Eater of Worlds

a/n just a bit of fun. no insult to Vince McMahon and his battery of scary lawyers is intended.

The god of bloodshed, it is said, enjoys violence. Violence is, to eternal Khorne, meat, drink and entertainment all rolled into one, and the more brutal and bloodthirsty that violence, the better. Pretend violence, however, is neither sustaining nor amusing to the Blood God, and as he sits on his throne of skulls his permanent scowl deepens. So Khorne is not a great fan of Vince McMahon and his wrestlers. However, such are the myriad concerns of a chaos God that a TV show on a primitive world matters very little – especially when that world has so much real bloodshed for him to enjoy. The minor matters of increasing appetites for violent entertainment are delegated by the Blood God to his extensive collection of daemon princes.

Khorne's favourite daemon prince, it is said, is the former Primarch Angron, who brought his merciless astartes legion to the Blood God's service. And it is the Lord of the World Eaters who stands at Khorne's left hand as they observe the lives (and preferably, the very bloody deaths) of petty mortals. That said, Angron's brother Primarch, the mighty Perturabo, lord of the Iron Warriors, has always been prone to jealousy, and he is not above trying to usurp Angron's place at their mutual God's side.

Now, words, it is said, have power. And, occasionally, using the wrong words can tap that power. Broadcasting the wrong words into the eternal void of space can, potentially, draw the attention of the wrong people – or in this case, the wrong entities.

So it was that, when Vince's latest wheeze sent these words out into the wide galaxy,

"Fear not the army of wolves led by the sheep. Fear the army of sheep led by the wolves. I have no followers, I have only brothers and sisters. Just me. Ray Wyatt. The Eater of Worlds."

the left hand of Khorne was less than pleased. His displeasure was exacerbated by the skilfully worded taunts of his brotherly rival.

'Who is this 'Wyatt'? Are you not supposed to be the Eater of Worlds, little brother?' grunted the Lord of Iron, shaking his helmeted visage in mock sadness, 'Truly you are losing your martial pride. The Grey Knights I can understand; they at least are competent. But some weakling mortal? I can only assume that you consider this 'Wyatt' worthy of your Legion's geneseed.' A disdainful sniff. 'How far have the World Eaters deteriorated, to accept an actor? No Iron Warrior would accept such as a worthy recruit.'

But even as the Lord of Iron's molten gaze met his brother's in challenge a mighty axe slammed between them. The terrible voice of the Blood God pushed the feuding Primarchs from each other by sheer volume.

'ENOUGH! THY RIVALRY PLEASES ME, BUT THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT MATTERS. THE WARMASTER (contempt filled the great voice, for who other than the Blood God can truly master war?) LAYS SIEGE TO THE CADIAN GATE. WITHOUT MY IRON WARRIORS HE WILL, AGAIN, FAIL. THOU SHALT ATTEND IN PERSON, IRON LORD, TO REMIND PROUD ABADDON THAT HE IS NEITHER THE CHOSEN OF KHORNE NOR YET WORTHY TO BE SO. BURY THE GATE IN SKULLS AND IRON.

'ANGRON, MY EATER OF WORLDS, THOU SHALT ORDER THY LEGION TO WAR UPON THY HATED FATHER. SHED BLOOD IN MY NAME, AND BE NOT SHY ABOUT SHEDDING THAT OF THY FORMER BROTHERS' CHILDREN. SPEND THEIR LIVES THAT THE UNIVERSE DROWN IN AN OCEAN OF BLOOD.'

The Daemon Primarchs looked hatred at each other, then reluctantly bowed to their master. Yet great Angron still raised defiant gaze to his Lord.

'Am I not to take vengeance for this mortal's slight?'

'THOU MAYEST SEND BUT ONE SERVANT; I HAVE NEED OF THE REST OF THY SONS.'

'As thou speaks, so shall it be, Lord of Blood. Khârn!'

And it came to pass ….

a/n I'll leave what came to pass to your imagination, dear reader...