Editing Nobledark Imperium Writing (section)

==The Awakening==

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The chamber was alive today.

“Khorne, Khorne, Khorne”

The Crone Eldar thronged throughout the halls, the light glinting off their eyes like predators in the night, all attention on the ghastbone circle carved into the ground at the center of the chamber. At the center of the circle was a great carved, seated idol, patriarchal and blasphemous in its bearing. The low light glinted off its angular features, giving it a malevolent aura. The area immediately surrounding the stature was conspicuously free of Crones given the crowd, as if the Crones feared they would be struck dead on the spot if they dared to approach the statue. Along the immediate edge of the circle 512 Crone Eldar sat on their knees in supplication, eyes wide and with bated breath as they chanted the 888 sacred names of the Blood God.

“Kharneth, Khorgar, Bloodwolf, Axefather…”

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Further away more Crone Eldar cavorted like fey witches at black mass, not a part of this ritual but merely attracted to the spectacle like piranhas with the taste for blood beneath the roots of a great mangrove. They flitted back and forth from shadows cast by witchlight, dancing with daemons and occasionally performing horrible acts of violence upon one another.

Eight ritually slaughtered sixty-four sacrificial victims, prisoners of war captured in battle and specifically retained for this occasion. Ghastbone knives plunged into hearts as screams echoed through the night. Blood spilled across the floor of [[Nobledark_Imperium_Notable_Planets#Altansar|Craftworld Altansar]], seeping into grooves custom-made to channel into the appropriate sigils. The pulse of the atmosphere had quickened in the room, every surviving Crone could feel their blood beat in their ears. Now that the cattle and heathens had been killed, it was the sacrificers’ turns. Seven Crones died, six impaling themselves on brass spikes surrounding the statue and the seventh’s throat being cut by the eighth in a cold-blooded act of murder.

The foul deed having been done, the sole surviving Crone turned to address the seated idol in the center of the chamber in a parade ground voice.

“We call upon the great lord Khorne, blood king of the galaxy! I offer up my life! I offer my soul! I offer my heart’s blood to bring His hate into the world.”

The sacrifice was accepted and the Avatar rose. There were no remains that needed to be disposed of.

Anyone who had ever seen an actual Avatar of Khaine would realize just how unnatural the figure in front of them was. Rather than the slender physique of the Eldar its body was robust and solid, built like an Astartes, made to emphasize raw power over agility. Instead of being made of molten magma and red-hot metal its skin appeared to be merely simmering, with only a slight glowing around its armor joints revealing the heat within. Its armor was reddish-black, the color of long-dried blood, made of iron artistically inlaid by a trim of brass. It hefted its weapon, a massive two-handed axe that it comfortably held with a single hand. Power seemed to crackle in the air around it like ozone after a lightning strike, the animated by a much more powerful entity than the maimed war god of the Eldar. The Avatar of Khorne turned to address its congregation.

“I, the god of gods and rightful king of the galaxy have set foot in this mortal plane once more. Bring me foes worthy of my mettle so I may take their heads and slake my bloodlust.”

The Crones screamed in adulation and frenzy.

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

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