I own nothing!
The Eye of Terror
A small bar
The mutant bartender looked over the old carrier bay he ran his business out of. Amongst the various riff-raff and other creatures in the building, a figure walked up. It was a large figure; at least two or three times the size of an average human. Course, he was in no position to point out genetic differences in others. He had a ridge of spines running down his back, along with a massive under bite and ork-sized teeth.
The figure was clad in armor, with the furs of long-dead hunting trophies draping himself. There was a massive sword on his back, and what looked like a pistol at his side.
The figure sat down at the bar, the stool groaning at his weight. "Wulfsmeade," the figure rumbled. The bartender did his duty, filling his mug up and placing it in front of him. As the mutant walked away, he thought about the figure. He had grown a sixth sense to tell if someone was trouble, and that sense was tingling around the figure. He decided to try and stay out of his way.
XXXXXXXX
Leman Russ sat in the heretical bar. He slowly took a sip of his drink. It was wulfsmeade, but not particularly good. Of course, the ingredients needed didn't grow too well around here, so he should be grateful he got it at all.
He looked over to his right. He wasn't in the least surprised at the black-robed figure occupying the seat next to him.
Raising his glass, he announced the figure's name. "Death."
"LEMAN RUSS. IT HAS BEEN A WHILE."
"Well, yeah. Stupid ship put me a good ten years off schedule. Been waiting for a good chance to let out some aggression."
"SO YOU GO HERE."
"Yep."
The two sat in silence. Finally, Death broke it. "I HAD TO CLAIM ANOTHER OF YOUR SONS TODAY."
Leman winced. He knew dying was a part of life for the Space Wolves, but that didn't remove any of the sting. "Aye. I suppose it happens. You know if he got the good path?"
"THAT IS NOT MY DESCISION."
"Bah. Figures." He took another swig. "So, just one?"
"JUST ONE"
"They're getting better."
"YES. I HAVE REAPED MORE SOULS BECAUSE OF THEM IN THE PAST YEAR THAN BECAUSE OF THE SISTERS OF BATTLE OVER A COURSE OF TEN YEARS."
"Sorry if we're making more work for you."
"IT IS NOT 'WORK' FOR ME. IT IS BIDING MY TIME FOR THE ENDWAR. JUST LIKE YOU."
Leman shrugged. "What's the ETA on that anyways?"
"I'M NOT SURE. ONE WOULD THINK THE MOST POWERFUL BEING IN THE UNIVERSE WOULD BE PRIVY TO SUCH THINGS, BUT AS IT STANDS, I'M NOT."
"Oh." The two sat in silence for a bit longer. By now, the bartender was getting worried. The figure had begun talking to himself. His business did not need an armed giant who was having visions.
"How are your brothers and sister doing anyway?" Leman asked.
"WAR'S BEEN HANGING AROUND WITH A LOT OF ORKS LATELY. POSING AS THE FIRST FEMALE 'WAAUUGGH BOSS'. FAMINE'S BEEN STICKING TO THE UPPER CLASSES, POSING AS A MIRACLE DIETER. SHOWS PEOPLE HOW TO LOSE WEIGHT FOR THAT PARTY BY STARVING THEMSELVES. CAME UNDER FIRE A BIT FOR A HIGH MORTALITY RATE, BUT FINE OTHERWISE. POLLUTION FOUND A HOG HEAVEN ON NEW COLONIES. LOVES TO LET THE PEOPLE FIND THEM, THEN JUST HAPPEN TO GUIDE A SHIP FULL OF RADIOACTIVE MATERIALS INTO IT. PESTILENCE'S BEEN HANGING AROUND WITH THE SO-CALLED 'LORD OF DECAY' LATELY. THE TWO ARE PRETTY MUCH INSEPERABLE NOW."
"Wow. And I thought Horus screwed up my family."
The two sat in silence again. Then, Leman sighed and got up. Death followed his example, picking up the scythe he had laid on the bar while Leman drew his sword.
"You ready?"
"OF COURSE."
XXXXXXXX
Ten minutes later, once the sounds of the brawl died down, anyone who'd decided to remain outside of the bar would have seen a figure leaving, wiping blood off his sword. Anyone with skills in magic would have seen a dark robed being with a scythe next to the figure. Then, anyone who had not peed their pants and run would have seen the figure with the sword turn to the being with the scythe. Then, anyone who had not had a seizure at the scene and was rolling on the ground would have heard the words:
"Until next winter."