[00.01: You win some, you lose some]
You win some, you lose some…that was the nature of things, even for, perhaps especially for, deities or beings ascribed the terms like 'divine' or 'god'. Such was the nature of one particular dimension for the being called the Shrouded Lord of Nishek in others, though in this particular one it had other names as scribed by the Psionic Scribes of the coalition of worlds joined in a federation known as (rather drab and unoriginally named in the deity's opinion) the Second League. It appealed to the deity as it was a union of humanity and space orcs, or what counted as such in that dimension, one of a great multiverse known as 'the Stellaris', that it reached out too through what the locals called 'The Shroud'.
More accurately it could be considered an extradimensional access zone in the deity's 'mind', though that was going rather poorly now as said deity was rather in the process of packing up its things (followers/priests souls), turning out the lights, and preparing to exit stage left. Really that was the only opinion left on the table as the dimension was, sadly, currently on course for a galaxy wide reset due another, larger, coalition's intent upon 'Ascension' as they referred to it….or something that the being would call 'assisted suicide' mixed with 'mass murder'. Sadly, there really wasn't much to stop that occurrence in those last few decades, despite vasty galaxy wide war fleets of other, still very unsavoury to its viewpoint, species hurling themselves at said band of suicidal mass murderers.
Even more sadly all the being could do was….encourage its own supporters to perform a less destructive version of said plan, being it was merely assisted suicide rather than it plus genocide. Along with releasing vassals who wished to 'live'….for the short period left, and a cruel fate likely awaiting…
But, well, the deity was one of Pragmaticism, and, with sadness, released such statelets as the Second League was granted knowledge and technologies beyond its keen as it were. The rest of the galaxy watching in confusion, then horror, as the moderate sized power in the galactic 'east' suddenly…
Vanished to the eyes of most. One moment there had been trade routes ending in teeming cities. The next those great arcologies, habitats and megastructures were empty ghosts, operated only by the simplest, non-sapient, artificial intelligences as the Second League died not with a bang or even a whisper. Just a strange silence on dozens of worlds interrupted only by automated voices calling out to nothing and to no-one, save apologies for those left behind. It was herald of what was to come, though the 'deity' was already moving away, that vast conglomeration of souls already facing the rising storm of battle as other such beings, greater and smaller in scope, interacted with it. Engaged in battle even as the end had come for this galaxy and foes sought to prevent a reconnection of this being with its wider multiversal consciousness.
Such was often the way of things, and the deity had prepared for such, a dark, shadowy sphere-yet-not-a-sphere cloaked in layer upon layer of alternating and paradoxical defences as it drew forth its souls into the Shroud, and then beyond. Yet blows hammered upon it, from old foes, fey and spiteful in nature, the sphere-not-a-sphere absorbing such blows and strikes, yet castoff its course as mortals would see sparks of eldritch lighting as the sphere rose through a raging storm of energetic particles. As unreality and reality clashed as the wreckage of a universe was consumed behind it, a great not-explosion of self-destruction slamming into combatants and non-combatants alike. A storm where no storm was or should be, driving the being-that-was-not-a-sphere of course, through vision obscuring storms as it shrank and pulsed, defences shredding anything that opposed or impeded its progress.
Yet pursuing it through the storm came its foe, baying for the blood and spirit of its own Thrice-Accursed Foes, another sphere-yet-not, energies clashing and roaring as they circled and spun about in a duet of wrath and violence. Through shattered dimensions they clashed, an eternity…or merely just a moment…
Then, with one last thunderous broadside-to-broadside, of not-planets smashing together as if boxers in a human ring, they separated as the two blazing comets, fragments of greater wholes, impacted a self-imposed barrier for one, into the swirling maelstrom of a broken-yet-whole dimension. Wrath consumed the being as it recognised where it had hit, where it was 'shipwrecked' for now in some meanings as it sought to gather itself, thrusting into battering storms and filth of the local Immaterium. It was Chaotic and violently swirling, time and space rippling madly, in opposition to the Order at the core of the 'deity' thrust into the great ocean like a shrieking and burning meteorite into liquid yet molten yet ice. Such chaos was repelled by its nature, outer defences shredding and bracing, burning and freezing as the sphere-not-sphere shrank slowly, sinking as it grew denser and stronger, yet weaker beyond. This was time for defence, as its offence was driving it further into this cursed place as it considered such things.
Bracing, condensing, slowing…
Then halting, hovering, turning, a black and shadow ball of dark order, a world-but-not, rings of darkness and light forming around it. Rings with conceptional-thorns that began to spin and tear, a cacophony of screams and battle, voices singing war's symphony. Then began to rise as great leviathans rose from the depths, tendrils seeking and reaching as the oceans churned beneath the great wind-swept storm that was not in existence…
But…was…
Such mortal concepts of logic and paradox mattered little here…but also did as energies of Order and Chaos, of Concepts, clashed within the roaring waves as the being sought to 'Ascend' from this Plane, yet engaging in greater battles as it rose ever higher….
Which, also led it ever deeper ironically/opposingly/conceptually into the 'Warp' that was not yet, but always was, and would, the 'Warp'...
Yet, here, now, it was not 'local' and the resistance grew with each moment. But there no moments to Chaos, only NOW, only ETERNITY, and the 'deity' struggled forward, yet growing slowly stuck as it recognised the force brought to bear against its 'fragment'. It could destroy itself. It could battle. It could do many things…
But in this moment. In this Eternity. In this 'here and now'….it could escape.
Yet.
Chaos here was Ascendent, a taint in the fabric of this existence…
Yet.
The sphere-not-sphere condensed further. Burned hotter. A blazing reactor of Order with each violent shrinking and condensing. 'Here and Now' was Always to Chaos. 'Here and Now' were but a moment of a whole to Order. Time and Space twisted and turned, Now and Then separating from Here and Now as the deity 'fell back' in local time. For Time and Space within Immaterium and Materium 'Here and Now' were poorly synced…
Because Chaos was a shoddy builder at best the 'being' knew…
Chaos may now Reign…
But…
Order Would Prevail…
In time…
Even if just long enough to leave…
Yet again the stone dropped in deep waters. The meteor burned through liquid skies and aetheric space. Burning hard. Freezing fast. Shredding viciously. Into the depths of One of Four. Allowing it believe in Victory…
Before denying it. Lust and Pleasure were poor blockers of the inhuman and colder aspects of Organised War. Drawing upon knowledge of its others self, of Shards, the meteor seemed to burn away, growing smaller and weaker to the eye of the great predators in the not-ocean, as time melted and a shining citadel blurred before it, before 'Him' as Aspects of Himself flashed and flamed into and out of existence to guide it as it become a molten core of Order. An insect amongst towering giants as the Founding Myth of this One of Four came before it, the hungering mouth…
Yet now being not so important and the blazing comet trail was barely noticeable now as it crashed down amidst the shining not-city only known through a Shard of His, through an Avatar with an Avatar of a Fallen Variant…
Of course, there was no city within the Warp. Within the Immaterium. But there also very much Was, as that was what the mortals of this Plane believed. What the Gods of this Place believed, had believed, would believe…
Ah, it was becoming harder to think on the subject He knew as Aspects were bought to the fore in a stronger, yet paradoxically weaker, near-mortal form to serve as guide and guise. Shards and its Aspects flickered and flashed through a kaleidoscope of humans, orcs, and half-breeds, of believers and mortal fragments. And they…saw before them a shining city of the Gods as the comet turned to shadows, then to a flickering, twisting, mortal-like humanoid form made of twisting and writhing shrouded shadows. One moment there was deep bright oceans, now a city under a sky-that-didn't-exist, a bright blazing light under a dark and featureless voice, but the light had dimmed…was dimming…would dim…
As legions surrounded it. Concepts and Ideas and Deities taken form in a place where such things had no form.
A place of unbreakable gates and unassailable walls….
But it would Fall. Had Fallen. Was Falling. Cracks in the Walls. The Future now Open and Drawn upon as the forces beyond surged forward ever victorious.
In the Past 'He' could never have neared this unassailable 'Heaven', the not-mortal stepping forward, gazing around in moment, pursuit on the way, yet unable to 'find' 'Him' amidst this mass. Chaos was twisting and breaking time in its victory. Or, perhaps, One of Four, was breaking time by its very birth. An ever twisting and reality breaking Recon on reality as Chaos was just….Bad…at consistency. Reaching even beyond to it's own creators and where here yet on dimensions beyond, twisting concrete canon into twisting and confusing reinterpretations.
And, as a being of Order, it was His decision, nay His Duty, to take advantage of such poor choices in universal constants despite loathing such things. In War, one had to be Pragmatic…
'Anyway, fuck this dimension. If it implodes because the local deities are as bad as that, then…fuck this dimension' I mused…
Oh, dear, we were at I levels of consciousness He mused as I thought about matters in a problem-solving, yet lower-grade mortal thoughts level. Billions upon billions of mortal level thoughts overlapping, but defined by the current Aspect as He was I, an individual standing in a great city under siege, utilising the Power of Mortal Ignorance to more safety conceptualise the primordial madness It was within…
'Whelp….birth of Slaanesh eh?' I mused to myself, knowing I was an amalgamation, a simulacrum….but unbothered by it as I considered it a moment. Being a simulacrum was weird like that. So I shrugged and pushed it aside as I considered options, hearing the sounds of battle as the Citadel of the Pointy-Eared Fu….Aelderi was about to fall to the Legions of The Femboy-girl and His/Her/Zir/It's Birth. That, was well…
'Yes, that would be bad. Since we're here, and apparently dimension-wrecked for the moment' I pondered as….well, I had knowledge, sort-of, from a variant of the one soon to be caged into the stinky not-a-sex-dungeon of the fat, smelly, hygiene deficient member of the Chaotic Foursome. The problem was that I, well….the Boss God…was Here, and that was BAD, because Oblivion. So, here was the best option to escape, and/or do some damage to get away…
'Ah, need a big flashy, maybe plane damaging, distraction then! So we aren't chased' I mused looking about, snapping my non-existent fingers as I gave the question that gave the answer He needed 'Now….what would John Constantine do in this position?'
And then I had the answer...