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Well, I'm starting a daemons of chaos army, and going for pure tzeentch. My list uses Kairos, the Blue Scribes, AND the changeling, and there have been grumblings of cheese from friends and relatives.
So, to shut them up.
Centuries ago, before the fall and rise of mighty empires, in the time of Settra, there lived a man. His life was uneventful, mostly, and he lived in obscurity... until the baleful and curious eye of Tzeentch lit upon him. Blissfully unaware of the scheming of Tzeentch, the man... name long forgotten... carried on with his life and job, unaware that Tzeentch had whispered in the dreams of his friends, family, and colleagues, whispering lies and treachery, telling them that he was evil, that he consorted with daemons, and he plotted their deaths.
Soon, omens of death began to surround him... on his thirtieth birthday, a three-headed chicken was seen running out of his house, and a raven spied carrying a rat in its beak, landing on the ledge outside his workplace. The wine of a rich merchant neighbouring him turned to blood, and the murmurings of those close to him turned to cries of outrage.
That night, as he slept drunk from celebrations, an angry mob stormed his house, and carried him, blustering and protesting in indignation and confusion, to a stake around which lay bales of straw. Seeing this, his cries of anger turned to screams of terror, screams which stopped only as his flesh was scorched from his bones, and his spirit left his body.
Tzeentch was not finished with the man, though. Seizing his incorporeal spirit, he was taken deep within the crystalline labyrinth of Tzeentch, or maybe just inside, or maybe not at all... or maybe he has yet to be taken inside. Nevertheless, he perceived it as so, and, helpless, was powerless to stop Tzeentch whispering in his mind, telling tales of treachery and hatred, and showing him images of the antics of those who had surrounded him in life. Tzeentch painted a bleak picture of a world that despised him, and finally, with cruel glee, he destroyed the sanity of the man, destroyed his memories, and again crashed these images of despair, of hatred, into the spirit and mind of the man, again and again and again until he knew nothing but a burning desire to take his revenge on those who had destroyed him, unknowing that Tzeentch was ultimately responsible.
Tzeentch still had more tricks to play, and, leaving these feelings of betrayal intact, thrust into the man's mind an image of the universe, twisted and warped into something of Tzeentch's creation, and such was the power of the image that the man was hopeless to do anything but accept it as the truth, that Tzeentch was the only true power in the world. With this, he begged, breaking down and begging Tzeentch to give him the power to take his revenge.
Tzeentch considered this, his many faces frowning and smiling as new thoughts and ideas occurred to him, gauging the fate of this man, his soul already lost, and then, with a sudden shout of glee, the god summoned all his knowledge, his power, his prowess with manipulation, and slammed it into the consciousness of the man, who was promptly torn back into the material realm.
The reincarnation of the Nameless and Betrayed, as he is now known, was not peaceful. The resulting warp explosion tore a crater a mile wide into the landscape of what is now known as Bretonnia, a gaping void into the warp letting in the many denizens of the realm of Tzeentch. The Nameless and Betrayed slowly pushed himself to his now-clawed feet, lifting his head - no, his heads - to stare into an unseen dimension, and his beak cracked open in what would have been a grin on a human face. Spreading his magnificient wingspan, the newly born greater daemon crowed in triumph, and the knowledge that vengeance would be his, vengeance upon the many descendants of those he believed to have betrayed him. With a mental flick, he called the daemons that capered around the crater to his side, and left, advancing further into the mortal realms, the ground his army passed over scorched beyond repair. The first town fell before it could muster a defence, the sole descendant torn to shreds and his soul devoured by the circling screamers overhead. The massive amounts of magic the greater daemon wielded attracted the attention of furies, and of a more malevolent deity. Khorne looked upon the horde of The Nameless and Betrayed, and grunted in angry approval, and begrudgingly gave his blessing to their mission.
With the blessings of two chaos gods, and the great knowledge and power of the daemon at the head of the force, the horde of daemons smashed its way through Bretonnia and into the Empire, where the majority of the descendants had settled. It swiftly attracted attention, but shattered all resistance, but the vortex of power swirling around the army brought forward dozens of heretics and witches cursed by the empire, looking to tap into this new source of power. The Nameless and Betrayed devoured the souls of all of them - all but one.
A mad, lone scholar known to his accomplices as 'Ahmehides' approached the greater daemon as they pillaged the ruins of yet another town, his eyes wide with wonder and his trembling hands clutching his sole worldly possessions; tattered scrolls, the result of his lifes research. The ancient scholar had long since forgotten what the research had been, nor what the spells inscribed on the scrolls caused to occur, but, eager to please what he perceived as his new gods, he looked upon the Nameless and Betrayed and began to recite. It immediately began to rain, and the greater daemon snapped his fingers to dispel the magic, and started in shock as the downpour did not abate. This was bizarre, strong magic, and the daemon looked upon the cowering scholar with a new respect, examing his aura with one head and his future with the other. Suddenly, he cackled gleefully as a particularly amusing vision struck him, and knew that no fate he could invent for this man could exceed that which awaited him. The man attracted power, calling the winds of magic to him, but this would prove his downfall, in a most entertaining manner. He would travel with the army, his presence sustaining that of the daemons. But he would prove slow, and to that end, several days later, the Nameless and Betrayed called the scholar to him and presented him with a disc of tzeentch.
But there was another lurking in the army, in the shadows, in the flickering fires that littered their path, even in the daemons themselves. The changeling, amused by this wave of destruction, followed in their wake, feasting upon the chaos they left behind. Eventually, he abandoned deceit and joined the army, seperate from the control of the greater daemon but nonetheless serving the purposes of Tzeentch in every way.
Personally I think you sometimes go too much in depth and sometimes could use much more time to describe what is actually going on.
Except from that it's an extraordinary piece of fluff and I wish you the very best in silencing them.
5000p. High Elves
is he a sorcerer? Why would Khorne favour him?
Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day,Give a man religion and he'll starve to death praying for a fish