Warhammer Writefaggotry, To Change or Not to Change

The walls pulsated, literally.

One of the most remarkable things about humankind is their adaptability. Humans can thrive and get used to any sort of scenario or situation, provided there is enough time to do so. Thus, the robed gentlemen discussing under an arch that was covered in living veins pulsating with some unholy concoction did so as if it was simply their office, which, in a sense, was true.

- Tom...

- Yeah?

- I've been thinking...

- Oh, here we go...

- No, no, seriously!

- Asmodeus, we have been through this before. Guard duty is important for our masters, and no, I'm not bored.

It should be noted that in a galaxy spanning quadrillions of gentlemen like them, Tom and Asmodeus ended with the proverbial short end of the stick. Humans are natural survivors, they seek to thrive in any kind of place, but every kind of place has its proverbial pyramid of hierarchy. Both came from similar backgrounds: Asmodeus came from a rather quaint yet crammed society where entire families lived in an apartment of the size of a literal closet, while Tom came from a flourishing and lively planet filled to the brim with terrifying animals and cannibalism, both abandoned their respective places at the bottom of said pyramids to lodge into the bottom of another: The cult of Tzeentch. In their lives marred by boredom and stagnation, joining a cult whose sole purpose was to change things was quite thrilling! After all, if every single punishment in cosmos is a shot to the head, why not go all the way and try to change? But in their hope and desperation, like many, many others, they forgot that every pyramid has a bottom, even a forever-shifting one.

- It's not about that!

- Then what is it?

- I've been thinking...

- Here we go again...

- No! I mean... I was returning to the shifting cult in the morning...

- Yes...

- But I forgot to take the memo that said that it had been shifted to the afternoon.

- So what?

- Lemme explain!

- Ok, sorry.

- You always interrupt me when I'm speaking!

- I said I'm sorry.

- I mean, I never finish-

- Can you tell me this bloody tale or not?

- Oh, yes, yes. I mean, I was a tad lost because of all the shifting thing and while walking back home I stumbled upon the morning orgy of the neighboring Slaaneshi cult.

- Yes, those noisy bastards.

- Literal bastards.

- You know what I mean!

- Yes, yes, go on.

- So, I give a peek through the cracked window and gaze upon the endless orgy that is going within marinated with drugs, and think...

- Oh my Tzeentch...

- Why not to join them?

- Asmodeus, what you're saying is heresy.

- Tom, we are heretics.

- I know! I mean, treason!

- Yeah, but here is what I was thinking about...

- What?

- Is it really treason? I mean, I'd be changing sides...

- Yeah, and?

- We serve the lord of change!

-That's different!

- How is it different? I mean, Isn't Tzeentch the lord of change?

- Yeah, and?

- He adapts and changes according the situation!

- Well, that was what the giant bird said...

- And wouldn't changing our position be according to his plan? I mean, technically, we'd be evolving!

- Evolving how?

- Oh please, Slaanesh cultists have lengthy orgies, a nonstop supply of drugs and are the only ones in this blasted universe to listen to anything that isn't gothic chorus. All Tzeentch ever gave you was a tumor!

- It's an extra arm!

- It's a chicken stump!

- You're just jealous because I have an extra arm and you got dandruff.

>>47107091
>'small people' in Warhammer
This is relevant to my interests
Let's discuss

- Oh please, it's just a small chicken-shaped tentacle on your belly! It can't even hold a pistol! It's useless!

- Well, it's useful to spread butter over my toast...

- Nevermind, what I mean is: Won't changing from Tzeentch to Slaanesh technically be according to what Tzeentch says? We'd be evolving, changing! Here we are stagnated at this weird guarding duty!

- Where did you learned this word?

- I heard the wizard saying it once.

- Which wizard?

- The one that has a beak for a nose.

- The toucan?

- No, the toucan changed into a pig.

- Didn't the rat-faced one turn into a pig?

- Oh, him too.

- Her.

- I mean, her too. But he got better.

- She.

- No, he. Anyway, I heard the wizard saying that 'stagnation was the worst thing you could do to Tzeentch' and this made me think...

- Oh boy...

- We should change, for Tzeentch! Betraying Tzeentch would be actually within Tzeentch's plan!

- Wait, wait a minute. Technically if what you say is true, everyone who -didn't- betray Tzeentch is actually a traitor because they didn't changed?

- Pretty mu- actually, I haven't thought about it... I don't think it's important.

- What you mean it's not important!? You're saying that literally every bloody cultist who lets a demon play with their intestines as if it was pasta in order to achieve enlightenment is actually -against- Tzeentch?

- Well, not really, I mean, they are still letting the demons change them in a way...

- You know what? You got me. I'm sold.

- Really?

- No, not really. But you got me angry enough to just flip the table. You know what? Sure, let's go. Let's ditch this miserable job and be at least a tad happy before inevitably my face is blown up by either a corpse-god-lover, a drugged berserker or Tzeentch-knows-what.

And thus they walked, turning their backs momentarily to the living temple and the ever-shifting chant... They walked slowly the streets of battered ferrocrete that had been rebuilt time after time, the corpses that were replaced time after time in the ever-spinning motion of the cosmos.

- This made me think...

- Oh no, not again. We've just made two steps out of the temple and you have more ideas?

- I can't help it! I mean... what if this is what Tzeentch really, REALLY wants?

- What do you mean?

- We are just two cultists, right?

- Right.

-And Tzeentch is also the god of Chaos, right?

- Right.

- And what if this just means that he just... likes to stare to all this shit unfold and blow up? What if he doesn't care about us as acolytes and more like, us as whiny balls of stupidity? After all, the whole 'betrayal' thing is highly antithetic...

- You're full of strange words today...

- Yeah! I was even thinking in read a boo-

But as they made the third step towards a small amount of pleasure and comfort, the grand scheme of the universe caught on with them. No one would be able to hear such a tale or ponder the origins and temptations of Tzeentch, after all, no one can argue with a stray laser shot to the mouth. Both bodies fell to the floor as the inquisitorial team slipped into the ever-shifting temple in order to purge change with fire, and thus change it to cinders.

Just as planned.

And that's it for the first one. Actually I thought about several short stories about the 'small people' of the scenario. From normal imperium citizens to ork cooks, or eldar gardeners, and the list goes on.

>The walls pulsated, literally.

literally? we know this is warhammer and that sort of thing happens from time to time. Perhaps they 'pulsed like the veins of a monstrous beast' or 'throbbed with anticipation of violence' etc.

>>47107130
>the only ones in this blasted universe to listen to anything that isn't gothic chorus
Are you seriously trying to tell me no one in Metal: The Setting listens to metal?

Come to think of it, what DO people listen to in the grim darkness of the far future?

>>47107675
Gothic choir chanting, obviously

>>47107675
Their own screaming.