{Celestia, Third Person, 1 Week After Luna’s Imprisonment}

Flowing Inkwell walked up to the Throne Room, her hoofsteps cautious, it has been one week since Princess Luna disappeared without a trace, apparently claimed by Equestria’s newest enemy, dubbed the Warped Pantheon. Not only had her disappearance seemed to kickstart troubles, first the report with the pony that had turned into a tree, and then two high-ranking guards turning traitor, it seemed now came the biggest problems… and she had to deliver it to Celestia herself, who was already on edge after the incident with the Traitor Guards’ portal exploded on her.

The mare carefully walked into the room, looking up at the alicorn seated, her once shimmering main now beginning to turn a furious orange, yet not fiery just yet, her glare ironically laced with an ice cold fury, and her nostrils flaring not unlike a dragon’s, but what seemed the most concerning was her eye. The eldritch energies of the portal had struck her face, leaving their mark, now the left eye and the area around it looked to have reality itself shattered, a hole possibly into that dark world that the enemy gods came from, and what peered out looked more feral than any pony could be.

“Yes, Inkwell?” Celestia’s voice was calm, but that eye looked to burn with a fury as hot as the celestial body she governed.

“W-well, Princess Celestia, it seems that there seems to be… r-reports of… a cult forming in Appleoosa not long after the ‘Apple Fever’ incident,” the assistant began, refusing to look at the narrowing and furious eye. “From our investigations, an unnamed pony arrived and used the situation as a way of swaying the crowd to join the new faith, and—”

“Destroy it immediately, those four cannot gain any ground.”

“A-actually—EEP!” suddenly the unicorn ducked under a blast of fire that launched out of the extra-dimensional tear. “I-It isn’t a cult for any of the Warp Gods… it’s a c-cult for you.”

“...Me?”

“Yes! It’s called the Temple of The Sun. they were told of the four gods to be abominations and corrupting monsters, and then coaxed into forming a large following to you, as the goddess opposing Chaos and the greatest threat to them.”

Celestia was quiet for a while, both eyes indecipherable. “I see…”

“I’ll inform the guard to—”

“No, leave them be… in fact, sanction this faith.”

The mare’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sanction, I—but I thought you… you hated being treated as a deity, Princess!”

“I do… but I despise the idea of my little ponies falling to the temptations of the Warped Pantheon even more. If they wish to place their faith in me instead of them, and fight to oppose these Dark Gods, I will accept it… now go, send out the orders.”

“...at once Princess.” Despite how much Raven wished to believe Celestia’s intentions were pure when it came to the cult, she couldn’t bring herself to consider such a possibility true.

Because while Celestia’s words were incredibly sincere… that eye… it looked upon the thought of her being viewed as a goddess…

With delight.

{In The Warp, The Prosecution Calls Khorne To The Stand!}

“Tzeentch! I’ve got a situa—what the fuck are you doing?” I mutter, because I don’t want to assume what I’m seeing is exactly what it looks like.

Because right now, what I’m seeing is Tzeentch has widened the Dream Door that Luna had left, and currently had his entire upper body shoved through the still too small doorway. “What does it look like I’m doing??”

I try to think of anything nice I could really say, before deciding ‘fuck it’ and being honest. “It looks to me like Slaanesh corrupted you and you’re trying to indulge in something rather inappropriate, ‘step-bro’.”

The involuntary flinch slamming his spine into the frame, followed by the string of expletives was almost music to my ears as he forced himself out of the manifested concept of a portal into the Equestrian Dream-Realm. “NO! That was not what I was doing!”

“Then explain it to me, what were you doing?” I demand, not wanting to devolve this into any kind of argument.

Thankfully, Tzeentch was of the same mind (heh) and sighed before moving into his explanation. “I’m trying to enter the Dreamscape to help out Princess Luna, out of the four of us, I assumed I would be best suited to being the first in exploring the dreams of ponies, since my domain is linked with thought-patterns.”

“Wouldn’t Slaanesh be a better pick, since Dreams are more emotion than logical thinking?”

“Do you trust Slaanesh not to quite literally mind-fuck Luna should they cross paths?”

“Fair, doesn’t even trust herself not to do that.”

“I’m also hoping to be a bit more helpful to Foals, maybe even Adult Ponies… you know how there’s that whole study about if you have babies listen to Mozart in their sleep they turn out smarter? I’m thinking if I go into dreams and bestow knowledge upon the sleeping ponies, they’ll wake up with greater smarts.”

“...oh! like those language tapes people listen to while sleeping so they can learn a second language? Didn’t we try that at one point?”

“Nah, we never bothered because of procrastination and video games. But hey, Ponies are very receptive to learning new things, so if I’m able to actually get to the dreams, I could really make a difference… but the problem is I can’t make the door big enough, and I can’t make myself small enough to fit into the door normally.”

“Why don’t you just shrink yourself and enlarge the door so you meet half-way?”

There was a moment of silence in that corner of the warp, even the flow of psychic energy halted for that one brief instance, before the almost deafening sound of a firm smack exploded out from between us. Sure it would be more logical for it to be the clang of metal on metal, but in the realm born of raw thought and souls, a facepalm is always going to sound exactly how you recall a facepalm to sound like.

“I just… I… what is your situation, Khorne?” Tzeentch asked, most likely to escape the embarrassment as I could see several panels and plates on his body shifting around in a flustered state.

“Oh, well I… may have accidentally a rebellion.”

“... Khoooorrrrr—”

“NO! You do not get to “Llamas With Hats” me! It wasn’t even my fault!”

“Well then why not explain what happened?!”

I sighed at that, but then moved to begin the story. “Alright, so it started when I had sense the psychic—”

“Psykic—”

“Psychic outlash of what appeared to be another potential Psyker, about right after we learned of Luna’s imprisonment and went to try and handle the Celestia situation in our own way…”

{Rewind: 1 day after Luna’s imprisonment}

“Hm?” I approach what appeared in the warp like a… well it shone like a star, but it was about as big as a lightbulb; Or rather, big as a lightbulb compared to me, so it was probably very large to a pony.

Whatever, I needed to actually deal with it anyway, considering the soul was lingering in the unclaimed Warp-space bordering my domain. How curious, the place still seems infinite and yet clearly confined. Is it a metaphor for how life and emotions are never really restricted? Or perhaps the method of the Webway Barrier’s incorporation into—

Oh what the fuck am I even doing?! I’m starting to sound like Tzeentch!

Shaking my head clear, I focus on the soul, and find myself pleasantly surprised to see its draw towards my territory is born of its great level of honour and not craving for violence. In fact, they seem to radiate a lot of loyalty; for many other beings not related to them, for a piece of land, and an individual linked to them by blood… a male, not parent.

Loyalty to people, land, and a brother… loyalty to their people, their nation, and their brother. That link is tenuous, the brother doesn’t seem to hold the same loyalty to them. The link is full of shame, but honour still rings true. A leader who holds a desire to help their country, and in the process ended with them betraying their brother but still caring for him…

“Tell me your story, little soul.”

I reached out towards it, only to immediately pull away as if burned. The reason being the moment even the smallest tendril of my power approached, the soul quivered and looked ready to burst at the sensation of my energy just being near it. It wasn’t hard to deduce that if it did burst, it’d be literal and the poor bastard would end up like Shaker Stone.

“Damn it, why do Daemons have such an easy time contacting Materials while we can’t even touch them without—” *DING!* “—...why didn’t I think of this sooner?!” I exclaim with a frustrated slap to the forehead. The answer was so simple now!

We don’t need to directly contact people!

We can have a middle-man!

I just need to make a Daemon and have it talk with him…

…

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE A DAEMON EITHER!

“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU—” I screamed out in fury. Honestly, I was so mad I was almost willing to take off my helmet to see if there was any hair to rip out—

Wait… rip… rip out…

The idea slowly came to me, and I proceeded to look at my armored gauntlets, before I grabbed the pinky of my right hand.

Daemons are an extension of their god, pieces given a will, if one cannot figure out how to manifest a piece already detached…

“Oh this is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

*RIP*

“AGH FUCK I WAS RIGHT!!” I cried out before dropping the severed finger in favour of cradling my hand. Thankfully it seemed that mutilating myself was an effective way to make a daemon, as once separated from me, the lump of warp-flesh began to shift. Slowly but surely the concentrated chunk of my essence began to reshape itself into a being in its own right. I did not find it too concerning as red skin and hooves began forming, but then came the fangs, the leathery wings, and the eyes… the eyes so full of rage and—

I crushed the still stabilising beast with my good hand immediately. “NO!” I roared in defiance, I would not allow this piece of me to become one of his creatures. “I am no Blood God, my throne is of the strongest steel and the softest silk lining, not skulls!”

The writhing ball of anger and violence lashed out inside my grip, but I simply squeezed back harder, subduing any attempt at escape as I continued.

“There shalt be no Bloodletters, no Bloodcrushers, no Bloodthirsters, the age of monsters like Skarbrand and Kharn, the time where I overlook the horrific practice of Butcher’s Nails to sate a pointless hunger, the era in which we allow mindless slaughter dies now.” I find my anger coming forth, yet not unguided, becoming righteous in purpose as I began to burn what had been once my finger. “We are the age of honour, of loyalty! Where we fight not to slay what is in front of us, but to protect what is behind! That is true strength, and you will be reforged in that fire or you shall burn in it!”

The beast that had once been my appendage roared in defiance, clawing at its creator’s grasp, the armor sparking from the power and sharpness of its nails.

“I AM KHORNE! GOD OF COURAGE! THE FIRE OF JUSTICE! AND BY MY HAND YOU SHALL YIELD!” I roared back, winding back my arm. The Warp provided through my rage, and soon there was an island beneath my fist.

A fist that slammed into the rock, the monster letting out a cry of pain. Its agony gave no feelings or pity or of joy, I only had grim determination.

“YIELD!”

*SLAM!*

“YIELD!”

*SLAM*

“YIELD!”

*CLANG*

The new noise didn’t register until long after, in the moment I had not realised how the beast’s roars grew quiet, or how the island beneath had shifted into steel. I didn’t notice how the flames of my rage became stronger, yet calmer, more controlled…

Like the fires of a forge.

*CLANG!*

At the final blow, the Daemon in my grip burst into light. At that point I had to release my grip, if nothing else than for the instinctive reaction to cover my eyes despite no pain.

When the light died, I found two things, the first was my restored finger.

The second was not a feral beast associated with my predecessor, the horns, wings and hooves remained, as did his crimson flesh… or what I could see. The Warpspawn knelt before me in full plate, eyes glowing a fiery citrine, staring at me with respect. His blade, a sword that radiated heat and strength yet remained straight and solid, an honourable weapon but not what made me believe I had succeeded in making my daemon.

No, that would be the mighty greatshield he proudly held in his other arm, taller and wider than he was, something the original Khorne would never see his minions wielding.

“My Lord… My General,” he spoke calmly, a deep baritone that echoed through his helmet. “I pledge allegiance to the cause of justice and honour. Name me and I shall devote myself to fighting the wrongs and protecting the innocent.”

I blinked… and then again… and then once more for good measure. “Oh please no.” I whimpered as I felt the fear that I had gone too far in the other direction on my second attempt and made some pretentious asshat.

Those fears were quickly found baseless when the winged knight relaxed its posture and looked nervous. “Oh crap, sorry… did I go too far? I was trying to be dramatic.”

“I… it’s fine,” I assured him. “It’s just I was worried I got someone too into the bit?”

“Well General, how else was I supposed to greet the God of Courage, The Fire of Justice?”

I stared at him for a good few seconds as he stood up from his kneeling position and put away the sword and shield. “You are a snarky little fuck, aren’t you?” I mutter before grinning beneath my helm. “I like that. Well, best commit to this. *ahem*”

I look upon him and decide to add onto the look by having my eyes appear to have flames erupting from them. “If it is a name you request, then you shall be granted the name Caliburn, for you are the first, you shall act as my sword, my hand in this world until I myself can interact with it safely.

And your race of Daemon shall henceforth be known as Honour Guard.”

“What is your order, General?” the newly dubbed Caliburn asked, looking ready to begin.

“You shall—*ahem*, sorry, I need you to speak to this soul at the edge of my territory, from what I can guess, it is here because it requires help and with my affinity to honour and loyalty, it seems inclined to drift close to our borders.”

“And so your first option was to create a Greater Daemon to chat with a mortal?”

“Hey, we’ve already exploded one head by just showing up in this world’s isolated part of the Empyrean, I’d rather we don’t cause more harm. I can just tell that if I directly interact with a soul it will have stupid consequences… but then again that’s probably the fact that I can feel all my power just rumbling beneath the surface of my form, if it was even a little more relaxed, I might not notice how much I’m actively using and the danger would be difficult to perceive,” I explained. “Besides, I wasn’t trying for a Greater Daemon, just any Daemon, but…” I trail off as I look at my hands, the hammering of that piece of my essence, it felt… right.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble forging your kin.”

“Then it shall be done, General.” The Honour Guard gave a respectful bow before turning his attention to the soul. Carefully, the creature placed his gauntleted claws onto the radiant sphere of light, and I had to hold back my knee-jerk reaction to interfere when the soul gained a red haze before returning to a standard white; If only because I knew you don’t stop a sledgehammer by throwing the entire fucking tool shed at it.

A flicker of surprise, and recognition flashed across the Daemon’s eyes behind his helmet before it pulled his hand away and snapped to me. His next words almost made me froze, because this was a lot bigger than a couple guards.

“General Khorne, this soul says his name is Scorpan, and he is currently an exiled prince.”

{Ethereal Comments}

Nurgle: I feel that was a rib at me.
Khorne: It was not, I didn’t even know you pulled that crap until now!
Nurgle: He got better!
Tzeentch: How do you ‘get better’ after being turned into a tree?!
Discord: Our dear brother decided to double down on the pony’s affliction and turned him into a full on Daemon Dryad, he was actually the first general he deployed for the War On Inferno.
T+K: NURGLE!
Nurgle: Hey, Spoilers!
Khorne: THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH?!
Slaanesh: So wait, are we not gonna talk about the part where Khorne accidentally helped Scorpan apparently wage a rebellion?
Discord: No, I think they’ll be at this for a while…

Author's Note

*Cough* *Cough* ugh, where'd all this dust come from?

in all seriousness, sorry for disappearing on you, I keep working on chapters bit by bit but a lot of my passion is split on non-mlp projects.

I still love a lot of these stories! I just have other stories too that I love just as much.
If you're new here, hope you like this story and leave a comment, if you're an old reader...

Hey, how've you been?