To keep the big family harmonious and happy, all the daemons said so.
The horns and drums sounded once more. This time, the daemons ate to music like the sound of vomiting. Only when they were full would they have the strength to work.
The insides of the fruit were gnawed into rooms, while the relatively tough skin was left behind as walls to protect the structures within. Every daemon found a place to live and happily invited those who had not found rooms to be guests in theirs.
Amid phlegm-hacking laughter, the face at the bottom of the fruit opened its mouth wide and stared with bulging eyes, using its tongue and eyeballs to propel the fruit forward. They entered the breach and appeared in the real universe the next moment.
Once deprived of the Warp's embellishment, the fruit became even fouler and more rotten. Its shriveled peel carried the sickly pallor of a corpse soaked in water. The daemons within carved window-like openings into the peel, and as it fermented in dying decay, indescribable yellow-green gas spewed forth.
The Warp energy endowed the gas with strange properties. Merely witnessing the scene was enough for the living to smell a nauseating stench.
The rotten fruit, spewing poisonous gas and intestinal fluid, headed toward the war ark. Roaring in the language of daemons, they demanded that the warlord be brought back to Grandfather's side.
This mutation only made the warlord angrier. He glared at the Necrontyr and drained every last trace of psychic energy from the ark. He did not have long to live, but he did not care.
Inamars the Pharaoh compressed the exploding star, crushing it into a blazing battery in his hand. Rotaros's body had already been completely incinerated, but the existence of Reanimation Protocols allowed him