#(the gorequeen) valkia

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

Carnage and fire wreaks across the Bretonnian fields in equal amount, the peasant-slaves and knights alike falling upon the blade and the claws of the Khornate legions marching in frenzied rage upon the farmland soil of the countryside. The rising of a new dawn was upon the world, and Kharneth's children were restless. Eager to break in the passing of the cycle with a fresh river of crimson vitae for their dark patron. And they were delivering in spades, as rivers of red ran through the once-clear and pristine irrigation fields, and piles of skull of men and their beasts of burden stacked in tribunal pyramids and pyre-pits, with human warriors and daemons alike chanting in devotion to the Lord of Rage.

Atop a tall hill, overlooking the nearest settlement in the distance, Valkia stands firm, almost unmoving, Draupnir clutched in one hand with its butt jammed into the soil, and the shield of Locephax's visage held in the other. Her face contorted into a permanent scowl, yet she is silent, like a simmering rage before the storm is truly unleashed. This is too easy... she thought to herself. They had spilt literal rivers of blood and guts, torn heads from shoulders and offered them all up. But still, it felt too easy... the Blood God would not be satiated with such a meager offering, would he?

"... Having doubts, are we, sweet little valkyrie~?" the venom-laden voice of Locephax echoes in her mind, a soft grunt passing Valkia's lips as she tries to shake loose her thoughts. "Finally starting to think that..." a faux, mocking gasp. "KHORNE IS LOSING INTEREST IN YOU~?"

"Be quiet, snake!" Valkia hisses a sharp breath. "Your words will not dissuade me! I know he still holds me in high regard. His gifts are not easily given up, or he would have done so in a heartbeat. Stripped me of my daemonhood and left me to the mercy of his Hounds. No... I am still-"

"Worthy~? Yes, WORTHY, you still may be... but are you WORTH Kharneth's time~?" the Slaaneshi keeps mocking her. "Do you still think he believes that you are WORTH the effort? You still are part-mortal, after all... and you have a mortal's weeping heart. You still grieve your daughters, after all."

She sighs. She could not deny that the loss of her daughters had stung greatly, and still seared within the shrivel of her mortal soul. But it had been worth it. It WAS worth it. But, could Kharneth perhaps be convinced to--

Her train of thought ended, as a noise in the distance snapped her head up to full alert. The war-horns of Bretonnia blared in the distance, upon their south. She whips her head around, staring into the distant rear of their position, and watches... a wall of steel, iron, and magic rides upon them. Grail Knights... and then, another war-horn trumpets from the north, and she turns to face the settlement she had been brooding over. The gates had been flung open wide, as more, regular knights poured out of it. One final gamble. A massive pincer maneuver to clamp down upon their forces, and quash them. A valiant last stand...

Which would've worked, if they knew who they were dealing with.

Valkia snarls, ignoring any words that Locephax might've hurled her way, as she stands upright and grips her spear harder. "GENERALS!" she barks out, as a heavy, armor-clad Warrior of Chaos and a large, three-armed Khorngor approaches her, the Beastman snarling and slathering blood-saliva from his multi-fanged maw, while the armored man simply nods in acknowledgment. "Marshal your men, rally and rouse up the Beastmen! We are being charged on two fronts! Sic the Ghorgons upon the Grail Knights, even their enchanted armor cannot deal with their brute strength! Ready the War Shrines to fill our warriors with EVEN MORE bloodlust! Khorne smiles upon us this day, so says I; Kharneth's Consort! The Red River has flown to the depths of the Brass Citadel! HE IS WATCHING US! AND WE SHALL NOT BE FOUND WANTING!"

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

Valkia was about to have her input on Va'rrick's opinion of the enemy, but unfortunately, Zhubon seemed to do what he did best, and that was to cause trouble. Trouble that SHE had to clean up. A low growl builds in her throat before she literally BLASTS off the ground like a bullet, zips in front of Zhubon's face, and smashes her knee into his lower jaw, the sound of his chin cracking echoing through the air as the daemon howls in pain and holds his already healing jaw.

"YOU will mind your attitude, cur!" she snarls at the upstart daemon, to which Zhubon snorts defiantly, yet visibly shrivels up in submission, lowering to one knee in subservience. "Be GRATEFUL I choose to spare your arrogant life rather than send you hurling back towards the Axefather!" she remains hovering in the air, wings flapping once or twice as she looks to Va'rrick, shaking her head briefly. His intervention would be appreciated, but she had him under control.

"Now then... picked off one at a time, you say. They are utilizing the full breadth of their cowardly tactics... yet valid tactics, they remain. Misdirecting and leading the foe astray is as lethal as any straight-forward swing of the sword, Storm Rage. Remember this." she's going into full-on commanding mode. As devoted as she was to the Blood God, Valkia was known for both her ferocity and her tactics in her chieftain days. "Do not let the picking-offs of our fellows misguide you, Va'rrick. That is their aim. To goad you into striking early, and slither within your guard. Such is their tactics." she gazes over towards the fortifications, scoffing gently.

"Then let us DROWN these defenses in the blood of our enemies. In the blood of our kin! Let it come forth from both sides, and paint this entire battlefield a fresh crimson!" she proclaims, as Zhubon has now gotten up, brandishing his paired weapons, clashing and grinding obsidian and brass teeth together as sparks fly and he bellows out a roar, along with Valkia letting out a shriek;

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

@skxrbrand

"As prepared as we can manage. The the cowardly bastard-bloods have been picking off my blood hosts, one daemon at a time." Stealth. Ambush tactics. Dishonor, in the eyes of the Storm Rage. But he guessed he shouldn't be surprised that cowards would be cowardly.

However, Zhubon's words rip his mind away from the enemy. Upstart whelp! The Bloodthirster rises from his kneeling position and addresses the younger daemon. " I do not presume. I know I can order you about. Remember, daemonling, our father accepts the blood and skulls of all including unruly daemons who do not know their place."

But even as he says that, Va'rrick casts his eyes over to the Gore Queen for silent approval.

" The Red Sage is behind the walls. Bloodshed may trigger its transformation. We are fortunate the Bloodfather sent you, My Queen, as this will be a hard-won victory."

[barontyrwulf]

Here are my Exalted Chanpions of Khorne! Valkia the Gorequeen and Scylla Anfingrimm! How many battlefields have these two bathed in blood and broken skulls for their father? Countless! I’d love to get my hands on the other versions of of Scylla as well. Both of these minis are Finecast models and here’s the thing…. Finecast…. Was fine by the time they discontinued it in favor of Forge world resin. But the original Finecast was garbage. I say this in case you ever come across a Finecast model on eBay. An Age of Sigmar label is usually a good sign that your Finecast is the better stuff.

[oldworldfantasyrp]

after burning the world as Valkia the Gorequeen i am now going to maximise slavery under industrialism as the Chaos Dwarf's

[kharrneth]

Valkia, The GoreQueen

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

Yes... yes, excellent. This was just what she wanted. She was proud of witnessing Runic bring carnage and ruin to this village, tearing apart humans by the scores and ruining this village. It had lived on with far too much complacency, and Valkia had been displeased of that. However, in the midst of her carnage, Runic would not notice a retinue of Empire soldiers coming towards her, pikes and greatswords at the ready.

But Valkia saw them.

Diving down upon the scores of soldiers and landing upon the ground in a fiery blast, Valkia would swing her spear in a fiery arc, slicing up half a dozen pikemen in one swoop, severing and cauterizing their corpses. She'd impale a few more, tossing their bodies into still living fighters, toppling them to then trample her hooves upon their chests, smashing their ribcages and hearts in one stomp.

The Gorequeen had joined the carnage. And neither she nor Runic would stop until all life had ceased.

@therxtking

She let them scramble. It would do the humans no good... Runics horn was sharper than their swords and stronger than their armor. She galloped into the fray with a roar, running over humans to slice gun wielders in half before they could shoot. Lashing with wings, talons, teeth, horn, and the sheer weight of her body.

Her blue fur ran red and screams were drowned by her snarls. It was like a dog doing what they were bred to. She was perfectly happy and content... Walls were smashed, lanterns and torches kicked to floors. Not men, women, or even children were safe from Runic's bloodlust. She did make an effort not to damage any heads... Skulls would be collected later. Many were simply left trampled or worse to die. No longer interesting once they stopped moving...

She would not stop until she was told.

[stories-from-the-warp]

The rat-men. Valkia almost felt disgust upon realizing just what sort of battlefield she had descended upon. To think that these vile, heinous worms were any sort of match for the finest of Norsca's berserkers and warriors made her stomach turn and her throat to reverberate with a sickened snarl. But she had a duty to fulfill.

And so, with at least a dozen clanrats slain around her, she'd step her cloven foot upon one of their skulls, a sickening crunch as bone and blood spattered upon her hoof, and stare ahead towards the supposed 'warlord' of this vermin-pack, Slaupnir raised and pointed towards Skreech.

"Vermin such as you are unfit to even meet the tip of my spear, Skaven. Your forces are routed, and you will soon behold the crimson tide of Khorne upon you. Relent, and I may give you a swift death."

Just when Skreech was starting to enjoy himself, Khorne's Bride appeared. He was struck with awe, standing atop a large Norscan's abdomen with his halberd driven straight through the heart. He had heard the tales of the Northmen---though they did no justice to the Gorequeen's savagery and grace. Either an up-and-coming champion was on the field or the sheer bloodshed drew Khorne's eyes.

Unfortunately for Skreech, his forces began a hasty retreat. They were already shaken by the ferocity of the berserkers, but when they saw Valkya descend from the crimson sky and butcher those Clanrats with minimal effort, they turned tail and scurried away---fear musk almost covering-up the stench of death. Skreech didn't even have to look to know he was being abandoned.

"...B-B-Bloody One is here-here?!" the Warlord stuttered, paws dropping from his weapon. "Skull God send YOU-YOU to murder-kill Skreech?!"

He stepped off the corpse and immediately dropped to his knees. Running would only make Valkya angry and kill him in a worse way; likewise, begging for mercy wasn't a good idea either.

"Gorequeen... Skreech is beaten-defeated. Skreech now yours-yours."

[heliinx]

There would be almost no warning. There was only the distant noise of what felt like thunder, and a crimson glow upon the distant skies, like a bloodied sunset. Except it was barely evening. And the noise was getting closer by the second. Before any of Clan Reave's clanrats knew what was upon them, it was too late. A fiery avatar of blood, carnage and slaughter would descend upon them with the boiling fury of a hundred suns, crashing into a fiery, bloody crater as one steel hoof landed upon a Stormvermin's skull, pulverizing it upon impact, and another caving in its chest cavity, stomping upon the poor rat-man's heart and squishing it.

The Bloodiest One was upon them. The Bride of Khorne. The Valkyrie. The Gorequeen, Valkia. And she had but one, simple demand--

"BRING ME THE PALE-FURRED RAT WITCH!"

This was no rain storm.

That much become clear, for the thunder was not heralded by rolling black clouds or jagged blades of light cutting across the sky. Every Clawleader had the good sense to turn their host back to the warren. After all, there had been rumors of a Khornate Daemon haunting the semi-frozen land of their home. The blood red sky could only be an omen of such things being true, rather than a lie.

However, as the minutes turned into an hour, it become clear that this storm was preturnatural. The precusor to the she-daemon, who had caught a retinue of Stormvermin mid-route. The Ratmen were not learned, not even their upper elite (it didn’t pay to have intelligent soldiers. Soldiers were meant to fight and to die, after all), but all of them knew enough of the four gods to know that this one belonged to Khorne.

Heliinx had heard the reports and dismissed them, figuring it was just the Bloodthirster Khazaan intimidating her underlings for his own amusement. He seemed like the type. But the latest ratman, one of her own White-furred servants, came in squeaking in alarm.

“ Daemon is not-not Bloodthirster! She is shaped like a man-thing doe, with horn-claws, great-wings and bleeding armor!”

Heliinx felt her blood freeze. Shaped like a female-man? Bleeding-armor? That sounded an awful like like her. The one all of her stolen tomes on the Khornate forces called The Blood Queen.

“ She demands to see-speak with you, Pale Lady!”

The she-rat immediately squirted the musk of fear. Horned Father help-aid me.

“T...tell daemon-thing I will be out shortly! No more kill-slay!”

The messenger ran off to do just that or, more likely, to bother some other lower ranking rat into doing it. Heliinx, ignoring her own fear stench, began to gather some things. Warpstone tokens, her weapons of course, and her armor. She squeaked a command at Rinki, telling him to get ready too, and her Golden Guard. The ratwoman only paused to look at the skull-rune in her hand. Was this why the Gorequeen was here? Had this all been a cleverly laid trap by Khazaan to be rid of her and therefore, free of their agreement?

Taking a claw, she drew blood upon it.

Great Daemon-thing! I need-summon you this day! Come to the warren! We have Great Battle-Fight here, waiting for you, if you do!

Heliinx, with Rinki and her sentinels at her back, made her way to the Gate of Reave...to speak with the Gorequeen.

@warhammer-fantasy-muses

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

@kharrneth | x

"And yet even he failed such a small engagement, as in this instant, he has been spirited away across the realm up into my homelands. He is stuck in NORSCA, Gorefather."

The Furies under her personal command had scouted day and night for Zhubon, to make sure that their 'general' was still alive. When she had gotten the reports back that he had been wandering the icy depths of Norscan seas, she was in disbelief at first, but the reminder that a spawn of Tzeentch had been at the battle made her realize the validity of that notion.

She'd cross her arms as she approached her husband, also kneeling for a bit to give Karanak another round of pettings, even giving him a firm affectionate scritch on the chin, before standing up to stare into her beloved's eyes.

"The size and the value of the prey is of no concern for me, my Beloved. What matters is that your will is done. I would hunt down any target, no matter its size, strength or stature. I'd chase the smallest ratling to the greatest dragon in your name."

"Zhubon is powerful, and a spitting image of a Khornate, I do not argue this. But he's undisciplined. He allowed his guard to be thrown down when dealing with a spawn of that blasted Changer of Ways."

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

Valkia merely stands with a deadpan expression, arms crossed as Gluttony begins explaining himself, her eyes firmly locked onto the foreign daemon. She scoffs at his first attempt to address her though.

"Do not call me 'your Highness'. Such lofty titles are reserved for mortals with lofty attitudes and more money than power. Call me by my name, or at the very least, 'Gorequeen' is acceptable."

But she lets him keep talking, raising an eyebrow as he speaks of living with Skarbrand due to his 'condition'. Ah yes, that seemingly endless hunger of his. At least he was shedding blood, and that made her pleased.

"... Hm. Yes, your name is a bit of a dead giveaway to your... 'condition', is it not? You are a daemon of endless hunger and craving, always consuming and indulging... tch. Normally I'd say that is Slaaneshi behavior, and I CANNOT stand the slithering whores of that particular being. But... you seem rather unique, compared to them."

@hxnger-unbcund

Ooookay! That changes his situation drastically!! And Gluttony can quickly see what position he is in. He was right to trust his gut in speaking to this individual carefully. It takes every bit of will inside of him to not go sprinting for the hills (he'd probably lose his tail for it).

Odd though. He would have thought that bride of Khorne would be another demon, not a demi-human... Though he's not making that a question for her. Maybe Skars had the answer.

"Ah! Well uh, yer Highness... I apologize ta disappoint, though I'm not the daemon to be uh... 'chained t' one spot', if ya will." The soft way of saying he would choose no single army to work for. "Odd as it seems, my current way ov' life is beneficial to my 'condition', hense why I stick around Skarbrand as much as I do. Equal bloodshed, equal variety in potential food! Keeps the gut happy, y'know?"

He's trying his hardest to weasal his way out of this. He doesn't want to sell himself as available to the other Khornate if he can help it. He'd be spitting Skarbrand in the face. He refused to do that at all costs. Not when he still needed to make amends...

[thefoilguy]

Valkia the Bloody from Warhammer Fantasy - Aluminum Foil Sculpture

[skxrbrand]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

The Days of Wargwroth are designated anniversaries of particularly Blood Battles that have taken place in the mortal realm, each drop of blood being spilled for the Blood Lord Khorne. Followers of Khorne do not have holy days that they observe and even the Wargwroth is not acknowledged by all Khornates.

Battle of the Blood River

The Battle of the Blood River was fought by the Gorehunt Tribe, a group of Northmen numbering less than one hundred strong. They resolved to dedicate skulls from far off lands to their master, Khorne, and found themselves in the sandy kingdoms of Araby. Despite being solidly outnumbered and eventually killed to a man, the Gorehunt Tribe reaped a startling tally and the literal Crimson River created in their wake persists to this day. It is said that every warrior from the Gorehunt Tribe was granted daemonhood at death; the chieftain as an infernal prince of chaos and each man and woman who fought under him as Bloodletters of Khorne.

The Crimson River is a common site of Pilgrimage for many Khornate Tribes, particularly those who claim descent from that now-extinct tribe of Norscans. It is a time of terror for the Arabyans, as Khornate Warriors bring bloody tributes of skulls and bodies to contribute to the red river.

The Schwarzmarsch

Schwarzmarsch ( "Black March" ) is the name given to another Khornate Pilgrimage undertaken by those tribes boasting of ancient ties to the legendary Schwarzvolf Norscans, once led by Valkia, consort of Khorne. It is also called the Volfweg ( "Wolf Walk" ) and involves the gifting of a Chaos Champion's skull ( ideally a Slaaneshi ) directly to Khorne by placing said trophy on the topmost step of his kingdom. This is a grueling expedition in which the leader and their chosen battle-brethren will have to fight monster, beastmen, daemons and anything else lurking in the Chaos Waste to eat them.

Eight of the tribe's strongest warriors are selected to acquire said skull and whoever returns first with the prize leads the quest. This is one noted area in which shield-maidens are given preference over male warriors (provided she has a child to replace her in the event of her death) and women are encouraged to participate. Commonly, it is a Shield-maiden who leads this expedition to the steps of Khorne's Kingdom.

Successful ventures are nearly always pyrrhic, but those stalwart souls who survive return with Khorne's blessing in the form of his mark and no few mutations. They enjoy great authority in their given tribe. Some survivors claim to have met the Gorequeen in person and bear her personal rune upon their armor, weapons, or very flesh.

Tzeen'knacht

Tzeen'knacht is the most widespread Day of Wargwroth, practiced by mortals and daemons. It is said to come straight from the bowels of Realm of Chaos itself, from Khorne's own Kingdom; a timeless tradition of hunting and killing sorcerers, particularly those who worship Tzeentch. Tzeen'nacht is the name given to the event that occured immediately after Khorne's decree against the use of cast magic. Those Khornates who were unwilling to adapt to a life of only blades, spears, and axes did glorious battle with those who were. Many defected to Tzeentch, the God of Liars and Turncoats happily accepting these Traitors into his legions.

Tzeen'nacht was not only the largest civil war in Khornate history, it was a concerted effort by Khorne's forces to hunt down the traitors from Khorne's army. In addition to his decree, the Blood God wrangled the Blood Wolves of his realm and from the first Flesh Hounds, bane of all wizards and sorcerors. These who loosed in a great tide of beasts through the Realm of Chaos and many such turncoats were dragged howling and screeching to the foot of his Brass Throne.

In the modern day, those cultists and daemons of Khorne open gates to the Realm of Chaos and call the Blood Hunt, murdering anything with arcane capabilities.

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

+ " Tell me I'm the strongest."

//for Valkia :3c

She stares at him for the longest period of time, the workings of the unknown, treacherous spell working on her. Compelling her. Demanding her to speak. But the Valkyrie simply sighs and lowers her head for a while, shaking her head. There was no need for this weird enchantment...

"Skarbrand."

She speaks up, voice loud as always... but there was a hint of fondness to it. As if a mother speaking to her child. She looks up at Skarbrand, arms crossed.

"Spell or no spell, I speak without deceit when I say this. Out of all of Kharneth's children, you were ALWAYS his favored one. Even now, as outraged as he is at your traitorous and rebellious actions. As much of a CUR as you are for fraternizing with the Eternal Enemy-" her gaze almost softens for a bit, that sliver of humanity shining through.

"... I can tell, he still values you highly. He feels regret for banishing you. But examples must be set, and your ultimate treason, the literal wound in his back, stings still. But even through all that-"

"You are his strongest, most favored child."

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

The crass attempt at 'humor' only makes Valkia scoff a bit, as she'd still hold her hand near Slaupnir, but still not drawing it. There was no need to waste her time on this being if it proved to be too easy to handle, and given she was the Chosen One of Kharneth, that alone should indicate how a fight would go down.

"Hmfh. Clearly you are no ordinary spawn of Chaos. Hardly a minotaur as you claim." she responds, before she stands upright, and tall.

"I am Valkia, the Bloody. Once-mortal devotee of Khorne, and now, his bloody consort and Gorequeen. I am his blood-soaked will, his blazing rage and fury, made manifest. Crimson Valkyrie of the battlefields. And who are -you-?"

@warhammer-fantasy-muses cont'd from here

"Uh--"

" I'm uh-- A...minotaur?" He tries, though he doesn't sound convincing at all. Given the powers of chaos, that might've been true once, but the mane and barbels hanging down from his snout indicate that time to be long past.

Xaallo squints. Valkia looks like a woman, but there are definitely some departures.

" I could ask you the same." Though the horns, wings, hooves....he had his suspicions about what she might be.

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

@therxtking | x

Valkia lets out a scoff as the caniquus approaches her, watching her form and condition. She was approaching labor. It was not a good idea for her to be out here by herself. Call her nostalgic, but Valkia could not help but to sense this simple devotee of her Beloved bearing children, and think back on her own daughters...

The nuzzle to her hand is returned with a soft pet to her snout.

"You do not even have a nest yet... hmf. Your priorities are out of line, Runic. We must secure a place for you to birth your brood first. We could scour a dragon's nest of its occupants for both food and shelter.

[warhammer-fantasy-muses]

NORSCA--

A trail of blazing destruction and gore-covered snow banks were evidence enough of where the Gourmand had strode upon the lands of Norsca, and it made Valkia's tracking of him stupendously easy. But to actually get him to cooperate would be another thing entirely. As she had told her Beloved, he was the shining example of a Khornate daemon, full of rage, fiery conviction, and brutality in combat. But to her, it was unrefined. Sloppy. He was no true instrument of Khorne; he was a blunt. A dull, crude weapon to clobber against a skull, not a fine blade to sever it from its neck. But she would show him what kind of consequences his performance would have.

Striding over another hilltop, she would come to stare upon another scene of carnage and slaughter, the tangy scent of iron still fresh in the air, along with sulfuric smoke and ashes. A whole small settlement, laid to waste, burned in flames, and bathed in blood. And there she saw him; The Goregrinder. The Cannibal. The so-called 'Gourmand'; Kha'Zhubon. The Bloodthirster having occupied himself with throwing a feast in the middle of the town's square. Frowning, Valkia shot into the air, and came crash-landing in the center of town as well, the force of her landing tipping over a huge cauldron of skull brew that had stood simmering, the crimson beverage spilling onto the streets as Valkia now stood ankle-deep in it, scowling up at Kha'Zhubon. The various Furies and Bloodletters he had accumulated as a result of his slaughter-path bayed and snarled at the Gorequeen, but all were wise enough not to attack her.

"Goregrinder! Your failure in your mission to reclaim DeathAxe Monolith has not gone unnoticed by the Axefather, and he has found you lacking! Your failure to take the presence of a Lord of Change seriously lead you to being tricked, deceived, and foiled by the simplest of tricks the Changer could ever employ."

Kha'zhubon stayed silent throughout the Valkyrie's tongue-lashing of his person and his accomplishments during that skirmish. Honestly though, was it even a skirmish? It would've been child's play, had there not been such surprising resistance from the Exiles! His eyes wander to the tipped-over cauldron, and back to Valkia.

"... THAT WAS PERFECTLY FINE SKULL BREW YOU WASTED, GORE-WENCH." he snarls, as Valkia bares her fangs at his disrespect. "THE LORD OF CHANGE WOULD HAVE BEEN CHILD'S PLAY. HE WAS DIMINISHED FROM THE PRESENCE OF OUR FATHER'S ENERGIES, EVEN I COULD TELL. ACKNOWLEDGING HIS PRESENCE WAS NOT MY ERROR! IT WAS THE DAMN TRAITOR EXILES PUTTING UP A DEFENSE I COULD NOT HAVE PREDICTED. KHORNATE AND PLEASURE-KIN WORKING TOGETHER--" he spat on the ground, and even Valkia herself had to subdue a gag from herself. It sickened her as well. And in the back of her mind, the voice of her 'trusty' shield Locephax whispers;

"Well well well~~ Your dear-old Daddy's boys and my Lavish Lord's kin working as one? I would DIE to see such a day... if I were not so graciously dead already, ho ho ho~! Truly makes you wonder how close our lieges still are, does it not, little girl~?" a quick smack of Valkia's elbow against the shield's 'face' earns a silent shriek from Locephax, and then silence before she speaks again;

"Your statement might hold truth, Cannibal, but ultimately the reason for your failure is not important. Only know that Khorne wishes for you to better yourself. Join me in the south, along with fellow Bloodthirster Va'rrick. We have been called to retrieve an object of immense importance." after hearing who he was to pair up with, Kha'Zhubon grumbles and rolls his head, his ruffled mane shaking briskly.

"... HMFH. MYSELF ALONE WOULD BE FINE. BUT IF IT IS THE WILL OF THE GOREFATHER... THEN I GUESS I WILL NOT OBJECT." that comment of being fine on his own had immediate consequences, as suddenly, a streak of blazing flame sings through the air in a semi-straight line, and the tip of Slaupnir embeds itself into one of his horns, before exploding in a violent blaze, blasting it off as Kha'Zhubon howls in rage and pain. The spear then reforms within Valkia's outstretched hand, as she slams it to the ground. The Bloodthirster's eyes glare with venomous hatred down at the Daemon Prince, who just scowls back.

"And SUCH arrogance is what caused your failure to begin with, Goregrinder! I shall not have the same tolerance as your Father, my Beloved Kharneth, would have! From now on, YOU will answer to ME! I will be the judge of your character, and believe me; I am as ruthless as I am devoted! Failure to comply will be met with IMMEDIATE discipline! Understood!?" she'd bark straight in the daemon's face, at which even Kha'Zhubon, with his superior size and bulk, could do nothing but utterly balk. Her stature might be small, but her roaring voice was like having the gaze of his Father upon him, almost as if an aura of Kharneth himself had manifested around her being. So this is how deeply her devotion ran within her... begrudgingly, yet sheepishly, he'd lower his head and gaze to the gore-soaked dirt.

"... UNDERSTOOD, GOREQUEEN."