chaosprinceundivided

[chaosprinceundivided]

Summoned

Rulek emerged from the howling maelstrom of the Dhar, his soot-black scales and crimson hide glistening as if caressed by oil. At his feet, the Bloodletter regiments of the Rupturing Glaives, Skull-Attendants, and The Ursinebane charged with their hellblades in fists and feet stamping black marking into the earth.

Heedless were the Bloodcrushers of the Unyielding Vassal, even stampling a few of the unworthy under hoof, in their charge for first blood. Their roaring cries for blood, skulls and unbridled violence matched the reason of the Godslayer's summoning.

By the spilling of a thousand witless orcs, the torture of haughty Dwarves of Hashut, the sorcerous incantations and bargains of Rulek's greater servants, and finally the sacrifice of a Kislevite witch, did he come - pulled from the other side of the Old World in his vengeful razing to answer the call of his loyal.

"Qhaysneth! Qhaysneth! Qhaysneth! Qhaysneth!"

The Lord of Many Colours. The Metamorphic Daemon. The Unyielding Prince. The Lord-Commander of Doom Keep. The Conqueror of Exalted.

Many titles gained and many lost, the constant reality of Slaves to the Darkness; no one truly wins nor losses under the careless entertainment of the Dark Gods. And Rulek, bathed in that wrathful awareness, roared like a renewed volcano. Uncaring of his summoners' praises, already charging with the gale of Kharneth at his wings.

Spilling from the crackling door, more of his following retinue spilled out. From the ironclad warbands of Chaos Warriors Undivided and Divided and the Daemons kept into this reality by Rulek's very presence and corruption, bearing standards and trophies in their conquest.

The green-skinned tide shifted at the sight of the daemons and their master, where there was the spice of fear - it became more potent. More energizing. Excitement. A new challenge to their brutish reality. And they answered to Rulek with a single-minded clarity.

"WAAAGH!!!"

#n: immortal empires #devotion: khorne

[chaosprinceundivided]

The Challenges of Chaos

Rulek rolled his shoulders, the wounds cleaved into his flesh were closest with the winds of loose souls spiralling from the multitude of bodies - both barely living and dead. The furies shrieking and swooping, ravenous to mindlessly catch the howling spirits. A fluttering cloud of teeth and wings flying around the Daemon Prince before he swatted them aside. A small bundle squirming and nipping at his talons, the draconic-faced prince crushed them like oversized insects and devoured their shaped cavaders. Their essence devoured all the same! 

“Nurgle!” He called out to the thunderous heavens, arms out in offering of this battle’s aftermath. His legionnaires of mortals and daemonic alike were gathering the living whilst more weary furies and warhounds were chasing cowards. “I call onto the unbending fortitude, their corpses are to be left out in the sun. Bring your bounty of flies and disease to swell their pallid flesh! Their meat to spoil and maggots to feast! I bring my offers of death and rotting multitude to you this day! Bestow my worthy with your strength, fill their wounds and strengthen their joints!” 

As the Prince of Chaos called out to the Rot-Lord, the wind carried a deep groan as if the mountains themselves were suffering a sickness. It was sickly-sweet and ripe, carried a foulness that several immediately recognized. Their patron-gods protected their truly devout, those of waning or questioning weren’t so fortunate. The mutation to touch their flesh were slow and insidious, several may never know what they have been gifted until death. Others were howling, roaring and twisting as Nurgle blessed the festering and weak-willed. 

Among them, Rulek chuckles as he pulled the winds onto himself. His body swelled and flexed, forcing the burning wounds with the weep of worthless puss to plap onto the snow-covered earth, sinking and become seeds of corruption. Thorns pushing under his skin, lining his arms and shoulders. Wings flapped once, thrusting the blight-wind onto the quivering corpses as they were exhuming an acceleration of decay. 

The sight of these foolish men of Sarl becoming animated. More and more, the air was becoming fogged of corpse-fog, their flesh becoming green and pockmarking or swelling in pussules. Squirming nests of maggots and other daemonic-invented beings was pushing out in freedom, becoming pupae or immediately set to fly. The clattering chitins of dung-browns and greens flying around their conjurer, the utter offense in the thralls of Misrule as their souls were corrupted, pulled for the aether beyond the north in a hallowing scream. 

Rulek felt the Eye of Nurgle upon him. He knew, by the twisting knots and feverish bloom in his gut and chest was a passing adoring for the Undivided child. A simple touch and it manifested into mutation as his great wings both swelled and withered like a wasting illness, the magics of the Grandfather strengthened his shared champion. Veins crawling outwards the discolored hide and the prince inhaled deep in the sickly storm, then he surged.

A vision.

A sight through that of a blighted crow flying over the Seas of Claws and Chaos, from the isles bewitx Britonnia and the New World beyond.

Ships bearing the sails of intertwined comets upon weathered golds and few heavier cousins, barnacle-rusted and marked dark with a tri-marked syringe…a jovial man swollen of disease and canker smiling right at the crow with his noseless skull, bowed by a massive cauldron upon his back stirred by a happy giggling familiar.

Now Nurgle desires to challenge his pup. Will he survive Festus’ visit? 

#devotion: nurgle #n: realms of chaos #one reality #semi-canon

[chaosprinceundivided]

Defense of the Festering Shipyard

"Fire, please."

Ventris' deep rasping voice exhaled, the plague catapults firing with the crooning blight-rats already moving to replace the newest foul load for the filth-greased launchers to grasp on. Between their rowed ranks, the gurgling blightcannons were drooling with their regurgitating soul-stuff with their crew waiting.

The Unclean One watched as the arches were calculated just right and slamming into the war-merchant fleet holding Marienburg's flags. Wolfships were manuevering to avoid, some almost crashing into each other and end up grinding on each other's hulls. The wargalleries were more mobile, swimming from their escorting flanking. Passing victims already sinking from the Festering Shipyard's defenses, the expedition fleet was intent to fight despite the stories - infact, the greedy blood of adventurers were well in Marienburg's veins and drew them in like flies to excerment.

Ventris' rancid smile of teeth cracked in the greater stretch. He waited. He listened to the clicks of his counting familiar working its calculations again, counting and solving in numberology.

The plagueships were moving in their slow wait. With a little shift on his palaquin of fused bone and mutated flesh, Deathmetal purred from his half-visible thyroids.

"Fire."

The blightcannons fired their writhing loads from their sphincter-barrel, twisting to the next shot. The explosive releases speared through the air, smashing through the braver of the vessels. Helms exploding in filth-ridden splinters and destroyed maidenheads. Masts falling on their crew. Screaming and gurgling, the unforgiven releases of the Ur-Father's rot falling on the wounded and breathing. Nurglings rolling from the mess, clawing and attacking with hordes of buzzing, biting flies.

Ventris laughed with a clap of his great, leathery hands at the humorous reactions of terror. Ships moving to avoid the next volley but they were too dedicated to their previous arrogance, some even smashing into icebergs floating.

Immediately, the defense fleet pushed forward with Ventris' favoured champion - Skagul Filthmonger - commandeered the Unclean One's personal vessel, the Howling Knell. The Chaos Lord of Nurgle roared from the helm, pointing his scythe out with a fist grabbing on the roping and boot on the maidenhead of a three-headed bloated siren.

"For Chaos!" His distorted voice hollered with the warcries of a thousand Nurglites and soon drowned by the flight of countless blight-furies soon to cloud the very sky.

#ventris deathmetal #devotion: nurgle #n: realms of chaos

[chaosprinceundivided]

Rulek's eye traced out in the unstable ripples of Doomkeep's Tzeentchian locus.

"I can see you, little soul."

#semi-ic #he knows about his followers

[chaosprinceundivided]

SHNK!

Rulek gasped, looking down at his chest. There was a lance of ice plunged through his ribs. Above him, the ursine elemental roared a hail of ice while the Prince kept its jaws from clasping around his head. The behemoth of magic and earth yanked and threw him side to side, finally yanking its head to the side with his mace coming free. A swing to crash against its jaw.

He found his breath ragged, as if he was feeling his lungs pierced. The bear was returning to lunge again, Rulek was on the motion of smashing against the elemental again before several more spears of conjured ice plunged into his back and wing. Roaring as teeth clamped on his shoulder, heaving him off his feet and hurled off to the side.

Tumbling with a harsh slam onto the ground, Rulek plunged his claws to slow himself and saw his wounder, the Tzarina riding on her bear. Her frost-fuming sword waving, summoning another ring of ice from the Kislev's haunting snow. Forcing himself up, the prince roared in defiance and lunged forward.

Even with his wing wounded, trying to restitch itself, the Killer of Ursun gave no quarter. Both hands on his maul's shaft, he whirled and meant full desire to crush that damned bear's ribs into powder. Only to be intercepted by the elemental golem again!

"AAARGH!" The prince roared in frustration as they got into another bout but this time, out of desperation, as he realized just how zealous that the Kislevite royal army was beating on his forces caught in the damned ambush.

"Katarina!" Rulek roared as he crushed the element's skull, swing after swing before a hail of bullets hammering into his side. However, he didn't stop. All of his fury was put into each swing. Each strike shook the very air like thunder, the golem groaning as if it had a life to lose.

Wings flared out, picking Rulek just enough to slam all of his weight down on the element and blew its compromised body apart! In the same pleasure of victory, he was met with a explosion of defeat. The very air of Kislev returned on Rulek, whirling into a tempest of slicing ice.

The prince clawed and swung but his body was becoming slower, he was trapped in the summoned whirl of Death Frost. He knew he lost his battle but he made sure all knew.

"You may have defeated me, Tzarina! But I come with something far worse!" He laughed, plunging his fist into his own chest still gaping from Katarina's last assault and pulled the item most treasured. As his daemons escaped and several warbands of Chaos warriors were claiming their part in the Path of Glory, Rulek was slugging more and more as his hide was glistening to glass. His ether pulling into the tempest, escaping with his laughter howling into the winds.

His shape left behind until all looked in horror...

For the attempted murderer of Ursun stood as a frozen statue, a foot on the fallen element. Maul in one fist and the other, risen high for all to see -

The Shard Blade of Boris Ursus.

#n: immortal empires #devotion: undivided #kislev #//that's right rulek can lose but like all daemons at a price

[chaosprinceundivided]

Rulek's golden gauntlet plunged into Blukh'ogor's ribs, the writhing warpfire boiling and bubbling the rot-blighted hide. The proud inability of feeling pain was crumbling in the Unclean One's face. The twitching muscle and twisted smile turning into something almost alien to the daemon. Blades locked and the shock of this Once-Mortal's utter adacity written on that hideous face of teeth and drooling plague-ridden saliva.

"Y-you dare!?" The Filthy groaned, his maw moved but it was telepathy that slithered into the Daemon Prince's mind while ichor spewed out.

Rulek answered with a wretching twist as the Tzeentchian metal exhumed jets of fire from its layering plating and its eye-motif flame flares sliced into the writhing insides. He ignored the crawling of billions upon billions of daemonic bacteria and microscopic things that living in the Unclean One's cadaver, how they all screamed as he burned the Greater Daemon inside out. The flies biting and fighting to escape their hives, nurglings popping and screaming in their own attempts.

The explosion of pink fire whipped and whirled inside, exploding caturizing holes here and there. Blukh'ogor screaming in rage and horror as he tried to dislodge the Prince out of him but Rulek leaped. Their swords unlocked, throwing the plague sword aside and shove his curved hellblade into the Nurglite lord's expanding maw.

"NOOOO!" Blukh'ogor's claws grabbed around Rulek, stumbling with firefoxes replacing exploding eyes.

The cloud of flies escaping as burning lights to swirl and die. The daemons and their worshippers were pulled by their scene, feeling the presence of Nurgle's representative in this battle dying.

The rot flies were circling, trying to find some way to save their master but there was no hope. Only despair. The plaguebearers were losing their presences, stepping back with the Realm of Nurgle calling them their eyes were locked upon the firestorm to erupt and pull the howling Blukh'ogor into the aether. His potencies burning and tossed by the wicked lore of Tzeentch and Ashy with Rulek standing with his sword glowing from the heat and hand caressing his ruin like water.

Seeing the battle quickly turning, the Poxbringers of Filth turned and routed with their lord riding hard as his daemonic steed could carry his bountiful frame. Rulek gave no thought to the chase, only this moment. He breathed in the seared air, his mimicry of lungs burning as the hexes of the Unclean One were writhing and melding away. Eyes closed and expanding his mind outward while his warriors chased after the tallyband.

There was a crash of aethyric lightning streaking across the air, demanding attention. The unfathomable weighto f eyes watching him, quietly commanding for the next words. They shaped on his tongue...

In Tzeentch's Name. In The Name of Magics Unbound. In Fate's Will.

Rulek's jaws clicked as his vocals rolls in a deep sound, speaking out,

"In my name."

The heavens crashing and thrashed. The streaks of blue. The hammering arcs of emerald. The forked lashes of pink. The slashing bolts of crimson dancing through the green-frothed air. The Gods seething but he felt their favor still begrudgingly given for the Prince had won, even as they saught to mutate him further.

#n: realms of chaos #devotion: undivided

[chaosprinceundivided]

Jaz definitely sounds like Thrax in my head. And Ventris probably sounds like Rattlesnake Jake--

I can see that. Jaz with that same influx of voice, flanging with a soft feminine sultry whisper to the masculine overtone. When pissed, it become a viper's spine-shivering pitch. Ventris, as a Unclean One of Shyish, absolutely give Bill Nighy energy. Gentle and fatherly with a edge of warning and firmness until pushed, revealing the heartless cruelty of Death that he embody.

#ooc #daemons of chaos #asks

[chaosprinceundivided]

Do you have voice choices for your characters?

Alas I do not beside Rulek still having his original voice, just more of a dark purr at times.

#ooc #but i do have mental ideas for voices

[chaosprinceundivided]

Jaz'mahnn is pleased of so many fine adorers, he will keep your secrets close and your desires upon his tongue.

#jazmahnn silverspine #keeper of secrets #daemon of slaanesh #devotion: slaanesh #//a surprising bundle of likes and reblogs deserve a daemon's glee

[chaosprinceundivided]

She slept within her prepared tent. How she shifted with the softest distortion to her beautiful pale face, a woman as if made by a ice sculptor. How her hair flowed loose, strands of well-kept ebony. Rivers of her mane spilling along pillow and back. A fist clenching tight on her pillow. It was almost a pain to watch.

Katarina.

The Last of the Bokha bloodline was masterfully protected. From the war camp being several layers of the boyars and their regiments, the easily assembled fortification. This was the warfront against Norsca's constant incursions since the evil had been spilling for the past year. The wizards that carved for wards that had been practiced and refined, denounce the daemons to try and infiltrate. Shame that mortals were so malleable. All it took was one little scratch in the hexxogram.

The dark presence slowly, clouding into her feverish dream...

#n: realms of chaos #kislev #katarina bokha

[chaosprinceundivided]

Jaz'mahnn Silverspine, Adorer of Aspiration and General of the Legion of Glorious Avarice

#devotion: slaanesh #keeper of secrets #slaanesh #//they know Ludwig #//imagine having a bunch of exotic names and you get 'Jasmine' in Total Warhammer

[chaosprinceundivided]

The Right to Rule

The Forge of Souls rattled with the epic battle to shake upon its primodial foundations. As the gathered legions of Chaos committed to war that the mortal realm could only imagine. As the Greater Daemons led their regiments by the blessings of the Chaos Gods and their unifer, coming to duel unbridled with the Shadow's renegades and stolen warmachines.

Rulek himself, clad in his hellish armour and empowered by the Four in the apex of his great vengeance, impaled the hideous daemon forge of a Khornate daemon from roaring maw to spine. His taloned feet piercing into gut as the half-machine gurgled and flailed to dislodge him, only for the Daemon Prince to send it back into the Void with a rapturous roar of warpfire.

At his back, Kraedaan and his Khornate forces led the hammering carve with the Blood God's commandment burning their very psyche. Kill. Maim. Burn. Till it was done! Even Ghorgen was feeling it as he rode his juggernaut through a rank of chaos warriors and swung his churning sword across necks and rending chestplates.

However, the Godslayer's Chosen and Exalted were fueled with their master's desire of conquest. Refined in formations and many battles, they served as his spear. Rain of hellcannons stretching across the air to smash into fortifications criss-crossing with Be'lakor's own defenses. The Forge-fiends knew only artillery. Ventris sent his flight of Plague Drones with choking vectors of nurglite furies shrieking and using their own bodies to protect the buzzing rotflies and their riders.

Jasmine and Tretchur'la-yak looked out with a moment of fiendish clarity. Joining together in a orchestra of movements; from the chromatic cloud of flightful Tzeentchian power to the stretching pincer of wind-running calvery, from the skies to sides. Even as the Shadow Master released his own manageries to hold them back, the joined legions of the Ruinous Powers' darkling princes added to the assault.

Rulek gave no restraint in this battle. He have gathered powers that should be beyond him, but he did this more than himself - he realizes.

As he carved through daemon and slave, unleashing the giggling powers of Tzeentch in a screaming yawn of the Warp swallowing, he can still almost hear him in the maelstorm of lost souls damned. In his darkest recesses, the man he was screamed for that daemon to push through. To kill the manipulator. To break his spine upon his knee. To end him completely. Rulek snarled and, as a Bloodthirster dared to challenge him, the Daemon Prince charged with his tower shield catching the heavy bearded axe with a explosion of his dark aura's ward.

How he danced around each decapitation-wanting swing, only to slice at openings and come around. The thirster howled as he swung for Rulek's midsection. The Daemon Prince lunged himself in and crashed with his grown size heaving the Khornate beast off his hooves, the cruel blades impaling through black armour and scarlet hide.

From a perch, the Old Man watched it all with horrified awe.

How Rulek's roar casting a black bolt of lightning across the shimmering sky of infinities as more of his daemons fought on ships of iron and thunderous weapons, crashing against Be'lakor's thralls whilst the Four watched with ravenous glee to their playthings fighting once more for their infinite desires.

All according to them.

#n: realms of chaos #devotion: undivided #//rulek brought his big guns for that battle #//even using the defeated daemon princes and their forces

[chaosprinceundivided]

Yazyik Fluxsoul, The Seer

The Incadascant Horror to serve as Rulek's personal oracle (one taken with a grain of wise salt) and court sorcerer, Yazyik Fluxsoul is a dangerous creature, even with his ninefolded wards and oaths, and branding of Undivided. A Tzeentchian daemon is never to be trusted, even among its own allies, the fickleness and mischief that they embody were an abhorrent consistence.

Yazyik had appeared from the machinations of Vilitch gone astray, gathering by the winds of Magic dancing through Ice Tooth Mountains whilst Rulek's legion stretched beyond Norsca. In an attempt to usurp the Daemon Prince's claimed lands, the conniving sorcerer instead found his power leeched by Doomkeep's darker foci.

Rulek trust few and Vilitch's legend is well-known to him, urging the daemonic portals within the dark bastion to yawn a new effort - the Incadascant Horror and his personal retinue of giggling, melacholy gaggle of Pink Horrors that speak a hundred truths and falsehoods. Each one of their streaming jabbering a power that few can pluck.

Yazyik have given onto Rulek his eldritch wealth of knowledge and personal skill, said to be a bequeath onto the Changer of Ways himself. To see and scribe the exploits and potentials of a Undivided Prince after many generations, moreso that of one seeking the defeat of the Dark Master himself.

Even as he accepted the creature into his court, Rulek will never forget - nor forgive - the part that Tzeentch had played into his damnation.

#yazyik fluxsoul #incandescent horror #myart #//Yazyik wasn't appearing until he got every horrifying detail of Tzeentch

[chaosprinceundivided]

The Furies of Rulek

With all the daemons under his sway, Rulek have a noticeable relationship with the Furies. Perhaps due to his own, or rather lack of, an alignment, they follow him in some perceived form of an elevated Fury.

He take care of them surprisingly properly, undivided or god-claimed, and his presence make them disturbingly brave and powerful. There had been witness of their talons carving into armour and taken soldiers off into the air to be further meals. Their wings carrying them fast and hides becoming as sturdy as armour with even some given armour by the Daemon Prince in a sign of favour. Some even whisper these particular Furies manifest from settlements that Rulek had conquered in his former life during the expedition for Ursun, resonating emotions from his slain warriors made manifest.

Many of his claimed settlements have Fury roosts, an overt sign of his presence. They serve as his eyes and ears, messengers (if easily replaceable), and taloned harbingers.

#rulek lore bits #furies of chaos

[chaosprinceundivided]

All of my followers, I thank yall for your time with me so far. I am so happy to be able to give Rulek some much needed attention and able to actually write for him as I have so far.

#ooc #I appreciate yall alot

[chaosprinceundivided]

Thank you! He came out wonderful!

Another set of comm pieces, this time featuring sketches of @primestartes' daemon prince Rulek!

#warhammer #warhammer fantasy #total warhammer 3 #chaos undivided #oc #rulek the godslayer #daemon prince

[chaosprinceundivided]

Rulek, The Godslayer

Behold! He comes, upon wings of gnawing blight. Men brave of souls withered before his shadow. The mark of evil burning upon his sculpted chest. Decadence and wrath held onto his gargoylish being, taller than any man and more devious than many of his kin.

The Ruinous Powers gnawed and salivated for this ascended champion, few were of his unshackled being. Eightfold of sins written, chains pulling onto the wheel of Chaos Undivided.

The Murderer of Ursun comes. Betrayed and Betrayer all.

Rulek. The Prince Unbound. The Youngest. With a cruel sword, he killed with the brutal finality of a warrior predating his rebirth. Each motion was a fine art practiced. His wings brought terror. Crowned by curved horns, the face of a man long replaced by that of a contemptive dragon's. Beautiful and terrible.

Pulling the winds of Magic by a gesture, formations suffered as their armaments became glittering rust, bared to the blade's carve and the malice of the Godslayer's legionnaires. Mortal. Immortals. They marched under his infernal banner, chanting his debased title.

The woeful souls he freed from their flesh were mere piecemeal for his greater ambition. An ambition gained and denied by a unspeakable twist and sunder of fates. His dark destiny to claim the Motherland in his slain victim's place, to be the Dark Father of a new Kislev.

Deny him and suffer as the world burns in a Storm of Chaos.

#rulek the godslayer #chaos undivided #myart #daemon prince #total warhammer 3 #casual armaments #ooc: wearing at least one gift of the gods