The heroes and supposed villains sat in the planetary defence centre, while outside, there was chaos. Both metaphorically and literally. Berzerkers, plague marines, noise marines, guardsmen and members of both the fire and earth castes ran and walked around, removing pieces of wreckage from the landscape, while rubrics, commanders and every type of Necron just stood by idly. Chaos was getting ready to depart.
Rakul looked over his comrades, 'dance-mates' and the Tau and guardie commanders.
"I must say, this was definitely more pleasant than our last little meeting."
"Yeh, I'z cudn't agree more, right flashgit Gobroz?"
"Yeh, was smashin' fun, I fink. Say, Teivoz, wot'z Darug doin'? I'z haven't seen 'im since we left."
The commander scratched his helmet for some reason.
"To tell the truth, I don't have the foggiest idea. I just know he locked himself up in one of our smaller armories."
"Weyrd."
Carito burst into the room, full of energy.
"DELICIOUS!"
"What is delicious, Carito?"
"Well, Rakul, these 'Crons are very good lifters, if I can say so myself. Two of them just carried a Devilfish carrier to maintenance."
"Cool. Now get back to work."
"Right away!"
As the slaaneshi left, Rakul heard Nebulon shout some insults at Sangus and vice versa. Something about dropping hammers on feet. He then turned to Tartaro.
"Say, what are you and your... guys, planning on doin?"
"Well... I suppose we could dig up one of our Tombships. But I have no ideaaa about where we would go. So, if the kind governor and generaaal would truly let his kindness show and let us staaay for a while, we would be indebted to him."
Ulix massaged his shiny scalp.
"If they do not cause any trouble, I can't see what the problem is."
"Thaaank you."
******
"Tzeentchey, was that planned?"
"Yeah, birdbrain, tell us. TELL US."
"Well... no. But it could have gone worse."
"Yeah. Instead of Necrons, they could have faced pink unicorns."
"Oooooh, that sounds pretty."
"So," Nurgle coughed up a few nurglings, who ran away, taking a chess figure with them, "what now?"
"Well, it would seem that any conflict there shall be avoided."
Suddenly, a booming voice echoed throughout the fortress:
"I'z 'ave sum oda' newz." through one of the walls, there came a massive entity. Green like the race it was the god off, almost completely encased in a suit of 'Ultra-mega-giga-awesum armour', which was bloodier than even Khorne's. Its right hand a massive giga klaww and the left the biggest shoota this side of reality. Its horns scraped the ceiling and its two eyes were cyber implants, "'ullo, boyz an' gal."
None of them was really impressed. After all, this happened pretty regularly. Khorne spoke:
"Hey, Gmork. How's it going?"
"Aaah, ya know. Smashin', stompin', shootin'. But dat'z not why I'z 'ere."
All six of the Changer's eyes were on him.
"And why are you here?"
"Haven't ya felt sumfin' weird comin' to dat little planety bit? From over the edgy of dis 'ere Milky weyz?"
"How could I? Even the reach of my servants' has its limits... unlike you orks. You're everywhere!"
"Precizely! An' mah boyz 'ave been fightin' dem bug boyz. An' dem bug boyz won an'... dey'z evolved."
Tzeentch was silent.
"Tzeentchey, is that bad?"
"Bird brain?"
The Changer finally spoke:
"Spores?"
"Yeh. An' even dough deyz dun't 'ave it parfectid yet, since da sporeez die too early, dey'z cud meik it work... in time."
"Hmmm... and they are heading for the ork-populated fringe?"
"Uhhh... nah."
"Well... that is good news, but how come?"
"Well, da bug boyz got sucked up into sum of dem rifty bitz. Dey'z heddin' fer dat planety bit call'd Carridio."
Silence.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeh, da rifty bit was pretty clear 'bout da direktun, fer once. Dey'z very strong, since mah boyz were lotsa' before getting' eeten. Da bug boyz still look 'ungry, dough."
Tzeentch stood there for a moment and then started walking.
"Come with me, we need to make a call."
******
Rakul stood before the loading ramp of a Chaos shuttle, which was ready for liftoff. He looked at the ones who stood there, seeing the Chaos boys off. Tau, guardies, Tartaro and the orks. And that little black ball of a pet. Somehow, it was touching.
He exchanged one last look with his 'nemesis', Nagosh Ubzug. The ork grinned and he waved him, if only as a mild show of respect after such kick-arse dancing. He then turned, wanting to enter the small craft... when a searing pain entered his mind. His eyes flshed in a blue hue and he went to his knees, clutching his head.
"Master?!"
"Rakul?!"
"What'sss happening?"
"Not delicious!"
Amazingly, Nagosh also had the starnge fit of pain, only his eyes flashed red.
"Boss!"
"Boss!?"
"Nagosh?!"
And a little roar from Ugu.
******
Both the ork and the sorcerer flew through space at unfathomable speeds. Images of countless realms and worlds sped past them, letting them only see what was within for a few seconds.
Cultists performing bizarre rituals, Eldar crying around a dead tree, Daemonettes... doing stuff, spess mahreens playing the uber-cool and new Warcraft miniature game and many others. Finally they flew straight into the Eye of Terror and beyond.
They suddenly appeared in a large round chamber, the walls of which changed colour and design. Two massive entities stood before them. A three headed avian and a massive ork. Rakul new one personally and the other was bound to be Gork or Mork.
"Hey there... Tzeench."
The sorcerer was annoyed, to say the least.
"Uhhh, heheh... hey, Rakul. Long time no see, eh?"
"Yeah, ever since ya tricked me from earning a well-earned reward two months back. Well, I don't know if it was two months, since time always gets weird in this place."
Tzeentch touched his leftmost head... kinda' scared.
"Eheh... yeah. Anyway, this is Gmork."
The huge ork-god waved to them.
"Wot? Dere ain't Gork and Mork? Only Gmork?"
"Yeh, well, ya see... kunnin' brutalitey and brutal kunnin' can still be master'd by one oy or sumfin'. But don't tell any of da boys. I'z like watching a gud fight between Morka's and Gorka's... smashin' fun!"
"Okay, why have you two called us here? To tell us some old stories?"
"Actually... no. There's a certain threat heading towards Carridia."
"Pink unicorns?"
"Nah, but ol' Khorno boy sed dat! Worz! Tyranidy bug-boyz is comin' ta kill everyfin'! Dey'z have sum specul orky DNA bitz in 'em, dat, in tiem, will let 'em make sporezez."
"So... they'll be able to replicate like orks?!"
"Yes. If they have enough time to perfect the new genus. After that, we would face a self-replicating, infinite horde of tyranids, which could just stay on a world for some time to get new biological material."
"Dat can't be gud."
"And it ain't, little orky boss."
"Damn..."
"Indeed. They pose a threat as great, if not greater, as all of the legions of Chaos combined... they could probably assault the Eye of Terror itself!"
"And wot can wez do?"
"Da bug-boy fleety bit is still 'just' a normal fleety bit. Wif sum 'elp, youz just might be able to stop it."
"We'z have ta help!"
"Also, Rakul... if your little joint-fleet can defeat this new threat... I could arrange rewards beyond your wildest dreams."
"Hmmm... I am interested. But we shall still need aide. Even with the Necrons..."
"Indeed, sorcerer. This threat must not be underestimated."
"Yeh. It's betta' ta be ova'killy, den not killy enuf."
"Accept aid from whatever source... just destroy the hive fleet, which we have, for your comfort, dubbed Hive Fleet Haxxor."
"Yeh. Do dat, 'cuz oda'wize, not even da green powah will be enuf ta stop dese."
"Indeed. Now, go! You must quickly get as much aid as possible."
The two leaders disappeared.
"I'z hope deyz can do it."
"Same here, my grammatically impaired friend."
******
After they both woke up... true chaos began. Rakul said the Servants of the Four were staying put and then called Nebulon for a little private debate, while Nagosh demanded a 'Kommunikatunz bit'. When the rest learned of the new Tyranid threat... they were at first sceptical, but the serious attitude of the two leaders soon made them change their minds.
"You called, master?"
Rakul sat in a chair in a now-chaos controlled imperial guard barracks.
"Yes. But we must first wait for..." the door to the room opened and Mithara entered, her pink skin shiny, "aaaah, excellent."
"Hullo, Neby."
"Hi, cutie. Rakul, what are you planning?"
"I'm planning on making some calls to certain people who might aid us. But, I want you two to get some more... warpal aid."
"What do you mean?"
"You two must go into the warp and round up every daemon who can aid us. Form an army and bring it here."
The two warpal creatures looked at each other. Being together would be a gift.
"When should we leave?"
"Ideally, now. Good luck."
"Hold out 'till we get back, eh?"
"Yeah, Rakul. You've been like a big brother to me little old pretty me."
"I will."
Nebulon and Mithara then disappeared in that trademark purple cloud. Now... who to call first? Oh! Abbadon! Yeah, the Black Legion could certainly help! He concentrated his psychic energies and reached out towards his target... somewhere in the Eye of Terror.
---
Inside Abbadon's main planning room, along with the usual Chosen Terminators, there also stood a sorcerer, Marin. And he felt the psychic signal sent out by one of similar power. And he accepted the 'call', answering with his mind.
"Hello?"
"Hey... I know that voice! Marin!"
"Rakul? Oh, what a joyous coincidence!"
Marin already felt better. Old buddies from the siege of Terra do that.
"I see you got a few promotions."
"Yeah, well... kinda'. Why ya callin'?"
"Well, me and my little fleet are in some trouble with some approaching Tyranids and we were wondering if Abbadon could lend us some help? This fleet's a big one."
"Ummm..." Marin looked over to Abbadon, who was devising military strategies for his next grand crusade, "I'm sorry, but he is preoccupied."
"With what?"
"Next crusade. Plus, I'm not really sure Cadians would let us pass."
"Can't you even try?"
"Rakul... trust me. You don't want his help."
"Huh?"
"Seriously, mate. You don't."
"But..."
"Cancelling conversation"
Marin then watched as Abbadon p-laced even more small miniatures of battle tanks onto the table.
"Yes, yes, yes! If we have more tanks than infantry, the imperial bastards will be helpless! FOOLPROOF!"
Marin sighed at Failabbadon's greatest strategies.
---
Okay... that was weird. But maybe someone else could help? Like Ahriman! Such a great guy, that! He again sent a psychic signal.
---
The most awesome character in the whole Warhammer universe, Ahriman of the Thousand Sons, and his feared cabal blasted their way through yet another place with hidden artefacts of the Warp. The strange beasts that stood in their way were made out of pure stone and came in all shapes and sizes. But the cabal was unstoppable and soon entered the deepest chamber of the sealed crypt.
There, on a pedestal, laid a blue book, undoubtedly filled with vast knowledge. But then, the great Ahriman received a psychic 'poke' and answered it:
"What is it?"
"Ahriman? Rakul here?"
"Oh, hey. Long time no hear. What's the matter?"
"Me and my fleet would require help against some Tyranids. Ya up for it?"
"Sure, sounds like fun. Where are ya?"
"Carridia, mid-west."
"Oh, that's a bummer. We're way over at the eastern fringe of known space. Would probably take us too long."
"Damn..."
"I know. But hey, maybe we could meet afterwards, on some fringe colony, talk about old times."
"Yeah, sure. Later."
The 'poking' had ended. Such a nice guy, that Rakul. The two had known each other since the times of Thousand Sons recruits... good times.
Ahriman snapped out of those sentimental thoughts And grabbed the blue tome.
"Interesting... 'Nine hundred and ninety-nine ways to turn a Horror daemon into a delicious meal'. We've hit the jackpot, boys!"
Th entire cabal screamed in joy. Some also drooled.
---
He was steadily running out of options. After being turned down by the Daemon Prince Sindri Myr, maybe because Rakul had given him a wedgie sometime during the Heresy, his primarch Magnus, who said he didn't have time for spraying bugs with chemicals, and the rogue psyker, who he knew from one of those Pre-Crusade parties and the one who said his regiment was busy with defiling imperial relics and fighting nuns, he was pretty much out of options.
"Okay... I have no one else to call directly. I suppose I'll just send a psychic signal into space, hoping that someone will hear it. Only thing I can do right now."
He concentrated for one last time and sent a psychic message in every direction. He didn't care who picked it up, as long as they would help.
******
The Biel-Tan Craftworld was silent. Its white wraithbone halls empty, save for the occasional guard. But one of the inner gardens was not empty. There, among the myriad of strange and beautiful plants, stood a farseer. A farseer with long flaming hair and three red stripes on each of her cheeks. Dressed in a green ceremonial robe, she just stood there, using telekynesis to water plants. Having psychic powers had its more subtle advantages, after all.
And then, she felt a psychic poke. It felt strange, somehow dark. But she accepted it.
"To anyone who can hear me. I am a sorcerer, Rakul Manek, "wasn't that the one Ash'nu said they had fought against? She listened further, "us and a few unlikely allies would require anti-tyranid aid on the planet Carridia in the Cartalon system," a plea for help? This one would mean their destruction, "we are setting up a defensive, along with some orks, tau, necrons and guardsmen, but even our forces here are not enough. We beg of you, aid us."
The psychic signal faded. That had caught her by surprise. And the sorcerer's voice was somehow... calming.
"How did thoughts like that emerge? No matter... the others must know of this."
And so, farseer Macha of Biel-Tan, walked towards the Seer chambers, warp-bent on waking everyone up.
******
The ork fort... camp... thing was bristling with life. Boys were running in every possible direction, towing large pieces of metal with them. Some would be confused by such behaviour, but not dok Grimog. For he knew what the boys were building. A gift for ol' Darug, whose fifty-third birthday was just around the corner. A massive gift, too. Though, the smaller mekboys-in-training were having a bit of trouble with the construction, they were getting the hang of it.
After some running, the dok finally got to the 'Kommunikasunz roomzy fing'. A light on the ceiling was flashing and some other thing was beeping, though, Grimog couldn't tell which, since there was a lot of strange things in that room. Darug made such wonderful things. He kicked it and soon saw two green faces. Nagosh and Gobroz.
"Boss! Gobroz! You'z okey!"
"Yeh, fer now. Listen, Grimog. I'z need ya ta go to da ol' chaosy forty bit. Go into da lowa' chamberzez."
"Boss? Why do ya want 'im ta go dere?"
"Yeh, boss?"
"All will be explaineed when ya get dere! Now, go!"
"Okay, boss!"
Without questioning, the dok kicked the device once more and ran off at the speed of... a running ork.
---
It took him almost an hour to reach the place, even with a trukk. The little ork walked through the now-demolished gatehouse and entered the inner keep. He had a shoota', choppa' and some of his battle brew, but he was still a bit afraid. He walked downwards, thanks to the incredible invention that are stairs, and stopped before a large purple door. He knocked and it fell down.
"Oy, dese Chaos boys shud meik deir dorrzez orky-proof."
When he entered the chamber, he looked to the right... and then upwards, his jaw on the ground.
******
And the terrible Hive Fleet Haxxor flew through the Warp. Tzeentch and the rest threw daemons at it, but the horde could not be stopped. They followed the directives of the Hive Mind without question... well, almost.
For there was one little critter who didn't want to have anything to do with war. He just wanted someone to play with.
*******
DO NOT STOP READING YET
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