To forge this alliance—which perhaps should have been named the "Mental Health Rehabilitation Center"—Warsmith Grendel felt as though his power armor was rusting from the sheer sweat of psychological exhaustion.
He first went to the manic World Eaters champion.
Cutting straight to the chase, Grendel pulled out a defense map of the Badab Sector, pointed to the densely packed Ogryn barracks on it, and said, "See these? If we don't unite, you'll have to hack through them one by one.
You'll be drowned in artillery fire before you even reach Huron. But if you follow my command, I will use heavy firepower to tear open a breach and drop you right into the middle of those mountains of flesh. It will be an unprecedented bloody feast."
"Blood! More! Now!" The World Eater's mind held nothing but butchery. Hearing that he could slaughter people more efficiently, he immediately roared his agreement to join up.
Having dealt with the mad dog, Grendel turned to the mystic. The Thousand Sons Sorcerer, Izkara, was initially tinkering with his Tarot cards. But after Grendel pointed out that "even the most perfect plan needs someone up front to draw fire, and the World Eater is the best meat shield," the sorcerer's blue helmet shifted.
"Very well." Izkara put away his staff, his tone carrying a haughty arrogance that implied he was reluctantly deigning to play along with the intellect of mere mortals. "Since we have fodder, the margin for error regarding variables is increased. This will make executing my plan much easier. I'm in."
With two allies secured, Grendel felt a bit more confident. He walked up to the Plague Marine who was currently scratching his belly and pointed behind himself. "Look, the Khorne lunatic and the Tzeentch zealot have joined. Counting me, that makes three of us. You should join too, shouldn't you? Three is Grandfather Nurgle's sacred number, after all."
Festus slowly raised his head, his cloudy yellow eyes scanning the lineup before letting out a gurgling sound. "Since everyone else is going... I suppose I'll go too... Everything rots everywhere anyway..."
Finally, Grendel looked at the Emperor's Children Chaos Lord who was still making bizarre noises. Before he could even speak, the pink degenerate waved an arm covered in tentacles and said with a lack of interest, "Fine, fine, I'm in. I'm bored of this place anyway. Let's see what new stimulations this Huron can offer me. I just hope his screams are pleasing to the ear."
And so, this Chaos joint fleet—each member harboring their own ulterior motives and possessing wildly clashing aesthetics—finally set sail amidst the tides of the Warp, heading toward the Badab Sector.
The journey through the Warp was far from peaceful.
Just as the fleet was traversing an unstable Warp channel, the flagship's auspex suddenly blared a sharp alarm.
"Unknown contact detected!"
On the main viewscreen of the bridge, a red dot was racing toward their massive fleet at an extreme speed. The optical sensors captured the image: it was a small, completely unmarked vessel. It looked battered and worn, resembling some sort of modified civilian shuttle. Yet, upon discovering this terrifying Chaos fleet, instead of fleeing, it pushed its engines to the limit, hurtling forward like a suicidal bullet.
Grendel's brow furrowed tightly. As a rigorous master of siegecraft, he detested surprises.
"Destroy it!" Grendel ordered decisively.
However, the moment the command left his mouth, his "allies" began to act up.
Izkara, the Thousand Sons Sorcerer, raised a hand to stop the servitor whose finger was hovering over the firing button, watching the screen with keen interest. "Wait. This is unexpected. In this chaotic Warp, a mere mortal vessel dares to charge at us? Perhaps some revelation of fate or a unique psychic phenomenon is hidden behind this. Why not see what the little thing will do?"
On the other side, the Emperor's Children Lord pressed close, his face nearly glued to the screen as he let out a giggling laugh. "Yes, look at it, tossing and turning in that raging psychic storm, yet still trying so hard to ram us. It's so tiny and cute~ Like a fly trying to violate a dragon. This sense of desperate contrast is simply exquisite—"
"Kill!" the World Eaters champion roared, short and sweet. But he didn't want to use the macrocannons; he wanted to launch himself out of a tube to ram the tiny ship head-on.
Looking at his utterly absurd teammates, Grendel's blood pressure spiked instantly. The sheer logic of an Iron Warrior made him feel like he was losing his mind.
"Is your brain filled with nothing but grox shit?! This is the Warp! The Maelstrom! That could be a suicide ship packed with apocalyptic weaponry! Or a psychic bomb from the Imperial Inquisition!"
Seeing the small vessel closing in on the flagship and already entering a dangerous proximity, Grendel could no longer care about preserving his allies' feelings. He shoved the blocking Thousand Sons Sorcerer aside and roared at the gunner, "Destroy it! Now! Immediately! Or do you want me to stuff you into the barrel and fire you out instead?!"
The terrified gunner pressed the firing stud with trembling fingers.
Boom!
A lance beam instantly pierced the void. Before the unknown little ship could even make contact with the Chaos warship, it turned into a brilliant fireball, leaving not a single scrap behind.
Watching the red dot vanish from the screen without triggering any chain explosions or Warp demon incursions, Grendel let out an inexplicable sigh of relief, wiping non-existent cold sweat from his brow.
Fortunately, it was just a minor interlude.
But right then, Izkara, the Thousand Sons Sorcerer, turned around, the lenses of his helmet flashing with a cold light. He seemed highly displeased that his "observational experiment" had been interrupted, and even more infuriated by Grendel's action of shoving him aside just moments ago. He felt his intellect had been disregarded and scorned by this bunch of crude artisans.
Thus, after a brief silence, he suddenly spoke in a low, eerie tone, "Grendel, there is something I have been pondering for a long time. Why is it that after this alliance was formed, you inexplicably assumed the position of leader? Shouldn't an order to open fire be subject to a joint vote among us? I believe we ought to have a discussion regarding this—concerning the distribution of power and decision-making processes. We need to establish a logical set of regulations, perhaps even a rotating chairmanship, to ensure that the 'change' beloved by the Changer of Ways can manifest within this team, rather than allowing your unilateral rule to stifle potential variables."
Hearing this, Grendel, who had just relaxed, suddenly saw stars.
Looking at the Thousand Sons sorcerer who was completely serious about implementing a "parliamentary system," then at the Slaaneshi cultist watching the drama unfold, and the Khorne lunatic sharpening his axe nearby, Grendel felt all his strength and resolve drain away.
Beyond the physical exhaustion, a profound sense of absurdity welled up from the depths of his soul. He felt as though he wasn't commanding a Chaos fleet capable of destroying galaxies at all, but was instead working as the sole orderly in a madhouse.