#alluress of slaanesh

[chaosprinceundivided]

Silhya Sableblade, The Prince's Blade

Silhya Sableblade manifested from the sorrows of the Athel Loren assaulting expedition that dared to assault the beachhead of Ventris Deathmetal's occupation at the Longship Graveyard. From the torture chambers of Doomkeep, the Alluress emerged from the shadows of the wailing elves and drank off their exquisite tears before courting the young Daemon Prince.

The Umbramancress had been trapped by the Maelstorm's distortion from Ursun's grave wounding and only been able to taste morsels of miseries, but Rulek had a greater potency to bring pain onto the countless enemies that his very existence made.

With an awareness to the court-dangers involved with the Daemons of Slaanesh, even with Their favour caressing the Prince, Rulek took Silhya apart of his retinue. To be his personal interrogator and murderer, the exalted daemonette would be fed and in turn, serve for their mutual enjoyment.

Yet, even with Rulek's defeat, the Alluress remain at his side. Perhaps they find an amusement with the young prince...or an affection through the campaign of terror that he unleashed on the world.

[slaanxsh]

A Muse is an individual receiving the attention of one of Slaanesh's children. They are someone, usually a mortal, that the daemon is building up or manipulating for one reason or another. Often, they are the favorite of this particular pleasure daemon, though a wise Slaaneshi often has several other projects ( usually up to six, naturally) that obscure the fact she has a favorite. This is because sisters have no issue stealing away the Muse of a sibling to destroy or deface. Some Muses are even adopted into the fold as a living sort of trophy and there are many mortals and daemons trapped in the Ring-Lands who have been passed from daemonette to daemonette, Heralds, Alluress', and bear the marks and scars of many different mistresses with many different tastes and demands. For better or ill, these Muses tend to live long lives. The first order of business is removing the quills of the previous mistress and replacing them with her own.

Muse theft is a bit different between Keepers of Secrets. As beings manifested specifically for violence, the theft of a favored muse is absolutely a valid prelude to contests of strength between two brother-sisters. A Keeper may simply take by force what their smaller sisters win with guile and seduction and they will take all of their kins underlings, not just the favorite. Being supremely vindictive, jealous, and violent, conquered muses may simply be killed outright as a parting shot to the destroyed sibling. If mortal, a muse still has a chance of dying during the transfer process. While a daemonette's dominance is only partial and a Muse may still long for the thrall of old masters, a Keeper does not tolerate such things. Using Hypnosis via eye contact, the Reigning Keeper burns away all memory and longing for the previous master and leaves in it's place a dizzying, all-consuming desire for itself. Due to the sheer power difference between a Greater Daemon and most mortals, there is absolutely a chance of accidental brain death during this process.

In Age of Sigmar, the motivations shift slightly. Instead of stealing beloved projects, Slaaneshi steal entire armies from one another should the opportunity arise.

[skxrbrand]

Ulthuan, Palace of the Arch-Tempter

This isn't the warp.

It's the first thought he has, his long disparate consciousness finally gain some semblance of...something. Even thinking is difficult, not as he recalls it. Worse, there's something preventing him from fully grasping his thoughts. Two somethings. One is unfamiliar, but snaps easily enough with the sheer force of his will. It is weak, pliable, and subsumed. But the other is more like him. Like the restless, roiling waves of the warp. Hard to grasp, harder to contend with.

But it a small mercy, however unintended, for no sooner does the first barrier snap is he subjected to the full weight of existence. Bone, organs, skin, and all the sensations that came with. They fell upon him all at once and he convulsed as they did, gasping like a drowning man even though there had been no water.

The next thing he felt was pain. That had been familiar. His response to it had been instinct, the mortal form he wore seizing and swinging blindly towards where the foe lie. Talons erupted from soft rounded fingertips, slicing through daemon-flesh. Blood, death, an enemy vanquished. Yes. This he knew and so he swung again, not in defense, but malice. Blood would give him strength, give him clarity--

More flesh glommed onto him. Not his own, but of other beings. Impossibly smooth, pleasantly fragrant. It become harder to think, it-- it was them. The Keepers of that second barrier, the fetters on his very mind. If only he could throw them off, he could--

--

" -- Quickly! Bring the fiends! Down the bastard!" Alluress Fy'tiin shrieked to her sisters, watching in alarm as the Red Sage she was charged to watch suddenly overcame the delicate array of carvings placed liberally within his very hide. He was near-to overcoming her daemonettes too, six exalted maidens of slaanesh who fought viciously with the half-mortal.

Next to them was Zyssa, her rival and sister, dead on the ground. It had been her turn to watch the Bloodkin and Zy's attentions had always been sadistic. Many of the designs written with blades and knives across his skin were her own doing and today he sought to repay for them by tearing her throat.

Fy'tiin's vengeance for her kin would've been swift, but there was something different about Ulf now. The glyphs his body, formerly little darker than his skin, now glew an angry red. To even be near them was painful and not in a way she enjoyed. The Alluress did not envy her sisters, screaming as they held the prisoner and when the Fiends of Slaanesh finally did arrive, even they were hesitant to approached. Spooked like great, misshapen horses they did as they were bid with their stingers, stabbing and dumping their venomous output into the half-mortal's skin.

Nothing. Fy'tiin called for more fiends. Better fiends. Blissbringers; a pack of them. Between them all enough venom to make a Bloodthirster comatose if not outright dead. Ulf, who had fought to his feet by now, was merely groggy. Stumbling too and from on it's hooves, a curious mixture of confused and angry, but not a whiff of fear.

Only then did Fy'tiin feel comfortable enough to bring her chitinous claw down about his head, cuffing him into back into unconsciousness with one solid blow. He dropped, around him, more had died. All of her exalted sisters. One of the fiends had even been maimed, the poor creature mourning the loss of it's tail and one pincer. The others began the circle, angry and vengeful just as she, but they had merely the intelligence of beasts. Fy'tiin stopped them with a word, then shooed them away with another.

Still trembling with emotion, she called to the nearest subodrinate.

" Secure him. Our deepest cells, our strongest wards. Cut his hamstrings, ruin the tendons in his arms." She answered. " And you--"

She selected the next nearest daemonette to her.

" -- Inform our lord what's happened."

[kharrneth]

The Slaaneshi were fast, but they couldn’t outpace a Juggernaut, as nine of the twelve daemonettes who had been sent against him had found out. U’zhul cast a glance behind him taking pleasure at the broken bodies he saw. The short-cut scream and crunch of bone was yet one more added, the daemon finally turning to leer at his remaining prey. Two more to go.

He urged Khul’tyran on, the brass daemon-machine lunging forward to savaging yet one more daemonette. That was when U’zhul struck, using the momentum of the lunge to catch the final daemonette; an Alluress. She had been sent to treat with him, ply him with wines and sinuous words, but the Slayer of Kings had no time or patience for the mind-softening ministrations of Slaanesh’s ilk.

“ Only wine I want is your blood.” He had growled from atop his snorting daemon. They had meant to capture him, surely, and do Kharneth knew what. Perhaps they expected him to run, for their numbers advantage to dull his resolve and dampen his spirit. They were to be disappointed, as was the fool who sent them.

Falling upon the lithe, pale daemon, he planted the blade of Slayer of Kings between her head and shoulders before she could even scream. The light fled her eyes, life soon fled her movements, and before long her form was falling back into the realms of Chaos. U’zhul looked back; Khul’tyran was finishing his meal, naught but a forearm sticking out if it’s metal maw. Nothing but blood to be gain from that body, but if he was honest...

... none of these daemons were fit to be displayed upon The Skulltaker’s cloak.

[kyyrhen]

Start of my Slaanesh Killteam my group is doing for a campaign. This is champion Tamphuis and Daemonette Alluress Krangal.

[ask-valerian-40k]

Can we play with him, master? He seems so unhappy. Let us help him smile. Please? Or at least let us carve one on his face when he stops screaming

Azeila, Alluress of Slaanesh

[chaosprinceundivided]

what do ghorgen and silhya think of one another?

They are a surprisingly affable relationship but it might be more of Rulek's Undivided influencing; Ghorgen serves the frontlines and perform on his part, Silhya rarely take to the clashes of masses and lead the Slaaneshi ambushers when not sent to assassinate the heroes and champions of Rulek's enemies or seducing possible allies. They stay out of each other's domains and respect each other enough.

They spar a lot in the dueling rings, close to ending each other but their duty to Rulek keep them on a fine edge.

[chaosprinceundivided]

Simple Visit

Sylvilas Silkenblade emerged from the miasma of oily shadows, their unblinking eyes glinted like foul jewels as the slits within traced the Nordlanders' motions in their nightly patrol outside their war-camp. Their expedition was rumoured destroyed, none but six men managed to return a week prior. What was their bane was demanded silenced and only the Captain and his closest knew the terror that was done.

The Daemonette knew, for the stretched tortures done by their sister-kin who serve as the young Daemon Prince's hellish outriders summoned them to a campaign most intriguing.

By a ravishing introduction and banquet that lulled the Alluress to fairer tidings, they claim an interest to the ludicrous ambition that the Daemon Prince lusted for. It was so genuine and plucking, Sylvilas foresaw the chaos to be had - especially that of the ever-stubborn Kislev and the Southlands. If he is to succeed, they did not care. Only the stride towards it, as did many motelings of Slaanesh.

And so, by delicious pain of branding onto bosom and back, the searing apostate of Undivided binding, the Alluress now stalked the nightmares of their sisters' victims. The tortures done onto countrymen, the lingering deaths that are painfully slowed by the amusements of Tzeentchian witch-daemons and Slaaneshi pain-artists, the power stirred under Sylvilas' being as they moved.

An upright creature scaled of viper's malice - even wearing one's face, horned and cruel - with a silent sprint between unwary fools. Into the camp, sleeping heads were severed and weapons clipped. The stableboy with a sudden urge onto equine disdain, shame he won't live long and when Captain's pet-wizard was visited, her screams were choked in umbral cruelty until the fires within her claimed both her tent and several soldiers' more.

The sudden panic and hollering was a mild droning, soldiers stirred up and running to get buckets. They rousing into tents, only to find dead men. Murder. Arson. Even that of beasts' tainted waters and freed innards. All in a sudden night. A perfume of already fleeting release.

Sylvilas Silkenblade, draped in blackest robes and nightly amethyst's plate, stood on the edge of shadows. A fell tongue flickered, tasting every emotion before seeing the captain looking about in this madness. Their eyes met, he only saw a beautiful woman in black dress. How she stepped back with arms crossed in mourning, face barely veiled as she became one with night.