In the deepest reaches of the Warp, within an absolute forbidden zone beyond the reach of even the material universe's basic laws, an unprecedented divine "wrestling tournament" was in full swing.
Khorne, the Blood God enthroned atop countless skulls, unleashed a furious roar that shattered innumerable imaginary dimensions. He casually seized his own Brass Throne, a colossal structure as vast as the nebula of an exploding supernova. The throne, which had borne witness to endless ages of slaughter, became no more than a rough brick in a street brawl under Khorne's strength of pure rage and destruction. It tore through layer upon layer of conceptual barriers and smashed toward Gork's enormous green face, brimming with savagery and cunning.
"WAAAGH!!"
Faced with a terrifying blow powerful enough to pulverize an entire galaxy into subatomic particles, Gork did not retreat. Instead, he burst into wild laughter that made the entire Warp tremble. The Ork god who embodied "brutal but cunning" thrust out a massive green arm as thick as a galaxy's spiral arm. Amid the teeth-grating screech of dimensions grinding together, Gork caught the incoming Brass Throne with his bare hands!
Nor did he stop there. A sinister gleam flashed through Gork's eyes, full of savage wisdom. Using the momentum of Khorne's terrifying strike, he reversed his grip and drove the Brass Throne like a battering ram at a viciously underhanded angle toward Nurgle, who had been "enjoying the show" off to one side.
"Get a load of me heart-punch!" Gork's roar echoed through the Warp.
"Squelch-!"
An indescribably nauseating thud erupted. Nurgle's rotting face, usually adorned with a kindly yet grotesque smile, twisted in a rare expression of pain at the sudden, crushing blow.
The Plague Father's belly burst like an enormous water balloon punctured by an epic-scale macro-cannon, instantly spewing