if I have to destroy all the forces that oppress and hinder us.” She sang her monologue with such passion that those who followed her cried from the sheer beauty of it. Even in his death throws the old general finally understood this queen’s reasoning. His death was Justified.
As the life slipped from the general, Ishabella caressed his cheek and gave him a small kiss on his forehead, as the body slumped lifeless. She heard the sound of thunder in the distance. Looking up She saw what most certainly a reinforcement of stormcast, she wondered if her once beloved was among its ranks. “Girls, it’s time for us to leave, while we may not be ready for them yet, we should at least leave a teaser of what lies in store for them” Ishabella commanded. And just like that The Misbegotten Muses vanished back into the desert sands of Aqshy, knowing soon that the sands shall be painted in the pigments of their oppressors.
