Chaos undivided is for fags

Put your helmet back on.

...

Stay mad faggit

If he's called Roboute Girlyman, why's he not a trap?

I just want a good new WH40k game.

You will suck down Matt Ward's cock and enjoy it!

(checked)

I refuse.

no, you can't make me

my sons a perfectly fine, i don't know why you refuse them

leave, spawn of slaanesh

Kill yourself.

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wew

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Is this the new leddit spacing?

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No, that's a pretty old and reliable way to spot a cancer ridden insult to proper faggotry.

Here we go

Only because you asked nicely.

>Giving money to (((Games Workshop)))

don't billy my onii-chan

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At least post some traps to be even remotely accepted around here, homogayfag.

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Following Malal helps all non-Chaos entities fam.

Posting traps helps all non-Chaos entitites too :>)

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But traps are pure

Totally.

Theres heresy and then theres just plain stupidity

Warhammer is fucking stupid. Chaos is not only pandemonium, it is not only discordian, it is not only destructive and it is by no means entirely evil. It is everything and nothing together and strewn apart, torn and whole.

Shut up, Magnus

Confirmed secondary completely ignorant of the lore. Chaos is not just, "evil" in the lore, and it is by far not the only enemy.

Choas in Theory made emotions. All emotions, so it is not pure evil. It is just that the writters forget this and made them 100% destilated evil.

Okay let me break this shit down for you since you seem to want to speak out against shit you have no fucking clue about. "Chaos" isnt the personification chaos, but the forces within the Warp. The warp is essentially one gigantic mess of the human unconsious. While each chaos god represents both good and bad (Nurgle represents stagnation but also represents comfort, Tzeench represents change but without change there would be no progress, Slaanesh represents joy but also excess, Khorn represents anger but also honor) HOWEVER, as the human condition tends to favor the negative spectrum of these sorts of thing and every sentient being has some degree of evil in them, the demons of the unconscious are made real within the warp. Ergo, Chaos isnt INNATELY evil, however it IS still evil and must be fought and purged wherever possible otherwise the imperium will be afflicted with even more widespread death and suffering than it already has.

I don't fucking care about the lore, I've never played a single Warhammer game. It's completely and utterly incongruent with what Chaos means IRL though.

A
FUCKING
TOILET

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are you selling me a ticket to trickery town mister

nurgle a best

Magnus the nerd detected

Good God you're retarded.

Listen here you massive faggot Magnus did nothing wrong and was just trying to save the Emporer and the Imperium at large from Horus, he just gets shit because the other Primarchs wish they could be as cool and red as he is

Was getting repeating integers part of your plan?

Pretty sure most people agree that chaos is the inconceivable physical and metaphysical nothing before everything.

...

finally someone gets it.

get out you piece of shit, you're just gonna betray everyone again. you asshole.

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"… and he that went before now came last, and that which was white and black and all direction was thrown against itself. Grown mightily indignant at the words of the Gods, Malal did turn his heart against them and flee into the chambers of space… And no man looked to Malal then, save those that serve that which they hate, who smile upon their misfortune, and who bear no love save for the damned. At such times as a warrior's heart turns to Malal, all Gods of Chaos grow fearful, and the laughter of the Outcast God fills the tomb of space…"
– from The Great Book of Despair.

This is Heresy.

Butthurt Logar Spotted.
Stay mad and useless.

Chaos bump

Can't the warp also be influenced by the emotions of other races like the Eldar or the Orks? I'm still trying to learn the lore, so I might be misunderstanding some things

Eldar being hedonistic to the point where San Fran looks normal in comparison is why Slahnessh and the Eye of Terror was created.

Orks kinda have their own warp stuff going on, but yeah psychic aliens can influence the warp with their shit.

I guess that means it would be impossible to truly remove the powers of chaos like what the Emperor wanted to do before he got put into the throne unless other psionically active races were wiped out or controlled.

There was one race back during the Great Crusade that managed to deal with chaos by educating everyone on the existence of the gods etc and warning them not to trust them. That's the opposite tactic from Emp's Imperial Truth and it's debatable if that'd work as well with humans but there you go.

Source of the gif?

Orks dont because all their souls and warp-y tendencies are absorbed by gork and mork.

To put an end to chaos you need to either make the whole milky way a peacefull realm, or make people act like the eldar all the time forever until the sea of souls can regain its balance.

But the eldar are the worst offenders as far as the current state of the warp goes.
Humans didn't murderfuck a whole new fucking chaos god into existence, and the smugness of the modern craftworlder is likely to spawn another chaos god of smug self-righteous sanctimony.

Deldar and old eldar civilization =/= craftworld eldar and exodites.
Were it not for slaneesh calling shotgun for eldar souls, they wouldnt feed the warp with their ways of being an stuck up cunt about everything.
Note, that i am not a fan of the spess elfs.

Yet here you are holding them up as the gold standard for soul-having being behavior when their kind are responsible for the fuckedness that is the Eye of Terror, Slaanesh, the deldar, and the most resilient infestation of insufferably smug stuck-up cunts in the universe.

You gotta be objective, man.
Like it or not, the craftworld eldar managed to get their emotions and impact on the warp under control, humanity under the emperor would eventually achieve that while they wait to evolve into a species of emperors.

Current Eldar are doing the most to end Chaos. They actually have a plan that might work (unlike the Imperium).
Not to mention they completely changed their lifestyle to one of purity and self-improvement (meditation, abstinence, self-control, mastery of a craft, etc..)

Also, IIRC, even if there were no Eldar, Shalneesh was going to be born either way - just later. The Eldar just had stronger emotions so fed the warp more.

Macha does things to my dick. It's harder than Terminator armor. It gets +2 Invulnerable save.

Hey now, the imperium is working of adapting necron pylon tech to stich the galaxy back together and shield realspace from the warp.

What horrible design.

Nothing wrong with Ultramarines.
You just jelly your Primarch is still dead and your chapter is useless.

Where da boyz at?

...

It fucking hurts but I know it is for the best, since they would probably make it a mobile game anyway.

Also friendly reminder that Eternal Crusade had absolutely no reason whatsoever to suck as hard as it did, even if it was stuck as a lobby shooter. It's only redeeming quality was that other Orks at least talked in character, especially shit talking enemy factions and generally worked together.

Wasnt there an ork racing game (mobile, sadly) on the works?

That's the real reason the warp and chaos are so negative. The horrific deaths of trillions in the wars between the Old Ones and the Star Gods probably permanently fucked up the Immaterium.

Are you forgetting that's only a small recently-made faction of outcasts that decided to jump start the creation of their death god early and their current spiritual liege Eldrad the Dick is in eldar prison for heresy and potentially treason?

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There was one planned way back in the late 90s I think. Never got very far into development.

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Fucking Matt Ward is behind this.

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Of coursh!

I wish eternal crusade was good, I would have been playing it a lot more if it didn't take 3 minutes to load every match and then have every other match send me back to the title screen. The lag when you actually got into a match was also awful.

My headcanon is that each of the chaos gods was created by a different psyker slave-race of the Old ones much like Slaanesh was created by the Eldar. Too bad GW seems to have zero interest in illuminating that part of the lore.

Khorne is the only good chaos god, the rest are faggots.

Wut? Did hey changed the lore when I wasn't looking?

Hold on a sec - you said jump start early. Therefore it's no a plan of small minoriy, but of all eldar. A group just wants to hurry it along (which might be a bad idea as the new god might not be strong enough).

Also, since when is Eldrad in prison? Wasn't he captured/killed by Slaneesh?

ALL HERE BOSS

The world needs more cute eldar is what they need.

Source ?

Well congratulations, you got trips. Now what's the next step of your master plan?

I'm still waiting for someone to make a Deff Skwadron game.

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FUCK THE GREATER GOOD.

U WOT M8?

Hey Eldar, how's the family?
OH WAIT THEY ALL TURNED TO STONE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Hey Tau, I heard 2nd pic related are pretty nice guys, maybe you should try to convert them.

...

Dark Eldar has gone way too deep in the rabbit hole to be converted to anything that is not their own hedonism.
Actually, i have a question, is it even possible to convert a Eldar? or are they like Space Marines that are impervious to shit like that and can only be corrupted by the chaos gods?

Orkz are the only race "winning" in WH40k universe because of their war-like nature and little care for everything else.

Well there are the Nids too, who can feed and grow off their own and the enemies corpses

This Nurgle a best
Uvar dan uddah Orkz

Yes there is one very easy trick to do so

But the Eldar are already faggots.

As soon as he heard one of his comrades scream “SQUAD BROKEN!", Eduardo the Space Marine knew that he was doomed. He charged forth in a panic, firing his plasma gun wildly into the air. Somehow the orks had surrounded them! Eduardo’s teammates ran shrieking into the depths of the abandoned tanker, the grunting lustful orks in swift pursuit. Soon Eduardo was alone.

The brawny Space Marine collapsed against a wall, panting raggedly. His plasma gun had nearly overheated, and his com units were malfunctioning. No use even if they worked. By now, his whole squad was surely dead.

Lost in his thoughts, Eduardo did not hear the ork creeping up on him. Stunned by a blow to the head, Eduardo was thrown violently to the floor. The ork grunted in amusement, bending down and straddling his body. Dazed, Eduardo turned his head to look up at his enemy. The ork fellow was huge, well muscled and even attractive for his species. Right now the ork’s vibrant green skin was flushing dark in arousal. Eduardo whimpered as he realized what was about to happen.

Summoning up his powers as a Blood Angel, Eduardo bellowed in the Black Rage and began to flail about under the ork. The ork simply grunting, riding the panicked Space Marine like a rodeo bull. Already weakened, Eduardo simply did not have the strength to dislodge the much heavier ork.

All that thrashing around served to arouse the ork further. His name was Gurk, and the friction as the puny Marine flopped around between his muscular thighs was giving him quite a respectable hard-on. Gurk had meant to save the Marine for his own squad, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Whipping out his own plasma gun, Gurk seared off the back of the Marine’s armor, leaving his shining buttocks bare to the ork’s lustful gaze.

Eduardo moaned in fear, his virgin asscheeks clapping firmly together to deny the ork entrance. Gurk simply laughed, ripping off his crude orkish loincloth to reveal a thick green meat pole, nearly 12 inches long. The ork stuck one calloused finger down his throat, bringing up a thick vomit slurry which spattered down into the crack of Eduardo’s ass. Smearing the foul vomit around with one brutish paw, Gurk prepared the Space Marine’s tender anus for playtime.

Much to Gurk’s frustration, his cock was simply too large to fit inside Eduardo’s tight man cunt. He grunted furiously, screaming “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" in his deep orkish voice as he battered his fuckmeat against Eduardo’s tightly sealed pleasure ring. Suddenly the Space Marine’s portal gave way, and the swollen head of Gurk’s cock popped through into the forbidden halls of his anus. Gurk’s pleased snort was drowned out by Eduardo’s scream of agony.

The ork began to pump away in earnest, his bulging muscular hips and thighs slamming brutally against Eduardo’s ass. His heavy, furry balls slapped against the human’s ass merrily, creating a calypso that pleased Gurk mightily. Blood, a thin smear of feces, and Gurk’s own oily yellow pre-cum lubricated Eduardo’s asshole until it was as hot and slippery as Gurk’s own mother’s cunt.

Poor Eduardo was swiftly going into shock from the pain. His mind growing dim, he screamed “SQUAD BROKEN! SQUAD BROKEN!" over and over as the ork thrust brutally into his bruised insides. The ork’s massive cock had caused a large degree of internal damage, and Eduardo was close to passing out from blood loss and fear. If his squad didn’t find him soon, Eduardo knew that he would soon die. His poor plasma gun discharged into the floor one final time, overheating from a mix of pleasure and agonizing pain.

The Space Marine had been a good fuck for Gurk, but he needed something special to truly finish. Gurk’s heavy balls drew up close to his body, and he felt himself tensing, about to cum. As Gurk’s thick semen roiled up out of his cock and into Eduardo’s battered body, the ork slammed his powerful hands shut around the Marine’s neck. With a vicious jerk up and back, the ork crushed the Marine’s windpipe and vertebrae, swiftly ending his life. Eduardo’s anus clamped shut around Gurk’s cock, the painful tightness almost causing the ork to pass out.

Gurk roared out as he climaxed in the dead Marine, his beautiful green cock pumping load after load of thick ork jizzum into Eduardo’s lower intestine. The ork pulled out as Eduardo’s anus slowly relaxed, releasing Gurk’s cock with a wet sucking sound. Gurk used the sleeve of the Marine’s uniform to wipe the thick scum of blood, shit and cum from his swiftly withering ork meat. With a satisfied grunt, Gurk walked slowly away from the Marine.

Eduardo’s corpse lay cooling on the floor of the tanker, the charred remnants of his uniform stained dark with the foul fluids of both the ork and himself.

Squad broken.

They can't resist cock

Didn't Cleave post one where a humie raped an ork

GREATER GOOD
R
E
A
T
E
T

G
O
O
D

Hey Tau how is that 3rd Wave Expansion Going
Oh Wait

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Hehe good Gue'vesa fight for the (((Greater Good)))

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The drums thundered. The air was alive with the sound, a rhythmic pounding that shook the black tower like the heartbeats of a thousand giants. Velina licked her plum-dark lips to moisten them. Her mother had already started the damn ceremony. No backing out now.

The maiden sorceress, hair as black as her horse’s mane, skin as pale as Kislevite snow, moved through her richly appointed chambers to the grand balcony. Khurresh was there, snorting, the pegasus’ dark body eclipsing the setting sun. She could mount him now, leap onto his back and take to the skies over Karond Kar, never to return. The idea held some appeal, but no true temptation. Abandon her wealth, her status, her power? Never.

As if sensing her wandering thoughts, Khurresh stamped a black hoof on the mosaic ground of the platform balcony. His great wings, thickly-muscled and night-black, spread wide and blocked more of the cityscape view. Velina smiled at her steed’s display, running a pale hand – the barest touch of her fingertips – down the thin, veined membranes of his batlike wings. Khurresh snorted again, its baleful red eyes staring at her with something strangely approaching affection. She smiled at its glare, kissing the single greyish horn that thrust from the equine forehead.

With a final sigh she turned from the view of Karond Kar, putting her back to the towers and the bladed central spire of the Tower of Despair, and re-entered her candle-lit chambers.

Bare feet whispering across the purple carpet, she stood before her altar; once decorated with the ritual blades and bone relics of Khaine worship, now almost empty as she accommodated her new faith. She took the one item in her hands, looking into the cold, dark liquid in the bronze chalice. It was an exquisite artefact and she felt the sorcery used in its enchantment tingling her fingertips. Along the sides of the goblet, female druchii were carved, each one naked, each one entwined in a pleasurable or painful embrace with a creature of another race.

Velina’s thumb touched her favourite piece, covering the image of a dark elf maiden on all fours, offering herself to the horned beastman that held her hips from behind. Without breaking her gaze from the cold blood in the chalice’s depths, she ran her thumb tip over the familiar image, feeling the dark elf maiden’s slender form and biting her lip at the sudden rush of anticipation building between her legs.

‘Show me my mother,’ she said softly. The old blood, leftover from the night before, rippled once but revealed nothing else. Velina swore. It twisted her lovely lips into a frown. She needed fresh blood; the urgency of the incessant drumming reminding her that she needed it now, now, now.

‘Xavaric?’ she called sweetly.

Her chamber door opened immediately, and one of her nine older brothers stepped in with a rustle of silver mail. Xavaric’s held was removed, revealing his sneering features and ice-blue eyes, though his expression softened as he saw his only sister, the youngest member of the family. He was the one appointed to guard her today. It was a duty he often enjoyed.

‘What is it, Velina? Is everything well? Don’t make me go to Mother with another delay.’ He rested his hands on his sword belt, shaking his head. ‘She killed a good slave last time. She is not in the mood to be trifled with tonight, sweet one.’

‘Blood, my brother.’ Velina purred her response, pouting as she displayed the chalice with its cold contents.

‘I will fetch a slave immediately, sister.’ He nodded curtly, offering her a polite bow. ‘And Velina, oh brightest jewel of the family?’

‘Yes?’

‘I wish you luck, Bride of Slaanesh.’ He left with a lingering backwards glance.

Velina licked her lips again, fighting down her secret thrill at the title, as well as her secret fears. It was tonight. No way around it. Tonight was the ritual, and by tomorrow morning – after nine hours of sweating, painful, pleasurable, aching, tiring, delicious carnality – she would be inducted as a ranking priestess within the Cult of Slaanesh. Her mother had fought hard for this honour. It would not do to let her down.

The drums pounded faster, in time with Velinda’s heart. She had never been touched the way she would be tonight. All her evenings with pleasure slaves… Yet she was still unclaimed by a man, still untouched in one very special way. That had been a vital part of her mother’s case to acquire this honour for her daughter. The Bride of Slaanesh had to be a virgin, and Velinda was just that, no matter how many times she had indulged her desire for brutish orc males, offering her snow-white peach of a backside to them and letting them enjoy her asshole before she inevitably slew them.

As soon as the slave entered, it knew it was dead. There were only two reasons Lady Velina summoned slaves. For their blood, to use in her black magic, and for pleasure. Both types of summons ended in death, and though the goblin prayed to its ridiculous, distant gods that it was being invited to spend its last hours mounting the ass of the beautiful young mistress of the household, it knew its odds were slim. Firstly, from the drums beating in the vast dungeons under the tower, it was obvious to the goblin that Lady Velina was soon to be taken downstairs for the ceremony. Secondly, the mistress favoured orcs. He was, last time he checked, not an orc.

As it turned out, the slave was right on all counts. Velina didn’t even greet the wretched creature. She just wiped her ritual kris dagger across its throat before the goblin had a chance to look afraid. Discoloured blood gushed onto the carpet (which Velina noticed with a pretty, princess-like scowl) and spurted onto her bare stomach (which turned her scowl into a smile at the pleasant warmth).

She let the blood flow in dark droplets down her body, and though she wasn’t nude, the black silk of her clinging blackless dress with its plunging neckline didn’t hide much. From her throat to her pelvis, the dress was open, revealing a deep slice of pale cleavage, her bare (and now bloodstained) flat stomach, and plunged low enough to reveal smooth skin where there should have been soft, downy panther-black fur. She had shaved for the ritual, of course.

The slave died, falling over and drenching her with a last few spurts of blood. Her think silk dress now showed twin nipple bumps as the blood on her chest cooled. They poked proudly, chunky as the very tip of her little fingers, into the delightfully soft material of her scandalous little robe. She did her best to ignore the sensation of her nipples hardening, and concentrated on the new blood in the chalice.

‘Show me my mother,’ she said again. And this time, it did.

An image resolved in the blood, murky from such a weak sacrifice but clear enough to see. Her mother stood in her own ritual robe similar to Velina’s, directing the course of the sacrifices on the altar, the cauldron of burning blood where the bodies were stewing, and the naked, sporting couples on the rune-etched tile floor all around.

Her mother sensed the scrying. She looked no older than her young daughter, of course. The yearly blood rites kept it so.

‘Velina, the hour draws nigh.’ Mother had a serpent’s voice. It always made her daughter shiver.

‘I am coming now.’

‘Good,’ her mother didn’t hide her displeasure at the delay. ‘The Dark Prince has chosen… Oh, he’s chosen such a husband for you tonight, my sweet.’

Velina’s pulse quickened again. ‘May I see, Mother?’

‘Just a taste, my dear. Just a glimpse.’

The image wavered, forming again into a scene of powerful, masculine horror. Towering above the druchii as they made love and killed each other on the floor was a daemon with black skin, at least eight feet tall. Its head was a horned ram’s visage, dark-eyed and sneering with amusement and anticipation. Its powerful torso was an image of iron-hard muscles, leading down to its black goat’s legs, each one thick and shaggy with dark fur. From between its legs hung a member the length of Velina’s forearm. It was soft, just hanging there.

Waiting for her.

‘Do you see him, my daughter?’

Velina couldn’t answer at first. Finally, her plum lips curled into a smile. ‘I am on my way.’

It was going to be quite a night.

Xavaric escorted her down through the tower and into the dungeons. Her beloved eldest brother was taking no chances – he kept his blade bared, gripped in his mailed fist. Household slaves openly fled before the pair. Household guards, stationed at each arched doorway, bowed their heads in honour of the bride and her guardian.

The great double doors leading into the ritual chamber were wide open. A thin pinkish mist coloured the air, scented of Lustrian blooms. Velina smiled at the rarity of the petals used in the incense tonight, smelling the exotic flora of the jungle depths mied with the coppery scent of blood. Venombloom powder and Heartbane resin. Her mother had truly spared no expense. The smell of the intoxicating poisons, weakened by druchii alchemy and mixed with powerful aphrodisiac stimulants, tickled her nose as she entered the chamber. Xavaric entered with her, blade in hand. If a rival from another bloodline was going to strike, there would be no more perfect moment than now. The insult to the Dark Prince would be…infinite.

‘I smell Bloodmist,’ the handsome warrior said, smiling slightly to his younger sister as she took in the scene. She nodded once, understanding. It was a narcotic used by lesser warriors to incite themselves into a frenzy before a battle. Seeing the violence of the couples writhing on the floor, and her mother’s cruel smile, it was easy to see why the elder sorceress had added that component to the ritual incense. It all added to the moment.

Velina stared for several moments, her senses awash in the scene of her coming desecration. Thirty elves lay together on the mosaic-encrusted floor, lost in the throes of passion, filling the chamber with cries of pain and pleasure. Blood ran freely down several bodies. Three corpses of slain ritualists lay naked against one wall, ready to be dragged into the great cauldron of boiling blood that was close to the centre of the orgiastic ceremony. Their passion (or the passion of others) had evidently been their end. Velina licked her dark lips, tasting the gold-flecked lipstick she had been ordered to use by her mother.

There he was. Or…there ‘it’ was. Her husband. It stood next to her mother, brutish arms crossed across its sweating, bare chest. As she entered, it turned its monstrous head towards her, watching silently. She felt her heart beat faster to fall under its gaze, and her legs shook for a moment. Xavaric, mindful of decorum, offered his free hand to steady her. She took it as if he were just guiding her into the room, and gave him a secret smile of thanks. He had always been her favourite, treating her like this.

But the writhing ritualists and her waiting husband were not the only others in the room. Other druchii stood in a ring around the edges of the circular chamber, some holding torches that burned a holy purple due to ritual powder added to the flames, others were nobles from other houses come to witness the wedding.

hey had been waiting patiently for her, and while most took her entrance as the cue to disrobe and join in, finally giving in to their drug-heightened senses, several now converged on Velina.

Xavaric tensed, keeping them all at blade’s distance. ‘No closer. Greet the bride one at a time, if you please.’

Several of the nobles smirked at his overprotectiveness, but Velina’s blush betrayed her pleasure. Honoured by nobles… Requiring a bodyguard… And her brother was so diligent, playing the part perfectly. She could, under usual circumstances, destroy any of them on a whim, but she needed to save her powers. Already, she felt a guilty twinge for using her sorcery to contact her mother before.

The first noble approached. Thin-faced, gaunt even, dark eyes and a smirk he incorrectly assumed made him handsome to Velina.

‘Lord Cyriath,’ she inclined her head politely, her bright eyes never leaving his.

‘Velina…’ he began, coming to embrace her slender figure and muttering the traditional phrases of greeting. She felt her breasts crush gently against his robes, her nipples poking into the dark silk he wore. She knew he could feel that. ‘What an honour you do your family,’ he said. And then, in a whisper, his lips against her ear: ‘I’ve sacrificed fifty slaves to the Dark Prince tonight, hoping he would grant me the honour of being one of those who pleasure you before the final hour.’

She smiled at the incredible price he’d paid. Now this…this was true power.

‘I am flattered, my lord,’ she said, her voice a sensuous promise. ‘Do you believe you will be favoured?’

‘I have offered your mother another hundred slaves for your family’s iron mines, and the promise of my support in the next campaign of raids.’

Xavaric was growing agitated at the whispering, but Velina soothed him with a smile. She listened to Cyriath’s last words.

‘All of that, just to fuck you in the ass, young Velina.’

He stepped away. She met his eyes as he rejoined the crowd, and with a shy smile creeping across her lips, the sorceress nodded once, agreeing to his terms. He would have her tonight. She offered herself freely.

The next to greet her was Xanthya. Xavaric, may Slaanesh and Khaine both bless him, saw none of the danger here. Velina flicked a glance at her brother’s lustful gaze, travelling over Xanthya’s near-naked form. The Witch Elf stepped closer to the sorceress, the firelight glinting off both of their pale, exposed flesh.

So alike as to be twins, the cousins embraced with false warmth, Velina kissing Xanthya’s cheek as her cousin kissed hers.

‘I despise you, whore,’ Xanthya smiled sweetly as she whispered. ‘You are a filthy dog whose only pleasure comes from the fingers and tongues of greenskins.’

Velina purred into her cousin’s ear. ‘You want me. It pains everyone who sees it. So, so, so obvious, dear one.’

Xanthya kissed her cousin twice more, butterfly-soft, on her cheek, then her lips. ‘I’ll have you tonight, before your daemon rides you.’

‘If you beg, I might let you watch,’ the sorceress smiled back. They kissed again, tongue-tips touching for a moment, before Xanthya stepped away with a bitter scowl she tried valiantly to turn into a condescending smirk. Velina blew her a kiss, which Xanthya mimed catching and holding to her heart.

‘She is divine,’ breathed Xavaric.

Velina just chuckled softly.

One by one, she greeted the nobles and noblewomen. Many asked for her time and attention in the hours before the ritual’s completion, offering wealth and slaves to her family for the promise of her lips, her tongue, her asshole. None pleaded for her virginity. That belonged to her summoned consort, who watched the proceedings with inhuman patience, understanding nothing of the gathering except that it was owed a great deal of pleasure from the pale dark elf that had entered. He could smell her skin and the scent of her clean musk from between her legs. Its senses were attuned to such things. Its senses were attuned to her, in fact.

As Velina spoke with the nobles, it hungered for her, smelling her virginity with a daemonic sense. The sight of her pale body coupled with that sense forced a low growl in the beast’s throat. Velina’s mother swallowed and took a step away.

Finally, finally, it was done. The last of the nobles walked away. Xavaric sheathed his enchanted blade, dimming the glow as it slid into his scabbard. With trembling hands, he stood behind his sister and lightly swept her silk dress off her shoulders. It fell to the rune-marked floor, and Xavaric stepped away quickly, head bowed in respect.

Velina stood naked, her body painted with spiralling, twisting runic symbols that marked her as an offering to the Dark Prince.

Her figure was slim, yet utterly feminine, as if the elven-born bred females to inhuman standards of perfection that cried out in the desires of mortal men. Her limbs were slender, athletic, lightly muscular from weapons training and riding her pegasus Khurresh into battle. Her breasts were pale, pert mounds in the eerie purplish firelight, capped by large nipples with hard nubs poking out into the warm, narcotic-scented air. Her flat stomach showed hints of the muscle beneath, leading down to her slightly flared hips. Her sex, still undefiled, was as smooth as her lovely legs, her usual raven-dark silken pussy fur shaved in honour of her coming violation.

Every single soul in the chamber stared at her. Many of the nobles already engaged in their ritual sex simply stopped, watching the bride finally reveal herself. Velina offered a slight smile as she saw Xanthya and Lord Cyriath in each others’ arms on the floor by the altar, moving slowly yet both staring at her. He thrust in and out of the Witch Elf, paying no attention. She sweated under his efforts, but stared at her cousin as she stood naked, almost forgetting the lord who pounded into her with weaker and weaker strokes.

Most obvious of all was the daemon’s growl. It sent a minor tremor through the chamber, through the tower, through all of Karond Kar. The great beast watched its bride stand naked and revealed, and its member rose and swelled like a spear of meat.

Velina saw the monster’s reaction, the lance of dark flesh that was all for her. In eight hours, after she performed the exhausting matters of the ritual, it would he her duty to lay on the stone floor, witnessed by all who survived the night of bloodshed and pleasure, and let that creature claim her.

She met her mother’s envious eyes, and the older sorceress nodded. It was time to begin.

Velina met the eyes of Lord Corolus, who kneeled naked between the open legs of a bleeding priestess. He’d been one of the many who had begged to claim her. Velina watched as he pulled out of the other girl, ignoring her as soon as the bride glanced his way.

‘Lord Corolus,’ Verlina purred, sliding slowly to her knees. With deliberate poise and teasing slowness, she arched her back and presented her ass to him. The floor was cold, not just from the stone but because she was on her hands and knees in a pool of cooling blood. She had no idea whose blood. She didn’t care.

The lord stepped closer, looking down at her. ‘Yes, Lady Velina?’

She slowly moved her pale, tight ass from side to side, looking over her shoulder at him. ‘I believe you wanted something from me.’

The pause was long as her heart pounded hard. Then she smiled.

‘It’s yours. Take it.’

It tickled at first. Just the warm hardness of his swollen cock head, tickling her asshole. Velina almost smiled, but the expression died on her lips when she looked up, seeing the towering daemon across the room watching her every move through the haze of thin mist. And the mist… Khaine’s blood, it made her eyes nose tingle, made her heart beat faster and made the delightful ache between her legs become a painful physical need. Against her will, she blushed as a trickle of warm juice rand down her inner thigh. By the Prince…she’d never been so…so wet, so aching, so desperate to be touched.

The pressure started, and she let out a breathless ‘Oh!’ as Lord Corolus pushed into her. Velina bit her bottom lip, closing her eyes. The old bastard was going in dry. His fat cock head already stretched her asshole as he slowly pushed the first two inches into her. Velina’s hands tensed like claws on the blood-slick stone. She almost lost her balance on the slippery floor, jerked forward in a painful nudge as he gave her another inch. Khaine’s unholy fucking blood, he was hurting her…

‘L-lord,’ she looked over her shoulder, seeing his sweating face and rictus grin, feeling his bony hands gripping her ass cheeks and spreading them wide. ‘Lord, you may touch me…down there. Use my wetness on your fingers… It will make it easier to…’

He jerked his hips and violently sank another two inches into her. She let out an accidental cry, lost in the fevered moans of the chamber, and saw the old elven lord smirking.

‘Shut your mouth, Velina.’

She wanted to argue, wanted to fight him off, but she was too deep into the rite now. It had begun. To refuse pleasure or pain once joining the ritual was to insult to he Dark Prince. So instead, she clenched her teeth against the rising pain as he slid almost all the way in, and hissed at him.

‘You like that, old man?’ Her voice was acidic. ‘I can barely feel it.’

He licked his lips as their eyes met, and with a final thrust, his balls slapped against her shaven pussy and his pelvis smacked into her raised ass. She hated herself for crying out again.

‘Oh, I think you feel that, sorceress.’ He started to slide out now, setting his pace and enjoying her body, never once meeting her gaze again. She tried to challenge him, to enrage him, taunting him.

‘Faster, old man. Harder. This is your one chance to please me…’

Nothing drew his attention from fucking her ass and staring at her sweating back. Velina’s hand slipped on the floor again, and she lowered herself to her elbows, her arched back lifting her ass higher for him to abuse. It was starting to feel good now, the pure pain blooming with hints of pleasure. Velina let her body move in time with his thrusts, pushing her ass back against him each time he pounded into her.

Dizzy from the pain, the growing pleasure and the narcotic mist, she smiled to herself, also enjoying the cold blood turning her hands and forearms red. The sorceress licked the mosaic floor, tasting the cold blood with several flicks of her tongue.

Mmm. Human.

For a moment she had presence of mind to worry that her immaculately clean hair was swishing through the pool of blood on the floor, back and forth with each motion of the old lord behind her. She almost giggled. Such a foolish thing to be concerned about. She’d be much messier by dawn.

The thought drew her eyes back to her daemonic husband. It watched her, its member steel-hard and long as her brother’s sword now. She thought she saw the beast nod to her, but her view was blocked by another naked form.

‘Hello, love,’ murmured Xanthya. Kneeling by her cousin’s head, stroking Velina’s hair with gentle fingertips. Velina smiled up at her cousin, her chin and lips reddened by the blood she’d licked off the floor.

‘Hello, sister of…’ she winced, hissing as Corolus slammed into her with punishing force. Xanthya grinned, and Velina took a few moments to speak again. ‘Hello, sister of my heart.’

It was an awkward kiss. The sorceress, on her knees and elbows, was rocked back and forth by Corolus’ ungentle thrusts. Head raised, her cousin’s fingers tangled in her raven hair, Velina kissed Xanthya’s lips. Their breath mixed, hot and coppery, as the sorceress panted into her hated cousin’s face, so pale and flawless like her own. Velina hissed and winced again at a particularly powerful shove from behind.

‘That looks like it hurts, my love,’ the Witch Elf whispered with a smile, teasingly licking Velina’s plum-dark lips. Velina’s answer was a wordless snarl, almost feral, lost in the clash of pleasure and pain from the elderly lord driving into her tight asshole over and over and over. He was merciless, and she hated herself for loving it.

Xanthya wasn’t done teasing. She stroked her fingertips down her cousin’s naked, sweating back, down the slopes of her slender thighs, kissing Velina’s neck as she slipped her fingers between the sorceress’s open legs.

‘Mmm,’ she whispered into Velina’s neck, ‘I can feel that old bastard’s balls hitting my knuckles. Big. Swollen. He’ll fill you up with his seed, I’m sure. Until then, sweet sister of my heart…’

Velina trembled, shivering as her cousin’s deft fingertips slid between her pussy lips, teasing small circles around her juice-slick hole. She drew breath to curse her bitch of a cousin, even to speak a word of dark magic that would burn the whore’s worthless face clean off her skull…

…but her rage was lost in an instant. Xanthya’s fingers teased, circled, and slid in. Two fingers, up to the knuckles. Between the kisses on her throat, the hands on her hips, the fingers exploring her virgin hole and the thick cock pounding in and out of her ass, she couldn’t even think straight. They owned her, at least for the moment, and the young sorceress let them – she had no other choice.

‘Look how wet the Bride is,’ sneered Xanthya, licking her cousin’s cheek. ‘I may have to taste this.’ With deliberate slowness, she slid her two fingers from Velina’s cunt, holding them before her face. The sorceress felt a sudden stab of loss, missing her cousin’s touch, but she’d swear allegiance to the Phoenix Throne before she admitted that to Xanthya.

The Witch Elf examined her glistening fingers, smelling them with a smile. ‘My, my, what a lovely scent, dear cousin Velina.’ She theatrically licked the juice from her fingers, making soft ‘Mmm’ sounds, while her free hand slid down her own sweat-slick body, down her muscled stomach, her fingertips sliding through her patch of downy black fur to slide into her own pussy.

Once she was done with her licking performance, she withdrew the fingers from her lips. ‘It’s only fair that you taste me now, love,’ Xanthya said with a dark smile over her angelic features.

Hearing this, seeing it all, Lord Corolus intensified his strokes, powering in and out of her and doing his best to hold her still as she trembled and writhed from the flinching stabs of pain.

Xanthya slipped her fingers from between her legs. They too glistened with sticky wetness. The Witch Elf held the three warm fingers before Velina’s lips. With each thrust of the nobleman’s cock, she jerked forward, her lips bumping her cousin’s fingers, leaving a thin, sticky string between her mouth and Xanthya’s hand.

‘Lick it. Taste me,’ Xanthya said, now using her free hand to stroke Velina’s hanging, shaking breasts. Velina smiled, filling her eyes with every ounce of her loathing, unwilling to lose this little test of hatred. She opened her lovely lips, and took her cousin’s fingers into her mouth, sucking them the way she sucked the cocks of her rare human slaves.

‘Khaine’s blood, I hate you, Velina,’ her cousin hissed. The sorceress smiled slightly as she sucked, her drug-heightened senses relishing the tangy taste of Xanthya’s pussy on her tongue. She wanted more. She wanted to taste more so desperately, she almost begged. She would have, if Xanthya hadn’t been taken away at that moment.

The Witch Elf was dragged gently back, a few feet away, in another elf’s arms. Velina glanced over her shoulder, her ass so achingly numb now she could barely feel the wealthy old lord brutalising it. He grinned at her, finally making eye contact again, and she turned away from him, not willing to show him her angry blush.

Xanthya was back. She faced her cousin now, on her hands and knees, sharing the pool of blood with the sorceress. Behind her raised ass, the heir to another noble house was positioning himself to slide into her. Velina clenched her teeth, despising the near-mirror image of the scene, and powerless as both men lifted the females they were fucking, gentle nudging them closer to one another.

Xanthya’s smile said it all. She loved this. And against her sense and reason, Velina’s lips met her cousin’s. Their tongues met a moment later, sliding around each other in fierce competition to be the most aggressive, the dominant force of the kiss. Meanwhile, the two lords fucked the beautiful cousins, smiling to each other over the girls’ arched backs.

Chants sounded from the edges of the chamber. The torches flared in gauntleted hands. The rite had begun in earnest.

Time passed in a haze of pleasure and pain, of voices barely heard and a hundred lovers all blurring into one. Even when it ended, she was assaulted by a storm of memory, the freshness and vividness of what happened making the scenes swirl through her thoughts in a flood of images.

Velina was sore, sore to her bones. She ached in a way she’d never hurt before, the muscles of her backside and spine seemed on fire, and the dizziness in her mind wouldn’t end, wouldn’t slow down. Her back bled from fingernail scratches. Her eyes ached from crying, her throat was dry from her moans and screams. The pale skin of her ass was raw with red hand marks from slaps, and marks where at least three men had bitten her. Her left nipple oozed blood from where another girl (Xanthya? Was it Xanthya? That…that bitch…) had bitten hard enough to break the skin.

Her tongue was thick with the taste of the sweet-scented mist in the air. Breathless, sweating despite the altar of cold stone she lay upon, Velina raised a trembling hand to her burning forehead. As her fingertips brushed her cheek, she felt the sticky warmth left there by the last man to use her. The memory swirled unformed behind her eyes. Who had it been? Someone young, strong… Someone who had talked to her and stroked her hair as he painted her face with his love-gift…

Khaine’s blood, no. She remembered his face now, remembered his closed eyes and whispered words as she sucked, looking up at him from his lap. Her lips closed like a noose around his swollen cock head, and her tongue had swirled fast circles around the meat as she’d sucked gently, her head bobbing up and down, up and down…

The memory rose to the fore of her shattered thoughts. She remembered the first spurt in her mouth, the salty gooeyness hitting the back of her throat, and her instinctive swallow so she wouldn’t choke. More followed – lots more – thick strings of cum that spurted from his twitching rod between her lips. Mouth full, dizzy and dazed, Velina had lifted her head to have time to swallow and breathe. The rest had hit her face, and he’d stroked her hair with one hand, pointing his cock at her face with the other. The impacts were hot, generous loads and she’d smiled through her full mouth, meeting her brother’s eyes.

Khaine’s blood, not Xavaric. She… She didn’t feel the revulsion she’d expected. Rolling to her side on the stone altar, she peered through the thickening drug mist to find him in the crowd of souls that ringed her. It took a while for her chaotic senses to pick him out, but there he was. He offered her a slight nod and a smile. Another memory came back to her as she saw his bloody, naked torso. He’d killed someone. He had slain someone for her.

The knight… What was his name? Tellios…that was it. Lord Tellios. So handsome, so strong, still reeking of the exotic, lovely poisons secreted by his bestial mount. Velina remembered him from a ball held in the Tower of Despair itself, thrown to celebrate…whose birthday? A wedding? The truth escaped her addled mind. But she remembered him, and remembered seeing him standing tall and proud in his plate armour. He was a Cold One Knight, honoured by the lords of the city. But the narcotics had taken a hold of him. He had almost defiled her, almost ruining her for the great rite.

They struggled as she lay under him. He was choking her, his warrior’s hands wrapped around her throat. His iron-hard shaft had withdrawn from her aching asshole and now banged between her legs, missing its soft, wet target in his mindless haste. She tried in vain to call for help, but no breath would come. She couldn’t even see past his leering, wrathful face. She wasn’t even worrying about the rite now; she was panicked and in fear for her life. Under him, with the powerful knight laying atop her between her open legs, the most resistance she could offer was to let her numb legs slide from around his hips.

He entered her. His manic thrusting had finally hit home, snagging her tight hole at a bad angle, and she screamed breathlessly as he parted her pussy lips with the thrust, the tip of his shaft sinking into her and twitching as she tightened around him.

Just an inch, she knew. Was that enough? She couldn’t care; she couldn’t even breathe. Blackness crept in at the edges of her already strained senses. And suddenly it was over, as quickly as it had started. The handsome, noble knight fell limp on her, crushing her with his weight until a mailed fist tangled in the corpse’s hair and wrenched the body away.

Xavaric had stood over her, his sword glistening red from his precise thrust sideways through the knight’s neck. It took Velina two dozen beats of her racing heart to realise her throat and breasts were drenched in the dead man’s blood.

She also remembered Xanthya’s laughter, broken and exhausted but no less full of amusement for all the Witch Elf’s own weariness. She was riding a lord Velina hadn’t recognised, and the cousins’ eyes had met again. Bitterness beamed between their gazes, before Xavaric had knelt down to see if she was alright. And that was when she’d… Oh, Murder God, she’d…

The growl brought her back to the present, to the world of violet mist and aching flesh. A shadow resolved out of the sweet fog: horned, powerful, and inhuman. With a shivering breath, Velina closed her eyes, tilted her head back and arched her spine, thrusting her pert breasts upward.

It was time.

The daemon was still wreathed in mist, but she heard it draw breath – three great animal snuffling sounds. It was trying to sense something, she knew. Or was it just savouring the mist?

Her mother’s voice slipped into her mind with a pulse of telepathic sorcery. ‘Open your legs, sweet one. It wishes to smell your purity.’

With a dancer’s grace, her long legs glided open, her sweating skin whispering on the stone altar as Velina revealed herself to her new master. It took a step forward, coils of pinkish fog trailing from its mighty body, and it made a sound Velina would remember to her dying day. A wet thunderous growl, coming over and again in short bursts. As it took a deep breath, it growled like this several times.

It was… It was laughing.

...

The world grew dark as the daemon towered over her. She could smell it now: it reeked of blood and pain, the maddening scent of burning cities with the tingling aura of untold secrets. It was like nothing she could describe, and she felt her tortured body responding again, nipples hardening under the strange sensation, and the tingle between her legs returning as she exposed herself.

‘Be ready,’ her mother’s voice said in a blur of importance.

She heard her brother speak her name, then many other voices suddenly raised in chanting. Her lover, her husband, ascended the altar to kneel between her legs. Its goatish eyes burned violent red, and those scarlet orbs were all she could see in the imposing silhouette that darkened everything else. She had a momentary bolt of fear and confusion. It was huge. It would kill her… It would surely kill her.

Without meaning to, she closed her legs. Or at least, she tried to. Before her knees could touch, the beast’s great paw batted them open again with bruising force.

‘Speak the words!’ her mother psychically sent. ‘Now!’

‘I offer myself to the Dark Prince, as his consort this night. Does he accept the gift of my house and bloodline?’

Velina looked up at the hellish creature, resting her hands on her knees and opening her legs as wide as she could. The creature breathed once, the burning air reeking of ashes and the sweat of mortals.

She had her answer a moment later.

Part 1 of 3, by the way.

You done fucked up, stalker. Here is the correct version.

pic related

I like it better spoilered.

saved, the spoilered version makes your imagination work through all the horrible things people do for pleasure.

The new lore stuff tells that Eldrad figured out he didn't have to wait for every Eldar to die and go into the spirit circuit for their Death God to exist rather be needed to take legendary powerful Eldar weapons to make it happen. Eldrad got arrested for heresy/reckless planning. What he could scrounge up didn't create their Death For but an avatar of him. Chaos attacked at some point between this and the death cult fled the craftworld. I know they do a thing with a handful of Dark Eldar that weren't complete shit and they helped revive Papa Smurf on the pretext that they should focus on squashing Chaos.

I agree that chaos undivided is kind of stupid, who the hell wants to be favored by an asshole like Khorne or a sadistic slut like Slaanesh? What do they offer anyway? One gives you battle, blood, and death while the other gives you sex, pain, and death. At least the other two give a shit about humanity. I just dont want to chill with nurgle because we've all seen what happens to people who chill with his folk for too long. Nasty, putrid, vile creatures. He's not that bad of a guy nonetheless.

The only one I can see myself hanging around is Tzeentch, gives you knowledge for free and aids you in your quest for eternal life. Not a bad deal, just have to deal with his irritating fuckery.

The whole point of Tzeentch is that he will fuck you over. You can never go right with Tzeentch. You must be a real dumbass.

...

Why is Tzeentch worshipped at all?

Magic and Wisdom

I remember reading some time ago about some Imperium end game that was lost but on the verge of being found or something.
If I'm speaking any sense at all, can anyone guess what that was?

You might be thinking about the Ark Mechanicus ships witch ware reveled to be self updating STCs but no one knows it.

...

Orks reproduce by spores, not dicks.

Just read the first paragraph of the lexi, faggot.
wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Tzeentch

Holy shit

Who writes this shit? They retconned Eldrads death?

Fake and gay. Been there, done that, and lets just say that blood makes a very poor lubricant it rapidly congeals and actually increases friction, and unless you're rocking a micropenis, you aren't going to be just slipping in and out of a bitch's shitter like that.

When people say "Khrone should technically be the strongest god since all the 40K universe is just fighting. But then I read that the war is supposed to be dedicated to Khrone like how the Greenskins dedicate their WAAAGH's to Gork or/and Mork

...

That's a so called "whiteshield". An underage citizen in service of the Emperor.

Gotta learn to dick someday.

He got better

I almost forgot the avatar of death fucking smashed Biel-Tan after it got invaded by the forces of Chaos

Not always an underage citizen, usually just a new untrained recruit, though considering he's most likely Cadian Though other worlds use Cadias uniform meaning he probably is like 14 or 15

War GENERALLY has to be dedicated to Khorne but Khorne is very easily able to convert people without them even realizing it. This can be in the form of him just noticing a very talented legion, to giving a bloodthirsty commander a bit of a buff before a battle, etc. None of them never even have to worship Khorne or even mention him. They just have to do something Khorne likes, which is a very specific kind of warfare.
TBH if you're a great warrior you worship Khorne just by existing and Khorne is happy to keep it that way.

Meant to type TLDR but fuck it.

Chaos undivided is perfectly fine. It's the only way I can get my favorites, Khorne and Slaanesh to work together.

I guess it's all ok though, because Papa nurgle "wuvs" you.

Pleases both Khorne and Slaanesh. Reminds me of when I used to ejaculate blood. It always felt better to me.
I also ate out a girl on her period once.

Well, with nurgle you wouldnt feel any pain from any of that, you would if anything feel joy for hosting life within you.

...

This meme needs to end, they have 0% body fat meaning they all look like skeletons with skin, not only that but they shit out crystals.

Eventually, yes. After your nerves have finally completely deadened for hundreds of years.
I could handle the disease and rot, but not the large parasites and insects using my flesh as a home. Enjoy your heartworms.

You are completely missing the point of nurgle being a chaos god, you dont need hundreds of years to not feel pain.

Calling on nurgle isn't instant painlessness user. He's supposed to be an escape from the suffering and death, yes. But once you give yourself wholly to him, he first throws more disease and decay on you before you realize your nerves slowly deaden. Maybe not a hundred years. That was just me exagarating.

this is an insult to nurgle

so what happens if you fatten up an eldar? do they just more like humans?

Trips of blessed and cursed Ultramarine Glory

Checking dem trips for maccrage!

THE GREATEST OF THEM ALL!

I'm not sure how you could, the only real fat Eldar have is on the women.

do you mean boobs?

and butts

Remove Xenos with my dick

Wouldn't that be cockvore?

Pshhh nothing personel Guilliman

yes

That sounds cute

...

Energy turns into said poop crystals instead of fat.

I want either Fantasy or 40k RPG. Game where you are x guy placed in WH world. Warsword mod for M&B kinda did it but it was still only a mod.

I really need Space Marine but more of it.

...

Shia please get out.

whoops.Image got fucked

I dont think you know what you're talking about user.

No, agony and pain are part of the experience of becoming a plague bearing follower of Nurgle. Eventually the sense of pain gets dulled to the point that it doesn't even register on your radar. Nurgle's children share their misery together as one big happy family.

Really? That's pretty funny considering kharn achieved fuckall before this except killing nameless mooks
Shame, I wanted to see her and greyfax get it on

He is pretty much asking for it at this point.
Especially considering he actually went and set up another flag again .
>>>Holla Forums10399071

Anal implies there was already quite a bit of lubrication in place. Double dipping like that is a real good way to invoke nurgle though. E.coli in the vagina is no joke.

Pretty much. Laid out in more detail here.

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