The world within the realm of Chaos was bizarre and kaleidoscopic. In a kingdom woven from shadows, a surge of energy embodying pure filth and evil shot out of a gestating womb. Its birth raised a bulge in the sloping, chaotic world, rolling over one horrific creature after another as they groaned under ceaseless, twisting torment. These barely sentient creatures of the Warp writhed together, struggling in despair, roaring and wailing.
The newborn life rolled through patches of Chaos left by shadows, as though celebrating its birth. Then a powerful force suddenly seized it. A faint light shone at the center of a throne as black as ink, which shuddered ceaselessly. The little lump of shadow was dragged out of its nightmare and began twisting and screaming on threads of darkness.
The shadow gave a piercing shriek. The threads tightened into a knot, crushing the Warp entity like a bursting maggot. Juices composed of energy splattered outward, giving off the foul stench of decay.
Amid the shadows, a serrated black sword emerged first, wreathed in onyx flames. A phantom slowly materialized upon the throne.
His backward-bending, clawed feet scraped against the ground, like midnight issuing a despairing summons to lost souls.
Shadow creatures circled his throne. The daemon sitting upon it straightened, raised his horned head, and beat his enormous black wings.
The daemon's body was powerful and supple. Though every muscle was hard as stone, his flesh had a smooth, timeless quality. An eight-pointed star symbolizing the great path of Chaos was engraved upon his broad chest, shining like a fissure in the boundless darkness.
He clenched his fists, the muscles in his limbs setting his entire body in motion. As the godlike daemon surveyed his realm of Chaos, every creature felt a darkness of despair. His eyes were