Inspired by Christianoso's Omake The Killjoy
Also takes inspiration from the Warlords of Draenor cinematic.
Times Change
In the everchanging, inconsistent void of the Warp, a new player had entered the Great Game…. Or so the other players thought. In fact, he had come to the God's domain and approached their great game table for one purpose.
He flipped the board.
In an instant, everything changed. The Chaos deities lost billions- no, trillions of followers. They felt it within themselves as those who worshipped them were either cut off or silenced forever.
Khorne, in his eternal domain of war, raged. He lashed out against any lesser daemon before him, but he and his Bloodthirsters both noticed the way his fire burned just that little bit dimmer, how skulls took more effort to crush, and blood was spilt no more.
Tzeentch, in his maddening domain of eternal change, feared the future for the first time in his psychic life. Avian Lords of Change fled before him as he warped and shifted his territory in the search for knowledge on this new foe. Yet all of them noticed the way the Immaterium seemed to react more slowly to his demands. How he seemed just that bit more slower, how his magic seemed to become just that little bit weaker.
Nurgle, in his garden of eternal death and disease, groaned into one of his seven cauldrons. The Grandfather sought to retaliate against this strike against him by unleashing his greatest plagues of all. His Great Unclean Ones sat before him like children before a storyteller, awaiting the climax of their Grandfather's tale. But each and every one of them noticed how their lord seemed… lesser. The flies and worms that spewed forth at his feet died just as quickly as they formed… but did not reform into even greater monstrosities. The churning of the cauldrons was quieter and their fumes were less virulent. In her cage, Isha noticed how the bars of her prison… weakened?
Slaanesh, in hir eternal domain of pleasure and pain, panicked. All across the Six Rings of Seduction could hear the moans and screams of their ruler as they mobilized their cults and immeasurable wealth in a futile effort to counter the new player. But all noticed just as well how hir great excesses of wealth and pleasure seemed… lesser. Rivers of gold stopped flowing as well, feasts were consumed too quickly, and pleasure and pain became more muddied in the plane of excess.
In the end, all their efforts were futile. Tide had stolen away their bases of power.
When it was over, the only one left was Tzeentch. He laid against the last figments of his throne, fearfully watching as the Tide squirmed, crawled, and scrambled towards him. It gazed at him with countless eyes upon stalks and in sockets, and he knew that he was dealing with a threat greater than the Anathema.
"This was not our destiny…", he weakly tried to rebel against the amalgamation of life.
The Tide seemed to… smirk with the way its many eyes tilted. "Times change."
The irony was not lost on Tzeentch even as he was thrown before the meta-physical feet of Isha. As her spear lodged itself in his chest, the Architect of Fate could only react with a confused smile on his face.
As the last of the Chaos deities fell, Tide turned to his followers.
"THE REIGN OF CHAOS IS OVER!"
Note: I'm sorry if this seems cheesy, short, unnecessary, and unpolished. This is my first attempt at... whatever this was. I read Christianoso's omake and immediately thought of the Draenor cinematic. I decided to try and put it into words. I'll probably look back on this later and cringe, bit oh well.