Rising Up To The Challenge
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Magsnik breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of the warp bathed fungal forest just outside his home as he marched onwards. Despite the screaming eddies of reality bending itself into a pretzel, warping the very forest itself, he kept walking; knowing he would remain untouched. Even as the air itself sizzled, boiled and froze, he remained undeterred for he was in his element.
As his hands brushed against the fungal caps of the underbrush, he felt it thrumming just underneath the surface, this primal raw energy that roared against the warp; the WAAAGH! He grimaced as he breathed it in, letting it fill his very soul despite his disgust for it. As much as he hated the twins, he had to remind himself that they were not the WAAAGH itself but mere outgrowths of it.
Clenching his fist, he pulled the roiling energy in, reigning it down and holding it within. It fought, refusing to be tamed, but eventually it calmed down till it flowed with his own life force as one. He opened his palm soon after, letting the energies flow free once again, but the stream felt calmer until it was drowned out.
“The next time we meet…” He growled out, his rage boiling over until he caught himself. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that he was still in the warp. Not even the protection vested upon him by his lover and his friends could protect him if he so much allowed it to get the smallest hold, “Keep your mind on your task Magsnik, this is not the time to plot,” He scolded himself as he kept his gaze forward.
Even all alone in the Fungal Forest he remained unharassed. He could feel eyes on him from the tree line, but a simple gaze had them packing. Pulling out his maul from its strap on his back, he held on to it as he finally approached his destination.
There, ahead of him, stood an orkish village; its wooden palisade standing tall, yet its gate remained open. Like the maw of a great beast, the entrance greeted him as it led to a collection of ramshackled huts surrounding a crater where a great totem stood. Seven heads stood atop each other and, at the very bottom supporting the weight of the entire pillar, was his face.
“Warboss…” A voice whispered reverently as he walked forward and approached the place where one story ended and another began. Orks and gretchins of all shapes and sizes came forth from their hiding place, their gaze upon him as they banged their scrap weapon against their chest.
“Warboss!” They started chanting, their voices growing louder as he approached the base where a single gravestone stood. He ignored them as he slid down a large crater, the crater he’d made when he first came upon this place, to get to the base; for he sought something that he thought he had left behind to be forgotten.
Skidding to a stop, he now stood before the base where his totem was placed, “I thought I had to leave you behind,” He whispered as he stared back at the empty eyes which lit up with an unearthly glow; the chanting growing, the ground itself shaking as the stomps of the orks started to drown out the roaring winds of the warp, “If all things fail, at least it’ll be a proper grave that’ll stand here.”
Placing down his hammer beside him, he knelt down and started to dig. Calloused hands made from combat and, now, farming dug into the loamy soil as he quickly revealed compacted gravel beneath. He dug deeply and quickly, clawing at the soil until he found what he had been looking for.
Underneath all the mud, dirt, and stone, and at the very heart of an Orkish settlement, was his armor, untouched by the elements and as pristine as the day he left it. Unlike most orkish made weapons and armor, which were nothing more than repurposed scrap or crude at best, this was made and molded by proper orkish hands; his hands.
Brushing aside the thick mycelium roots that clung to it, he marveled at the dented and banged up armor before him. A veteran of a hundred battles and a thousand worlds. It was patched up more times than he could count, this adamantine set of armor grew with him, yet here it lay, buried so that it might be forgotten. However, the past had a funny way of calling back to him as he was made to dig it up for the task ahead of him.
Still, it was incomplete. As he dusted off the armor, he found that one crucial part of the set that was now missing. Clad once more in his armor, feeling a bit looser and heavier despite having bulked up, he stood up and scratched his bald head as he muttered, “Now where the hell is that blasted helmet…”
His attention would soon be called upon as a familiar figure walked up to him with his helmet in hand. Despite being clad in far better armor than most orks and with a good helmet to conceal their face, he knew this one, “Ah, that smarter git of the lot,” He said to him, reminded of the lad that fled against an overwhelming foe.
“Warboss,” The ork nodded and knelt reverently, giving him back the last piece of his armor. He hesitated for a bit, but he reached out, grabbing it and holding it aloft. Staring back at the face plate, memories of time gone past came back to him, of times gone by and the glory he’d gained. It was intoxicating… it was exhilarating… but it was not him, it was no longer him.
Shaking his head, he gave the helmet back to the ork and replied, “No, I am no Warboss,” He might have been going back to war, but he was not going to lead an army into the warp. He’d rather not attract Khorne on his way to Slaanesh’s palace.
His actions would prove to be confusing to the ork as the smart lad pressed the helmet back into his hands, “But you are the biggest! The strongest!” He argued, refusing to take his word as he begged him, “That’s how things have always been! Lead us!”
They called to him, the WAAAGH roiling as it demanded a Warboss, a leader to guide this warband and whip it into proper shape. As a species bred for war, there must always be a warboss, that’s how things were… but what if he could change that. Clenching his helmet, he draw upon the energies of the WAAAGH, focusing it into the armor piece until its empty eye sockets came to life.
Gritting his teeth as he held on to the energy of the WAAAGH, he turned to the ork before him and asked, “What is your name?”
The ork stood to their full height, a respectable head shorter than him. He even stood straighter, just like the rest the lot surrounding him, “Wozzat, Wozzat Bakstabba,” the young ork proudly declared, puffing up their chest and barring their tusks.
Grinning, he slung his arm around the boy as he led him towards the totem, “So Wozzat, you want a Warboss?” He asked him to which the lad nodded eagerly while the rest of the boyz followed, anticipating his every move.
Without any warning, he pressed the helmet into his hands and the ork screamed. Light poured out of their eyes and mouth as Magsnik opened their mind to the WAAAGH and he made them see the conflicts amongst the stars. He molded the energy, letting it flow while keeping it from popping the boyz head. Holding the helmet closely, refusing to let the boy let go of the armor, he shouted, “Then I give you this task. You are no longer Wozzat Bakstabba, I name you Wozzat Kingmaker and this shall be your duty!”
Soon, the light would die down and this Boy, no, this Nob before him was forced down on his knees, their hands shaking as they clutched onto the helmet for their dear life. As they looked back at him, he knew he made himself a weirdboy priest ready to remove the head ache he had at hand.
Walking off, he grabbed his hammer, climbing up the steep slope but not before instructing Wozzat further, “I give you this helmet and with this you shall find someone that would be big enough and strong enough to wield it!”
Pointing his hammer at the crowd, he called out to them, challenging them, “My helmet goes to the strongest, the fastest, and most importantly the wisest of you lot! If you can’t understand my lesson here then none of you are worthy of a proper WAAAGH!”
Stunned by his declaration, he chuckled as he left, knowing that they’ll be too busy trying to sort things out. The thing about Orkz was that they’re not used to having their method of leadership be changed. It was always by merit, oftentimes through combat, so he did just that; he channeled that desire and viola, a rite of leadership that removes responsibility from him.
As he walked, Wozzat called back to him, “It’s too big, Warboss!” The weirdboy shouted, showing how even his head wasn’t big enough for the helm, “No one can wear it!” He added as he pointed at the rest of the tribe. Magsnik could only groan at his miscalculation. Of course no one among them was big enough. Their tribe was merely what? Half a year old? Still plenty of time for them to grow.
Gritting his teeth, he then growled out, “Oh for fucks sakes, you know how to get bigger! Train you lazy lots! Lift weights, spar together, clash against one another till you’re strong enough to beat a fucker without killing them! Killing an ork is easy, putting him down and making him stay down is harder!” Orks grew through combat, but killing each other didn’t hone their skills. Sparring, on the other hand, among orks? When your opponent learns from the fight, now that was a better fight; that was the environment that gave birth to gigantic orks.
Flipping them off, he walked off once more and shouted at them, “Now fuck off and do something worthwhile,” He had a castle to storm. He didn’t have time to babysit these idiots. They’d sort things out on their own.
“We’ll get stronger, Warboss!” Wozzat shouted, their voice getting smaller as Magsnik marched off, “Strong enough you can’t ignore us any longer! Strong enough that we can make our own WAAAGH!” They roared out and the rest of the orks shouted as one, shaking the warp around them with their presence.
He grinned, knowing that he wouldn’t have to deal with them any longer, “I’ll be waiting!” He shouted back, and that would be the last of those orks for a long while. Maybe he’d regret guiding them in that direction, but he had other pressing matters at hand, that of the life he had with those he held dear.
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Walking back to his home, he passed by fields of crops that started to sprout. Despite being bathed in warp stuff, they grew well, maybe even better than before (which was a bit concerning, but nothing that a good cooking couldn’t solve). He was going to miss watching his crops grow, but he had the next season’s to look forward to.
Slipping through the front door, he called out, “I’m home!” Strangely, none of the girls would come to greet him. Not even Dirt was there to beg for food or something. Frowning, he looked around wondering where everyone was.
“Huh, weird,” He muttered as he took off his shoes and hung his hammer on his coat hanger before he slipped on his inside slippers. Stretching, he shrugged as he said, “They’re probably making some last minute preparations,” They were planning to get inside Slaanesh’s castle, after all, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise. What he was surprised about was that they were on board with the idea he had. Then again, it was far easier to just create their own Greater Daemon of Slaanesh than to find a relatively sane one, and what better material to make them from was there than Slaanesh’s puke.
Grimacing at the mental image, he muttered, “Note to self, I have to ask Hecate if she has any method to strip myself of that particular memory,” Still, despite the horrific image, it did bring up memories of times when he enjoyed slapstick comedy on television. Blinking, he then realized that he was on a farm without television or any other sort of visual entertainment, “Actually… I might ask her if she could help me fish out those videos I watched. I really need to get a TV of sorts here to pass the time. Hell, even a radio would do,” He whispered as he walked deeper inside his home.
As he approached the living room, he’d soon hear a sound of laughter echoing down from the hall as well as some rough housing between the trio and the maids, “Oh come on, stop being a baby and sit still!” Beel giggled, teasing a certain Khornite who roared back in anger.
“My armor is formal enough and you can’t stop me!” She shouted before he heard a loud crash which had him wincing and hoping dearly it wasn’t any of his furniture.
“Why you!” shouted Beel back as he heard the two fight, screeching and screaming to what he could assume was hair pulling.
Hurrying along, he muttered, “Didn’t I tell them we should prepare for our infiltration on the castle?” What the hell were they doing? They had a plan and everything, and now this was happening? Barging through the door, he found himself face to face with what could only be described as chaos.
Beel and Justice were down on the ground pulling each other's hair while Emmy and Molly were trying to pull the two apart. Hecate, meanwhile, was just sitting by the side with a magical crystal in hand and holding it as if he was recording. As for Dirt, the poor gretchin was there by in the corner rocking back and forth while covered in clothes… he was also wearing makeup for some reason, which only made his disgusting visage even harder to look at. If things weren’t bad enough, some of the chairs and tables he had painstakingly carved were broken in pieces.
“What the fuck!?” He bellowed out, stopping the girls dead in their tracks. Turning to him, they cringed as he scowled at them. He could only shake his head in disappointment, “I left you guys alone for an hour and this is what I came back to?” He scolded them. Hecate finally got a hold of herself and was about to reply but he cut her off.
Pointing at her, he then shouted, “And don’t get smart with me, Hecate! You were supposed to be the responsible one and you allowed these two to fight,” The woman could only look away with her cheeks burning in embarrassment, “No butter cookies for you,” He then told her, making the girl squawk in protest.
Justice finally pulled herself out of Beel’s grasp with the help of Emmy. As the young maid guided the red faced and panting Khornite to a chair, Justice shouted, “She started this! She’s forcing me to wear a dress, but I don’t want to! It’s too girly!” It was only now that he noticed that she wasn’t wearing her usual leather clothes, the one she wore beneath her armor, but instead was forced into a dress.
It took him a second to tear his eyes away from her before he caught himself and forced his attention to Beel who looked all too smug about it, “Damn it all, is that why there’s clothes everywhere? Can we not make people into our personal dress up dolls?” Beel responded by looking over to Justice before looking back at him, eyebrows wiggling suggestively, “Not now,” He growled out as his cheeks burned as well.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Looking away from both the girls and coughing, he then said, “Still, I have to say that’s a really good dress. The red really suits your eyes,” The already rosy cheeked Khornite turned tomato as she covered her face and groaned, “Maybe some armor bits to accent the dress?” He suggested, hoping to make it more practical and maybe more to Justice’s liking.
“Some black plates, perhaps?” Molly suggested as she raised one of the pauldrons of Justice’s armor.
“I hate you all,” Justice grumbled before she let out a muffled scream into her hands. Magnsik couldn’t help but laugh as he found a hidden aspect of the Khornite, a cute and easily teased side of her that he reminded himself to poke later on.
Magsnik nodded, chuckling for a bit before he replied, “Definitely,” Shaking his head, he walked up to his favorite armchair, which was reinforced with adamantine underneath to support his weight, and plopped down. Scratching his head and looking around, he then asked, “But seriously, what the hell! Didn’t you guys tell me we should all prepare? I even got my old armor on. See?” He then gestured at the armor he wore. Compared to the girls, he looked under dressed.
“But we are preparing for the trip to the castle,” Beel then replied as she sat up which earned her a look of confusion from him, “Wait, you thought all of us are going to fight through the Six Circles of Temptation? Us, greater daemons of the warp having to go through challenges designed to test mortal minds?”
Magnsnik frowned as he slowly replied, “...Yes? Wait… oh,” It was then that the dawning realization that he had assumed wrong came to him. He cringed, finally realizing that they might have other means to access the palace other than combat. Why was combat the first thing he thought of?
“Aww, Magnsik, come here,~” Beel cooed as she got up from her seat and sat on his lap, hugging him tightly and nuzzling up to him while his face burned with embarrassment.
Shifting on the coach she was sitting on, Hecate then said, “What our dear princess would like to tell you is that while we serve different masters, that doesn’t stop us from befriending those who serves the Prince of Excess,” He nodded in reply and the Lady of Change was quick to explain, “Oh they’re horrible helions and too set in their debauched ways. They’re simply far too immature and would definitely ruin the ritual. They’ll probably even tattle on us to their patron, but they have their uses.”
He couldn’t argue with that logic. It was one of the reasons why he wanted to make his own, but what use would befriending them have which could help them get into the most debauched party in the Warp? “Wait, you can get invitations from them?” He blinked as he looked back at her.
“Exactly!” Beel replied, booping him on the nose, “Honestly, they’re really easy to befriend but you don’t want them to be your friend, if you know what I mean,” He grimaced as he had an inkling of how just bad they could be. It was good to have them on friendly terms, but one should be wary about keeping them too close, lest they start pushing towards extremes.
Rubbing his chin while gently stroking Beel’s hair, he then said, “Huh, well that makes sneaking into their castle easier,” Having to travel through all those circles would be a bore for these drug addled fiends when what they wanted was in the castle; there should be a fast way in. Looking at Beel, he then asked, “So, I’ll just serve as your chauffeur or something? ”
Beel looked at him with conflict in her eyes as she sighed and said, “I might have to stop you on that on Magsnik,” He frowned but chose to stay quiet for now, waiting for her reason. Leaning up against him, she then started to explain, “Yes, I could drag you to one of Aunties’ parties, but their presence would mess you up,” She grimaced, pausing as she shivered before she continued, “I wish I was joking but auntie is a bit too much for most people, and even myself!”
Magsnik snorted as he replied, “Prince of Excess, indeed,” If there’s a being that could give his already clingy and fun loving Beel a run for her money then it was them. Surprisingly, he had yet to meet one and he was starting to dread it.
“Excuse me but,” Molly then piped up as she raised her hand before she asked, “Is this Prince of Pleasure really that bad? Mistress and her friends doesn’t seem to bad even though they claim to be the greatest representation of their patrons,”
“Yes,” All four of us replied, making the poor girl flinch. Giving her a pat on the head, he felt bad about their answer but it was the truth. Compared to the three, those within the realm of the Prince had it in their nature to actually go to the extreme. Losing control of themselves was literally part of their shtick.
“Which brings us to a current issue,“ Beel then said as she frowned, “We’re not sure if you could survive the sensory overload of being near auntie,” He nodded at that. Slaanesh wasn’t known for doing things in half measures after all. Going there unprepared would be akin to being an epileptic and subjecting oneself to an EDM concert.
“If the six circles represent the greatest of pleasures that a mortal can experience then being in the palace is where all of them can be experienced at the same time,” Hecate explained as she waved her hands, weaving the purified warp that flowed through the barrier they had around the house and showed him what he was about to face.
“Avidity, Gluttony, Carnality, Paramountcy, Vainglory and, most insidious of all, Indolency,” She listed out, “Each one designed to appeal to the most basic needs of mortal, with the final one being the hardest to beat as it’s when a mortal is most weary that their urge to just rest and give up is tested.”
Visions of what was to come flashed by, to be eaten alive by the wealth they seek, to bloat from food until bursting, to be torn apart by Deamonettes in one's mistake in trying to find love, to be a prison to ones own mind in seeking adulation, to be ensnared by rooted in place while looking back their accomplishments, and finally to be offered a place of rest and never wake up. All these could be his fate if could not overcome the challenges up ahead.
“And I need to overcome all six if I want to come with your three,” He muttered as he rubbed his chin. He needed to be there, this was his plan and they would serve as his accomplices. He must be the one that did the heavy lifting because this was his idea.
“If you can’t go through the six circles and overcome all six challenges, letting you go with us to experience what the palace has to offer would be cruel at best and malicious at worst,” Hecate replied with a nod.
Sighing, he replied, “I… can see your point. You can provide me protection, but if they even catch a glimpse of me and remove that protection I might be a gooner,” He grimaced, but that was just how things were. He could wear protection, yes, but what if those protections gave way from the presence of Slaanesh? Hecate was a powerful daemon in her own right, but she wasn’t on par with a chaos god, “This journey will serve as a litmus test then, to see if I can acclimate and resist what the realm of excess can throw at me.”
“We won’t be sending you without protection of course,” Hecate then said as she waved the vision she conjured away before shaping it once more, weaving it to something tangible and solid, a three pronged amulet with three blank gemstones attached to a chain of precious metals. Whispering into the amulet, one of the gems lit up blue. Holding it aloft and letting the light shine upon it, she then said, “You will have a charm on you that no ordinary daemon can remove, a charm that would represent the combined authority of three great Daemons.”
“Beel and Justice dear, if you mind pouring your blessings upon this artifact?” She then asked as she passed the amulet over to Beel, who whispered into it as one of the gems turned green. It was then passed onto a, still flustered, Justice who still grumbled from the incident earlier, but she still whispered into it and the last of the gems turned red. As it was handed back to Hecate, the Tzeecnthian made some last minute adjustments before it was offered to him.
“The moment you ever get in mortal danger, or seven days have passed, this amulet will pull you back here,” She explained as he grabbed the amulet and held it up. It looked so small and unassuming in his palms, but the sheer energy coursing through it was palpable. Even he could feel it on his own hand despite not tuning his senses to listen to the whisper of the warp. Any cultist would sell the souls of entire hive cities to get something similar from one greater daemon, but here he was holding one made by his lover and friends, ”Only the four gods or one of my siblings could ever hope to stop this, and with your journey being in the circles of seduction… I’m about fifty percent sure that the Prince of Excess will be too busy at their current party,” She assured him with a self confident smirk.
Magsnik grinned as he slid the necklace on and felt a wave of energy wrap around his body. It felt like a warm blanket or a hug, a welcome feeling. Tucking the amulet inside his armor, he then said, “Hah! I faced bigger odds before this, and besides,” tapping his armors metal groin guard, he jested “This is decorational at best,” There was more to the realm of Slaanesh than sex, but it was far easier making fun of their hornier aspect.
“Unfortunately,” Beel muttered as she hugged him tighter. Her horniness, however, would earn her a chop on the head.
“No horny till after this,” He scolded her as his lover rubbed her head while pouting at her, “I swear, you get hornier by the day,” He replied as he ruffled her hair.
“Hecate won’t help me with your problem down there!” The girl whined, at which her friend would scoff.
“I’m an all powerful wizard and librarian, not a miracle worker. I’d need the help of a Slaaneshi to give your lover a functional wand,” The woman replied absentmindedly before catching herself, her feathers ruffled as she realized what she was saying. Clearing her throat, she then said, “As I was saying before you two derailed the conversation with your carnal needs, once you pass through all six circles of seduction, you can use this same amulet to call us so we can begin the operation.”
“Get through all the circles, easy enough,” He replied with a shrug. Looking down on his clingy fruit fly, he then asked her, “Hey Beel, you sure you can whip up something that would make your Auntie puke? They probably drink battery acid at this point.” There was no way he could ever punch hard enough to get the god to give up the contents of their stomach with how they faced off against Khorne. He would need subterfuge for this if he wanted to succeed.
“Don’t remind me of that time,” Beel muttered, blanching as he blinked before he shrugged; of course that freak would drink battery acid, “But yes! I’ve seen father whip up his famous batches plenty of times. I just have to follow what he does and I’ll get your stomach bug!” She replied.
“And if you’re worried about me getting distracted, I have these two to feed me!“ She then added as she pointed over their two maids, “There won’t be a repeat of that incident while I have these two around!” She quickly added.
“You can count on us master!” Molly replied proudly, “Our time here cooking has opened our eyes to a whole new branch of cuisines that would satisfy anyone!”
“And if you worry about running out of stock,” Emmy then said as before she pulled out the knife he had given her. He blinked as he watched the blade glow a malevolent red as the girl ever so innocently replied, “Mr. Slicey says there’s a lot of raw ingredients around to use!”
He quickly gave Justice a glance and the woman gave him an assuring look. He looked back at the knife but shrugged. If Justice thought it was ok, maybe he should let her keep it. Besides, he’d already gifted her the thing and he didn’t want her feeling down by taking that away.
Nodding, he then said, “Well, it seems like everyone knows the plan,” Looking over outside, quite some time had already passed with how the floating continents of chaos moved despite their glacial pace, “We’re already burning daylight as it is, so better that we go now,” He then gave Beel a pat on the back as he tried to get up only to find her stubbornly clinging to him.
“Beel… you can let go now, I really need to go,” He whispered to her as he pushed himself up only to find that he was pinned down on his seat. Seeing the catty smile starting to stretch across her face, he felt cold sweat drip down the back of his neck.
“I really should, but the thing is that we found out that you don’t own a set of formal clothes…” She purred as he felt her starting to unclasp his armor, “And you are going to be infiltrating the castle. You would stand out too much…”
“No…” He whispered as he saw the gleam in the eyes of the girls, the gleam that told him that they had found new prey to mess with.
With a wild buck, he threw off Beel as he scrambled for the door. Hecate’s foot, however, would get in the way, tripping him and making him crash on the floor. He struggled to get up, but by that point Beel had already recovered and was grabbing onto his legs, “Girls, get those measuring tapes ready! We’re playing dress up!”
“Damn it all! Unhand me! You already got my measurements, just use those!” He shouted, but he would find no quarter as even Justice was in on it. He could only give the girl a glare for her betrayal.
“But master! You’ve already grown several inches. It’s best if we do the measurements one more time!” Emmy and Molly shouted as they pulled out their measuring tapes. He refused to stay here, he refused to stand for hours on end to be their plaything!
He roared out as Justice ripped off his armor and pinned his arm to his back, “I had my turn so be a man and take it!”
“Nooo!” he shouted in despair but, in the end, he would prove no match for the girls.