AN: Enjoy you filthy animals

When I think about my life so far my mind is always overwhelmed with those first moments, that fear and grief that never hit me until years later as I realized that my own mother had died so that I may live. No matter how much I try to move past that defining moment in my life I find it near impossible to truly go beyond it and what it would spell for the rest of my life.

Tragedy and suffering had defined me for the last 18 years so why should it be any different now? It wasn't and these last three months had just been the calm before the storm, I could feel it in the air now. The winds of fate were changing and they were not in my favor. Divination was of course a fickle and oftentimes uncertain art full of lies and half truths. However it was a useful form of magic for a reason and many of my Marchenfurst used it in their plans to take advantage of any and all opportunities available to them.

In the end I had caved to their calls and used it for myself, calling upon ancient fey magic that I could only half remember from the Hunters life. I was cautious of course, and used as many safeguards and power boosting rituals as I could to ensure that what I saw wasn't just a lie but in fact the truth, or as close to the truth as I could get.

In that great ritual circle, surrounded by the slowly bleeding bodies of a dozen cultists that had been sacrificed for my purposes, their lives deemed worthless in the face of potentially life changing knowledge, I saw. It was fragmented and barely visible as the mists of time and chance tried their best to cloud my sight but I saw it all the same.

Paradise. Ulanir stood resolute in the darkness of the 40th millennium and from it ships went forth, green ships, long and dazzling, made from metals strong enough to weather a thousand broadsides and armed with weapons powerful enough to sheer apart any and all enemies that stood in their way. In the place of hive cities stood an infinite forest with gargantuan world trees that housed millions of immortal, undying, beautiful Fey, and above it all I sat with a crown of wood and silver.

It was perhaps the best outcome I could have seen, a future where I stood victorious, my hunt and people remade forever more, never to be toppled. It was glorious and for a moment I truly believed it was the truth, my mind needed it to be true. The Grand Hunter and the mantle demanded it be what was to come.

So I crushed it. I destroyed that vision of the future under the weight of my will and magic, demanding the ancient and near forgotten powers that be to show what would be, not what could be. The change was instant and terrifying in its scope. The world shifted and the endless green ceased to be, the ships and armies of fey triumphant were nowhere to be seen, and the great fairy civilization that could have been ceased to be, all those children never born and never to be known.

In its place was smog, smoke, and fire. Cracked rock and volcanic ash littered the hellscape that had replaced human civilization as lava ran hot where fields of wheat, corn, and rye once swayed in the breeze. That was just the beginning of horrors that had replaced the once grand human civilization.

Daemons, Daemons roamed the earth by their hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands. Their hordes were endless and their laughter a mocking shrill imitation of a mortal woman or man's pleasure that sent my body rigid with pleasure and pain both. Above them all stood a Daemon of massive proportions, supporting the visual look of a woman and crustacean mix she was beyond beautiful.

No mortal could compare to her looks and she surpassed even a select few of my fey in her otherworldly beauty, her body was seductive and tantalizing, so much so that I had a hard time stopping myself from trying to reach through the magic and touch her, to make her mine forevermore. All my want for her, no it's body came to a grinding halt as I witnessed the atrocities it would go on to commit against the surviving humans of the world. No crime was too taboo, no sin too great for the Greater Daemon of Slaanesh.

It was sickening, beyond disgusting in every way and I would never forget the sight.

After witnessing a Daemon of Slaanesh at its worst I hoped, no, wished the vision would come to an end, but the magic had heard my will and now it would punish me for my hubris. So I saw it all, the ships that bombed the world into oblivion, the battle in the void as the forces of chaos battled against the imperium, the destruction of the Imperial flagship and her escorts, and the final retreat of the Imperium.

But the Imperial retreat was not without consequences, as the last ship sacrificed itself to deliver a cyclonic torpedo into the world's atmosphere.

The fire would haunt my dreams for years to come, the sound of a billion dying souls screaming into the warp as they were eaten by the beasts of the warp traumatized me, scarring my psyche for days to come. Even now weeks later I could still hear their dying screams in my every waking hour.

Then just as suddenly as the vision had begun it came to its end, kicking me out of the dreamlike state that I had been in and reinserting me into the world once more, not as the Grand Hunter, but my true self once more. I found myself in my bed, far away from the ritual circle I should have been in confused and wondering what all had happened.

It took a single conversation with Dyrrath for him to clear things up and inform me of what all had happened. Apparently I had been asleep for a full week under a trance as I explored the branching rivers of time. A full week I had been gone, a week during which time my Marchenfurst did not have my guidance, expertise, or help.

I feared for the worst of course, the vision still well within my mindscape, but thankfully they did just fine without my help. They continued to assault the cult at a regular pace with ever mounting success. They even had the time to make estimates for when they would break the cults lines and begin a true assault through the breakthrough, from there the fall of the cults in the spire was a confirmed thing in their minds. Especially as the souls of a million dead cultists would be enough to create an army large enough to bring the rest of the planet to heal with ease.

I took one look at their reports and timelines and threw them all out to their great surprise. My vision had taught me one thing, and one thing alone. The time for caution was over, the time for holding back and bringing war to the cult with a near debilitating caution was done with and it would never return. I ordered the reserves activated and the full might of the hunt brought to bear. 12,340 of my hunters, 4,540 of my Assassins and saboteurs, 2,300 of my Knights, and an even 500 of my Lords, 19,680 fey on the march.

For the first time in my hunt's existence in those two weeks following my change in plans and strategy it truly was wild. Cultists were ripped in half by howling winds and scorched black by sorcerous lightning, Walls were destroyed and entire squads were split in half ender the withering assault of my knights, and thousands died to the combined arms of my Jaegers and Attenaters working as one.

As I predicted the cultists' line broke, their bases were overrun, and their souls were saved to replenish our losses. It was a slaughter, there was no other way to put it, and yet despite the mounting losses and the rapid loss in territory, including that factory that they fought so hard to keep the cultists fought on.

For two straight weeks these poorly trained and equipped men and women empowered by nothing but blind faith and fanaticism held the line against my hunt, claiming hundreds of fairy lives for themselves. It was an awe inspiring sight, one that ever further affirmed my faith in humanities divine willpower and strength.

But it also burned my hopes to ash, because as they fought I could see their faith in their eventual victory grow as if they knew that their salvation was around the corner. So here I stood in the form of the Grand Hunter, it has been four weeks since the third generation's birth, three since my vision and the cultist stronghold stands before me under assault by a full army of my fey.

Six thousand besiege this monument to sin and excess and over fifty thousand defend it. Secrecy has long gone by this point, the people of the spire and likely the entire hive know what is happening here. Xeno and cultist battle for the fate of the spire, desperately trying to kill each other in hopes to control its underground, and from there likely the spire itself before long.

Heavy weapons rake the magically dug trenches, and magic lashes out in return, destroying the gun and turning its crew into still sapient mush. The cultists couldn't care less as a new gun is brought forward within minutes to replace the one that had been destroyed. It would be destroyed itself in a few minutes, but it didn't matter. The cultists had everything they had left here, every weapon and soldier still left in the spire was here, or at least everything they could pull together in time.

There were still hundreds and thousands of small outposts lurking throughout the underhive, I had the rest of my hunt searching for these and purging them. I would not have the cult destroyed only to return at a later time, or give other branches of the cult in other parts of the hive a nice foothold they could use to wage war on him.

It would all end here though, of that I was sure. Either I would destroy the cult's primary base of operations in this spire and claim it all for myself or I would fail here and all my efforts to save this world would be lost. I just had to make sure they could not summon any Daemons and I would have won, that was what would determine victory or defeat of that I was sure.

"My Lord, what are you thinking about?" Dyrraths words broke me out of my internal monologue and brought me back to the present. "Simply that which is to come. How go's the attack on the western walls? Last time they reported in, their Marchenfurst said they had broken through and were in the process of breaching the inner defenses." My words caused him to flinch slightly, Fuck.

"I'm sorry to report to my lord that the western Jagd was rebuffed before they could break the cultists' defenses, reports have begun to flood in that the cultists are seemingly throwing themselves at our forces with a fervor we've never seen before. Our mages have also reported that the fortress itself is seemingly coming alive with warp related energies, we believe the summoning is nearing its zenith." His words were like a knife to my heart, the western assault was what my hopes had been riding on, I needed them to succeed. I needed my fey to break the cult, and I needed them to do so now.

I looked at Dyrrath. I looked into his eyes and saw the trust in them, the love and loyalty that defined him. That acted as one of the primary reasons he was my second in the first place. And I knew I would have to test that love if we wished to avoid disaster. "Dyrrath." I spoke his name, with the full weight and binding of magic behind it. His eyes widened as he felt the oaths and metaphysical chains around him tighten. "I have new orders for them, for my child- no my servants." I tried my best not to cringe at the hurt on his face. I had called them my children for so long it hurt them to be called anything but.

I couldn't call them my children now though, it would be a betrayal, a sin against the very concept of love and fatherhood. "Kill them, kill every cultist inside that den of sin and excess, sacrifice your bodies if you must, your minds if needed, your lives without question. No magic is forbidden, no tactic beyond limits. Become that which you were made to be, be the wild hunt, true and in the flesh. This I command you as the Grand Hunter, your Lord and master."

He looked at me for a time as the full weight of my command took hold, forcing him and all my creations to obey before finally he spoke once more. "It will be done, let the howling winds signal our hunt once more." With that he was gone and I was left to wonder just how many I would lose in the hours to come. Hundreds most definitely, thousands likely, all of them? Not beyond belief.

In the end it didn't matter. As long as victory was mine and the heretic was crushed so that humanity might survive for but one more day then I was willing to make any sacrifice and endure any hardship. Even if that hardship was sending the only beings that would ever love me to their deaths against a fortified and fanatic enemy.

I would endure it all, suffering was second nature at this point, whether it be my own or others. I would endure another day, I would endure and make sure my mother and father's sacrifices were not for nothing.

-

Chanting filled the room. Cultists surrounded the great ritual circle as they called upon names best left forgotten to time, so profane and filled with sin they were that every syllable caused lacerations to fill the orifices of those that had spoken them. Outside they could hear the sounds of battle, screams and rifle fire, once so startling had shifted into white noise with time and those chanting went about their dark task without a care for the outside world.

The cultists would defend them to the death, the green would be repulsed, and the legions would march forth upon Ulanir, bringing it in line with their Dark gods wishes with little fanfare or difficulty.

Time passed and as the seconds ticked down the chants grew ever louder, the blood flowed, the great orgy in the middle became ever wilder, and as the zenith drew near the cultist at the head of the great circle pulled forward the final sacrifice. It was a young girl, barely fourteen at a guess, she was crying, begging for her life as her parents lost themselves in the pleasures of the flesh just a few feet away.

The cult leader paid little attention to the crying girl, more focused on speaking the foul words she had been chanting for the last five straight hours than the wreck of a person in her hands. She paid even less attention as the girls screams turned into a gurgling cry after she swiped the blood stained dagger across her throat and added it to the circle, completing the ritual.

Nothing happened for a second, the world turned silent and the moans of pleasure emanating from the great orgy in the center stopped. The screams banished the silence to the depths of the abyss, flesh ripped and tore, tentacles grew unbidden, and all those who had participated in the great ritual cultist and hedonist both were transformed into grotesque and monstrous forms, Warp spawn mutants with minds so tortured that they broke a thousand times over making them drooling husks forever more, playing things for the true children of the four.

And from the portal that had been made by the cults dark ritual the hordes came, hungry and raving.

-

I felt it, the pulse. It was a pink and debaucherous thing that left me feeling as if I was starving and stuffed, orgasmic and denied, loved and hated, all and none all in one. I banished the feeling with a simple pulse of my own magic and watched from on high as the cultists mutated before my very eyes, gained new and disgusting limbs that augmented their human form.

Not longer after the Daemons came, in their tens, and then their, hundreds, and finally their thousands. Six thousand, six hundred, and sixty six Slaaneshi daemons flooded from the deepest pits of the cultists hive, a full legion of the damned and detestable monsters.

But despite my worst fears my hunt met them and held, the line did not break even as it bent, and while the initial shock killed dozens of my hunters in the first seconds, soon enough they were fighting the Daemons like they had the cultists, with a fury and deadliness unmatched. The Wrath of the Daemon and damned met that of the Fairy, and the damned were found wanting.

They were burned, skewered, maimed, electrocuted, transformed, and destroyed. Thousands of cultists died, and hundreds of Daemons were either banished to the warp or had their very essence captured and destroyed by Fey magic.

It wasn't enough. They just kept coming, endlessly and without mercy. My hunt was powerful, very powerful, but against the onslaught of a full legion of Slaaneshi Daemons backed up by the mutated hordes of cultists, they were not powerful enough. So I intervened.

I jumped from my position on high, with Anluan at my back and I cut a path through the hordes. Dozens died to my blade, blood ran like rivers as I slashed, and bashed, and eviscerated all in my path. Cultists tried to stop me, they fell like wheat before the scythe. Daemons tried to hold me down, my magic burned them alive as I cut their still beating neverborn hearts from their body, forced into form by my own overpowering magics, boosted by the souls of a thousand slain cultists.

Then I felt it, the first pinprick touch of a bullet grazing my cheek. It was the first, but it would not be the last as dozens of rifles fired upon me. I did my best to dodge or block them all but I was not all powerful and soon enough I was on the defense myself as the blade of Daemons and the bullets of cultists called for my life.

I did not retreat, retreat was not an option. Either I destroyed the portal to the warp the Damned had opened or this world would fall and Chaos would gain yet another foothold in the material world. So I pushed, even as the blood poured from my wounds, even when I lost three of my fingers to the cut of a Daemonettes bladed tentacle, even when an eye was blinded I pushed through, killing all in my path as my hunt followed behind me.

Just like that we pushed through like a great spear stabbing into an elk's heart we destroyed the line that the Daemons and Damned had worked so hard to keep intact and broke through in to the inner chamber of the cult. It was dark, and dank, and it smelled of drying blood and other fluids.

My Jaegers and Attenaters had long been lost to the hordes trying their best to keep a corridor through which the rest of my army could pour through, and my Marchenfurst had stayed behind with them, they would stand and fight with their troops even if it was the last thing they did. That left me with my Ritters, or what few of them remained, and Anluan. Dyrrath had been lost in the Melee, I could only hope he still lived.

"So you are the so-called green yes~? I will admit you are meeting all my expectations~" In the center of the chamber the Greater Daemon of my vision stood, though smaller and slightly less beautiful. The consumption of a hundred billion souls must have strengthened it, not a great surprise. The fact it knew of me was far more concerning. "How do you know of me Daemon, you should have no knowledge of my existence, I know I have no presence in the foul depths of the warp."

It's eye's widened slightly at my words, before a smile graced its lips. "You don't even realize you do it do you? You cannot feel your own pulsing power as it spreads out across this world, claiming more and more of it for your own narrative can you~? Oh you poor poor soul its a wonder you've made it as far as you have, looking at you now I can see the scar that you bear, let me hold you~" Blades extend from the things arms as its smile becomes lustful and its eyes full of need.

I don't acknowledge its words. A Daemons mutterings are to never be taken seriously or at face value lest the mind be tricked and the soul lost. That was a lesson far too many had never learned, and I would not be one of them. Instead I attacked, my Ritters not far behind holding off the waves of Daemons that rushed to kill me and defend their connection to the Materium.

The Daemon met me halfway, its blade clashing with my spear. Screams rang out through the air as the soul that comprised its make up screamed in agony, awoken from its fragmented slumber. "You've made a weapon from the soul of a tortured mortal?~" Its laugh rang out through the chamber even as we continued to clash. "Truly you are unique~ Oh yes I will keep you for myself, I can't let one such as you go to waste with my sisters."

I ignored the Daemon, desperately fighting against the exhaustion and fatigue that came from fighting against the hordes, along with the various wounds that littered my body and diminished my imperious form. I dodged the scything blades, countered her ramming charge, and counter attacked whenever the opportunity came to me.

And for my efforts I sported a thousand new cuts from where its blades had proven to be faster than my own, while it only carried three slowly healing wounds along its breasts as obnoxious as they were and a non-healing wound along its eye that had destroyed the organ. I was breathing heavily, I could feel my body trying and failing to keep itself together even as my magic worked desperately to save my life. I was woozy and rapidly losing the ability to stand, and I never saw the blade as it entered my body and impaled me. "What a shame~ and here I thought you were some kind of warrior or hunter~ It seems I was wrong my little plaything~" As the Daemons words faded into the background I felt it, the cool touch of death and I knew what was to come.

I would not die here, I refused. I REFUSED TO DIE!

HOST CONTRACT CONDITIONS FULFILLED

HOST CONTRACT CONDITIONS EXCEEDED

WE ARE PLEASED

HOST HAS RECEIVED TWO BOONS

….

ABILITY [ENTROPIC KISS] GRANTED

[FEY FORM] RECEIVES BOON OF ENHANCEMENT

CONGRATULATIONS HOST!

HAVE FUN AND WE HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON!

My eyes snapped open once more and power flowed through me. Death had not claimed me and it would not ever again. I would be sure of that, but first I had to kill this Daemon, and I had the perfect way to do so. What better way to seal fate than a kiss after all?