The Grimoire of the Seven Winds

“This is Acolyte Seven, resume recording.”

Somewhere in the darkness a single red LED winked out, and a green one came alive just above it. A small hum was suddenly audible as the aging machine spirits in the observation suite struggled to recover from their long cycle of inaction to process and record the new data from the Acolyte's work station.

“Acolyte Seven, currently resuming statistical analysis of the summonings,” the man muttered, his vox microbead certainly picking up on his boredom. The psyker mused for a while on his assignment: he was a damn Daemonologist, for fuck's sake. Maybe not a powerful one yet, but should he really have been stuck out here on some asteroid pressing a proverbial button all damn day?

Regardless of how he felt about it, he figured it was an Inquisitor's orders to spend his days counting daemons, so he didn't have much choice in the matter. “Hexagrammic wards are in place. Summoning in three, two, one...”

A familiar energy flowed through Seven's body as he called out into the Immaterium, straining slightly to pull one of the many beings he knew to be knocking on the doors of reality through into the large room below him. On each surface was an intricately scribed hexagrammic seal, set deep into the stone. The physical universe seemed briefly to stretch and tear under the strain of his violation, until Seven finally saw it appear: a disgusting mass of claw-like limbs and pallid flesh.

“Eugh... another one,” Seven complained. “Reporting one Slaaneshi 'fiend'. That's the fifth this week.” Fuck, he hated these things. He could tell the half-bovine, half-crab daemon below him was desperate to hunt down and vivisect some unsuspecting mortals, and was thankful that he wouldn't have to go down there and deal with it in person. Instead, he could banish it from where he stood.

“Banishing it in three, two, one.” There was another strain in the fabric of the universe as Seven ripped open a hole in reality and watched the daemon beast of Slaanesh struggle to escape its negative pressure, only to disappear as it failed magnificently. Silently, Seven hoped the process was as uncomfortable as it seemed.

“Banishment successful, log the first contact report of the day as a Slaaneshi beast, duration of contact did not exceed sixty seconds. Close log number two-four-four.” There was no tone of excitement in his voice. Emperor help him, but Acolyte Seven was just used to it by this point. It was simply routine data collection: summon a random daemon, record its type and affiliation, banish said daemon. Repeat. Send a progress report to the Inquisitor at the end of each 24 Terran-hour interval.

In the back of his mind, Seven had to wonder if this was to be his equivalent of “busywork”.

He shook his head and cleared his mind. He still had the energy to repeat this process two more times today before he needed rest. Looking over his camera feed from the summoning chamber, Seven could tell that the hexagrammic seals were intact.

“Begin log number two-four-five. Wards are still in place, clear for summoning in three, two, one...”

The fabric of reality was twisted and split again as yet another daemon was pulled through into the world: this time, it was a grotesque being with a slug-like body, a long, sticky tongue, and what the Acolyte swore was a big goofy grin.

“Nope. Banishing right now.” Almost as quickly as the bounding mockery of mortal life came into the world, it was violently yanked back into the Immaterium in a cloud of flies and spittle. The Acolyte flipped a switch labeled with a sticky note reading “MAXIMUM EXTERMINATUS”, and was rewarded when the room filled with burning promethium. Every surface was scoured by the inferno, and the air in the sealed room was itself ignited by the intensity of the heat. Then, the Acolyte opened a small gate into the Immaterium and cast anything that might have been left back into the Warp.

When the Auspex showed a pure vacuum in the room, with zero biological or chemical contamination, Acolyte Seven allowed the chamber to be repressurized.

“Report one Nurgling,” he muttered into the vox. “Banished it and initiated decontamination procedures. Auspex reports zero contamination. Close contact log and begin entry number two-four-six.”

“Summoning in three, two, one.”

This time, it was a Khornate daemon... a bloodletter, but a weak one. It stood somewhat uncertain on its feet, blood flowing freely from a gash on its back, barely able to maintain its physical existence. Strange, they don't usually come through already fucked up. Silvana's mercy, it wasn't even armed! The situation immediately escalated as it became clear to the Acolyte exactly what he had made the mistake of interrupting.

Through the still-weakened spot in reality where the bloodletter had come through came several long fingers, and the weakened lesser daemon cried in terror as it scrambled to escape what it must have known was coming. With frightening speed, a ruby-skinned arm shot out into the material world and grabbed hold of the bloodletter, followed shortly thereafter by a human-looking head framed by wicked horns and a shock of white hair, and shoulders, the left of which was branded with what Seven recognized as the mark of Khorne. The intruder's yellow eyes burned like molten gold from her malice as she taunted her prey... in perfectly understandable Low Gothic, much to the Acolyte's surprise.

“Aw, done already little man?” she crooned in a husky voice that dripped with venom. “You were talking all that good shit a minute ago, and now look at you! How quickly bravado disappears when you're scurrying away like a red-skinned rat!”

The rest of the clearly feminine daemon emerged from the Warp as she pulled at the edges of the wound in the universe through which her bust had penetrated: smooth red skin, modest but pert breasts (and surprisingly for a daemon, the correct number of them), a toned, muscular torso ending in a firm, round bottom, and finally two long, powerful legs. Now fully-formed, she fell confidently onto her hoofed feet and rounded on the lesser bloodletter.

“What kind of pathetic failure did you take me for? Did you seriously think me incapable of following you into the mortal world?” As the bloodletter struggled, the strange intruder grabbed it by the arms and planted one hoofed foot squarely into its back, driving its chest down into the floor. Slowly, the female daemon rose to her full height, which the Acolyte guessed to be a little over two meters. He could hear the sound of the bloodletter's screams and the horrid, squelching sound of its ligaments and tendons tearing free as its arms extended far past their usual length... what the hell was this bizarre daemonic woman, anyway?

Finally, the humerus on each side simply pulled free of the rest of the daemon's shoulders, and with a blood-curdling scream and a spray of arterial blood that coated its attacker's body the limbs ripped free entirely. “I'm not as weak as you are,” the strange daemonette growled as the bloodletter's screams of agony continued unabated. “Unlike you, I'm not an embarrassment to our Father. But don't worry... your skull will make an excellent tribute to him.”

What followed next nearly defied belief. Acolyte Seven watched in fascinated horror as the Khornate daemonette, the 'Khornette', pulled her still-living victim's head off its neck. “Report a double-summoning,” Seven told the record-keeping machine as the daemon's spine finally gave out under the Khornette's strength. “One bloodletter, followed by some kind of Khornate daemonette of unknown classification. Appearance is similar to a Slaaneshi daemonette, but demeanor is more certainly Khornate. Tentatively identified as a 'Khornette'.”

As the Khornette quickly and efficiently peeled back her fallen enemy's skin and muscles from the neck, almost like a meaty headwrap, Seven continued his narration. “Subject displays clear strength and aggression, even against her own kind. Immediately after her transfer to realspace, the Khornette killed and dismembered the bloodletter, claiming it was 'weak' and taking its skull as a trophy.”

Suddenly, the Acolyte was aware of the Khornette in the room below him staring at one of the cameras. “Interesting,” she muttered aloud after touching two blood-red fingers to the wards on one wall and withdrawing them with a hiss. “It seems that little prick picked a poor place to penetrate into the mortal world.” As if waiting for a reply she slung one of the bloodletter's arms over her shoulder, set the its now more-or-less clean skull on the floor, and placed a single hoof upon it.

“That's correct,” Seven replied over the intercom. “You're in a heavily warded room. There's no way in or out except by my own warpcraft.”

“You must be a powerful daemonologist, mortal,” the Khornette observed casually. “And yet you have neither banished me nor attempted to control or bind me. That's different from most sorcerers. I'm not sure whether it shows courage or foolishness.”

“I'm supposed to study any new types of daemons I encounter,” Seven explained. “A Khornate with a distinct biological sex is new to our cell. So I'll be keeping you here for a time.”

The Khornate let loose a terrible laugh at the notion. “Very well,” she agreed. “Be grateful that killing this blight upon the name of my Father put me in a good mood. I assume you'll have to come down here at some point to examine my physical perfection in person? I'll wait.”

Much to Seven's discomfort, the daemon was correct. In order to properly assess her as a new type of daemon, a more careful observation would be required. And since the wards were still in place, and this daemon seemed surprisingly cooperative, there was no real excuse not to. With a frown, Acolyte Seven prepared himself for what was necessary. As the room had no way in or out save the heavily-armored viewing window, he would have to resort to Warpcraft. There was a tingling, almost painful sensation as the Acolyte pressed against the universe and stepped cleanly out of it. For a brief moment there was no up nor down, and the only thing that allowed Seven to reappear where he desired was his own mental training and intense focus on the destination.

“That was quick,” the Khornette observed while some parts of her victim already began to dematerialize. The blood that had coated her face and body seemed to be sinking into her skin, though a few drops still rolled down her cheek and belly.

“Teleportation tends to be, daemon,” Seven replied. “Fascinating. One of the more human-looking daemons I've ever seen. Not at all as grotesque as those damned daemonettes.”

The Khornette shrugged, and the Acolyte found his gaze unwillingly drawn towards her breasts as the movement of her shoulders drew them momentarily closer to each other. A single crimson droplet danced mesmerizingly as it clung to her nipple. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

“You're also naked,” Seven observed.

“Why cover up perfection?” she replied, sauntering closer to the Acolyte and running her own hands across her flawless, taut flesh. “Have you ever seen a finer specimen of martial prowess? Go ahead, point to a flaw if you can see one.”

“Impressive, I'll admit,” the Acolyte answered with some obvious discomfort. “It's just that humans generally consider nudity rather rude.”

The Khornette's arm was suddenly a blur as she lashed out towards the Acolyte, whose mind barely had time to register the movement. In an equally quick reaction, he stepped backwards through the Immaterium and re-emerged several feet away from the daemon... only to find that not everything on his person had come with him. Since they had been firmly in the grip of a rather powerful daemon, Seven's trousers and undershorts had elected to remain exactly where they were.

“How very rude of you!” The Khornette grinned as she eyed the Acolyte's stiff member. “You're something of a rarity yourself, you know. Dark hair, dark eyes, the body of a warrior, but you're also strange.”

“How so?” the Acolyte countered as the Khornette backed him into one of the walls. “What do you even know about me?”

“First, you're skilled enough to summon a daemon and presumably banish one, and you went through the trouble of inscribing these wards, but you haven't banished me yet. Which is odd. Second, you seem a far cry from the gibbering fools who usually summon beings such as myself, and yet the thrill of being near me has you this aroused even after you watched me tear a bloodletter limb from limb. Or, perhaps it was in part because of that: either way, it's also odd. Last, you teleported yourself into the room, but didn't teleport out of the room just now,” the Khornette explained, laying out her thoughts much to the Acolyte's chagrin. “You've probably tired yourself out, and you're saving what remains of your energy until you can be sure of what you need to do in order to banish me.”

The Khornette dropped the severed arm and pushed herself up against Seven's body, and her hand began to slowly run her finger up the length of his shaft from base to tip. “Am I wrong?” she finally asked, flicking the very end with her fingernail. It took a second for the Acolyte to realize that the daemon had anointed him in the blood of the deceased bloodletter.

“I wasn't told to expect Khornates to be intelligent... or interested in sex.”

“I'm no Feathered Lord, but at the very least I can smell weakness,” she countered, still idly toying with Seven with her hands. “And if you have problems with my sex drive, blame my Father for making 'brides' for his champions. Why give me a feminine form without any desire to use it?”

“What are you even doing!?” the Acolyte hissed in frustration. “If you have a point, please either get to it or kill me already.”

“Here's the deal, mortal,” the Khornette explained, slowly wiping daemon blood onto the man's cheek with her free hand as she pressed her body against his. “I don't get to come to the mortal world very often, and you can help me stay here long enough to have some real fun.”

“And why should I help you?”

The Khornette leaned her head closer, licking the blood off Seven's cheek even as her fingers wrapped tightly around his throbbing masculinity. “I don't care who or what I kill so long as killing it adds to my glory,” she whispered in his ear. “Even if it means killing daemons like that little shit you brought here. In return for helping me hunt, and for seeing to my other 'needs', I'll restrict my hunt to the enemies of your Corpse God. As your 'wife', I wouldn't be averse to helping you meet your 'needs' either.”

“If you agree, all you need to do is tell me your name,” she finished, rubbing slow circles against Seven's stiff flesh with her fingertips.

The Acolyte shut his eyes as he struggled with his own instincts, but said nothing. Unable to banish the Khornette due to his own miscalculation, and with an offer to turn a daemon of Khorne loose upon those who threatened the Imperium, what other choice could be made? Even if it cost him the purity of his soul, wouldn't the benefits be worth it?

The fact that the Khornette was now licking at the daemonic blood on Seven's still painfully erect member certainly didn't help matters.

“Seven.”

“Excuse you?” the Khornette asked, standing to look down her delicate nose at Seven.

“My name is Seven. Acolyte Kalev Seven.”

“Very good. You may call me Antaura, Seven,” the Khornette replied with a devilish grin. “Or 'Aura' for short, if you'd prefer. Now, before we begin our 'marriage' I'll be taking the first installment of my bride-price.”

Without bothering to explain, the Acolyte pulled his self-appointed daemonic 'bride' one step out of sync with the universe and aligned them halfway with the Immaterium, then pulled her straight through the wall behind them. When they emerged and stepped back into realspace, the pair found themselves in the sparse bedroom Seven lived in while working at the remote station. Looking briefly over the room, the Acolyte mused that far more expenditure and effort had gone into the seals on the walls next door than would ever go into making the sad excuse for a living space even adequate, let alone comfortable.

Antaura seemed not to mind.

Filled with an unnatural strength gifted to her by Khorne himself Antaura slung Seven onto the unmade bed, where his head collided loudly with the headboard, and then pounced atop him. Her powerful hands first clawed his shirt entirely off of him before she pinned his arms above his head. She kissed him, and his mind was still reeling from the impact to the point he could offer no resistance to her probing tongue. Even were he not stunned and winded, there was little chance he could have stopped the Khornette from straddling him between her thighs and violently impaling herself on his throbbing shaft. As she forcefully drove Seven into her warm folds, Antaura found herself crying out in something halfway between ecstasy and agony as she tore from the penetration and the painful tightness of the fit.

“You've taken my blood,” Antaura cooed at Seven, who was only just beginning to recover from the blow to the back of his head. “Consider my parting with it a gift.”

“Normally people give flowers or chocolates,” the Acolyte replied weakly. In response, Antaura released one of Seven's wrists so as to run her fingers around her own smooth folds, collecting her blood before gently wiping it across the man's lips with a grin. Then, she slammed herself against his hips again, eliciting a grunt of pain. Then another, and another.

After several brutal minutes Antaura began to moan more in pleasure than pain, and her vice grip on Seven's arms began to weaken. Her thighs began to loosen about his waist, and her eyes seemed to lose some of the intense, predatory focus they once had. It was then that Seven made his move.

With what strength he could muster, the Acolyte pushed off his right arm and leg. If Antaura realized what was happening she made no effort to stop it as Seven finally managed to flip her over on her back, suddenly changing places with the moaning Khornette. Rather than immediately escaping, however, he paused. Antaura lay beneath him panting: her hips were still rising and falling and her golden eyes shone with expectation. Her normally blood-red face was burning warmer and brighter, and her body glistened with a thin veneer of sweat.

Unable to resist, Seven found himself lifting Antaura's hips and thrusting hard into the daemon, eliciting a delighted shriek as her body tensed and tightened around him. The Khornette's calves drove hard into his back as she locked her legs around him, her back arching as she pressed her hips against his.

“It's our wedding night,” she moaned breathlessly, “so you'd better make me scream.”

In response Seven grabbed one of Antaura's horns with one hand and hauled her up by it, his lips meeting hers halfway even as he reamed her. Her heat, her tightness, her slippery wetness... no human felt like that, Seven realized. No human COULD feel quite like that. Antaura's fingernails dug deep into her partner's chest, and traced long lines in his blood as she felt her inborn rage and fury wholly replaced with passion and pure sensation. Her lips broke with Seven's as she felt a vicious orgasm explode through her body, which was left aflame with pleasant tingling as each blast of ecstasy tore through her. As she lost control she screamed in rapturous pleasure, sounding more like a Slaaneshi whore than a proud warrior of Khorne, overflowing with the seed of a mere mortal as droplets of his blood mingled with her sweat.

Still basking in the afterglow of their ungodly act, Seven lay on his back and allowed Antaura to have her way. The Khornette gingerly lapped the blood off his chest and stroked his rock-hard member with loving attentiveness.

“Thank you for letting the blood flow,  Kalev,” she told him. “I appreciate the gesture.”

“I've got plenty, Aura,” Seven replied, “but I'd like to actually close the wounds now, if you don't mind.”

“Go ahead, I'm satisfied up here.” After tenderly caressing one gash on the man's chest with a bloody finger, Antaura turned her attention entirely to cleaning the last of her own blood from the Acolyte's shaft with her lips and tongue, savoring the blend of bitter and metallic flavors. Seven, meanwhile, focused on shifting the warp energies that had been slowing his bleeding towards finally closing the wounds entirely.

“Hey, I just had a thought.”

Antaura lifted her head to look up at Seven, but continued to work him with one hand. “That sets a dangerous precedent, but go ahead and share.”

“I remember seeing in a few Inquisitorial reports that Khornates can do things with blood they take,” Seven explained. “Does that include healing?”

“For some of us it does, yes.” With her free hand Antaura brushed a strand of white hair from her face as her golden eyes locked with Seven's. “And before you ask, yes. That means the damage we caused downstairs will heal, too.”

“So it'll be like you're a virgin every time, then?”

“What, like some kind of 'ever-virgin'?” the Khronette scoffed. “Maybe on a technicality. Call me that, though, and I'll collect your fucking skull and drink your blood out of it.”

“Duly noted,” the Acolyte replied as Antaura's lips touched his base once more, and her tongue continued the long task of scouring him clean.

“I think it's about time we left this rock. So what do you think...” Seven began, before suddenly making another mess for Antaura to clean up. “What do you think about a greenskin 'Waaagh' a few parsecs north?”

With a slow, sloppy lick at the fresh mess running down her 'husband's' shaft, Antaura rose to embrace the Acolyte. “I think it would make for a lovely honeymoon, darling. The first in a long list of triumphs to our names.”

“One warboss skull, coming right up.”