The Journey of Khorne

[Myrdraxxis]

I didnt make this but am posting it per request...


In the grim darkness of the future, there is only war…

Khorne was bored. He sat upon his throne, tapping his dark, clawish fingernails upon his throne of brass. It was an impressive throne, and even more impressive was the mountain of skulls on which it stood. Comprised of the unfortunate victims of his Champions’ wrath, its already considerable size only continued to grow.

This macabre mountain itself grew of a lake of blood, the blood that was spilled by his countless servants on countless worlds.

Impressive as it was, Khorne was bored. Unnoticed by him, a fearsome looking creature was struggling to climb the precipice. Every several miles he stopped to take a breather, and then resumed his ascent. A denizen of the Warp, no unkindness went unused in the fashioning of his features. His feet were the cloven hooves of a cow or goat (or some other ungulate) and massive horns curved from his forehead. Great bat like wings grew from his back, and his face was ugly beyond adequate description. He was a Bloodthirster, greater daemon of Khorne.

And not just any Bloodthirster. As he neared the great bronze throne, Khorne deigned to notice him. “Oh, An’ggrath, it’s you.” The Blood God snorted, spraying blood everywhere. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

An’ggrath the Unbound bowed, gasping. He was out of shape, having been summoned from the Warp and into the Materium only twice in the past ten millennia. Pesky Gray Knights, he thought irritably before answering his master, “A thousand pardons, o great lord of carnage and mayhem.”

There was a brief pause, before Khorne irritably said, “Well?”

An’ggrath jumped, “Oh! Sorry!” He handed the Blood god a tea cup on a saucer. Khorne accepted it with a pleasant smile, albeit a smile in which blood dripped from between his fangs. Nice effects, thought An’ggrath absently.

The tea cups contents seemed to be a pale swirling morass…of something that An’ggrath could only begin to describe. Undaunted, Khorne downed in one mighty gulp. He sighed contentedly.

“Ah, nothing beats the taste of two billion freshly harvested monk souls.” He belched. “I can taste their tears.”

An’ggrath bowed his head. “The Despoiler sends his regards.”

Khorne regarded the cup morosely, and then with a flick of his wrist, threw it into the sea of blood. “An’ggrath, I am bored.”

An’ggrath, whose usual interaction with his god involved the evisceration and mutilation of trillions, was at a loss as what to say. After a moment’s consideration, he brightened. “Angron said that he was free for croquet later on. I think that he’s been rather bored since Armageddon,” He added sagely.

“Spare me your sycophantic drivel.” With a wave of his hand, Khorne banished the Bloodthirster to the other end of the warp. What would he do? he thought helplessly. When he had first awakened, it had all been fun and games, but now it had settled into a rut. Once you have drank the blood of a helpless innocent, you have drank the blood of a billion, which he had done as well, several billion times over.

He slammed his fist into the armrest of his throne, causing several worlds outside the warp to perish in fire and brimstone. What was he thinking? Was he not the god of war? He was omnipotent, was he not? He stood, causing cataclysmic earthquakes on a number of hive worlds. And if he was omnipotent, then it would be a synch to find something fun to do.

“I need a hobby,” the Chaos God proclaimed. These words echoed throughout the warp, driving cultists mad, sending lesser daemons scattering, causing chaos marines to cower, and eliciting bizarre looks from the other Chaos gods. And with those four fateful words, Khorne strode off into the Warp.

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[Myrdraxxis]

With a thunderous boom that could be heard for a thousand miles, Khorne manifested outside of the Palace of Change. He glared at the ever-shifting mass of stone, flesh, and warp energy. Not bothering to knock, he smashed down the door. Waiting inside was Tzeentch, the God of Change, Sorcery, and Hope.

At this moment the God had manifested as a bizarre anthropomorphic dog-bird beast. He appeared to be lost in game of chess. He lifted one of his heads to glare at Khorne.

“Yes?” he said irritably.

Khorne grumbled, “I spent myself knows how long searching for you. You must have a million castles scattered throughout the warp. Bloody waste of my time, pun intended.”

Tzeentch turned his other four heads to look at him and spoke in a grave voice, “It is but a reflection of my base nature, for I am the lord of the vitality and volatility of change…”

“…that reflects the base nature of chaos or whatever, blah, blah, blah, no one else cares but you.” Khorne scornfully sneered.

Tzeentch ruffled his scaly feathers, unperturbed, “What do you want?”

“I want to know where the Master Elevator is.”

“The Master Elevator? Everyone knows where that is.”

“Except me. I’ve been busy.”

Tzeentch turned his attention back to the Chess board. “If you must know…it’s the second star to the right, and straight on till morning.”

Khorne scratched his head, “That’s from Peter Pan.”

Tzeentch shrugged. After a moment’s silence, Khorne pointed at a tall, golden piece on the chess board. “What’s that one?”

“That’s the God-Emperor.”

“Ah. I see.” Another pause. “What does it do?”

Tzeentch rolled his eyes. “Nothing. It would be inimical for it do otherwise.”

Khorne picked up the piece and moved it over a space. Tzeentch lunged across the board and put it back. “What are you doing? You’ll will upset the delicate balance I have established!” After a moment’s thought, Khorne flipped over the board and sent pieces scattering everywhere. Tzeentch squawked in alarm and rushed to pick up pieces. With a chuckle Khorne departed.

Elsewhere in the Warp…



Angron raised a hand to his forehead. The sky was filled with the swirling red and purple hues of the warp, while intense heat baked the demonically radiated barren landscape to a healthy crisp.

Another lovely day, he thought with a smile.

He turned to his companion, the Daemonic Primarch Magnus. “What do you think?”

Magnus looked at him sourly, a surprising display of emotion for someone whose head was a giant, flaming eyeball. “I unable to fathom your interest in croquet, Angron, and I would thank you to quit asking for my opinion.”

Angron smiled condescendingly at his colleague. “Croquet is the sport of kings Magnus. However, I can see why you would find it boring. So, we shall agree to disagree.” With those words, he hefted his war hammer, an immense beast whose head alone must have weighed several tons and swung with glee.

With a deafening impact the Khornate Primarch sent the small round object skipping across the ground, where it passed through several flaming pylons and finally through a dimensional portal and into the maw of an immense demon, whom the local Chaos Marines had affectionate dubbed Gorgathos, All Devouring Maw of Doom.

Angron hefted his hammer and smiled at Magnus, “That head must have flown a good fifty miles further than the last one. Now do want to come to the gold tournament next week?”

Magnus shrugged, “Sorry. Fulgrim and I have tickets to the Wych’s Annual Match of Maim in Commaragh.”

Angron slammed his hammer down, “You lucky bastard.” His gaze became dreamy. “Last time I went it was wonderful. Blood was flying everywhere, they were tearing each other’s limbs off, the sheer carnage was incredible.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And that’s just the pre-match sex! You should see the Match of Maim itself! “

Suddenly his mobile rang. “Hold that thought. It’s the Big Guy.”

Angron held the phone to his ear. “Hello sir. Oh nothing, just playing some cro…Uh huh…yeah. Yes, that would be the case. Umm, no, not that I know of, but no one cared about him anyways. Uh huh. Uh huh. Alright. I won’t let you down sir. No problem. I’ll remember to keep an eye on the little guy. Alright. Bye.”

He hung and looked up at the bemused Magnus with a brutal smile.

“Good news?”

Angron laughed, “You have no idea. The Boss is taking a vacation, and guess who’s in charge?”

[Myrdraxxis]

The Master Elevator. No one knows its origins. Perhaps it was created by God. Perhaps it was created by the multiverse itself to fulfill some unknown purpose. Whatever the case, it has been there ever since the multiverse has.

Khorne stared at it. All this searching, and he was unimpressed. It seemed to be a square, featureless box just floating in the Warp. How boring. There was a single unlabeled button on the outside. He pushed it. A sign lit up. Please Wait, it said.

Of course.

After a moment, he noticed a short, plump, bearded man standing beside him. After a moment he spoke.

“So, where are you going?”

“Just using the elevator.”

“Oh, I see.”

After a moment’s silence, Khorne examined the short, man more closely. “Do I know you?” The man looked at him nervously.

“I don’t think so.”

Khorne narrowed his eyes, “You know what, I think I do. You’re…”

The short man waved his hands angrily, “Alright, alright! Yes, I am Nehoco, the God of Atheism. So what, do you want to fight about it?” He gazed up at the massive armored god. “Never mind, I take the last part back.”

Khorne shrugged, “Actually I thought you were a monk I ate once, but now that you said it, I do remember you. Class of ’83, right?”

“Eighty-four actually, but who’s counting?”

“Yeah.” Another pause. “So, how’s that God of Atheism stuff working out? That sounds like a pretty unique niche.”

“Oh, it’s a bitch.”

“I suppose it would be.” Pause. “I’m the God of War.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Business is pretty good right now. Not to brag or anything.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“So where are you going?”

“I am going to spread the Gospel of Atheism.”

“What a coincidence! I myself am spreading the Gospel of Pain, Death, Destruction, and War.”

There was a dinging sound. Both God’s turned to see the door on the Elevator open. A cool female voice spoke, “Welcome to the world of Warhammer 40,000. Enjoy your visit.” Khorne and Nehoco stepped through.

It was far larger on the inside than the outside. A tall, skinny man in a purple suit and hat greeted them. “Hi.”

Nehoco raised his hand. “Greetings, purple man. What is your name?”

“Some call me Willy Wonka. And this” he beckoned to the whole room, “is the Great Glass Wonka Vator!”

Khorne gazed impassively at him. Nehoco coughed politely.

Wonka smiled at them. “So where you want to go? The sky is the limit with the Wonka Vator! It can go sideways and slantways and longways and backways and squareways and frontways and any other ways that you can think of!”

Khorne lopped off Wonka’s head. “Where are we headed?”

Nehoco examined the various buttons, before selecting one, “Whores of Babylon Bar and Grill.”

Meanwhile, on Terra…

Lord Inquisitor Maximus Thern gazed at the assembled Grey Knights.

“Gray Knights! You have been gathered in response to a crisis, perhaps the greatest crisis since the Apostasy, nay, the Heresy! itself.” He stalked past the rows of Terminators, his gaze like steel, “The Chaos God Khorne has left his lair in the Warp!”

The Terminators stirred. “But not for the Materium! No, he has passed into another universe altogether! What his agenda is we can only guess. But we can assume it involves his chief trade. Should he be successful, his power will only continue to grow. This will not stand.”

Thern turned around and continued his pacing, “I have been chosen to lead you, six-hundred Terminators, in pursuit of Khorne, and to banish him back to the Warp. If we can.”

A terminator raised his hand. Thern pointed at him. “Yes, a question?”

“No offense sir, but how will we follow him, or it, or whatever?”

Thern pointed at a bizarre contraption. “Using that, a new experimental teleporter that the Adeptus Mechanicus has only recently contrived. As in, yesterday”

The terminator lowered his hands, “That seems awfully convenient.”

Another one agreed, “Yeah, almost like a real-life Deus ex Machina. That’s really weird.”

Thern continued his pacing. “Be that as it may, we will have to keep our wits about ourselves. We will fufill our duties as daemon hunters yes, but also as the exterminators of any and all threats to the Imperium and Golden Throne. Men, are you with me?!”

The Grey Knights raised their Nemesis blades and cheered.

In front of a computer…

RJ Whakamol sat up straight. “My god, have I done? I just unleashed six-hundred Grey Knight Terminators on the multiverse!”

Meanwhile, in the Whores of Babylon Bar and Grill…

“Why do you hate the Emperor so much?”

“It’s a long story…”

“I have time.”

“Well, alright. It all began, oh, maybe eleven thousand years ago, give or take a century or two. I was seeing my girl-friend, Slaanesh…”

“Slaanesh was your girlfriend? I thought you two hated each other.”

“Just listen. Anyways, we were having a great time together. And when I say great time, I mean it. She is not kidding when she says she is the master of every depravity known to the universe. But then she suddenly just decides to end it. So I asked her why. And she says, ‘Khorne, you and I are just two different. We’re opposite ends at the spectrum.’ And I say, ‘No, baby, we can work it out.’ And then she’s like, ‘I’m sorry, there’s someone else.’ And suddenly he comes out, all dressed in his golden armor and long flowing hair, and the two of them start playing tonsil hockey, just like that.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘What the hell? What do you mean I’m the opposite of you? This guy is the antithesis of everything you and I stand for! What do you see in him?’”

“And?”

“She said, and I quote, ‘He’s hawt!’”

“Spelled like that?”

“Yeah. H-A-W-T.”

“Well, he does look like Conan the Barbarian. In space.”

“But still…”

“In space, man, in space.”

“I suppose.”

The Man in Black sat back up. “Still, that’s rough.” He glanced at his watch and jumped, “Oh, sorry I gotta run. I have to flee across a desert.” And he was gone.

Khorne sighed and looked at the bartender. “Another glass of blood.”

The bartender nodded and called in the back, “Bud for the blood god!”

“Not a Budweiser, damnit, blood!”

“Sorry. Make that a Bloodweiser.”

Khorne swiveled his seat around. Present trouble aside, he was where he wanted to be. Now the question was, which world would be first to taste the wrath of Khorne?

[Myrdraxxis]

Dr. Who woke with a start. He shook his head. He felt like he had just woken from a bad dream. He had dreamed he was Gene Wilder. Not a dream, he thought, but a nightmare. It had ended badly, with his head being chopped off.

He glanced to his right and saw a large glass box. “No…” he whispered. It all came rushing back to him.

“Wakey, wakey, Timelord.”

He turned to see a massive armored figure standing over him. He was positive that he hadn’t been there before.

“And you are…?”

The giant tilted its helmet to look him in the eyes. He was close to ten feet ta;;, armored in golden plate, carried a eight foot long flaming broadsword, and to top it all off, had immense wings growing out of his back.

“At the moment it does not matter. All that matters is that we are in need of your expertise. A crisis is at hand.”

“And that crisis would be what exactly?”

“The end of the multiverse.”

Dr. Who smiled. “Of course.”

The Land of Kanto, Located in World Seventy-Three Centillion of the Multiverse (recently renamed the Multidiverse for political correctness).

Khorne hurtled from the sky surrounded in flame. The howl of his descent caused thousands to scream in pain, and the bright fire caused the eyes of those who looked too long to shrivel like prunes. And this was only the beginning.

With the force of a nuclear bomb he crashed into a heavily wooded area. Trees were flattened in an instant and every living thing in a ten mile radius was reduced to ash. After a moment, he stood and stepped from the crater, popping his neck. It was a good day.

Elsewhere, the team of inept morons otherwise known as Team Rocket were having a bad day. Comprised of the unlikely trio of purple haired male James, vivid red head female Jessie, and the ill conformed anthropomorphic cat Meowth, they had failed again. Such was their life story.

If only they had paused to examine their lives, it would’ve seemed to them that their only purpose was to serve as comic relief. Yet they did not.

As before, they had tried to capture the damned Ketchum boy’s Pikachu, and as before they had failed in a laughable fashion. Now they had no transportation, no communication, and nothing to show for all their efforts.

They all sat around a campfire. Doing nothing. James spoke, “Jessie, have you ever wondered what life would have been like if you had chosen not to be a member of a criminal syndicate trying to kidnap Pokemon?”

“No. Why?”

“I just had an epiphany. It’s as if someone just spoke to me and said, my purpose is not to be here, but somewhere else.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I have ever heard.”

Meowth spoke up, “That’s right!”

James glowered darkly at the squeaky little pest, “Have you ever heard the song, ‘Cat’s in the Kettle’?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Let’s just say that I am feeling like Chinese at the moment.”

A sudden bright light flashed in the distance. “What the heck?” Jessie yelled, jumping to her feet.

They all stared as an immense mushroom cloud bloomed on the horizon. “What could it be?”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

As James opened his mouth to reply, an immense figure erupted from the fire. Instantly his mouth went dry from fear. Standing before them was a figure that defied description and comprehension.

It gazed down on them, then spoke in a voice that invoked madness, “WHAT IS THIS WORLD?”

“W-what?”

“Never mind.” Khorne tore into the mortal’s mind, sorting for useless information. As he learned more, his disgust and disbelief grew. This world knew no war. The only conflict involved the pitting of bizarre genetically engineered beasts against one another in combat. Which was not so bad unless once considered blood was never shed. Khorne shuddered.

He turned to look at the two terrified humans before him. “A new era has come for this world. Come, slaves, there is much to be done.”

Ash Ketchum was having a good day. He looked fondly at his Pikachu.

“Hey buddy? What’s up?”

“Pika.” Pikachu responded.

“Oh, I love you too.” Ash rubbed the yellow mouse’s fur. If he only knew what his Pokemon was real thinking.

When Pikachu said “pika”, what he usually meant was, “You stupid sonofabitch, you haven’t fed me in three fricking days, “ or “You bastard, you’re sending me to fight that? You could rub stick a mouse in a clothes dryer and get the same thing as me.”

Luckily for either, their misery would not last for long. Ash whirled as he heard a crackling sound in the underbrush. Team Rocket was back. Ash sneered.

“Spare me.”

They didn’t. Launching into their anthem with glee, they sang, “To protect the world from devastation, to unite the peoples within our nation…” They slowly stopped as their new master entered the clearing.

Khorne stared at the small boy who stood before him. “By Blood and Brass, this is your foe. I am not amused.” He pointed his finger at Ash.

Ash stared at him. Nothing was happening. Or so it seemed. After a moment he blanched. “What…what’s going on?”

Khorne laughed, a laugh that left people all across this puny world screaming as they woke from their nightmares. “Can you feel the Warp overtaking you? It is a good pain, is it not?” He laughed again. “Feel the demon inside you, feel your own mind becoming a prisoner in your own body! Ah ha ha ha!” He gaze down at the screaming Ash who was no longer Ash. “Rise Murgost, rise and bring Blood to the Blood God!”

Ash, or Murgost, opened his eyes, which were now yellow. He stared down at himself. “I am a ten year old boy.”

Khorne shrugged. “I may have gone a little over the top. Oh well.” He gazed at the small quivering Pikachu. “And that is…?”

James ventured nervously, “That’s a Pikachu.”

“What is its use?”

“Well, it will evolve into a Raichu, which is more powerful.”

“Ha,” said Khorne, “Mere child’s play before the mutagenic powers of the warp.” He reached his hands to the sky, and it split open. Raw warp energy streamed from the sky and wreathe the land. “Tonight, every…” He paused. “What are they called?”

“Pokemon.”

Khorne shuddered. Just saying the word was awful, “…Pokemon will transformed. The might of the warp will create a new breed of monsters. Tonight, this world will perish in flame and ice. Blood will be offered. My thirst will be satiated. And millions will thank me.” He smiled.

His glee soured as he stared at Team Rocket. What servants were these? What blood could they spill? With a wave of his hand they were crushed into bloody smithereens. They were loyal, but useless. Again he summoned a tear in reality. After a moment, a figure stepped through, heavily armored, covered in golden armor, wielding a bloody chain axe, and bearing the symbols of Khorne himself. He was a Bezerker, a champion of Khorne.

The marine fell to his knees, “Great lord!”

Khorne silenced him. “Summon your brothers to this world. We have work to do. Much work. Blood work.”

It was a good day indeed.

World Ninety-three million, two-thousand sixty of the multiverse.

The Gray Knights had established their camp in the strange new world. Lord Inquisitor Thern examined the reports as they came in. As he did so, a Terminator lumbered into the prefabricated bunker. “My lord.”

“Yes?”

“We have uncovered an utter blasphemy. A temple to witchcraft. A temple to Tzeentch.”

“What?!”

The Terminator handed the Inquisitor a report. His eyes were a blur as he read. “So…” he said, his voice quivering.

He stepped out of the bunker. “Gray knights. Defenders of the Imperium. Warriors of the Ordo Malleus. There is a threat to the Imperium under our very nose. A temple to Tzeentch, an academy for sorcerous powers.” He gazed at the Gray Knights, “We cannot let this be. Even though our mission is of the utmost import, we must fulfill the duties of the Ordo Hereticus who are regrettably absent. Our target lies thirty clicks to the North-East. We attack tonight. Prepare yourselves.”

He returned to the bunker to prepare for battle. Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardy would not see the light of dawn.

[Myrdraxxis]

Meowth limped along, cursing fate. Everyone had died. Everyone. He had seen the destruction as the unstoppable armies of the Blood God had flattened city after city and killed every last man and woman. He had seen it all. He had known Jessie and James should have never made the Faustian pact with that demon.

He shook his paw at the sky. “Jessie, James, I will avenge you! Somehow!”

“Look. A little kitty.”

He whipped around to see a man in a butler suit looking at him.

“W-who are y-you?”

“Who am I?” The butler smiled at him, revealing crooked fangs, “Why I am Rutherford, demonic butler of Khorne.”

Meowth found he could not move. His eyes bulged. “D-demonic b-b-butler?”

Rutherford’s smiled widened as he leaned forward, “That’s right.”

Deep inside a bunker in the land of Kanto…

Professor Oak was slowly being driven mad. Not by the death of his children and grandson (devoured by a mutant twelve-headed pokemon) or any of the other terrible things he had seen. And he had seen terrible things…

The surnameless Brock hitting on a daemonette and getting his head ripped off for his efforts…

Misty desperately summoning a pokemon to save herself only for it to tear her into shreds…

Giovanni attempting to broker a deal with the Legions of Khorne and instead receiving a chainsword up his…

Professor Oak shook his head. It had been awful yes, but not as awful as being here. He was deep inside a bunker, among the last survivors of Kanto. And he was going to go insane.

Professor’s Ivy, Rowan, Birch, and Elm were all arguing among themselves.

“If you just listen to what I have to say…”

“You don’t even have a grasp of quantum physics. Why should we listen to you?”

“Of all the people here, I am most qualified to build a portal to another dimension.”

“You don’t have qualifications, you didn’t even graduate.”

“Graduate? None of us graduated. There are no universities here, only battle arenas.”

“Okay, we can agree then that we have no idea what we are doing. Oak, how about you?”

Professor Hastings, who was sitting in the corner, leaped to his feet. “What about me?”

The other professors looked at him scornfully. “Is your last name a type of tree?”

“Well, no, but-“

They sneered and turned away. Oak groaned. Perhaps he should go outside and die quickly.

Suddenly, a creepy, rasping voice spoke, “I know a way.”

They all turned to look at the speaker, a lady whose hair had gone white and eyes were hollow pits. Delia Ketchum. When she learned of her son’s transformation into a daemon, her mind had snapped like a dry twig.

“I know a way,” she repeated, “Sacrifice an innocent child to appease the gods.”

The Professors looked at one another, “That’s crazy.”

“Crazy enough to work!”

“Might as well try it.”

“Right! Nothing ventured, nothing gained after all.”

“But where do we find an innocent child?”

The all stopped to ponder this. Then; “What about Hastings?”

Hastings jumped to his feet again, “WHAT?!”

The Professors turned to him. Professor Ivy looked at him with a frank expression. “You’ve been chosen.”

Hastings whirled to Professor Oak, “Do something!”

Oak sighed in annoyance, “Okay everyone, settle down.” He turned to Delia. “Honestly, how is sacrificing someone going to create a portal?”

She stared at him, and then said, “It worked in a movie.”

“It worked in a movie.” Oak chuckled and turned to face the other professors. “It worked in a damn movie, so let’s fricking try it! God, you are a bunch of idiots! Am I the only one in this place who isn’t fricking insane?”

As Oak fumed, Ivy nervously spoke, “Sorry, it was just that…well, we’re desperate. We in dire straits, Oak.” He shot Hastings a look of loathing, “Besides, I don’t like him. Let’s sacrifice him anyways.”

By the time the Blood Thirster beat down the door and the Bezerkers poured through the opening chanting their litany, Oak opened them with open arms.

Khorne watched the Bezerkers toss the last corpses onto the mountain of flesh that they had been building. When they were done, they stood back. Running from corpses to a large depression was a large trench, filled with blood.

Khorne inhaled deeply, taking in the air, rich with the scent of carnage and death. He walked to the edge of the pool and dipped his hand into it. The power! He laughed, then turned to Murgost, the newly elevated Daemon Prince. “Begin the ritual!”

Murgost turned and howled at the gathered Bezerkers and cultists. “Begin!” They ran to their places and began chanting, “Blood for the Blood God!” over and over.

Khorne felt the power surge. With glee he directed it and unleashed it. From the center of the pool of gore a massive purple bolt shot out, lancing into the sky and into the sun itself. The sun darkened instantly, turning a deep red. From it red energy radiated across the sky. Streaks of light fell to the earth, warpstone and demons, harbingers of the death to come.

A massive boom made the earth shudder. The sky rent from one horizon to the other, revealing the Warp, a massive black void that drove those who looked directly at it mad. Within a week, every untainted creature on this pitiful world would be dead. Within two, it would be barren of all life, and only demons would walk the surface. Within a month, the whole world would be drawn into the warp, and its destruction would be complete.

Khorne felt like celebrating. “Rutherford!” he bellowed. In an instant the demonic butler was at his side.

“Sir?”

Khorne shouldered his axe. “I am feeling peckish. Bring me a bottle of wine-”

“Extra red, sir?”

“Of course. And, I don’t know, what should I eat?”

“May I suggest the chowmein, sir? It has a special ingredient that just makes it melt in your mouth.”

“And that would be…?”

“Remember that cat creature? The one that followed those rocket fellows about?”

After a moment, Khorne grinned. “Delightful. I think I will have the chowmein.”

Rutherford grinned as well, “Indubitably, sir.”

Elsewhere in the Multi(di)verse…

The Doctor sighed, and began explaining the matter again.

“Alright, I’ll start at the beginning. Again. About twenty years ago (multiversal time) a figure known as the Grand Director-Dictator assembled the most evil villains in the multiverse. It was only through luck 

that me and my organization were able to find out about this. We were unsure of their motives at first. Then it became dreadfully clear. They were seeking to destroy the Keystone universe.”

“A keystone universe? I don’t understand…”

“How many times do I have to explain it, you nimrod? Not a keystone universe, the Keystone Universe. The one which causes the whole multiverse to collapse into chaos if destroyed.”

“Ah.”

“As I was saying, that was their plan. I cannot fathom why, but that was their plan, though it does give much needed insight into the mind of the Grand Director-Dictator. As it was, my team/organization/band of colleagues moved to stop them. Unfortunately, they were all slain. I was caught between a rock and a hard place, to say the very, very least. I made a tough decision.”

“Using my expertise in a variety of fields, I created a shift in reality. I was unable to summon the energy to dispose of my foes, but I was able to render them inert and/or harmless. Unfortunately I was subject to this shift as well.”

“I became a buffoonish chocolate maker, and TARDIS a flying elevator. But this was by my own design. For as the Keystone Universe holds the multiverse together, I was holding this reality shift together. Were I to die or become incapacitated, the villains would instantaneously be freed. So I naturally chose a harmless universe and a harmless new life.”

“Unfortunately my plan had a flaw. You see, long ago my people, the Time Lords, constructed TARDISes, or Master Elevators as some call them, to move through time and space with ease. When I acquired mine, I modified it. Unfortunately the reality shift caused it slowly revert to its original programming, transporting it, and me, into a place of danger. I was subsequently decapitated and the shift was broken.”

Pause.

“So that is why there are hordes of the multiverse’s worst villains randomly appearing everywhere?”

“Yes. And I can imagine that they are quite pissed.” For a moment the Doctor wondered, what about the Daleks. Where were they? Suddenly he blanched. The Oompa-Loompas.

Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, World Sixty-three trillion, nine-thousand seven of the multi(di)verse.

It was a good week for Charlie. He had just turned eighteen, and had talked to a girl for the first time since he had been given the chocolate factory. The only thing that troubled him was that grandpa had been about to tell him about the "birds and the bees". Then grandpa had died. Charlie wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe the "birds and the bees" were important. Well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Feeling thirsty, he pushed the buzzer. “Could I please get a hot chocolate in here?”

There was no response but static. Aftere waiting a few minutes, he stood and left the office. The Oompa-Loompas were usually astute and on the job. What was going on?

As he moved through the factory, he sniffed. Was that smoke?

Suddenly an immense metal thing, akin to a giant pepper shaker, rolled around the corner. Charlie jumped back, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The thing responded with a grating “EXTERMINATE!” and a laser blast.

Back to the Doctor…

The Doctor winced as he remembered the Daleks. Maybe the boy would survive.

“Yes," he said, “We have a serious problem on our hands.”

“I see. And what are you going to do about it?”

“Me? Did you miss the part about my entire organization being dead?”

“We cannot fall back on our duties for a moment, Time Lord.”

“Even to save the multiverse?” The Doctor shook his head and then stood, “Luckily for us all, I have a backup plan.”

[Myrdraxxis]

The Gray Knights attacked without warning. Hagrid, immense groundskeeper was first to die, incinerated by holy flame.

“Beware the mutant,” muttered Brother Varnus as Hagrid was reduced to a fine, gray ash. Brother Byran grunted in agreement.

The next to die was Dobby. The studious house elf was simply out for a stroll, something he enjoyed, but unfortunately vilified him amongst the other house elves. Whatever the case was, his life and problems were ended swiftly by Justicar Sabrian, who seized the squealing house elf in his fist and squeezed. The annoying little creature’s squeals ended abruptly.

Sabrian turned to Varnus. “Creepy little beast.”

Varnus eyed the bloody smear on Sabrian’s fist. “Beware the alien,” he said after a moment.

Nearby, Argus Filch was having a bad day. There had been a massive dung bomb explosion on the third floor, and he had spent all afternoon trying to get rid of the stench. Now, he only had a few hours to practice his new magic course before he went on his rounds.

“Little bastards, someday I’ll shove a dung bomb up their nose, by God…”

With a snarl he tried to cast a spell with his pilfered wand, but to no avail. As he prepared to try again, a bolter shell blew his head to smithereens.

Stepping past the headless corpse, Brother Varnus bent to examine the paper Filch had dropped.

Are you desperate to be a full-fledged wizard? Are you tired of being called a squib?

Well look no further!!! Magic so fast its Magical®! Quick Course will have you transfiguring your ex into the jackass they are in no time at all! And that’s not all…

Varnus crumpled the paper in his fist. “Beware the heretic.”

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were out for a midnight stroll. Why? Need you ask? For they were in love, and as young lovers are wont to do, they went on midnight strolls. It was very lovely.

They stared into each other’s eyes, the love between them so palpable you could cut it with a knife and butter toast with it. “Hermione,” said Ron, “I don’t know why I have never said this, but-”

“What is it, Ron?”

“Hermione, I wanted to say this all-”

“Then say it.”

“I would if you would let-”

“Ron, just spit it out.”

“Hermione, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ron, that was a hurtful thing to say,” she said, tears forming in her eyes.

This bizarre yet morbidly amusing exchange ended abruptly, for behind Hermione a giant clad in silver strode from the darkness, a sword nearly six feet long in his fist. “Freeze witchlings, and suffer your just fate.”

In an instant Ron had his wand out, “Run, Hermione! Alert the castle!”

As Hermione left, Ron coolly said, “Stupefy”. A bolt of energy burst from his wantonly to rebound off the Gray Knights armor and hit Hermione in the back of the head as she ran away. The momentary silence that followed was awkward to say the least. Thankfully, the Gray Knight ended it with the roar of a bolter.

As Varnus turned, absently brushing bits of brains from his helmet, he saw the lights coming on all over the witch castle. He was a little surprised. He had already fired his repeatedly and was beginning to wonder whether the witchlings were deaf by nature. Now there would be a little sport to it. Thank the Emperor.

Hermione groaned and tried to get up. Varnus shot her. Unceremoniously of course.

Despite himself, Varnus grinned. This stuff was fun.

The assault on Hogwarts had begun.

Back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was completely unaware that his charges were mercilessly being slain, one by one. Rather, he was unconcernedly chatting with Professor Snape, finishing off a bottle of vodka between them. Dumbledore took a deep swallow, and then amiably smiled at Severus, who as always looked uptight and peeved.

“So, how have things been going?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

“You know Severus, we should get together next week.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

Dumbledore shrugged, “So be it. I am apparently I'm the only one here who knows how to have a good time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means is I don’t sit around being emo about some girl who died fifty years-”

“Thirteen years!”

“Who cares? It’s pathetic.”

Snape snarled, hissed, and spit, trying and failing to form a cohesive sentence. Dumbledore laughed, and drank his vodka. People wondered why he kept Snape around. If only they knew.

It was then the alarms went off. Dumbledore leapt to his feet. He glanced at a monitor on the wall that had materialized from nowhere. In an instant he had understood. They were here. It had only been a matter of time of course. He turned to Snape, who too was on his feet, alert.

“To the Room of Requirement.”

Snape hesitated before nodding and pulling a lever cleverly disguised as a licorice drop. Instantly the floor folded away beneath them, dropping them into a large chute. After a few seconds they were in the Room of Requirement. Which was full of guns. Lots of them.

Dumbledore seized a large assault rifle, and then another. Strapping these to his back, he grabbed two glocks, and then two submachine guns, slinging these across his chest, and then grabbed an automatic shotgun. Just to be sure, he picked up a string of grenades.

Snape simply grabbed a magically reloading chain gun.

They looked at each other. “What’s missing?”

After a moment, they both knew.

Brother Varnus lumbered along the halls of Hogwarts, beheading heretics and witches with reckless abandon. Unfortunately the thrill had worn off. After the first sixty, it just wasn’t fun anymore. And they were starting to run out. Bullets ricocheted off walls, or blew them apart. The howl of chainswords eclipsed the wails of students. Blood flowed like wine, and was splattered on the walls. The carnage was sickeningly glorious.

Varnus casually gunned down a bespectacled student attempting to fire a spell at him. The poor fellows head exploded in a comedic fashion. Varnus wiped the blood from his visor. Mr. Clean would be doing overtime after this battle.

It was at this moment that two unforeseen factors named Dumbledore and Snape entered the fray. Students turned to stare as the headmaster and potions teacher slowly rounded the corner. They were dressed to kill; black tuxedo, white vest, black slacks, the whole bit. And to top it off, they were wearing dark shades. It was awesome.

Dumbledore surveyed the carnage, and then grinned, “It’s time to kick ass, motherfuckers!” He brought the assault rifles to his shoulder and opened fire, laughing maniacally.

The Gray Knights were shocked, to say the least. The bullets were unusually potent. Within three seconds, two Brothers had fallen. The rest moved like lightning, taking cover behind rubble and heaps of corpses. “Regroup. Hostiles with heavy firepower in the southern corridor. Most likely wielding witch forged weaponry. Proceed with caution.”

Snape laughed and let loose with his chain gun. With a ominous whine it powered up, and then spat out a hail of bullets that tore apart concrete, flesh, and everything else. It was an awe inspiring sight, Severus Snape unleashing hell in the form of 10,000 .50 calibre rounds per minute, his black trench coat flowing about him, his eyes full of battle rage.

Varnus glanced from behind the pillar. “How can he lift it? And why doesn’t it run out of ammo? There's so much that doesn't make sense!” he wailed.

Brother Varnus slapped him in the back of the head, “It’s the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! How do you think?”

Elsewhere…

In the center of the Multiverse, the Daemon Sultan Azathoth blubbered and blasphemed. Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos, the emissary of the Outer Gods, patiently awaited his master’s command. At last Azathoth noticed his servant, and deigned to speak. As he spoke, entire universes withered and died, an unfortunate side effect of his cosmically horrific halitosis. Nyarlathotep merely pulled a face, and ignored the stench.

“Nyarlathotep, you have come to my court. What news have thee?”

“Very little, Azathoth. But it has reached my ears of a certain upstart god who happens to destroying various worlds of the multiverse.”

The following silence was deafening. At last Azathoth spoke again, “Indeed? One or two worlds is of little concern to us.”

“My king, he has destroyed nearly a thousand worlds and there seems to be no sign that he will halt.”

Azathoth pondered, his insane mind crafting a solution to his problem. “This god, whoever he may be, is of little import. Let the Elder God’s deal with him.”

Nyarlathotep’s eyelid twitched, and he said, “A…brilliant plan, my lord.” He bowed and left.

The moment he was gone, he pulled a mobile from his pocket, shaking his head in annoyance, “Fricking dumbass. It’s always up to me, isn’t it?” he muttered, “Is this the Interdimensional Hit Service? Yes, I have a job for you...”

[Mizagium]

I love this.

[Major Xeno]

Pretty sweet!