The Unholy Legions of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica, a Warhammer Online Destruction Regiment, The Gift.

((alright I have reposted this here to gain a larger audience. The original post is in the dark corners of the Cult Of Mahk and so was only privy to a select group of people. Enjoy.))

Burias arched his back and listened to the amusingly percussive sound of his weary old spine crackling. He was getting old, though age meant little in the realms of chaos, it was telling in this mortal cage. He pushed up his clay-caked sleeves. The insidious shapes embroidered upon them had lost little of their otherworldly luster despite the filmy covering of curious-looking paste. The clay itself was suspicious. It seemed to change hues and shadows flitted over its reddish surface even under the light of azure braziers. It squirmed with a life of its own, not enough to be difficult to work with but subtle twists and shudders. If Burias did not know better he would assume it to be some hideously deformed spawn of chaos. It felt like raw muscle and was slick with what appeared to be perspiration.
He kneaded and shaped a portion about the size of his chest until it began to take shape. It resembled a rounded triangle with a lone point sweeping down towards the ground and the other two arching back and over. After the basic shape was established Burias muttered a harsh word and a sliver of clay hardened and slithered into his palm taking a new form as it crawled. He lifted a delicate carving knife and began to trace graceful cuts upon the warping clay.
Burias backed away suddenly, content with his traceries and began to speak again. His words were of a unholy language, they sounded slurred and they seemed to make the air throb and grow humid. The clay reacted to the incantation almost immediately like hounds hearing their master call. It undulated furiously and shivered with barely contained energy. After the mass of tentacular mutation had subsided, Burias stood over something else entirely. A head.
Equine in proportion yet almost reptilian, it was like no material beast. Upper points of the triangular head had lengthened and smoothed into majestic horns, slender yet powerful. They bore the color of an opal and the vibrant shades seemed to fluctuate and shift with every passing moment. Below the horns was an elongated cranium, its surface was a pale, pinkish hue with golden lines tattooed upon its otherworldly flesh. Two long ears like those of a doe stood erect at either end of the skull. They were pierced a dozen times each and hung with breathtaking sapphires and diamond bands. The head terminated in a drooping, eel like maw, hypodermic teeth ringing a lengthly purple tongue. With the slightest scratch or prick those teeth would release a heady intoxicant that sharpened the senses beyond human, or elf, comprehension. At the uppermost part of the mouth were two holes that could be construed as nostrils, also pierced with extravagant jewelry. The eyes were closed, the lids blending indiscreetly with the soft skin.
Burias was very pleased indeed with his latest creation. He shouted cruelly for a slave to lower the iron cables that would lift this crown to its body. The binds were of the darkest metal and ringed with violet runes that danced across its charred surface. A slave scurried up to Burias' side to begin looping the cables about the head but Burias, infuriated beyond words by his minion's insolence, clutched the sniveling beast's head in an vice-like grip and immolated it. The corpse dropped to the ground after a prolonged howl of unimaginable agony. Another slave shuffled from the shadows to remove the mess. Burias bound the cables about the daemonic head and with another word of power the chains lifted the grandiose sculpture into the air. With a wave of his hand, Burias guided it into a secure spot just above the two and a half meter tall body.
With a sharp, chopping motion the head was released and it landed firmly on the neck and shoulders beneath it. Instead of toppling to the ground, the head seemed drawn to the body by an unseen power. The base of the skull joined with the stump of a neck with a nauseating slurping sound as the flesh wriggled to bring the two together. The seam between the two disappeared and a now completed flesh and blood replica of a Slaaneshi daemon stood tall, emanating sensation, lust, passion, and pain in equal measure.
"Awaken." Commanded Burias with anticipation. The construct's eyes snapped open horizontally and the beautiful, alien eyes beneath were revealed. They were of purest mercury, shimmering with a light of their own. The pupils were ebony pits that betrayed the depraved soul within. To stare into those eyes was to fall under its spell and be drawn into its whims of pain and pleasure for eternity. Burias was not affected by such charms for he had warded himself against the temptation with his greatest protective sigils and pentagrams.

"Oh great scion of the abyss! Drinker of tears and courier of pain! I call thee, nay, I command thee to this shell! With all the splendor of the prince of pleasure come fourth! There is one who demands your attentions and to forsake his wish is to be drawn into limbo! Cut off from the blessed warp and the visceral sensations of reality! So come herald of She Who Thirsts! Come and serve!"

Burias bellowed these words with a strength that contradicted his withered frame. He howled his passion and determination into the immaterium and was heard. With a string of murmured words he placed his palms together with his fingers facing outwards and tore a hole between worlds. The air rippled in fear and blew away from the swirling nether. Colors never before conceived sprung fourth from the gap and the winds of magic flowed freely. For the briefest moment Burias stared into the warp and the warp stared back. Uncountable millions of lost souls screamed their torment into his mind and other more malicious entities sought purchase in him. They found none and spun off into the maelstrom in dejected pouts. A great presence was approaching.
Pink mist seeped into the chamber and the fog curled into the shapes of entwined lovers and daemonic dancers. Forms not quite woman nor man pranced through reality before dissolving into other scenes of sadism and ecstasy. They intensified as a transparent hand grabbed the rim of the portal and pulled itself forwards into reality. The daemon of Slaanesh was drawn to the sculpted body in the blink of an eye and suddenly its aura filled the room. Burias could feel its irritation at being called from the Prince's feet and bound to this real shape. He detected a hint of glee, however, at being exposed to the senses of a new world.
"Come, daemon, I have one who wishes to see you so very dearly..."
"Who are you to command me!? Human! Pathetic ape of a Northman, follower of crows and petty magi! You know nothing of true pleasure! Slaanesh damn your twisted Raven-worshiping frame to Nurgle's Gardens!" The daemon bellowed.
"Who I am is not information you are worthy of hearing. I am the summoner and you are the prisoner. I am your master and you will do as I say or else."
"Or else what?" The daemon laughed, incredulous. "I am a disciple of Slaanesh, pain and pleasure are the stuff of my creation! There is no punishment that may be dealt on one such as myself. What are you to do, mortal, should I disobey?"
"I shall banish you to the depths of Khorne's blood-drenched realm where you will be hunted by the mighty Karanak, the Hound Of Vengence, for eternity!" This disturbed the Slaaneshi creature, Khorne being the natural enemy to all worshipers of Slaanesh. Burias smiled inwardly as he realized that he had cowed this dangerous and unpredictable daemon. "Now, Shisquoloqloq - yes, I know your true name - I order you to follow me." The daemon bowed its head in submission but its gnashing ring of teeth belied its indigence.
Two slaves stumbled over themselves in their haste to reach the door and open it for their master. That was a fatal mistake as they had left the protective circle that kept the daemon from devouring their very souls. A whip of black leather with obsidian teeth and hilt materialized in the daemon's hand and it pulled its perfectly muscled arm back and snapped the whip with such power and speed that the slaves could not react. The slaves would not have dodged even if they were aware of their peril for their eyes had been cut out upon entering Burias' servitude. The last thing Burias needed was for his thralls to be driven insane or possessed by rampant daemons every time he opened a portal. The whip's tongues gripped the slaves firmly, wrapping about them and opening long cuts where the obsidian teeth bit. Then with a flick of a wrist, the daemon brought them sailing back at it. It opened its slender, long-nailed hand and a sword of pure silver appeared. The sword bisected both slaves in a single slash and the daemon breathed in the first souls it had consumed in over a century.
Burias mentally tightened his hold on the daemon and strode from the room, the doors opening on their own for him. He walked down a long corridor past a dozen doors, all resounding with screams of orgasmic pleasure.
"I do tire of the noise in this domain." Remarked Burias dryly. The daemon said nothing, clip-clopping along behind him on its bizarrely double-jointed legs that ended in black hooves. With a series of turns and staircases, Burias came to a massive set of doors. They were built like a fortress, bloodstained (among other more unspeakable substances) and forged of silver trimmed in gold reliefs of Slaaneshi rituals but superimposed over these were many water fowl.
"Dilly-dallying all day keeps the killing at bay." Said Burias with exasperation for the silly rhyme. The enchanted doors swung open as it recognized the password for the day. Burias was greeted by the disturbing (but less so every time he witnessed it) sight of a nearly nude elf chasing a diminutive greenskin about with a plunger.
"Eeeee! Keeps dat plungy fing away from me, ya gorkin' mad pointy ear!" Squealed the goblin.
"Running wont help you my little friend." Chided the elf with a melodious voice with a subtle hint of something more than mortal. "just sit down and stop struggling!" He exclaimed with a swat of his hand. The goblin was promptly seized by several bands of dark blue ice that the elf had conjured from the floor. Before the elf could make good on his intents Burias decided to intervene. After all, the greenskin may be of use later if he owes me. He thought.
"Lord Machiavelli Noir I present to you my promised guest and gift to you. I finished the summoning and binding just a few minutes ago."Burias called to his Lord. The dark elf stopped in his tracks and turned to regard the daemon with a suggestive leer.
"Hello Shisquoloqloq, it has been what, two millennia? Three?" Mahk welcomed. "Remember I told you that if I could find a new host for the material realm before you then I would get to have my fun?" The daemon looked truly unnerved, Lord Noir carried a reputation, even to other Slaaneshi daemons for his eccentricities and so-called "games".
"Shisquoloqloq, you should join your old friend for now, I am sure you have much to talk about." Burias ordered. He was absolutely thrilled to see the daemon in such a predicament. Burias started for the door and the goblin scurried after, eager for an excuse to leave. Noir grinned and trapped the goblin in a cage of ice again.
"Not so fast little one, you are not yet done here." Mahk waggled the plunger teasingly...

...

The next afternoon Burias bowed deeply as he met Lord Noir in the hallway. "Your contribution was a well needed one and now I have one less arrangement to make good on. Here you may want these." Mahk said. In the elf's proffered palm were two eyes. "I am sure you can find use for them." Burias smiled underneath his helm and took the eyes, securing them in a pouch on his belt. "Are you sure you will not be joining me and my old friend tonight?" Asked the Dark Lord lustily.
"No." Refused Burias. "I have an appointment with the healer's cloister." Burias patted the pouch at his waist and departed. So the summoning had been a worthwhile effort, he thought.

((*Fwew* All done. So yeah, Burias had lost his eyes at some point. This was a fun writing piece and it kept me up from 2 a.m to 4 a.m. My fingers are sore from typing so I am going to go to sleep now. I hope you have enjoyed my story and please leave some kind of criticism - constructive of course.))