#khade

Of brass bones breaking and blue crystals shattering. Ichor spilling and he, the true God of Blood, supping it from an Copper chalice. Beneath his hooves the broken bodies of his enemies and about him the flayed skins of their foolish followers. Such pretty dreams, tinged always with a sweetness, regardless of the ashes and gore. The stench of war. It had to be this place. Fogged with incenses that dulled the mind and magnified ones desires...

S͛aͣvͮoͦrͬ ᴛⷮhͪeͤmͫ,̓ вrͬoͦᴛⷮhͪeͤrͬ. ᴛⷮhͪeͤs͛eͤ dͩrͬeͤaͣmͫs͛ wiͥll вeͤ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ cͨloͦs͛eͤs͛ᴛⷮ yoͦuͧ cͨoͦmͫeͤ ᴛⷮoͦ grͬaͣs͛рiͥng yoͦuͧrͬ dͩeͤs͛iͥrͬeͤ.

Intruder. The Court of the Unmaker turn upon the figure in the center of the throne room, Halberds at the ready. The God atop the brazen Throne turns every eye towards the being, shaped like a wizened old man, but the glamour didn't fool the Red God.

₪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐓, 𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑.

Iͥ ᴋⷦnoͦw hͪoͦw iͥᴛⷮ eͤndͩs͛. Woͦuͧldͩ yoͦuͧ liͥᴋⷦeͤ mͫeͤ ᴛⷮoͦ ᴛⷮeͤll yoͦuͧ?

₪ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓. 𝐌𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎.

He was standing now. Tzeentch's wizened face never changed from it's knowing grin. He barked the order: 'Remove the wretch!' and a legion of red, copper-armored daemons marched forward, talons outstretched. Tchar didn't even blink, bright blue gaze staring him down--

---

Ulf-Khade's eyes snapped open, roused by the wailing storm and by death. He could feel them, even over the heavy, sedating fog of the Slaaneshi dungeon: hundreds of dozens of lives snatched away in a single instant. Anger sizzled in the air and when he looked over, he saw it's source.

Staring back at him was the Bloodthirster Kha'xanzyr, the daemon the pleasure-spawn had spoken to him about. The Blue Eyed One. Haggard. Beaten, bruised, bent over with agony, but not yet broken. Khade tilted his head and gave the Architect more of his attention. For a moment, the pair of Infernals merely studied one another, Kha'xanzyr drawing near like a curious, if cautious, cat.

" I expected the brother to Khorne to be more fearsome."

₪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇, 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄.

The god-thrall stirs the purple mist in the air with a hand.

₪ 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒. 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆.

" You know of the army?"

₪ 𝐌𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒. 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐏. The God Explains briefly. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌. 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍𝐄?

Kha'xanzyr swallowed, suddenly unsure. He had come for assistances, for surely even a minor god could destroy a Blood Host by his lonesome, but there were consequences to releasing Khade. He doubted, once free, the deity would return to being imprisoned. But no, the godling couldn't help at all. Not in his current state.

Yet ever curious Kha'xanzyr was compelled to linger.

" Kharneth has damned me." The Bloodthirster growls, " He has taken my lieutenant. He has taken my brother. And my crime? Loyalty." He looks at Khade earnestly. " It was Skarbrand who struck out at him, not I. Yet he spurns me, and Khazaan, as if we were the ones seduced by Tzeentch."

The Bloodthirster paused. Regained himself, " Forgiveness. Is it possible?"

₪ 𝐇𝐀! Khade barked a laugh and it was so unexpected, it made Kha'xanzyr jump. 𝐊𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒. 𝐈 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐙𝐄𝐄𝐍'𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄. 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. 𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐘. Khade laughed some more. Kha'xanzyr turned over the knowledge he had been given. The God-thrall came closer, swaying almost drunkenly towards the lavender barrier. He came to lean against it, his smile gamey and knowing.

₪ 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄. 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋-𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑. 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘.

Ulf-Khade predicted his nephew's response, for Kha'xanzyr was much as Khorne. Angry. Provokable. A red fist slammed against the barrier, hard enough to test it's integrity. Teeth bared, blue eyes wild with anger, disbelief, disgust, and terror.

₪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄. 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐏, 𝐀 𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑. Khade's voice was softer now and he held the angry eye of the Deathbringer.

₪ 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐇. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐈, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓.

At this, Kha'xanzyr's expression melted from rage to alarm, even offense. He stepped away, but Ulf-Khade continued to speak. He held out his hand, displayed the run in his palm. His sigil-- The Mark of Khade.

₪ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒.

He didn't expect Kha'xanzyr to jump at his offer. That in itself had been a test, one the Architect had passed when he snarled his rejection. Good-- impulsiveness was a liability. Decisions made in anger could not be taken back. Let him think on it and stew and ruminate. Let the approaching army stoke his worries further.