Space Hulk Nihilus Rex, Angrimar, 2 866.999.M41

The horde of Space Marines, in concert with the power-armored human and the Dark Eldar 'prisoner' of his, traveled down a hallway. The air grew hot and humid, and if he didn't know any better, he would've sworn that creepy vines had invaded the walls of the ship. Not willing to take a chance, the Perdition squads raised their incinerators, burning away the foul plant life as they entered a tremendous chamber. What the millennial saw was quite possibly one of the most horrifying things he had ever seen.

There was a giant, fat, diseased, rotting, foul-smelling person in the middle of a room covered with muck, slime, and fungal growths. He was maddeningly obese to the extreme, bloated to a height and weight far beyond any human. Horrific antlers jutted from his head, and impaled upon each was a woman, wearing nary a scrap of clothing, their flesh as mottled with spores and pustules as his own. A single horn jutted up from their heads as they gurgled. The millennial stared at the unclean abomination before noticing that something was around its neck, the thin trappings of what once had been hair cleverly concealing it. It appeared to be some sort of medallion, covered with filth that disguised its original appearance. Upon the horrific entity's right shoulder was a large, bestial creature - half slug, half Cthulhu-like monstrosity.

"What the fuck is that?"

"IT'S A FUCKING GREAT UNCLEAN ONE, SICKEST FUCKERS NURGLE HAS!" The Sergeant bellowed loudly, a fatal mistake as the daemonic monstrosity awoke, waddling around to face the intruders to its sacred domain. The Nurglettes impaled upon its horns awoke, moaning in labored gasps as they slowly moved to remove themselves from their position. It was a horrifying perversion of all that was holy, and even the Grey Knights couldn't help but turn away in disgust. The raccoon-like gaze over the Great Unclean One's eyes twitched as it roared out some undecipherable gibberish, raising its monstrous corroded blade as it lurched forward. The horrifying giggling noises came from within its torn belly, Nurglings rushing out of the festering wound as the Beast of Nurgle lept onto an Angry Marine, the acidic saliva from its tongue melting through the armor and eventually dissolving the very flesh from his face.

They were in a fight for their lives.

Crushing a Nurgling under foot, the millennial sprayed blasts from his Volkite Weapons at the surprisingly nimble Nurglettes, as the squads of Grey Knights pummeled the monstrous Great Unclean One with burst of psycannon fire, a wall of holy fire from the incinerators stopping most of the Nurglings from slipping past. Two of the Angry Marines were stabbing their chainswords into the flesh of the Beast, trying to take it down even as it ate another of their brethren, his armored hand sticking from the abomination's mouth even as it dissolved through the lifeless flesh of the monster's belly. "FUCK YOU FOR EATING BROTHER CUNTFACE! FUCKING COCKSUCKER!"

But even the blaze of glory proved not to be enough. The line began to crumble as several Grey Knights were overwhelmed by the mass of Nurglings that nipped at their armor, burying them in unholy filth. Though their armor was blessed, the poisonous corruption of the mass of Nurglite mites began to sink in, cries of agony spreading through their ranks.

And in response came the Angry Marines. Though they felt that the attitude of the Ordo Malleus' chapter of Astartes was extremely unnecessary, considering how holier-than-thou they seemed, they wouldn't let some mob of daemons overwhelm their brothers. Charging forward into the mass with chainswords roaring, the yellow Marines growled in rage, screaming their warcry at the top of their lungs as they began to massacre some of Nurgle's favored daemons.

Reri found herself battling against a particularly skilled Nurglette who attempted to headbutt her, only to find herself forced onto the Dark Eldar's impaler. Even the wych's weapon failed to stop the Nurglette, who attempted still to force herself further through the weapon's spikes just to attack the woman. A swift cut from her falchion removed the daemon's arms and legs, and her body was left limbless, seeping foul fluids before getting tossed in the path of an incinerator.

More Nurglings rushed forward - these with spine-like protrusions running down their back. They were almost hedgehog-like in their appearance, but were cut down or burned by the horde. The Great Unclean One raised a hand before striking weakly with its blade onto the ground, a terrifying shockwave sending many of the Grey Knights to the ground as the Nurglings moved forward to assail both them and their anger-filled brethren. More clearly now, the millennial saw precisely what was around the neck of the greater daemon - a spiked medallion. Sending a shot towards it, the beast fell back a bit before rushing forward, rancidly fattened flesh jiggling as it sent the sword limply flying through the ranks of the Space Marines. Some were killed, but others found themselves knocked back - a couple Terminators in particular finding it hard to get up.

Now that the medallion was more visible, he could clearly see what it was - something yellow, with black eyes. A Pikachu medallion? The fuck... No,, wait... It all made sense. The lewd fem-daemons impaling themselves on his horns... The spiny Nurglings... The beast on his shoulder... There was only one entity from his time that could've ever possibly ascended to the power of a Great Unclean One, only one man who could've ever shown so much disrespect for himself that Nurgle would've brought him into his filthy embrace.

"Chris-chan!" The Great Unclean One stopped for a moment, turning back around before his 'true name' was spoken. "Christopher Christian Ricardo Weston Chandler!" The utterance of his true name weakened the corpulent monstrosity, who took a step back as the Grey Knights regrouped. When he had become one of Nurgle's most loved greater daemons, the Chaos God of decay had never told him the vulnerabilities of being an entity of the Warp.

"Hit him with all you've got!"

"CUT THAT FUCKER UP LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING STEAK CUT, FUCKERS!"

A squad of Angry Marine Terminators plunged their claws into the beast's flesh, climbing up his body as Grey Knights stepped forward, searing the monster's flesh as psycannon rounds perforated deep into the daemon's body, rending its form in the Materium asunder. One last blast from the ancient human's Serpenta struck the daemon's medallion point-blank, shattering it and causing the remains to fall to the floor. Its tether to the realm of reality severed, Chris-Chan cried out as his essence was slowly sucked back into Immaterium, forced to wait another thousand years until his resurgence. With their leader gone, the rest of the Nurglite forces attempted to flee - some returned to the realm of nonexistence, saved from death through the sacrifice of their patriarch, while many others were burned or cut down by the blessed armament of the Adeptus Astartes.

"You... How did you know his true name?" Brother-Captain Mithrac raised a power sword at him in a most accusatory manner.

"He plagued my time. That motherfucker leeched away my country's tax dollars and harmed many people before being locked away. He was responsible for writing some of the most horrific comics in existence..."

The Grey Knight had no clue what comics were - but from the words of the ancient who stood before him, the daemon that had once been the creator of Sonichu was not a new foe to humanity, despite the Ordo Malleus having never encountered him before - he marked down the information within his armor's systems, in order to notify an astropath the moment they returned to the strike cruiser. The rest of the promethium they kept in store was utilized to burn away every trace of corruption in this section of the space hulk, purging it from the daemonic defilement of the Lord of Plagues.

Still, there was more to come.


Space Hulk Nihilus Rex, Angrimar, 2 867.999.M41

The hairs on the back of the millennial's neck tingled. Something very, very peculiar was going on, and the Grey Knights' Brother-Captain leading the squads from the 8th Brotherhood snarled in disgust. "The taint of Tzeentch permeates these walls... There must be a Chaos Sorcerer leading these miscreants."

"...Sorcerer? What is this, Dungeons and Dragons?"

Mithrac Tor ignored the ancient reference before explaining. "They are powerful psykers, Librarians from the Thousand Sons who turned away from the Emperor and instead chose to pursue forbidden knowledge. They find themselves obsessed with it, and are constantly guarded by a cacophony of Rubric Marines."

As they stepped into the room where a Tzeetchian ritual was taking place, the human who had formerly been in stasis uttered out rather loudly that "Tzeentch is a fucking nerd for having Rubik's Cube Marines." This interruption caught the attention of the sorcerer leading the group, who locked eyes with the artificer-armored warrior, his guard of Rubric Marines mechanically turning towards the intruders.

"Hold it... Hold your fire, guys. I got this. Yo! Yo Sorcerer-guy!" He waved, Volkite Serpenta at his hip as he smirked. "I heard you like knowledge."

"That is hardly the way to address your intellectual superior, mortal. I am Elusynion, Arch-Sorcerer of Chaos and servant of the mighty Tzeentch. You will bow." He held the daemon weapon in his hand - a monstrous sword - as he awaited for the human to subjugate himself. Unsurprisingly, he did not.

"Tell you what... I'll bow. WITH ONE EXCEPTION." He cut the sorcerer off before he had the chance to respond. "I will ask you three questions. If you fail to answer at least one of them correctly, well... You'll have humiliated yourself in front of your entire honor guard. Not to mention I'm pretty sure your boss will be pissed that you lack the knowledge he assumedly possesses. I mean, I'm guessing this guy's the biggest egghead in the galaxy, and he wants his tools to be as knowledgeable in things."

A sneer came from the vox-caster of the sorcerer as he stepped towards the center of the room, the millennial meeting him there and sizing him up - despite the difference in height of over a foot and a half, not including the Chaos Space Marine's horns. "Very well, mortal. And when I succeed your paltry challenge... I will sacrifice your soul to Tzeentch to gain more of his blessing."

"Fair enough." He began. "Alright... Question 1. What happens when Pinocchio says 'My nose grows now'?"

"His nose grows."

"Wrong." The millennial smirked. "His nose only grows when he lies, so if his nose grows, he's telling the truth, so his nose doesn't grow. But if his nose doesn't grow, then he's lying, which means it should grow. But if-"

"Enough! Get to the next question!" The sorcerer growled - there were still two left, a simple enough situation leaving the odds in his favor.

"Very well... A mass of sand sits on the beach. A heap, if you will. You remove a single grain of sand - it's still a heap. If the removal of one grain of sand does not make the difference between a heap or not, how many grains would need to be removed in order for the heap to not be called a heap?" Paradoxes were something he had once been into... Something that was most certainly a win-win.

"...Approximately ten million?"

"Wrong. If the removal of a grain of sand does not make the difference between a heap or not, one could theoretically keep removing single grains of sand, further and further decreasing the heap in size, but maintaining its status. Thus, even a grain of sand can be called a heap. The correct answer would've been if there were no remaining grains left - thus, nothing to declare a heap, though even that could be argu-"

"Be silent, mortal..." Rage had begun to consume the sorcerer at his lack of knowledge and understanding regarding these ancient methods of thought - paradoxes didn't exist in the modern day. Perhaps because they were too laborious - or perhaps they were considered to be useless thinking, those pondering on them being better used elsewhere. "Utter the last question."

"Alrighty, you asked for it..." The millennial took a deep breath, until a question formed itself in front of his face. He gave the most twisted grin that had ever formed upon his face, turning to look up at the sorcerer as he opened his mouth to speak.

"What... is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

He couldn't see past the helmet of the sorcerer's armor, but it was as though he could almost feel the tension in the air as the fallen Marine attempted to artifice a response. It was a mere mathematical problem - though one could argue that the millennial's refusal to mention whether the swallow in question was African or European counted as cheating. Those birds had long since died off from the face of Holy Terra, their habitats paved over with temples and palaces for the God-Emperor, an entity that he had never met, nor heard of during his time on Earth.

"I... do not know." Big mistake.

A cry fell from the voicebox of the Chaos Sorcerer as he fell forward, hands grasping at the metal deck-plate as the pseudo-Inquisitor ran back to the side of the Grey Knights. Claws rended open ceramite plates, chunks of the metal falling off as his body twisted, flesh and muscle rending apart into grotesque shapes as his mind descended into madness. A horrific cry fell through the room as the machine-marines watched their leader's devolution into a Chaos Spawn, courtesy of his failure to be ascendant knowledge-wise over a mere mortal. Within his realm of Chaos, the constantly shapeshifting Chaos God laughed to himself at the circumstances - perhaps this one would prove a useful tool to manipulate in the future. Or perhaps not. The ways of the Master of Change were constantly changing, being broken down and reforged into new and methodical designs.

As for the Chaos Spawn itself, several shots from the Serpenta the millennial carried rendered it no longer among the living. The Rubric Marines turned, bolters drawn to engage the one who had disposed of their master... when they froze. It was as though they were all in stasis, no longer capable of motion now that the power of the Warp fueling their motion was cut. Their inactive state was notices as Reri attempted to push one of the titanic suits of armor over with little success. Rushing forward herself, she sank her claws into the Chaos Spawn, allowing her blackened soul to feed upon the tortured remnants of his spirit, satiating her Thirst a fragment more. He shrugged it off - She's just making sure it's dead.

But this left one last Chaos God's forces to deal with. It was one that college-aged men were most susceptible to, one that had been the downfall of many men and women throughout history, weak and strong. Reri stood up, somewhat refreshed as she eyed the door covered with blasphemous Chaos iconography, the purple and black stripes adorning it barbarically. And that Chaos God was waiting for them...

"She Who Thirsts."