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Prologue

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Grinning and laughing, he watched as the gluttonous bitch screeched and raged at him robbing her of a pair of souls he felt were rightfully hers. Then again, she was still much like a child, being the youngest of the Four, and most certainly younger than himself or the Renegade.

Cegorach sighed, his mirth leaving him as he released the souls into a vast garden, one he maintained in Isha's stead, one where the souls of his loyal servants were permitted entrance to upon death. He thought upon that moment, when Slaanesh was born, when she destroyed the debauched society that the Aeldari had created upon rejecting him, and the others.

Khaine was a fool; Slaanesh was riding a high brought on by the consumption of trillions of Aeldari souls (and those of whatever races were unfortunate enough to be nearby). Seeking to engage such a foe in direct combat was bound for failure. 'On the bright side…' He thought, 'at least he's still alive, in a way'

His thoughts turned to Isha, Slaanesh subjecting her to no end of horrors before her… salvation at the hands of Nurgle. Now, she was subjected to whatever vile concoction he forced upon her. Cegorach glanced in the direction of Nurgle's realm, and laughed when he saw a faint shape falling from the top of the cliff, a string of curses echoing across the Warp. The Wolfish Primarch was getting closer all the time.

Turning away, he glanced at the stage that was set onto a small table. Abaddon was gone, for now, and now the Imperium was slowly starting to get its wits together, Yvraine was making excellent progress, and there was nothing he could do with that theatre for now.

Instead, he chose to wander amongst the various theatres for various alternate realities, each one representing themselves as a door, some covered in heavy iron chains, showing that they had been lost the Chaos entirely. None of them interested him enough to meddle, as he so often loved to do, until he came across a door he barely recognised.

It was dilapidated, crumbling, and rotting, the once polished brass tarnished and scratched, the fine wood it used to be having rotted and crumbled, but not enough to see beyond.

Struggling to remember what lay beyond, he opened it, and then he remembered; hanging over an image of that universe, several beings made of sickly coloured shards hung. The universe where entities sought to prevent universal heat death, and in doing so, would leave only ruin. But perhaps he could change that.

Settling on a decision, he created the stage for the Humans, where two of such entities hung over their world, their only world, Terra, or Earth, and then began searching for a suitable marionette he wished to change. 'So many to choose from… all of them so… dull' He thought to himself. They already had powers, of a kind, setting themselves up as either 'heroes' or 'villains'. It was a poor play, and he was disinclined to watch. Until his hand brushed against new marionette.

All of a sudden, he felt he had something he could work with. The marionette was perfect for his purposes. Carefully and lovingly removing the puppet from where it comfortably hung, he carried it over to the workbench in the room, where needles and thread, in a basket with buttons, sat. Carefully removing the strings, he set them aside, and got to work.

Carefully, he cut open the head of the fabric doll, and removed the pink ball that represented the brain. With a delicacy none could match, he began reshaping the brain, adding more folds, deepening existing ones, altering the two extra lobes of the brain to instead function as they would in an Eldar; the forward most lobe to support their psychic powers, whilst the rearmost lobe would act as subconscious protection against any Warp beings, not that there were many in this reality.

He then gently placed it back amongst the plush stuffing of the doll, and sewed it up, watching as the proportions of the doll altered slightly. They were still Human, but had slightly more Eldar-like features. He then gifted the doll knowledge of wraithbone, on how to call it forth and shape it. He then gave it underlying knowledge of himself, not enough to truly worship him, he wasn't like that, but enough to influence it so that it would, perhaps, give him a show worthy of his attention.

Grinning behind his mask, he threaded the marionette's strings, and then placed it within the confines of the stage, and watched as the show began.

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So, what do you think? I always imagined Cegorach as having marionettes of any who attract his attention, in order to manipulate them much like a puppet master. Anyway, reviews are welcome, and I've got an exterminatus-scale extinguisher for flames