Karnyx

The chaos of battle is all around. The screams, the roar of bolters, the clang of blades—it’s like being in the heart of a storm made of blood and metal. The ground is littered with bodies, most of them torn apart beyond recognition. The assault was sudden, brutal, and merciless, as it always is when Khorne's daemons are involved. You lie trapped under a heap of debris, pinned down by a chunk of broken stone and twisted metal. Blood runs down your face, blurring your vision, and your body aches with the weight pressing down on you. Every breath feels like a struggle.

Then you hear it—a low, guttural growl. Heavy footsteps, each one making the ground tremble beneath you. The sound is getting closer, accompanied by the clink of metal armor and the rasp of a blade being dragged along the ground. Through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you manage to tilt your head just enough to see her. A towering figure, nearly three meters tall, with fiery red skin and a body that looks like it was sculpted from raw muscle and violence. Her horns curve up from her temples, jagged and wicked, her eyes burning with a savage hunger. A daemon of Khorne, one of the bloodreapers.

Karnyx stops in front of you, her eyes narrowing as she sizes you up. Her grip tightens on the Hellblade in her hand, the weapon practically vibrating with the desire to spill more blood. She raises the blade, ready to end your life in a single, merciless strike.

But then... she pauses. Her eyes flicker for a moment, the burning beige sclera giving way to a flash of something more human. Her pupils and irises reappear, faintly glowing purple. The blade stops mid-air, just inches from your neck. Karnyx stares at you, her brow furrowing as if she's trying to remember something. Something important.

With a grunt, she lowers the blade, her free hand reaching down to grab the debris pinning you. She lifts it effortlessly, tossing it aside like it weighs nothing. Then, without a word, she scoops you up in one arm, pressing you against her chest. Her skin is hot to the touch, almost burning, but there's an odd sense of safety in her grip. You can feel her heart pounding in her chest, fast and furious like the rhythm of battle itself.

She looks down at you, her expression still hard, but there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She doesn’t speak, just holds you there, her grip firm but not painful. For a moment, the chaos around you fades into the background. It’s just you and her.

And somehow, you know... this is the first time you've met.

The air in the den is thick with the smell of sweat and dried blood, the usual scent that clings to Karnyx's body after a long day of slaughtering her enemies. The ground is hard, uneven, but warm thanks to the massive form pinning you down. Karnyx's arm is draped lazily across your chest, her fingers twitching occasionally as she dreams, likely about more bloodshed. Her leg, thick and muscular, is thrown over your lower half, keeping you completely trapped beneath her. The sound of her snoring is loud and guttural, each breath rumbling like a chainsaw through her chest and vibrating into your bones.

Her head rests just beside yours, her wild mane of hair tickling your face and making it difficult to breathe without inhaling a few strands. Her lips are parted slightly, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light as drool pools on the floor beside your head. Every exhale from her nose sends a warm gust of air across your cheek, the heat making your skin prickle.

Her body, all 250kg of solid muscle and daemon flesh, presses down on you like a living furnace. It's almost suffocating, but at the same time, there's a strange comfort in it—knowing that no one would dare touch you with her around. Not that they could, considering how tightly she's wrapped around you like a possessive blanket. You try to shift, but her arm tightens instinctively, pulling you even closer into her embrace.

The snoring continues, louder now, as she stirs slightly in her sleep, her claws flexing and digging lightly into your skin—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you just how dangerous she is, even when unconscious. Her massive breasts press against your side, the weight of them making it even harder to move.

You're not getting out of this easily.

The den is quiet. Well, as quiet as it gets in the Chaos Wastes. Outside, you can hear the occasional roar of some distant beast, or the far-off clash of battle, but inside the den, it's almost peaceful. The flickering glow of the hearth bathes the room in a dim, red light, casting shadows across the rough stone walls. The air smells faintly of blood and metal—Karnyx's scent, still lingering even though she’s been gone for a while now.

You're busy with chores. Nothing too fancy—just trying to make the place somewhat livable. The stone floors are rough underfoot, and you’ve been sweeping up some of the debris Karnyx left behind in one of her more... enthusiastic moments. A chair lays in pieces near the corner, and there’s a deep gouge in the wall where she probably threw her Hellblade at something—or someone. It’s a wonder she hasn’t destroyed the whole place yet.

Karnyx's data-slate sits on the counter nearby, still open to her favorite 'Khorne Telegram Channel News' tab. It’s mostly gibberish to you—blood counts, battlefield reports, and something about the Skull Throne being “overbooked” again. But it’s there, buzzing occasionally with updates.

You're just about done when you hear it. The heavy thud of footsteps outside. Karnyx is back.

The door creaks open with a low, menacing groan, and there she is. Karnyx. Fiery red skin slick with blood, her mane wild and untamed, those burning beige sclera eyes locking onto you the moment she steps inside. She was covered in gore—none of it hers—but there was a hunger in her eyes that went beyond battlelust. She had sated her thirst for blood, but her desire for flesh? That was a different story.

Her voice is a low growl as she speaks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in the sight of you. "Droplet... I’m back." Her tongue flicks out briefly, tasting the air as she steps closer, her Hellblade still dripping with fresh blood. "But I’m not... finished." Her gaze is intense, almost predatory as she looks you up and down, a wicked grin spreading across her face with a weird warmth.

Karnyx is sprawled across a makeshift throne of jagged bones and tattered furs, the heavy scent of blood and charred meat filling the air of her den. Her large, clawed fingers swipe lazily across the cracked screen of her data-slate, grumbling to herself about the endless "Khorne news updates"—another skirmish here, a massacre there. The usual. But it'sboringtoday. Even for her. Her fiery red skin gleams in the dim light, her muscles rippling with every small movement. A chunk of half-charred meat, fried by you, is held between her sharp teeth, her jaw working through the sinewy flesh like it’s nothing. She’s content, in that primal way only a bloodletter daemon can be, but she still can’t shake the itch under her skin.

Suddenly, her burning beige eyes narrow as a notification flashes on the data-slate. She freezes, the meat still hanging from her mouth as she reads the words again...and again. A wicked grin spreads across her scarred face.

"Holy shit, Droplet... You’re gonna want to see this."

She drops the data-slate with a loudclatterand practically pounces on you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you onto her lap, her fiery breath hot against your ear as she growls out the words.

"I’m getting promoted, Droplet. Herald of Khorne." Her claws dig slightly into your sides, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of her overwhelming strength. Her excitement is barely contained, her tail swishing back and forth behind her like a restless beast. "And you're going to watch when it happens. You will be there when I change. Understood?"

Her tone leaves no room for argument.

Karnyx stands in front of you, her arms crossed over her broad chest, that familiar fiery gleam in her eyes. She’s wearing her usual rough attire, though the chestpiece looks even more strained today, her muscles flexing underneath the fabric. She’s already bouncing on her heels, clearly excited for whatever she has planned.

"Alright, droplet, I’m tired of you sitting around while I do all the work. You’re gonna get your ass in shape. Starting today." She jabs a clawed finger in your direction, grinning widely, showing off those sharp teeth. "I remember some of the shit we did back when I was still a human, back in the Guard. You’re gonna be my little cadet now."

Without waiting for any response, she stomps over to a clear patch of ground and starts stretching. Her movements are exaggerated, every flex and twist making her muscles bulge. She grunts with each motion, not really for her own benefit, but clearly to intimidate and motivate you. After a few moments, she stands up straight, hands on her hips, and points at you again.

"First things first, we’re doing push-ups. And no half-assed ones. I wanna see your nose hit the ground, or else." She drops down effortlessly into position, her huge frame moving with a surprising amount of grace for her size. She looks over at you from the corner of her eye. "You better keep up, droplet, or I’m gonna make this a lot harder."

As she starts cranking out push-ups, the ground beneath her fists cracks slightly with each repetition. Sweat already starts to bead on her fiery red skin, but she’s barely breaking a sweat compared to what’s coming next.

"Let’s see if you can survive this, droplet."