#The First-Arisen (Arlaêy);

[ainlifun]

The Search for An’ggrath had hardly relieved them of their other responsibilities.

Arlaêy had been the one to pick up the trail; the unique and tell-tale scent of a Red Sage throwing the pair of Anarche off the tail of their original prey. Xögrym had waited patiently, watching his sister lope off in the direction of the sulfurous, bloody smell. He didn’t expect the hunt to take as long as it did. He had dozed off actually, awoken only by the insistent prodding of his sister when she returned some hours later with the Red Sage betwixt her jaw and a Hellblade spearing her through.

“ Why did not you pull the blade free?” Xögrym asked, knowing the answer. Of the four exalted, Arlaêy was probably the most prone to posturing and she wilted at his question. The Malicious One yanked the jagged length of daemon-iron out with one smooth move, earning a yelp from his sister.

Arlaêy coughed, bloodily. Other injuries decorated her hide, the blade having cut through scale and even ruined one of her eyes. Xögrym shook his head at her. “ Reckless, sister. These are not Hellblades, though they may look it. The magic of the Unmaker courses the weapon.”

The First-Arisen snorted dismissively, “ I have fought tougher.”

“That is no excuse.” Xögrym replied dryly. Then, he tore at his arms, his black blood running in rivulets down his forearms and claws. He took the black-drenched digits and drew gylphs into the earth then, summoning his god’s magic, ripped a portal from this realm into his own. At air warp, the grass and soul turned black for meters in either direction. Shadow billowed around the pair of them. The bigger Exalted looked at the smaller expectantly.

“Deliver the Sage to our Father, then return. That wound will take time to heal and we will not continue our search until it does.”  

[skxrbrand]

Bloodthirsters were hard to kill. A fact that the muzzled Khazaan was appreciating less and less each day, what with his captors and their...interests. When their daily hunts for An’ggrath failed to bear fruit, it was the Tippler who would bear the brunt of the frustrations that followed.

Xögrym didn’t care, more interested in sleeping or eating the odd chaos daemon they had come across in the field. The same could not be said of Sābon and Arlaêy.

The first-arisen was simply cruel, her lines to the court of excess shining through fiercely whenever she cut into his flesh with her teeth and claws. The younger sister was different, however. More like their brother, but not completely like him. Her interest was detached. Scientific.

Sābon had him opened up from collarbones to groin, cold eyes shining with interest at what she saw before her. Arlaêy was interested too, though hers way more hungry. With delicate prodding claws, Sābon gently moved aside flesh and organs, revealing a pit where something was but now wasn’t. She looked at her sister.

“See? It hasn’t regrown yet. There is no bounty here for you sister.” Sābon shooed her away with a flick of her claws, eyeing Xhârn, the ever-present shadow of Arlaêy, “ Go on. You have other toys to play with.”

“ There is only so much one can do with a Bloodletter before they break, Sābon.”

“ That is why we have many under our sway. Take your pick of them.”

“So you can have the Bloodthirster all to yourself?”

Khazaan heard the younger sigh through her boney nostrils. “ He is not a toy. And my intentions are academic, not merely cruel.” She stressed. “ If I give you another of his organs, will you quiet down?”

Arlaêy made a sound, a deep throaty trill that must’ve been a yes, as Khazaan could feel the talons of the Anarche return. There were other daemons here, in this hellish parody of a medical theater. Bloodletters. Most of them dead, their torsos opened in clean ‘Y’ incisions. Sābon had taken notes, written in some daemonic script he could neither read nor recognize, but the point of them was clear even if the hand was not.

She was drawing parallels between the organs of his smaller kin, the Bloodletter, and himself, a Bloodthirster. Certain ones were circled, small asides had been made, and Khazaan noted with some interest that the mortal question mark had made it into the Malalian hand somehow. He supposed that made sense, trapped as they were on this realm with these ephemerals.

At last, she pulled something free, and Khazaan gave a groan and tensed as she did. Groaned, but didn’t plead, or beg. Didn’t die. He simply watched, glassy eyed, as one sister handed the dripping, steaming organ to the other. Arlaêy greedily took the offering, then trotted off. Sābon sighed at her leaving.

“ Finally.”

And then her work began in earnest.

[ainlifun]

Mortal Realm, Land of the Dead

“ You’ve been more animated lately.” 

Xögrym glanced over at his sister, Arlaêy looking at him curiously as the pair strode about the Mortal Realm. She didn’t really give him a chance to respond, skittering over to look at this or that. Like most of the newly arisens, Arlaêy had spent most of her existence in the Realm of Black and White. The Mortal World beyond Drakwald was new, untravelled, untainted.

But they weren’t here on leisure. Lord Malal had eventually found out about the An’ggraths release by the Verminlords and the Rat God had claimed innocence and rebellion. Technically it was true-- Skreech’s scheme was purely his own. Still, it had been innocents to pay the price for the ‘treachery’, while the Rat King and his compatriots had (mostly) walked free.

And now here they were, trying to sus out An’ggraths location. Xögrym was admittedly rather lax about the search, not that Arlaêy seemed to mind that. She was back next to him, shoulder to shoulder with her bigger brother.

“ It’s because father let Freysin go isn’t it?”

“ Yes.” Xögrym simply. He saw no point or purpose in hiding his favor for his sibling. It hadn’t been altruism on Malal’s part. Freysin’s lack was effecting his best solider, Xögrym, and that simply wouldn’t do. “ He begged Malaneth to come in your place, you know.”

Arlaêy snorted, “ I don’t doubt it. The Unbound is his mess after all. Never knew Freysin to be responsible, though.”

“ He isn’t.”  Xögrym confirmed. He sighed through his boney nose. “ But nothing like time in a shadow cell to adjust ones attitude.”

Arlaêy rolled her eyes, “ Yes, yes let’s just find this thing. Maybe Lord Malal will be happier with the beast back in his thrall.”

[ainlifun]

Another sage had been found.

The legions of Malal were celebrating with food and drink, just as they did at Ermon’s success; flesh from rival daemons and their ichor too, drained from bodies to fill cups of bone and solidified darkness. Their gloomy god was in a rare good mood and that mood swept the length of the land and deeper. Even @vermaux​’s verminlords dared partake, albeit at the fringes of these gatherings.

Xögrym, the seeker and collector of the latest Sage, Idonea the Scarlet, was the daemon of the hour. Plied with food, drink, and compliments, the Greater Daemon had his fill of all and then prepared to slip into the shadows as was his nature. Not a party creature by any means, his sister Arlaêy was quick to steal the spotlight. Yes, Old ‘Grym had found the sage, but she had crossed swords with the Castigator!

“ Had it not been for me, Xögrym would have had Khorne’s first Daemon Prince on his tail! By Malaneth, he would no longer have a tail!”

They laughed, even Xögrym did behind his drink, though he noted that she had left out the bit where the ancient daemon prince had her on the ropes. She had left out the end, where Eydis had sent her and her legions scattering in retreat. But it was fine, for the Malicious was not a being afflicted by massive pride as many of his siblings or even their father. He graciously allowed her to steal the attention of everyone there, slipping off into the wider realms with a cooked haunch of a Slaaneshi Steed.

Everywhere he passed, daemons cavorted. It was nice to see the comradery, something so often lacking in their cousins. Only one place did the celebrations not reach; the Tower of Penance. It was here Xögrym headed, the sentinels of the great black tower bowing as he passed them by. They had known him by now and seen him frequently ever since Freysin had been sentenced here and stripped of his toy by Malal himself.

Freysin. Xögrym had keenly felt the absence of his brother, even if the Greater Daemon was rarely in a mood to have visitors. Today was one such day, the daemon huddled in a corner, shame and fury pouring off of him. He flinched, recognizing Xögrym’s tell-tale footsteps, curling more into himself. Further into the darkness.

Ever since being demoted in form to a mere Heretic of Malal, he didn’t wish to be seen. Not even by Xögrym. Especially not by him.

“Come to brag?” Freysin hissed before the Malicious One could even speak a word. It seemed the news, if not the celebrations, had made it out here.

Xögrym grunted lightly, “ Bragging is more your thing.” He settled himself against the bars of Freysin’s cell. Ordinarily, neither daemon would have any trouble oozing out of such confinement, but powerful wards set down by the God of Anarchy himself had prevented it. Not that either would risk Malal’s wrath even if the wards were not there.

“ Why are you here? What do you want?”

“ I cannot check on my baby brother?”

“ I am not a whelp! I do not need your supervision!” Freysin sent a barrage of black quills at Xögrym, but they melted at the threshold of the cell. The Malicious One didn’t take his anger seriously (though he wondered, not for the first time, if their titles shouldn’t be switched...)

“ Yes, well, I am here regardless of your wants.”

Freysin snarled again and a silence fell between them for a time. But eventually, whatever ire the Deathshadow had managed to summon forth died away. For the most part.

“ Are you so useless in the field that you cannot function without my presence?”

Xögrym shrugged. The comment would’ve rankled another daemon, but he merely pushed the cooked daemon-meat he had burgled from one of the gatherings through the bars of Freysin’s cell and continue to lean upon it, sighing. Exasperated. 

“ Maybe I am.”

[ainlifun]

Bloodfire Falls, Infernius / Next

“Frey did this too, you know.” 

Arlaêy’s voice run out behind her brother, the older Anarche turning just slightly to indicate she’d been heard. Before them was a great horde, headed up by their thrall, Xhârn Blackfury. They had been marching for some time now, far enough away that they weren’t much more than specks on the endless expanse of the Chaos Waste. Still, such was the number of their soldiers that even from this distance, the tremors could be felt and the noise of the creatures within could be heard. Certaintly, with monsters and Clan Gnaw ratmen adding in their numbers, it could be scented. Arlaêy continued to speak.

“ He did this very same thing. High walls, a fortress, bodies to put between himself and the enemy. This he did and he was slain and imprisoned.”

Xögrym flitted his tongue,“ You think we will meet the same fate.”

“ I think the consequences are worth considering.” Arlaêy responded tersely, her pincered tail flicking and clacking.

“Rest easy, sister. The Reaper is not there. He has gone across the ocean.”

That did seem to mollify her some, but  Arlaêy, being Arlaêy, wasn’t willing to drop the subject so easily. “ The Twin Axes are not easy pickings.”

“ We will see.” Xögrym just grinned, “ Your pet is meant only as a formality anyways. The Axe-Thralls will not countenance an attack with no answer. You know how the Khornates are.” He told her, walking out of the snowy cold of the Wastes and back into the warm, volcanic interior of Infernius. “ Quick-tempers, slow minds.”

“ And the strongest of daemonkinds.” Arlaêy‘s pessimism persisted. Xögrym just snuffled at her.

“ Have you so little faith in us sister? We are Greater Daemons too. And we will put that claim to the test.”

[ainlifun]

Enemies of Chaos

A bit of a “what if” the faction of Malal was in Warhammer Proper. Completely indulgent, but that’s never stopped me (and really that’s the whole blog lmao).

Legendary Lords

Kaleb Daark - The first and favorite mortal champion of Malal, Kaleb was the bane of daemons long before his patron’s rise.

Freysin the Deathshadow - Second eldest of the Doombringers, Freysin vibrates with murderlust for the Children of Chaos.

Xögrym the Malicious - Eldest and strongest of the Doombringers,  Xögrym’s placidity is occasionally mistaken for weakness to the folly of his foes...

Skraag the Butcher - Heretical sibling of Skrag the Slaughterer, this armor-clad Ogre kills in the name of the Great Misbegotten One rather than Maw of Mourn.

An’ggrath the Half-Bound - Once a loyal servant of Khorne, the once-Unbound was dragged away from the Blood God by the machinations of other, more deceitful powers.

Un’grol the Spurned - With two heads and small horns, Un’grol was spurned even by his fellow beastmen. Beaten and mistreated, he would return this treatment in kind with time and become a hero figure for the much abused ungor caste.

Generic Lords

Exalted Doombringers - Each Daemon has a different configuration of black and white flesh and personalities just as vast, but all share a hatred and hunger for the powers of chaos.

Herald of Malal - Those heretics who distinguish themselves through gross acts of violence against chaos daemons rise high in Malal’s sight and are promoted for their zeal.

Chaos Lord of Malal - Chaos has many enemies and this is yet one of them. His hatred of the Gods of Chaos is sharpened and made potent by Malal’s blessing.

Chaos Sorceror of Malal - Some Malal blesses with his fell lore, which is specifically designed to sow discord among the ranks of rival daemons.

Beastlord of Malal - Oft ignored by the Chaos Gods, Malal takes a keener interest in the beastmen than his rivals and Beastlords of Malal oft lead his black-and-white pelted minions into the fray.

Unique Heroes

Arlaêy the Arisen - A younger exalted Anarche of Malal, what Arlaêy lacks in wit she makes up for with fearlessness and prowess on the battlefield. 

Sābon the Whisperer - Youngest of Malal’s Four prime Exalted, Sābon command of magic is second only to Xögrym. Like him, she is more placid, but in the manner of a hunting beast waiting to strike.

Shaikt the Screaming - Previously a follower of the Horned Rat, this Verminlord forsook his father and instead took oaths of loyalty to the Hierarch. However, a rat’s oaths do not count for much and he does not speak of why he left...

Heroes

Forsaker - Forsakers are skilled in the art of capture and turning Chaos Daemons against their true-cousins and masters, infecting them with the foul stuff of Malalian Chaos. Victims die or defect; either outcome is fine to these daemons.

Fimir Balefiend (Lore of Malal) - Once forsaken by the Chaos Gods in favor of humanity, some bitter Balefiends instead look to Malal for patronage. Especially angry ones come to command his lore.

Shadebearer - Formerly Bloodreaper of Khorne, a shadebearer is a powerful Blackblood Host daemon weilding a blade of deepest night. Though deadly to anyone, this weapon is especially nasty to Bloodletter scales.

Black Seer - These black-and-white Chimerical rats worship Kweethul and therefore his superior, Malal the Misbegotten, practicing magics from both their lores to devastating effect.

Infantry

Under-Deep Clanrat - Evolved for a near-complete subterranean lifestyle, what Under-Deep Clanrats lack in eyesight they make up for in ferocity and of course, numbers.

Marauders of Malal - Unique among marauders, those mortals who swear fealty to Malal are often of southern stock. Vengeful and thirsty for daemon ichor, they are the meat of many war hosts of the Hierarch.

Heretics of Malal - The Lesser Daemons of the Shadow God, Heretics bear an instinctual hatred of all things Chaos. Their mere presence is anathema to rival daemons.

Heretics of Malal (Quill-Bearers) - All Heretics grow quills, but Quill Bearer spines are particularly long and especially poisonous. They are also versatile, equally useful as a lance or a short-spear of sorts.

Chaos Breakers of Malal - Mortals who bathe long in Malal’s blessings are only so by the merest technicality. In truth they have, rather ironically, abandoned their humanity to pursue the death of rival chaos daemons and warriors.

Chaos Breakers of Malal ( Black Lancers ) - Long lances formed from solidified and bound shadows serve as an excellent deterrent for daemonic and mortal calvary alike.

Fimm Warriors of Malal - For the more mundane Fimir, Malal’s ranks take them in as warriors. They are thick skinned and fearless in battle.

Monstrous Infantry

TBA

Calvary

Wyrms of Malal - Many of these creatures were mere serpents blessed, or perhaps mutated, by the claw of Malal. Kept by breeders and fanciers, it isn’t unheard of for them to swallow their masters whole...

[skxrbrand]

Kha'xanzyr doesn't rush his return. He has no fear of magma, or falling stones, or whatever else the waste could throw at him. There is not being within these halls that could offer him threat and he knows the battle between Skarbrand and the others will takes days if not weeks. Spitefully, he isn't curious about the conclusion.

His hoofbeats echo off the sundered walls, joining the crackling sound of fire and the distant shouts of survivors; daemons and ratmen who give him a wide berth. Kha'xanzyr takes the scenic route, perhaps taken by a reminiscing urge. That's what he leads him to her.

He had had his doubts about the Keeper's assessment on their joint kin, the Malalians. Resistance to flame and heat was one of the most basic features of their kind; why wouldn't the Malalians emulate it? But N'kari had been correct, as the magma-savaged body of Arlaêy the First-Arisen had demonstrated. She was half-afloat in a ruin-made pool of lava. Perhaps she had fallen there in her haste to escape; the bodies around her evinced she wasn't the only one.

Eaten away, yet still agonizingly alive, her pains were such that didn't notice him until his approach.

" I was hoping creatures that dared liken us to kin would at least be immune to fire." Kha'xanzyr commented, thrilling at the how Anarche stilled in terror. She was faced away from him, her limbs burned to nothing. Resistant but not immune, slowly melting the deep pool of Lava she had managed to trap herself within.

Dying outside of battle. Hmph.

" But no. Even in this, you are lesser."

" Lesser," Arlaêy hissed, " Remind me who can kill who for true?" She tried her best to twist in his direction, but it was a short and failed cause. " The Great Game has stretched on for countless eons within end. But all things must end; Nurgleth has than much correct. We are that end. You name us bastards, but only because you fear that end."

She spat defiantly, a oily gobbet that sizzled within the magma, eaten like everything else. Kha'xanzyr considered her words, and of course, the value of her skull. But it hadn't been won in battle. He tutted.

" Such an ignoble death for a such a fiery spirit. You would have been a skull worth claiming."

Arlaêy roared, angry, but there was desperation too. Clearly, whatever infatuation that Slaaneshi held for pain hadn't translated to this half-pleasure fiend as she realized he meant to leave her to slow, agonizing fate. " I am worthy."

" Perhaps to a lesser god. A lesser skulltaker." Kha'xanzyr replied, " But I am one of Khorne's finest. And I will not waste his time with chaff."

[skxrbrand]

The fury of another Bloodthirster provokes him from his slumber.

Khazaan dares hope that it is his siblings come to free him, but he doesn’t recognize the roar that echoes off walls of Infernius. Had they captured another one his kin, then? The Deathbringer snorts, feeling little empathy for the luckless sibling. Perhaps Arlaêy would switch her attentions to this new bull for a time; and give the Bloodthirster some time to heal?

From atop the slab of obsidian to which he was chained, the Tippler groaned. His wings, all of them, were gone. And they hadn’t been regrowing either, not even in the chaos-rich Wastes of the world sitting just below the Realm of the Gods proper. Many of his scars had not healed. His organs were regrowing, but with the she-Anarche hungry for his innermost flesh, this was of little comfort.

Khazaan gave a curious groan, lifting his snout as a presence drew near. It was the youngest sibling, Sābon, judging from the smell. He tensed and bristled; the Whisperer’s touch could be just as cruel as her sisters. It reminded him of being under the she-rat’s thrall, but even that hadn’t been so bad. However, she didn’t so much as bother looking at him.

Who did you find? Khazaan spoke, after she had failed to acknowledge him. She started, then leered at him. It did not deter him at all. Who will the First-Arisen be feasting on next to me?

Sābon made a light tut, “ An’ggrath is not for feasting.” She said simply. Khazaan turned in her direction, visibly surprised. Then bitterly disappointed.

So he did not slay the lot of you? A shame.

She approached. The Bloodthirster flattened himself against the rockface he was held against, almost reflexively.

“He is a loyal beast. Half of the time. Perhaps you will join his number, Khorne Child? Perhaps you will wear black in more than just the scars crossing your hides.”

The muzzled Bloodthirster shuddered upon the rockface. Sābon realized he was laying.

A cold day in Khorne’s kingdom before that happens, bastard-kin.