DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY

A/N:I came up with this idea with a friend, we were discussing the thoughts of what if the Chaos Gods held meetings to discuss their differences and how to best combat the forces of the Imperium.

On the note of my other Fictions, they will hopefully be updated soon :) please be patient.

Comment and tell me what you think of this, because it was definitely fun to write.

There was a slight creaking as the old man rocked back in his old wooden rocking chair. He looked about as old as he felt, his wispy hair long and white, face wrinkled and worn but his putrid yellow eyes were as bright as they had always been. For even though he was the God of Decay and Death, he was still a God and only appeared this way out of choice. Nurgle was never unhappy with his chosen appearance, in fact he quite enjoyed appearing they way he did. The room that he was sitting in was a personal favourite, it was styled after a cottage that he had seen in the mind of one of his followers many millennia ago. In the center of the stone floor was a large wooden table surrounded by several other wooden chairs. On the wall to his left was a stone fireplace that was currently crackling as the fire burnt away without a care, and through the door on the other side of the room there was another person seemingly working away doing something in what was the kitchen. Nurgle let out another grunt as he shifted the his weight on his chair, as much as this was his prefered form, he wished that he could remember how to transform into this appearance without suffering the ill effects of elderly age of the appearance.

There was another clattering from the kitchen, which sounded a lot like mortal pots and pans being rummaged about. Nurgle heard a gasp from the kitchen and another person appeared at the door. She was beautiful, her waist long blonde hair seemed to flow even in the stagnant air of the imaginary cottage. Her face was that of an angel, pale white skin and piercing purple eyes that could melt even the most hardened soldiers heart.

"Isha, my dear," Nurgle smiled as he looked at the much younger appearing Goddess, "Do you require some assistance."

"No, I am fine," Isha responded quickly, her tone stern and unfeeling before quickly returning into the other room with another sigh.

Nurgle was rather amused by the way she acted whenever the meeting was in his realm, every time she would stress herself out trying to impress through the use of mortal techniques. Nurgle could not understand her unwillingness to use her powers, and even though they shared a soft spot for mortals, Isha was much more vocal in her admiration of them.

Nurgle sat back in his seat, closed his eyes and began to rock backwards and forwards, enjoying the mundanity of the action, he could feel the entirety of his garden, the daemons moving within it. However his mundane and pointless action was interrupted by a loud, but rhythmic, wrapping on the fake wooden door. Opening his eyes to the door, Nurgle opened the door with a simple thought. Standing at the door was, what to Nurgle looked like a pink skinned version of Isha, though its hair was black and it was dressed in a much more revealing attire than Isha was.

"Glad you could make it Slanessh," Nurgle said, talking to the younger God in the most condescending tone that he could manage, and closing the door behind Slanessh as it entered the cottage.

"I would never miss out a meeting at your place, Father Nurgle," Slanessh said with a smile, before quickly making it's way towards the door that lead to the kitchen. "How else will I get to see my dear Isha."

As Slanessh disappeared through the door, there was a sudden scream from Isah. Nurgle shook his head, this happened every time Slanessh entered his realm, he was beginning to wonder why Isha did not simply hide when she knew this day was coming.

"Change does not come quickly to that one," A slippery voice said from nowhere, Nurgle looked back at the table, and was not at all surprised to find a figure sitting on the chair in front of the fire. The figure was covered in a long black cloak, none of face or skin could be seen.

"Tzeentch," Nurgle's voice and expression darkened as he sighted the Changer of Ways.

"Nurgle," Tzeentch responded with a similar tone. "Looking the same as always I see,"

"Whilst you never look the same,"

Before Tzeentch could respond there was a sudden roar from the outside, and Slanessh and Isha's heads popped round to door, Isha still looking rather distressed, to see what the noise was. There was another roar before the entrance to the cottage was blown completely off its hinges. Standing in place of the door stood a red skinned daemon with a gigantic smile on its face, it let out another large roar as it began to laugh. Slanessh and Isha had quickly disappeared back into the kitchen and out of sight. Tzeentch's body language suggest that he was amused by the over the top entrance by the blood-thirsty god. Nurgle took this brash entrance as a rather un-needed and was forced to stand up out of his comfy chair.

"KHORNE!" Nurgle shouted as the dust from the door settled, "Why can you never enter like a normal God."