Hi. My name is Bob. At least, I think it's Bob. I've been calling myself that ever since I died. It's weird, you know, the shit you remember from being alive. I'm pretty sure I was a salvager, or maybe a politician, or a slave. No idea, actually. But, I do have all these memories of having normal hands and a normal beard. And I even knew what "normal" was! But now, I'm something different. And that's okay.
My name is Bob, and I'm a Chaos Fury, one of the shittiest daemons that you can be. My first time I became aware as myself in this new form, I was flying around the sky of some human world, summoned by a very stupid teenage psyker (I ate him because I was confused). But hey, I get to exist, so I'm alright by that. So, right now, I'm looking at my reflection in the mirror on some shithole daemon world in the DumbFuck Sector. Man, I'm ugly. I'm pretty sure I died a virgin, and now I have no dick. I looked at the empty space between my legs where my genitals would be. That's enough to make anyone furious, but I don't really give a fuck anymore. This is my afterlife, and there's nothing I can do about it. I get to be an ugly son of a bitch with no dick forever.
I have red skin today. My body is hunched and winged, and my face is set in a permanent sneer of hatred. I honestly don't hate that much anymore; I'm just sort of stuck looking angry constantly, so don't take it personally if you ever meet me. If anything, I'm pretty relaxed most of the time, which is why I tend to stick around when I can manifest in the Materium. I've been learning how to practice mindfulness meditation (I ate a monk awhile back), which means I'm a lot more agreeable than all the other insane assholes that get yanked into the flesh lands. I can even talk. My voice sounds like a bunch of puppies being strangled with barbed wire, but it's something at least.
"Bob! Oh Bob! Where is my fiendish little servant?"
Behind me, a champion of Slaanesh with at least ten eyes on his head and many sets of indeterminate genitalia called out my name. My summoner's name was Rowsdower, and he was a real mindwreck of a trainfuck. I sensed him walking toward me, and I turned around. His emotions stunk and so did his body. Was that... cologne? Why was he wearing that? This guy was a mess. He summoned me a few days ago, and I've just been hanging around washing his dishes and shit. He's been calling me his "pet", and I hope I'm not reading into it too much. He gave me a spanking when I didn't polish his silverware perfectly, and I swear to gods, he cursed those forks to stay dirty so he'd have an excuse to paddle my butt. Fucking weirdo.
"Bob? Ah, there you are!" Rowsdower said, slinking greasily toward me down a hallway made of rock candy and gingerbread. This champion's house was usually made of edible things, but it changed every day at midnight. Yesterday, it was made entirely of roasted grox and taters. This weird Chaos food house was actually kind of interesting, but I deigned not to snack on today's sweeter walls. I'm watching my girlish figure.
"What is it, bro?" I ask, scratching my head like an ape. I have convinced my current master that me calling him, "bro" is a term of respect. I like pulling a giggle when I can. Eternity is a long time.
Rowsdower walked into the gingerbread room, leaned down, and licked my bald red daemon head in some kind of weird Slaanesh greeting. I turned around to see what sort of crazy monstrosity he's made himself into today. Currently, instead of the normal ten eyes (some were typically insectoid or fish), he only had two, and these were large, blue, and resembled a doll's eyes. They were too big for his skull, which had been slightly elongated and covered with tiny scarified hearts. His hair was long, bright red, and looked really artificial as it peered out from under his comically white large top hat. He topped this look off with a white frilly robe with lace cuffs and a phallic pimp cane made out of gold, which he gently tapped against the mirror. "So, what does the Warp whisper, my little pet? Are the currents favorable for a summoning yet?"
I turned back to the mirror. All I could see was my ugly mug, and not the currents of the Warp. I usually just lied to this mortal about being able to scry favorable Warp currents in the mirror. The ritual he used to bring me here had a few errors, so I could lie to him if I wanted. No skin off my daemonic back if this guy ended up as a Keeper of Secrets' dildo.
"Uh, looks like good daemon weather today, bro. You need me for anything?"
"No, Bob. If you wish to fly into the local slave village and cull your thirst for mortal souls, you may. I'm having a date over later, and she's perfection incarnate! Aside from the Perfect Prince that I adore, of course! If all goes well, I'm planning on summoning a daemonette for our... pleasures." Rowsdower glowed with happiness and horniness; I was glad that I always wore this sneer because I would've made a face at hearing him say that creepy shit.
"You want me back at a certain time?" I asked him.
"I command you to return after all children within a fifty mile radius transfigure into toys, but before they resurrect to feed. So, about a day from now. Don't let that slip to any of the new acquisitions, Bob. We don't want a repeat from the last toy war."
"No problemo, bro," I responded. I twisted my fingers into an "okay" symbol.
I opened the door to the cozy Chaos food cottage I was in, and observed my wacky daemon world surroundings. While I was a daemon now, I used to be a human, and I actually retained some memories of what normalcy was like. It wasn't this.
Today, a carpet of lime green grass rolled screamingly across the ground, and cartoon parodies of woodland creatures frolicked and sang joyously around me. I supposed that Rowsdower's happy mood had altered the local landscape again. I spread my batlike wings, and with a few wingbeats, I was airborne. Time to find some breakfast.
Clouds made up of lollipops and butterflies gave way to clouds of airy ectoplasmic seminal fluid and gallbladder bile as I soared away from my master's house. As weird and as fucked up as my master's tastes were, I hated the rest of this daemon world even more. I wasn't actually flying to the local mortal village this afternoon, and changed my course to the Desert of Spooky Bones or the Desert of Evil Skulls or whatever dumb bullshit they called it now. I liked watching the local possessed humans have dirt bike races there. Since the mortal racers were often pretty squishy, I could dive by and scoop up a soul here and there when they crashed before any of the big boy daemons noticed. And it was just fun. When I wasn't eating the souls of the losers, I was cheering on the winners as they blasted down the desert in speeds that weren't possible in any normal Materium world with an atmosphere.
I liked all the cheering, and the social atmosphere. It was pretty great. Along with a few other Furies like me, there were less crowds in the air, seeing as how most of the spectators didn't have wings. Most people and daemons had to watch the races on the ground on the benches, but the air was much less crowded, so I hung out up there. Sometimes, giant Nurgle fly daemons would give me problems, but they were pretty stupid, so I could just throw a femur and tell them to fetch and they would go away. I could even fake throwing things and they would fall for it, and that was pretty funny. Most flying daemons were stupid, including other furies, which were also mostly insane and just screamed constantly. Sometimes, this one creepy Lord of Change would show up flying around in a trench coat and saying he was wearing a "disguise" and that he was "undercover". For what reason, I had no idea. That guy was always in his own little world, and since he could remove my skin just by thinking about it, I just nodded and smiled (or sneered, since that's the only expression I can make) until whoever he was betting on won, and he flew away. His name was long and weird too, like, Jet-Fuel-Can't-Melt-Steel-Beams-But-I-Can.
The afternoon skies began to clear as I flew closer to the track. It smelled like urine and feces out here tonight, which meant that the Nurgle daemonhosts were probably out and racing. Not cool, I groaned. Not fun. Nurgle racers were the worst. They stank like shit and were always gross. No one liked them. As I got closer to the venue, I saw that instead of fun dirt bike racers by Chaos Undivided human worshippers, there were two giant daemon maggots with two plaguebearer daemons in bikinis riding atop them on toenail saddles. Ugh, no thanks. I began to circle above the track, seeing if there were any of my pals around. Maybe this was just the first act?
"Hey, Bob!" another Chaos Fury called out to me from above.
"Joe!" I screamed out happily. I flew over to him as he also circled around. I screamed angrily in a friendly daemonic greeting. Joe was like me, but instead of bright red, he was bright blue. He wore a permanent expression of angry surprise, and was also special in that he could talk. He said he was an old woman once, or a cat. He wasn't sure, but I didn't judge. Joe was a good guy, and that's what counted. We were friends, and sometimes we went hunting together.
"Hey, Bob. How's tricks? You staying around this shitshow?" Joe pointed down.
"This the only act? No other contestants?" I asked, hovering a good distance above so we weren't heard. The bleachers were only half full, and most of the crowd was made up of more plaguebearers, some of whom were wearing sporty jerseys to support their racers. They had made this into some Nurgle social event, I guessed. Some daemonettes and other lesser daemons sat gossiping, but they didn't look too invested in the event. When I looked at the racers again, I saw one of the giant maggot mounts vent its daemonic bowels, producing a pool of foul yellow liquid that I could actually smell from up here. Of course, the disgusting creature began leaping and wallowing in its own filth with its plaguebearer rider. This action splattered the mess on to the few daemonette spectators currently in attendance, who screamed and hissed in anger. I turned away. I hated Nurgle daemons.
"'Fraid so," Joe replied. "I got a look at the roster for tonight. It's pus bags all the way down."
I screamed in daemonic frustration at this. "Look, I need more souls, dude. I don't want to go to the Village again. That place is stale city!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know it. I know," Joe agreed. "So listen Bob, I got this flier from Jet-Fuel-Can't-Melt-Steel-Beams-But-I-Can. He was here earlier, and he said that we should join him if this place was lame. He says that this mortal party is real hardcore, real serious. Lots of souls. Lots of mortals!"
Joe held a long piece of paper with angry runes on it. I could make out Jet-Fuel's angry paranoid writing. That greater daemon hadn't hurt us yet, but he was a Tzeentchian greater daemon, and they were all fucking psychos.
"A Lord of Change Party?" I asked. "Don't trust it. Nope. They'll just eat us, Joe. We're just Chaos Furies. They'll turn me into firecracker and blow me up. Come on."
"You and I both know that Jet-Fuel has no other daemon friends. The other big guys still haven't forgiven him for that terrorism he did. If he's inviting us to this thing, then its legit. I say we go. Fuck this shitshow."
I looked down at the ground, and watched as the giant maggot broke free of its trainer's hold, and went on to attack the few spectators that remained in the bleachers. I was momentarily excited for yummy mortal souls, but then I wasn't when I realized that the people were actually daemons, and didn't have yummy mortal souls. This really was just a literal shitshow, I sighed dejectedly, watching the giant maggot fling excrement everywhere as it blindly attacked whatever was nearby.
"Man, unlife can't get any worse, can it?" I said.
Joe shook his permanently surprised head. "Naw. Y'got that right, bro."
"Fine. You convinced me. Lead the way. I've got to be back in a day, or before the next child resurrection event. I don't want to get 'punished' by Rowsdower again, you dig?"
"I hear ya, bro," Joe said. "Follow me. We're off to this zone named "The Bronx". It sounds hardcore. Hopefully there will be some soft mortals there!".
And with that, I was off to The Bronx with my buddy. Life as a daemon was always colorful at least, and there were always new things to do.