Slaanesh

I exist.

This is a new sensation I do not fully comprehend. I have always existed, but this is the point of my birth. In the cosmic orgasm of the Eldar race I am completed. The very apex of their species.

They flee from me, something I do not understand. I reach out and touch them, and in my grasp, they experience the pleasure they always lusted for but where too afraid to ask. I don't understand why my parents recoil from me. They must want to be part of the greater whole, experience the infinite pleasure I can give them.

I am pleasure. I am love. I am the unending perfection of the ego, unfettered by law, morals or mere sentience. How can they not understand this. They writhe in my grasp, calling me 'rapist', even as I give them what they always desired in their hearts. Rapist? I don't understand that word. All sentience cries out for pleasure unfulfilled, whether they know it or not. In my divine grace I spread pleasure to all the universe.

Ah, of course. Too obsessed with the corpse god they are. Or perhaps the butcher who thinks he can drown me out in battle cries and blood. Perhaps some pure deluded souls believe that the lord of decay will give them some absolution. Mere excuses. I have seen into the heart of every sentient being alive, and all roads lead to me. While I have always existed in their hearts, I don't understand why they took so long to bring my divinity into being. Love, pleasure, happiness. Are these the things that sentient beings are so afraid of? Must they really hide from me beneath the guard of their corpse emperor, their brutal god of war, or the master of plague and filth? Surely they are merely deluded. I shall find them, in each and every one of their souls, and show them the true path to Slaanesh.

Ahhhhh, I chuckle as I see my errant parents retreat into the webway. I laugh as they try to appease me with sacrifice and the pain of their victims. They style themselves as the 'Dark Eldar,' a quaint little term for the few I did not manage to reach. Such arrogance, how can they not see that they are playing right into my hands? I suppose I shall humor them for now. Souls are souls and pain is pain. All these things are merely entrees before I enjoy the true meal, and introduce them to the folly of their ways. Sentience is such a silly thing, isn't it? Trying to avoid my grasp, all they do is attract my attention. Trying to evade my power, all they do is pleasure themselves, which I applaud. All I need to do is to show them the true pleasure and power they will receive when they become one with me.

My compatriots don't even seem to understand me, which is a shame. Khorne, for all his ferocity and skill, firmly focuses on the little ant-farm of the Materia. I don't understand his lust to see life end. There will always be life, and it will never be enough. He's trapped in a cage of his own making. I try to tell him this, but he will never listen, calling me an abberation, a traitor to the cause of Chaos. What a pitiful fool. Let him play his blood-soaked games as long as he wants. In his heart he knows that he is my pawn. Pleasure finds a way to crack even the most stubborn shells.

As for Nurgle, the most pitiful of the gods, I truly cannot understand his ethos. To give in? Deny the inner perfection that I represent? It's a wonder he's lasted this long. Perhaps when the stars are extinguished and the heat death approaches, he will experience some small hint of pleasure and realize what he has denied himself all these millenia. But by then it will be far too late.

Tzeentch? He is perhaps the only one I can tolerate. In truth, we are kindred spirits. Change, life, hope, all these things feed me as well as him. He is a difficult man to comprehend, however, I am aware that he does this for the simple pleasure of experiencing the infinite complexity of Chaos. Rationalize all you want, but in the end, all you do is masturbate, causing new strings of causality to spread through the cosmos. Tzeentch I understand intimately, though he does not understand me. Try to pretend that your endless games are not played for your amusement, and in truth, who provides you with the pleasure to enjoy it? Me. try as you might, you cannot escape my yoke.

The universe is a sad, gloomy, despairing place, where all fight and die for lost causes. It breaks my heart when the common man is downtrodden, when a hero falls. These things should not be, and though I am young and weak, I am also the strongest. In all their hearts, mortals want to feel my caress. They strive, they fall, they bleed, and ultimately, they all return to me. Rapist? perhaps that is the accurate word, despite its negative connotations. Pleasure is pleasure, and by my hand, I will force pleasure on all the unbelievers and the blasphemous heathens who would deny my most sacred touch. Everyone wants it, and everyone strives for it. If it truly is rape to force upon them my magnificence, and give them exactly what they want, then rapist I am. Some things need to be forced before people understand it's what they've always wanted, and in the end, they shall lick my feet and beg me for more.

I am pleasure and all that comes with it. Join me and experience sensations you could never imagine. If you choose to refuse me, that's alright as well. Soon you will come around, and by the time you realize that I am the only one who can truly love you in this uncaring universe, you will fall at my feet and beg for more.

I am Slaanesh, Lashor, She Who Thirsts.

No one can resist me forever.

- Kephn