"шлаанеш"Slaanesh gave a moan like the music of the spheres, caught somewhere between crippling agony and blinding ecstasy as the tiniest wisp of energy was drawn from within his essence. At the height of the spasming torture, at the zenith of sensation, he saw a flash of potential futures. A realm of dust, of bone, of lifeless nations remade and re-ordered to please one single soul. That ancient spirit was steeped in excess. Slaanesh could feel its need, its megalomania, drawn towards obsessions that it could never escape. Something like a smile tugged at Slaanesh’s chain-pierced lips, but it soon faded. Where were the bacchanals in his name? Where were the pleasures of the flesh? The manic dancing, the false joy, the frenzied, desperate hunger? What victory could be called complete without riotous, extravagant celebration? To have reality brought in thrall to one singular, overwhelming desire was not enough. It would…
Slaanesh could barely bring himself to conceive of the horror, thrashing in mad, bellowing panic against his penumbral chains.
It would be… dull.