Ascending To Dark Majesty

With the last wretch’s spine crushed beneath my boot, I stand amidst the smouldering wreckage, surveying my domain. My sister, Q’rek, clings to me, panting, her gaze ablaze with the fires of conquest. We are the architects of devastation, and tonight, we revel in its splendour.

Her body melds against mine, achingly familiar yet ever enticing. The scent of death and sex intermingle, fueling our passion. Here, among the fallen, we claim our prize, lost in the tempestuous storm of our desires.

Tomorrow, we turn our sights towards fresh conquests, our armies surging forth like a plague, leaving naught but misery in our wake. They call us monsters, but they do so through trembling lips, begging for mercy that will never come.

For who could deny the righteousness of our cause? Blood calls to blood, and the weak must bend before the strong. Soon, all lands will bow before the throne of T’mir Ash-Maker and his queen, Q’rek. And then, perhaps, the ghosts of those betrayed will finally rest, knowing justice has been served.