Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

Ok, so I'm starting up my new Deamon army and I'm using a herald of Tzeentch but I love the characterization for 40k, so I came up with a short story for him.


While Father Nurgle is known as the jolly and jovial of the four great ruinous powers, there was one creature, one lowly pink horror of tzeentch, who once, through the guile famous of his kind, united the gods in good cheer for what many of his kin consider the greatest practical joke of all time.

The horror who would become the Wind-Reader began as all of his kin, a thought, an errant idle thought made manifest through the will of the great schemer. This lowly horror delighted in nothing more than mocking his fellow kin, be they his horror brethren or the mighty lords of change. His mocking humour was not limited to his own lord’s domain of course and he often took it upon himself to “Entertain” the deamonic troops of frequent invasions into real space. Indeed he often arrived at mustering sites for raids upon the real space before any incline of a breech had been foreseen. When asked how he knew of these breeches so far ahead of time, he would simply reply that he smelt change on the winds.

Of course not all deamons are of good humour; very few in fact are known to appreciate a good joke. One of those “Humourless killjoy’s” was a Bloodthirster of the berserker God Khorne. Not amused by jokes to his expense or the Wind Readers constant capering he threatened to tear the lowly deamon into a fine mist. A pin dropping could be heard across the realms of chaos when the Wind Reader, challenged the bloodthirster to a martial duel of honour.

The four gods themselves couldn’t help but be interested in the insanity of this lowly deamon and upon the appointed hour, at the appointed place, the Gods themselves settled in for a quick, but highly amusing piece of entertainment, the Wind Readers last joke, so to speak. Upon the fields of bone, bordering the crystal citadel strode the bloodthirster of Khorne, his palpable rage at be challenged by such an unworthy creature, but being unable to decline. The Wind-Reader approached the ceremonial circle, clutching a club of blue crystal tightly in his multiple arms; he raised his weapon to a mock salute. The final mocking straw broke the bloodthirsters minimal patience and it charged thunderously toward the soon to be pink stain.

As its great axe was to connect it seemed to hit an object in mid-air mere inches from its target. The air in front of the bloodthirster shattered as if a wall of glass and the massive creature’s momentum took him forwards through the sudden warp breech sending him tumbling into foreign soil. The bloodthirster looked back through the breech, the Wind-reader mocking him as he did. The bloodthirster snarled, bellowing in rage as darkness and shadow fell over him. Too late did he realise its source as the foot of the emperor class titan descended sharply and put an unceremonious crunching noise to the end of its physical existence.

The Changer of ways gifted the Wind Reader with a jesters hat that day, and among his many names can be found “Master duellists of Bloodthristers”