Chaoz, Zog Yeah!

"Hmmmm, perhaps just a smidge of the common cold?"

"Oh, no. You know how that never mixes with anything. Such a jealous breed."

"But it proliferates so easily, dear!"

"Nurgle," she stomped her foot down, visibly setting the chamber's fumes in motion, "what is it with you and your common cold fetish?"

"I simply admire its simple beauty! Its loveable, infectious nature. Its peerless perfection. Why, every bacteria reminds me of you!"

A smile appeared on Isha's lips as she leaned against his hulking form and playfully popped a cyst on his shoulder:

"Oh, you sweet-talker, you!

He chuckled to himself as she ruffled through the decayed remains of hair on his scalp. The homely atmosphere was broken when an incessant beeping sounded, followed by a no-less annoying light. The Plaguefather released a cloud of green smoke from his nostrils:

"Och, again? So soon?"

"I do wonder what he wants now. Oh, I don't have any slime in my hair, do I?"

"You look stunning as always."

"Oh, stop!"

"Hey, anyone there," the scrying orb spun around until the eye could see them clearly, "ah, there you are. Nurgle, I need your help. Now."

"Whaaaaat?"

"What's gotten you so flustered, Tzeentch?"

The eye looked away for a second, then again met their gazes:

"A variable I thought resolved has... spun out of control. The project is in peril."

They were flung across lightyears in an instant and met within the mind-shattering entropy of the Warp. Where regularly, the ravenous entities within would have preyed upon minds and souls alike, the daemons kept away, afraid, for no mere mortals had been dragged into their realm. Disembodied voices echoed for aeons as they spoke on the way:

"Good day, comrades."

"Ack, why now? I had the tome in my grasp..."

"Oh, cheer up! I'm sure there will be a boatload of fun wherever we're going!"

"For all your sakes, there better be skulls, too."

"I find it strange, Ezekiel," spoke the farseer, sipping on her tea even as a razor-sharp claw whisked past her head, "that we find ourselves in these situations with such discomforting regularity."

"It is indeed regrettable," a charred corpse, its bat-like wings still flapping madly, landed at his feet. The stormtroopers brought down many such specimens, "concentrate fire over there, they seem to be losing interest in us for now."

They were assembled on the remains of a gretchin sleeping area, Gork and Mork have a good meal from their souls. Not too far, she could see other groups of polees and other assorted armed forces making similar stands. Barrages of propa' dakka rose to the ceiling, yet no matter how many of the beasts they slew, more came to take their place.

The legion was like a cloud of winged, snarling death. Daemonic entities of the lowest hierarchy, but by no means lowest strength. Unaffiliated, warped from those souls who had never served the dark gods, only themselves. Now turned to furies, their ferocity made them a worthy hunter within the Formless Wastes of the Warp.

She looked up again, at the swirling vortex of multi-coloured energy that had so suddenly appeared mere hours ago. More and more of the winged daemons emerged from it, their numbers enough to even ground her daemonettes. There was no end to the monsters, she almost couldn't see the lights anymore. Pieces of debris, road and even nearby structures floated within the phenomenon as it grew larger, inch by inch. And then, she suddenly spotted bigger shape form within the light.

Its figure was massive, but slender, with unmistakeable avian features. Its beak was rather short and its head was dominated by some sort of crimson headdress. The daemon emitted a bone-chilling roar:

"Cock-a-doodle-doo," it truly made her freeze with terror for a second. Its eyes were a pair of azure embers, perfectly visible despite the pure chaos surrounding them. It spoke with a dozen different voices at once, "ahaaaaah! You're finished, they said! No spot in the scheme for you, they said! Well, who's talking now?! I am! Isn't that right, my servants," the swarm did not seem to respond in any coherent fashion, "bah, disposable labour... but they'll do just fine! First I shall conquer this place, then... bah, even I don't know! Such exciting possibilities! Hodric, are they ready?"

A much smaller entity appeared next to the greater daemon's face, in essence a mass of appendages wearing a highly complex suit. In an almost baritone voice, the servant replied:

"Mmmmyes, sir. I personally briefed them on the operation."

"Well, then, what are you waiting for? You can never have too many troops, you know!"

"Your wisdom is boundless, sir."

The vortex stirred once more, as a far more colourful host breached through, this time on foot. Mostly bright, fleshy pink, with hints of blue here and there, they charged forward, maws open in maniacal roars. Warpfire danced along their fingers and often discharged chaotically into their surroundings. They made a beeline for the nearest source of resistance, a cloud of furies already gathering to aid them.

A patched-up commissar hat could be seen above a barricade as the kaptin gave orders:

"Alright, ya grotz. Just some daemun boyz, nothin' wez neva' 'ad beforez."

"Kaptin," Snogrot had what seemed like the remains of a street lamp on his head, "there were neva' that many flyin' bitz on 'em. Or that many burny bitz."

"Oh, zog off, Snogrot. Oy, ya' see Wabbajack? Wez could use some fire of our own."

"Oy, last Iz seen 'im, da' madboyz stuck 'im somewhere in da' sewa'. Waz funny... uh, at da' time."

"Just my zoggin' luck. Ah, well, time ta' get stuck in, boyz!"

And, then, just as both forces roared their battlecries, a crack of thunder echoed through reality itself. Out of nowhere, four flaming meteors suddenly fell from the sky, crashing into the ground before the charging daemons. A cloud of dust and debris filled the area. The host paused, though, a few were trampled or knocked out of the sky before the ones in the back realized the charge had stopped.

A second roar sounded soon afterwards and a pair of purple lights shone through the cloud, followed by a massive, head-sized torch of colour-changing flame. An omnipresent cackle erupted as he rode out into view, swinging what appeared to be chainsword doused in unholy flame. The rider barrelled through their ranks without any sign of stopping, swinging with reckless abandon, the weapon colouring bodily fluids into colourful, paint-like displays.

Two more hulking forms, their armour blood red and sickly green, appeared. The berserker spoke:

"Alright, I see one way to do this. See that one?"

He pointed at a horror at the dead centre of the horde and the creature cowered. The nurglite nodded, as his own hive of scum gathered in a cloud around him:

"Oh, yes. What a delightful little thing."

"Those to the left of him are yours. The ones on the right are mine."

"Seems like a fair split. Brother."

Their fists clashed in the air, pestilence itself receded in fear of the khornate, and then they both charged. They scattered the pitiful daemons like a pair of battle tanks and sent the army into panic.

Typhus slashed entire groups into pieces with wide swings of his mighty scythe, leaving nothing but decaying husks in his wake. The Destroyer plague buzzed its way ever forward, unassailable, unavoidable, insatiable.

Meanwhile, Kharn took a more hands-on approach. Or, well, arms-off approach, you could say. Loud crashes, grunts and squeals could constantly be heard as he ripped into them with his bare hands. At one point, he roared with such intensity that the soundwave split the horrors into their lesser, blue doppelgangers.

The final member of the entourage emerged, his mighty staff already twitching with forbidden energies:

"Keep me from my prize, will you? Let's see how you like this!"

Multicoloured bolts shot into the sky, a very target-rich environment at the time. Whatever they hit soon began mutating violently, until their frail bodies could no longer take it and violently burst, taking out dozens at a time.

Really, all in all, the daemons were not having a good time. Yet even more poured from the abyssal depths of the Warp, determined to drown the enemy in bodies, a tactic Kharn was more than willing to help out with. As he was using his seventh improvised flail that day, however, it was beginning to get a bit samey:

"Hmmm, not even a challenge. Booooring."

Longingly, he looked upwards into the swirling entropy, only to hear a conversation:

"Those idiots! My armies are endless!"

"To be fair, sir, that is only achieved through recycling."

"Oh, quiet. Not even the champions stand a chance! Goes to show what weaklings they are."

He stomped furiously, creating a crater and tearing a few enemies apart with the shocwave, then turned to the nurglite:

"Take over, Typhus. Big one's mine."

"No, he is not," their gazes met, Kharn's seemed to be emanating actual heat, "he is ours."

Coming in from a wicked turn in half-slide, Doomrider came to a perfect stop inches from their feet.

"It's not fair, they just won't stop coming. Oooh, you guys plotting?"

"No!"

"Most certainly."

"Gentlemen," Ahriman waltzed over while subconsciously creating a blast of warpfire to incinerate yet another group of the furies, "I say we get this over with in a timely manner. Together."

"Together!"

"Together, hahah!"

"Ugh, fine, together."

"Me and Typhus will protect you and keep the rest at bay, the rest is up to you. Cut off the head and its over."

"I always do that anyway," he looked up at the being in the swirling vortex hundreds of feet in the air, then turned to the rider, "can you really get me up there?"

The other looked not at the vortex itself, but the debris and chunks flying all around it:

"Of course. I just need to find the most dangerous route to impress my admirers."

"Oh, boy."

The former favoured of Tzeentch watched the happenings with glee. The locals seemed to be running out of ammo. Oh, he could already taste victory as he licked his beak. Such a glorious machinations, worthy of such a... something was tugging on his feathers:

"Sir?"

"What is it, Hodric, I'm being maniacal here," the servant needed only to point, something was approaching on the rooftops with incredible speed, "what in the?"

He could recognise the plague champion's disgusting vermin, assembled in a globe-like formation around something. And only one thing could be so fast.

"It's them! Tear them apart," as soon as anything got closer, the hive moved in response, devouring any offender whole in an unsettlingly short amount of time. The winged daemons soon retreated, despite their master's continued urging.

The rider used a demolished part of the roof as railing and ascended straight into the vortex, their insectoid escort dispersing. Kharn held on for dear life as they landed precariously on a chunk of road, back-wheel first. Soon enough they accelerated again, using the inherent momentum of the area to leap to other debris. Doomrider made sure to do death-defying flips and spins while doing so, his maniacal laughter somehow magnified further in the vortex.

"Are the tricks really necessary?!" Kharn held onto him for dear life.

"Come on, Kharn, live a little!"

"I'm afraid I'll die a lot instead!"

"Insects! Feel my wrath!"

Eldritch energy danced along the greater daemon's fingers and shot out in waves of multicoloured spikes in every direction, unavoidable under regular circumstances. As soon as they reached the champions, an explosion consumed the area. The invader guffawed:

"Hahah! I am truly amazing at... what," they rode out of the smoke, surrounded by some sort of barrier, "oh, that's not fair!"

"I see it as a contest of magic, sir."

"Oh, shut up, Hodric, I should have you..."

The daemon was so absorbed with arguing he did not notice the pair reach critical altitude, and only noticed once they blazed past his head.

"Go, killer, go!"

"So I shall!"

The berserker sprung into action, clutching both axes as he fell like an angry comet. Again, the other's arrogance showed clearly:

"You cannot slay me, I am..."

"God, daemon, or mortal, I don't care," the axes were suddenly engulfed in fire, fuelled by pure rage, and for the first time, the daemon grew worried. Kharn struck like a bolt of lightning, swinging both of his weapons across and beheading the creature without any effort, "it matters only that you die! Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

Immediately, panic was set into their ranks and the vortex howled. Doomrider made one last gratuitous flip and made his way down, catching Kharn with ease. Soon enough, the anomaly started imploding and started sucking everything back in. Everyone held onto any nearby object for their dear lives as the daemonic army was pulled back into its own domain. They howled, they snarled, they made angry blog posts, but nothing could save them.

Doomrider's cackle was still present, as he felt nothing by Ahriman's sorcery. And then, without warning, it simply vanished without any grand finale worthy of the build-up. Other non-specified stories would hopefully fare better.

The four champions met on the ground and stood in formation, facing each other. Doomrider raised his palm into the air with a grin. The others shared a look and followed suite. Their armoured hands then clashed in a titanic high-five as they shouted in unison:

"Chaos, fuck yeah!"

Somewhere, in the zone, where pedicure happened much too often.

"I still don't see it."

"Trust me on this one, I know my fashion and style, you know. You don't see me lecturing you on the proper way of beheading people, do I?"

"Hmph, I suppose that's true."

He looked himself over in one of the dozen mirrors. His traditional armour was gone, replaced by a crimson suit, with highlights of brass and faded gold. His face remained behind the facemask of his helmet, though his braid was presentable as warp. She tightened his golden bow tie and placed a single, blue flower in his pocket, a revolt against the onslaught of red.

"Oh, you look fabulous. Now, let me get changed into my ensemble!"

"Uhuh."

As she vanished behind a door, he took another look at himself. Not too bad. Not too bad. An annoying seeing orb suddenly blocked his view of himself.

"Not you again."

"Woah, you're still there?"

"Being hasty with a suit, makes it look like a fruit."

"What?"

"She has an annoying tendency to rhyme everything." though it was rather cute.

"I see. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you again. For sending him over."

"Oh, it was my pleasure to clean up your mistake, Tzeentch. You really should be more careful with the people you hire."

There was a silence, ever so brief:

"Screw you," and the orb vanished.

He chuckled to himself when he heard a soothing voice:

"I'm readyyyy!"

He turned and his eyes had to adjust to the light that reflected off gemstones. Slaanesh assumed a more... natural form that day. For one, she had no feet, possessed two pairs of arms and even sported golden scales on all but her face, ritualistically polished to a mirror shine. Her ensemble consisted of a dress dotted with gemstones of every colour and a hat decorated by the feathers of several dozen extinct species. Her eyes were reptilian and obviously hypnotic, though he was unaffected. At least, he hoped.

"That was quick."

"I'm practiced! How do I look?"

He paused briefly:

"Rather nice."

"Oh, you," she squealed inwardly at the greatest compliment he had ever sent her way, "shall we go, then? The Immaterial Gala awaits!"

"I'm sure we'll make heads roll."

"Khorne." she took on the features of a vicious viper.

"No, I did not pack any axes this time. That was a joke, calm down."

"Good." her smile returned as they headed for their carriage.

The joke was on her. He had packed swords.