"Regular Talk"
"Inner Thoughts"
"Demon, Dragon, Thu'um, or Boss Talk"
Outside of OCs, I do not own Skyrim or Warhammer Fantasy; they belong to Bethesda and Game Workshop.
The immaterium trembled... no, it violently convulsed and twisted in on itself. The "air" had become heavier, and the immeasurable force of the new entity being born branched out from the epic center, and so did the damage as it rolled out across the chaos realm.
In the distant realm of the Arch Deceiver, the shifting iridescent crystalline plateau fractured, with jagged cracks appearing all over the mind-shattering lands. Even the ever-shifting crystal maze, which was always in constant motion, was breaking down. The chaotic light that showed from every angle and corner went dark. The residents of the maze, both mortals and immortals, wallow in fear and delight at the sudden change brought before them.
The ever-imposing, confounding towers of magic and change crumbled like a poorly built house of sticks. Preternatural fires spewed from the cracks, consuming all in the surrounding area and filling the surrounding chaos with myriad rainbow-colored fires, causing random effects upon the surroundings, some benign and some dangerous.
The horrors, both big and small, jump in joy and ignorance as they perceive the sudden change as the will of the Architect. While the oldest and most deceptive of the Lords of Change, question if this was meant to be.
Even the Arch Deceiver was baffled... surprised?
No furious... NO SADDENED!?
No confused... ENRAGED...
DelIgHTed...twisted...
Amused...INTRIGUED
But the damage did not end there, for, on the border of the Changer's lands, the ripple effect manages to reach the crimson and black titanic wall of the outer realm of carnage and rage. The earthquakes slipped into the fiery realm, cracking and destroying a portion of the Bastion Star. Those chunks of debris fell and crushed the lesser daemons of Khorne, causing confusion and rage to well up inside the Bastion's guardian. Beyond the wall, the force was destroying and creating new volcanoes in random locations. The already active volcanoes seem to increase in both intensity and activity.
Devastating the numerous battlegrounds and forge sites in the Blood god's domain. The arid plains were filled with warriors and demons battling in neverending wars, dragged below by the forming cracks, or crushed by unfathomable force. Further, the cracks grew into the Blood god's realm, reaching even the Brass god's throne of demented brass and bloodied skulls. For that, the Blood god raged at this unprecedented assault and insulted him and his realm.
The effects of tremors were felt in the distant pestilence-filled garden of the Plague god himself. The ripples caused the toxic, black swamps to sink into the ground, uprooted the twisted, rotten trees, and covered them with blighted leaves.
The Infamous Blighted Mansions of Misery and Mirth shifted and rolled with each mighty ripple of the "ground," causing the rotted timbers and broken walls to cave in on themselves finally.
Beasts of plagues and despair stumbled and fell, and greater and lesser demons froze and panicked in fear as the usually stagnate realm underwent a significant change. Even the dreadful Grandfather of death and perverted rebirth was stuck between shock and rage as his domain was under siege by an unknown power. Nurgle's realms have been breached and devastated for the first time in eons.
But the Plague Father was not alone; much like his brothers before him, his latest sibling would also experience devastating changes.
All six levels of pain and pleasure felt the brunt of the transcendent roar, damaging the whole of the Chaos realms. Each group undergoes catastrophic events, the first realm sinking in on itself, all of the precious metals and stones cracking and sinking into the metaphysical land that held it. The second realm, the circle of Gluttony, experienced tsunamis and whirlpools, the bodies of the unfortunate trapped there rising forth and being thrown to other domains. The illusions of beauty and pride are dispelled in the third and fourth realms, and the cries of desire and joy are replaced with confusion and terror.
The inhabitants of these vile and debauch lands died in throes as each domain caved in on itself. The screams of pleasure and pain turn to screams of terror and fear.
The powerful force rampage throughout, shaking the foundation of the Dark Prince's pleasure palaces, leading to many orgies of pain and pleasure to be crushed and buried alive. Many of the lesser and greater demons were destroyed by the great power in the ruins of the Pleasure Palace. Those still sane and imprisoned in the Dark Prince's hedonist palace ran free of their tormenters while others waited for their tormentors to return.
Standing in the ruins of their realm, The Despoiler unleashed a guttural and warped-infused scream that promised an eternity of pain and torment.
The Chaos gods were not the only ones to feel the destructive force of the world-shattering roar. Even the gods of order and destruction felt the disturbance unleashed within the realms of souls.
Few of the young upstart human gods could comprehend what was happening. Amongst these few were the gods of the first human civilization.
Within the domain of the Nehkhara gods stood a magnificent white and gold pyramid surrounded by what one could only consider an oasis of paradise. Inside the superb pyramid stood several divine beings, some with human forms and others with human bodies and the heads of animals. And as the celestial energy waves splash over them, they all turn toward the Head god, Ptra.
Whose skin shone like a ray of a thousand suns, dressed in yellow robes interwoven with gold threads and golden bracelets. On his exposed chest was a polished golden solar disk with hieroglyphs engraved. His eyes seemed to contain all the stars of the firmament. Unmoved by the power that shook his domain, he found that there may be a new player in the battle for the souls of mortals.
Among the northern humans' gods were the two strongest that felt the pressure of divine power: the winter god of war, Ulric, and the bear god, Ursun. They barely acknowledge the great power in favor of focusing on their followers, for they must be protected from the ruinous powers. And if this new power proves to be a threat to their people, then it will be dealt with.
In the southern part of the old world, the ancient god Morr sits upon his throne in the realm of dreams with his daughters, Myrmidia, the war goddess, and Shallya, the goddesses of mercy and healing, flanking either side of him. Feeling the rippling effects of the newborn entity wash over him, he gave a contemplative look at the world's future.
This new being will bring a new form of war and destruction that both old and new worlds have ever seen.
But just maybe... He leans forward in his seat and watches the entity sail through the sky like a burning arrow seeking its target, reaching his skeletal hand as if to touch it. Maybe this god will be the answer to all of their woes.
"KraaKraaaa." A shrill and piercing sound echoes, startling the young southern goddesses and causing the older death god to pause. His eldest daughter took a defensive stance near him, and his youngest withdrew nearer to him but kept her guard up.
Peering out into the great darkness, the carrier of souls saw the hunched figure of an older woman standing and peering back at him. From the shadowy hood over her head, a crow sitting on her shoulder, he knew who it was. It seems that FATE had a different plan for this new being. Pulling back his hand, he allowed the falling entity to continue. While he would not interfere in the being's fate, for now, he would still keep a close eye on this new opportunity.
Beyond the borders of the human gods' realms, deep within the realm of souls. A new plane comes into view from the depths of a savage and brutal mind; this realm was barren, rugged, and devasted from senseless fighting. Only gods of destruction could find this immaterial plane perfect and call it home.
And within this primitive domain, the echoes of fighting and sounds of clubbing could be heard for miles. For this is the realm of the twin Greenskin gods, Gork and Mork, two giant Orks are bashing each other with various weapons and tools. Both laughing and roaring in anger in equal measures, as the thrill of the fighting filled their mind.
As both gods reeled back their weapons, a club, and a large boulder, they paused mid-fight as they felt the waves of spiritual pressure roll over them. Once the ripples ended, the two war gods looked at one another with dumbfound faces. Without saying a word, Mork smashed his club over the distracted twin; angered at the sneak attack, Gork retaliated with his club attack. And with that, the twin war gods' eternal struggle resumes, with each smashing their respective clubs over the other's heads.
Even the great Cadai and terrifying Cytharai felt the surge of power rolling throughout the realm of souls. The mighty Asuryan sat unmoved and with a stoic face while the rest of divine kin scrambled amongst themselves. This new power was just another ember that he or the dark pantheon would snuff out.
...though for some reason, this power vaguely reminds him of his old friend.
Opposite the ethereal Elven heaven, in the Mirai, also known as the Black Pit, dwelled the Cytharai, the less beloved elven gods but equally respected/feared.
And deep within the pit, sitting on a throne made of bones and ebony stone, sat the Pale Queen, ruler of the Black Pit and spurn lover of Asuryan himself. Her lifeless eyes shine with the reflection of the flaming fallen star. Her mind races with possibilities of ways to overthrow her enemies. While she was not the only Cytharai to notice new power, she was alone in her interest in the new entity. For within the pit was Khaine glared dispassionately at this new power, his domain shaking from the reverberation of the new entity's existence and the forging of new weapons by Vaul. And as far as he was concerned, this being was simply another kill to claim.
Outside the realm of Cadai and the Cytharai stood a single figure cloaked in a black shroud; the only thing showing was its withered and ancient face, which resembled a female elve. And on her shoulder sat a crow that whispered the world's truths and secrets.
"As usual, the Cadai and the Cytharai fools could only focus on their narrow understandings of fate. Not realizing this new spark will become a mighty inferno if fed correctly." Her words flowed like water, her voice filled with youth and power, belaying her physical form. She raises her arm and, with a twist of her wrist, partially adjusts the angle of the falling celestial. From there, it will be up to the mortal beings to appreciate and mold her gift.
~~~(D)~~~
Even the material world felt the ramifications of the magically enhanced roar penetrating their realm, unleashing its devasting effects upon them. A bright light burst into existence, blinding all who saw it. And from this explosion came a massive object burrowing through the night sky, streaks of white-tinged blue flames following its path. While the meteoritic thing blazes through the sky,
Children everywhere awoke in terror, their dreams filled with the image of a dark and dreadful dragon coming to feast on their souls.
Animals of all sizes and intelligence felt the suppressive force of fear beating in their hearts as the roar of an apex predator made itself known. Even the sleeping dragons stirred in eternal sleep, some shifting around to others flat out rising from the dark, frozen waste of the North.
In the far east, in the lands that will one day be known as Grand Cathay, two draconic beings with long, wingless serpentine bodies twisted and twirled in the air as they reacted to the sudden cry of a mighty dragon, coupled with the sight of the falling celestial body from the skies.
Their instincts felt the pull to answer the call of a fellow kin...no of equal, of a rival. It was their iron-clad will that stayed their instinctual desire to challenge this new entity. This power was new, it was dangerous, and most importantly, it was unexpected. The two flew back to the ground and reverted to their human form. As they cast their gazes upon their mortal followers and their children, they watch as the literal building blocks that would create an impregnable defense to safeguard them from coming predations of chaos.
Deep within the World's Edge Mountains, the force of the mighty thu'um reverberates throughout the realms of the strong dwarves and their ancestor gods. The young race of dwarves braces themselves within their holds as the ferocious Gimnir stands vigilante; his battle axes are readied and hungry for blood. Valaya, the mother of the young race, spoke soothing and encouraging words to settle their fears, and Grungni, the mighty father of the dwarves and lord of the mines and stone.
The dwarves' ancestor gods stood as rigid and immovable as the stone beneath and above them. Unmoved by the unrelenting force that shook their current home, they stood in defiance.
On the opposite end of the world, in the large, tropical continent of Lustria. The ancient and mysterious race of the Lizardmen gathered at the foot of their majestic temples, with each step made up of precious minerals and metals that shine with an unmatched luster.
Surrounding this massive temple were hundreds of thousands of scale skin beings, ranging in size and roles. All focus on preparing for the next assault from the Archenemy.
And at the top of the stairs, guarded by four massive temple guards, each with their color variation of scales, a gigantic shield in one hand, and an equally imposing club. Further within the temple sat one of, if not the most powerful of the Slann, Lord Kroak. While fortifying the land left to them by the Old Ones, he flinched under the impact of the physical and spiritual roar that shook the material and immaterial worlds.
Turning his mystical, blue fame eyes to the sky, he witnesses the birth of new power.
Across the chaotic, monster-filled ocean and between the old and new world sat the ancient Isle of Ulthuan, the ancestral home of elves. And much like the rest of the material world, the luminosity of the flaming white comet was especially blinding.
For many, this fallen celestial object was an ill omen, a message signaling the returns of the hated enemy and the end of them all. For others, it was a miracle, a sign of good fortune, and a continuance of a Great Plan.
~~~(D)~~~
As night turned to day, the air was abuzz with power, and the winds of magic seemed to twist and coil as the falling meteor arced its way down toward the elven land of Ulthawen. Specifically the home of the Dragons and those who one day claim to be their riders. The blazing meteor soared downwards into the dragon's spine, destroying all its path before finally hitting the ground with a massive explosion. The impact shook the whole of Ulthawen, leading many to believe that the great Sunderer had unleashed his rage upon them.
However, those blessed with magic and strong will could see through the magical and physical backlash of the earthquake. That is where Caldor excels beyond his peers. The famous Dragontamer of Uthawen was hailed as one of the greatest mages in history and a friend to the future Phoenix King. Before the great quake and falling star, the powerful mage was in deep meditation, casting his eyes and soul outward toward the stars and the future. The foul neverborn had pushed them back, and they needed a way to prevent the fall of his people. As such he had been meditating and preparing a new strategy for the next clash with the Demons of the chaos; he felt the shift in winds of magic.
It felt like something had sucked all the air out of his lungs. It submerged him in a bottomless pool of water, followed by an ear-piercing and soul-shattering roar. Had he been anyone else, he was sure he would have lost his sense of self, but one only rises to his status by always being prepared and having a strong will. Bracing himself as he leaned backward in his sitting position, he was able to calm his mind and steady his breathing.
He took notice of a bright light soaring across the open windows of his room. Dashing to the window, he watched a giant fireball-like object sail through the skies, burning the ozone before crashing down on the edge of Dragonspine Mountain.
"By Asur's throne!"
Author Note:
What's up, everyone? It's been a hot minute since the first chapter, but I'm back and better than ever. There are a few things I want to go over and clear up.
1. While I didn't cover all of the different gods in Warhammer in great detail, they will play a more significant role in this world than they initially do in the games.
2. If you haven't figured it out already, this story will start around the beginning of the Warhammer fantasy, specifically after the old ones left and the gods of chaos run rampant.
3. I will be jumping around the timeline, so don't worry, it won't be overly long.
4. I don't like how this ended, to much...Might change later, for now enjoy.