Black Legion

"C'tan, please, withdraw your power! We have mining authorization here!"

The Changeling held a phantom contract in his hand, its terms written in clear black and white.

Upon closer inspection, the Observer found that the signatories were those two bastards, Tzeentch and the Deceiver.

["Get the hell to the other side! Stop bothering me here!" The Observer reluctantly accepted the contract and threatened the barbarians in an icy tone.]

The Changeling had absorbed too much information. His body swelled as viscous colors leaked from its pores.

If the Observer added one more sentence, the Changeling would be crushed apart by the information.

"All right, Carl Bohar, it's time to go. That thing has yielded, so we must yield as well. Let's mine on the other side," the Lord of Change said helplessly.

"The other side? That place is so close to the Blood God's sacred domain. Are we really not going to have a pack of brainless bloodletters charging in and disrupting production?" Carl Bohar was dissatisfied with the Lord of Change's handling of the matter. Material losses and casualties were one thing, but the time required to rebuild the factories was a very real cost.

"Let's go, let's go... It's not time to tear off the mask yet." Never in his life had the Lord of Change been so meek. If his mission had not required him to report directly to Tzeentch, he would have started slacking off long ago.

The factories infected with the Obliterator Virus were much like living creatures, following tightly behind the battleships' exhaust trails like lambs.

["It has the scent of the True Word 'Life'..." The Observer pondered this and decided it had nothing to do with him.]

The Observer returned to his room and continued excavating the ruins of civilizations within the Formless