Fiction: "Khorne will do..."
by Commissar Sonata Form

      Lord-Captain Corvan could have been any human naval officer. He wore a neat, black uniform with a tasteful sash. Though slightly pale, his face was well-chiseled with high cheekbones. He also wore a neat beard, which matched his unnaturally red hair. Overall, Corvan was a very attractive young person. One would never guess to look at the man that Captain Corvan was in fact a 500 year old follower of Chaos.

      The Captain had been blessed by his lord patron, the Keeper of Secrets, Slannesh. Corvan did not have the vile mutations and the puss-spilling nodules of his Nurgle following comrades. His only abnormalities were a paler than ususal complextion and a pair of fangs which were noticably pronounced for a human. Corvan had been granted youth, and an unnatural attractiveness. It was for these things which Lord-Captain Corvan had sold his soul to Chaos so many years ago.

      The bridge of his Hades-class heavy cruiser, the Impregnator, made it easy to tell which God Corvan followed. If it were Nurgle, there would be pustoules spurting putresence everywhere. If it were Khorne, the walls would be stained with blood and adorned with trophies. If it were Tzeentch, lines of perspective would shift in strange ways. This bridge was decorated with sensual extravagances of all types, centering around the throne-like structure of the captain's chair. It was surrounded with silk pillows, and beside it two scantily clad woman-daemonette creatures were chained by collar.

      Lord-Captain Corvan looked at the surveyor screens: the Eldar fleet was closing quickly, as usual. His own fleet, displayed as red triangles opposing the silver-blue of the Eldar, was closing the gap as well. About the bridge, a strange buzz of energy could be felt. Aboard many of his ships, thousands of fanatic followers were chanting, calling for the gods of Chaos to aid them in this most glorious slaughter. Little did many of them know, that the price of assistance of this magnitude would be a sacrifice. A great sacrifice.

      Behind Corvan, one of the lower-ranking traitor tech-priests began wailing, screaming of how they were all doomed. The priest then fell to his knees, begging forgiveness from the Emperor of Mankind. Corvan did not twitch or even turn to see which of the foolish priests was squalling. The Lord-Captain merely raised a hand curtly. Behind, one of the Noise Marines which comprised the captain's personal bodyguard fired his sonic blaster at the sobbing tech-priest. Loud as the weapon sounded, the true power of the screeching discord was in fact very well-directed, and shattered every bone in the man's body instantly.

      Something had changed, that one death had made a difference. The two daemonettes chained to the captain's chair slowly rose to their feet. One walked towards the captain and caressed his chest with her hands (a rare appendage for a daemonette to have one of, much less two). She spoke close to his ear in an unearthly voice which was both that of a throaty young woman and that of grotesque serpent:

      "Something comes, master..."

      "It is not far now..." said the second daemonette, approaching from behind.

      The captain nodded, "A prudent notice, considering that our Eldar friends are almost within firing range. I have no doubt that they intend to have their revenge on us for the pleasure which Lord-Lady Slannesh took in the genocide of their foolish race."

      There was one thing which Captain Corvan appreciated about the Eldar, their name for Slannesh: "She who Thirsts". He liked that, everything else Eldar he hated. He focused that hate as he stared towards the surveyor screens. He thought about their arrogance and their annoying slipperyness... and how he wished he could kill every last one of them and fill a fountain with their blood.

      As if cued by his violent thoughts, a sudden spark of energy coursed through the air. Like an unheard shriek, the feeling crescendoed to a climax. A few hundred kilometers off his own ship's starboard bow, the Carnage class cruiser Hedonist imploded spectacularly. The daemonettes beside Corvan gasped in ecstasy and fell to their knees beside him. Corvan himself struggled to maintain his captain's composure, feeling the waves of pleasure and pain flow into him as Slannesh consumed the souls of the dying crew. When he opened his eyes, he could see a bestial form where the Hedonist had been a moment before.

      But it was not Slannesh.

      The great, boar-like form of a Khornate beast floated there in the void, wielding a morning star larger than one of the Infidel Raiders nearby. Even though it was not his own patron, Captain Corvan felt infused with power. Khorne and Slannesh both whispered in his mind, calling for blood. Corvan let go and threw his fists in the air as he shouted:

      "Blood for the Blood God!"

      The crew echoed his cry, and the two fleets began to engage each other, the followers of Chaos fully infused with its power.

      Yes, thought Corvan, Khonre would do nicely.

Battlefleet Gothic, Warhammer 40K, Fanatic Games, and all other registered marks herementioned are property of Games Workshop Ltd. All Warhammer 40K universe characters, images, and related marks on this and all linked pages are the property of their respective owners. Blackstone Six fully supports the Intellectual Property Policy published by Games Workshop. This site and all affiliated materials are in no way, shape, or form associated with Games-Workshop Ltd. or any of it's affiliates. Blackstone Six is for non-commercial purposes only. Any misuse of copyrighted materials is purely accidental.

Site idea, layout, design, programming and original images are the property of Outpost 10F and it's affiliates. No part of this site may be duplicated or copied without the explicit permission of Outpost 10F and Blackstone Six. Blackstone Fortress image rendered by Commissar Sonata Form. All HTML layouts and javascripts © Blackstone Six. Site founded by Commissar Sonata Form and Lord Admiral Acoron in July of 2001.
© Outpost 10F ( 1997 - 2001. All rights reserved.