You are Hierarch Fingolfin and the town is finally in sight. You had just watched as all of your air support was torn apart by a Slaaneshi daemon prince, a Khaine damned daemon prince. If you hadn’t been convinced of your defeat already you certainly are now. The only thing you can really do now is kill as many humans as possible.

And what makes matters worse is that waiting for night is simply not an option, every second you waste is another second the humans have to prepare. Or even summon more daemonic aid. Looking upon the town, you muse that such a peaceful looking world is the last place you had ever expected to die, you always assumed you would be killed by one of your students back in your shrine in Commorragh in a duel for your title as Hierarch.

Many of your kind entertained dreams of immortality and certainly it seemed possible, the haemonculi themselves were living proof of this. You, however, know that there is no such thing as true immortality for your kind. Everyone goes to meet Slaanesh sooner or later. The best you can do is make sure that She Who Thirsts chokes on your soul.

The host of warriors comes to a halt behind you. You look back over your shoulder at them and then back at the peaceful town. You raise a hand high into the air and then, after a moment, drop it. The host behind you roars with battle lust and charges.

”Aure entuluva.” you mutter to yourself. “The day shall come again.”

---

You are Ric’haerd the haemonulus and you are very disappointed with young Feanor. Of course you appreciate his enthusiasm for meeting out vengeance, but there’s a fine line between enthusiastic and single minded. A line which Fearnor had crossed long before you met him. He overestimated his brother’s capabilities, even when said brother informed him that he was doing exactly that.

The fool wanted as many hands available as possible for when the human fleet finally shows up. He’ll never get those soulstones with such a token force going after them, it seems as though it’s up to you to ensure victory. Again.

It’s not as though you actually want to help him though! Those soulstones could serve a multitude of purposes and have so very many places in possible future experiments of yours. And really, who could possibly say no to having so many innocent souls to torture? Gosh, you haven’t tortured anything it what must have been minutes. Well, best get this done quickly then, the sooner you piss off Feanor the sooner you can get back to your art.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” you say to the assembled shipmasters.

”You mentioned something about killing?” one of them says.

“Ah yes, I did, didn’t I? Well as it turns out the pathetic little force sent down to the planet is holding up just as well as can be expected.”

”So the humans are wiping the floor with them, then?”

“That just about covers it, yes. Would you be so kind as to take a hundred or so ships down there and do this correctly?”

”Did the Archon order this?”

“He didn’t not order it.”

The corsair grins savagely. “Good enough for me! You all heard the freak, to arms!”

---

You are Anonymous and the whispers have returned.

’You cannot win.’

“Shut up.” you whisper.

’I will return.’

“Shut up!” you say, a little louder this time.

’I will take everything from you.’

“Shut up!” even louder.

’You cannot contain me!’

“Be silent!”

’I shall rise again!’

“SHUT UP!”

”What the fuck are you yelling about now?” You snap out of your internal dialogue and glance around, pretty much everyone is staring at you. Fuck, gotta think of something fast, can’t let anyone know you’re conversing with malevolent Warp powers. Quick, say something they’d expect you to say!

“DO YOU HEAR THE VOICES TOO?”

Smooth.

”Shut the fuck up, Anon.” Infernus says.

”I DO! I DO!” Pinkie exclaims. Well you always figured she had to be hearing something.

”Shut the fuck up, Pinkie.”

”I am those voices, baby!”

”Shut the fuck up, Doomrider.”

---

You are Apophis and you are beginning to hear whispers.

’Don’t believe his lies!’

‘Who are you?’

’He is a face stealer.’

‘Who is?’

’The daemon.’

‘I sense no daemon.’

’He is a daemon. A liar, flesh stealer, face taker, soul eater, changeling.’

‘Tell me who the daemon is, damnit.’

’Help me. Set me free.’

‘By the Emperor’s Golden Throne, you will answer me!’

’Brother, set me free.’

You freeze. There’s only one being in the entire galaxy that still calls you brother. ‘... Who are you?’

’Just a bird. Hoping that a bug will come along and save him.’

You turn and glance at Anonymous, chatting away with the pink pony and the daemon prince. He notices you looking his way and turns his head to look at you, a smile on his face and a friendly wave at the ready. You look into his eyes. There is a deep, pervading terror visible in them that he does not seem to feel. You give him a nod and resolve to keep an eye on him.

---

”Brother, do you see this?” Infernus asks you. You look out at the charging horde of xeno warriors.

“Aye, brother, that I do.”

”Realistically, do you think we can hold out?”

“Of course, there is no question. We must and so we will. I have given my word that any fool who dare sets foot upon this world with hostile intent will perish.”

”And what, heretic, is your word worth.”

“Alone? Little. Nothing. But these xenos dare to take what is mine, I will not permit this.”

”Take what’s yours? What here is yours?”

“All that falls within my sight, in bright of day or black of night.”

”Cute. Now what the fuck are we going to do?”

“Attack.”

”What? Are you fucking dense? Why would we give up such a defensible position?”

“Our armor is all the protection we need against their flimsy splinter weaponry.”

”Even so we should let them come to us.”

“We should engage them as far from the town as possible. What’s to stop them from just rampaging throughout the town and wreaking havoc upon the civilians?”

He sighs. “Yes, that would be just like them, wouldn’t it?”

“Which is why we should take the battle to them.”

”I do not think it would end well. We would have to leave behind marines to guard the town. It would either have to be my men or Apophis’s men. Taking the Rubric Marines would leave the town under defended and taking mine would not be enough.”

“Can we not just take some of Apophis’s marines?” you ask.

Apophis shakes his head. “I have to be near them to control them, it’s either all or none.”

“Firefek. I don’t want these bastards reaching the town. Chaos only knows what they would do to the ponies.”

“We don’t have much time to decide, brothers. The xenos are still charging.”

”Fuck it all, Voice of the Emperor, we go to meet the enemy!”

You and the Disco Marines form into ranks and begin marching to meet Feanor’s forces. An ordered column of ceremite and steel to oppose the wild and reckless wave of xenos flesh. They outnumber you probably more than fifty to one. A shame, a single Space Marine is worth at least a thousand eldar. But the order of the march irks you, you would prefer to do as the xenos do and charge into the fray.

You content yourself with the fact that you’ll soon be ass deep in a proper battle. The xenos horde grows steadily closer. Your mouth begins to water at the prospect of feasting upon the flesh and souls of sweet eldar once again. You take a deep breath and reattach your helmet, idly noting the armor pressurize. And you do your best to ignore the whisperings. They just don’t stop. Something about lying and daemons and face stealing. You’re not really paying attention anymore. After all, it’s nearly time for battle. You need to get into the zone.

---

In almost no time at all the two armies collide, the mass of eldar parting around the column of Astartes like water around a rock. Disco Marines open up with their sonic weaponry and chainsaw bayonets while splinter rounds shatter harmlessly against their armor. The xenos go down in droves while the Astartes stand firm.

Anonymous charges off into the thick of it the instant the battle is joined. You, however, stand with your men and your master. Although, come to think of it, Grandmaster Funk just kind of lumbered off as well, his power sword scything the xenos down like wheat. So you and your squad fight as you’ve been trained to do for centuries.

”Sergeant.” the voice of Remixar comes over the vox during a short lull in the fighting.

“Aye brother?” you ask.

You see him nod towards some distant point. You look over to where he had indicated to find Anonymous completely surrounded by xenos. But apparently that’s good for him. All it seems to mean to him is that he can swing his chainsword in any direction he wants. He’s completely reveling in the slaughter, you can even hear a manic laughter echoing from his direction even over the din of battle.

”What must be going through his head?” Interstellar wonders.

“Those are things best left unknown. Who knows what inhuman thoughts lay behind that mask? What dreams of chronic and sustained cruelty?”

The three of you look on as he discards his weapons and grabs an eldar, picking him up and lifting him over his head and ripping the xeno in half.

Blood and entrails and-

---

Candy and confetti and streamers rain down on you from the giant party popper you’d just pulled apart. To your utter delight you find a party hat amidst the colorful debris that came pouring out. You strap the conical party hat to your helmet. Now fully prepared for this most wondrous of parties, you set out back onto the dance floor. Ponies of all colors dance away and you can’t help but wonder at Pinkie’s ability to throw such great parties.

Skipping merrily along through the party you decide to liven things up a little and pull out your rainbow cannon. The wonderful machine spews forth rainbows and bubbles all over ponies throughout the party, they all laugh and cheer you on as you skip along. You stop by a group of little fillies and grab them all up in a big hug and spin them all around, the ponies giggling and cheering the whole time. You set them back down and go back on your way, firing your rainbow cannon the whole way.

You notice one particular pony that looks rather sad, you can’t have that! But what to do, what to do? Candy! Ponies like candy. And you just so happen to have a giant pixie stick on you! You pull the pixie stick from your belt and frolic your way over to the pony, who brightens up considerably upon seeing you, and jam it right into her mouth.

---

You are Discus Infernus. And you and your squad can only watch in morbid fascination as Anonymous frolics through the eldar army, a severed Kabalite’s head stuck atop his helm, and loves and tolerates them all into little piles of gore.

”Chaos must be one fucking hell of a drug.” Remixar remarks.

“I concur, brother. I concur.”

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