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The first of the noises that could be heard from the gate was the bars lifting up; the slow grinding of unseen gears and the soft whirl of engines shifting every little cog into its proper alignment; but all this was seen for as the iron gate began to rose into its enclosure a quartet of strings began to sound.

A most soft and slow pace of the rich and lovely piece, Death and the Maiden, with the first notes striking the air in such a profound way as to captivate all in the beauty that it was; but beneath the subtle notes another sound could be heard. The sound of foot falls trampling upon the sand.

In all there was three score of them, or sixty in all; thirty individuals to each side. The most front two unraveling a carpet that filled the large gates path, the carpet was a deep royal purple in hue with brilliant gold embroidery detailing the history of the man that was to come. Its edges where lined in soft fur of the purest white animal pelts.

The people themselves each held a censor which burned sweet smokes that wafted and drifted in the air with stir of a breeze. In the back ground the music was altering itself, moving quicker with more refined movements. But the men themselves did not seem perturbed; they didn’t seem to notice at all what was going on around them.

They were dressed in the finest clothes imaginable, soft silks chased with silver embroidery. Each one a lovely representation of earthly beauty as each other one was male female, each with their left breast exposed as was traditional for those that followed Slaanesh.

Quickened to a frantic pace in the sound it calmed but kept itself with time. The men and women then raised great pikes of wood over twenty feet tall into the air. Their points angled directly straight up in perfection.

When the music shifted once more into a commanding tone there was the sound of hooves, cloven hooves racing along the carpet. And wheels behind them as they pulled a carriage rumbled with grace.

The quartet was drawing closer as the Steeds of Slaanesh came into view. Lithe figures, serpentine and alluring despite their alien nature. That was the power of Slaanesh, the Prince of Pleasure made every last one of his creations pleasing to behold.

And when the carriage came into view all could see its tremendous size and girth. It was purest white, chased and scrolled with fine gold and silver. With its entrance a gust of wind blew up, catching the triangular flags attached to the pikes that proudly displayed the heraldry of their Master.

Dieing down in pace the strings could be seen to be performed by a most lusty and body host of Daemonettes, the Temptresses of Slaanesh that would please any soul and take a most sadistic glee to torture it for the rest of eternity. What beauty they performed was only matched by their physical consistence.
The carriage wheeled about to present its right flank towards the center. Its open air top gave a view of the man inside of it; but not much could be told save for his size and any fine detail was covered by a haze of musk that clung in the air.

Servants with their eyes gouged out from having seen the Prince of Pleasure themselves opened the door and retracted a black iron set of steps. The music was frantic once more as though to match the air of what was happening, as though it was drawing to a climax as the man stepped forth to set foot upon the ground itself.

Iucunditas was a giant by normal proportions. The crest of his helm was eleven feet from the ground while an assortment of instruments that looked all too much like pipes of an organ added another two feet of their own. Armoured as he was in a blackness that seemed to drink of all the light that touched it, giving none back though a spectator could see an image reflected in it; but it would not be their own, it would be a perversion of them in their most depraved state of debauchery. That is what the Lord of Pleasure granted and Iucunditas was his most favoured priest.

The armour was scrolled with fine details of gold and silver, though not a single gem rested upon its features. About his face though the armour was different, he wore a most threatening death mask of the palest alabaster white; beneath it his mouth opened up reveal a long tongue that was almost whip for the dexterity it displayed. A low thrum echoed at the back of his throat as Iucunditas hummed the last refrains of a most favoured song.

About him he wore a monstrous cloak of epic proportions; once more a royal purple in hue with was embroidered with the symbol of his Master. It hid most of the finer features of what he held within his hands; but they would be revealed with time. For now what could be seen is what could only be thought of as a perversion of a cross hanging from a golden chain about his neck. A Rosarius, a symbol of status for what he had once been; a warrior of holiness devoted to the False Emperor, the Corpse God. How tides change and the once loyal Chaplain now served new masters, better masters that bestowed their gifts upon their favoured sons.

Dangling beneath this perversion of a sacred item is a chain of Fletchettes, thin blades which Iucunditas uses to great effect when he wishes to filet the skin from someone’s back. Either by using the length of chain like a deadly whip or individually to feel it p***k flesh himself.

Striding forward as the music dies away to let a stillness fill the air he throws the cloak from his shoulders, revealing the fine silk tabard, proclaiming his master as the cloth fell about his waist.

At last in sight could be seen something of Slaanesh, something that spoke of his powers and the powers of Chaos, the Warp, the Immaterium, or any other name the pagans gave upon the perfection that it was. Iucunditas left arm was encased in armour down to the forearm in which a mess of pinkly flesh veined heavily with arteries of blood formed into cluster of tentacles, about a dozen in all; but they kept twisting about that they could not be counted. Each one was barbed with a poison that would inject into the victim a calming effect that would slow their reactions and numb their body while its true work went about unnoticed; it would alter the chemistry of the brain so that all pain would be associated with an euphoric experience. Pleasure in pain, pleasure in all things, pleasure in excess; that was Slaanesh.

And so it was with Iucunditas who became feverish with delight at the chance to inflict pain as his mind became more detached as though in a drug induce high as it was inflicted upon him. He was truly a monster of hedonistic debauchery; getting off on inflicting pain and getting high on receiving.

The right hand was just the same as should be expected, normal, armoured, and massive. In its grasp was a weapon that looked like a mace, a field crackled and ionized the air about it as though a beast raged inside of it; and one did. It was a mighty weapon, fueled by the essence of a daemon to give it destructive powers like none other; but that was only half of it, as the weapon was pattern upon an ancient torture device known as a pear. Inserted orally, virginally, or rectally, or any other opening within the victim; and it would spring open, tearing the wound open even more and causing wider destruction then before as spikes drove forth from the inside to ravage the internals. Another weapon of holiness perverted by a foul man, the Crozius.

But for now Iucunditas was calm, he had nothing to fear and he was pleased. Pleased to fight and pleased to fight a beauty. If he could corrupt her and bring her unto Slaanesh then all the best; but if he could not and crush her all the same then Slaanesh would be please; Slaanesh was always pleased, it was a foul thing to make him not so.

There was a short little burst of hiss as he began to speak, the voice tumbled through the organ pipes upon his back and beneath the death mask.

“Good day I have upon you, to raise upon exaltation the Prince of Pleasure, our mutual Lord, Slaanesh; should you have him.”

Iucunditas was shrouded in a glow like a halo as his god had gifted him with Daemonhood and rose him up as a Daemon Prince, worthy to be numbered one of Slaanesh’s Court. And so the warp that was home to his Lord bled through into reality with him and it filled the arena with the sounds and smells of delight, of a diverse multitude of pleasures.

The Crozius was attached to a belt at his waist and so his right hand was free. The glossy armour shinning and the sun the hung over head. Soft and pleasent her voice was, soothing and nothing like the raging tempest Iucunditas had become accustomed to. It was pleaseing and so when she had come towards him he had offered the open palm of his right hand towards her.

There was very little any creature could do against a Daemon Prince, and one of his breed was a very pleasent sort. Always wanting to enjoy what was to happen, finding pleasure in all things. And here before him this woman felt the same feelings.

It would only do for her to join the ranks of Slaanesh.

"He is a most pleasing and elagent one. His beauty surpases the countless stars, his eyes are the morning sun and his smile like that of the moon. He dresses himself up and plays ever so fanciful games. But never for sorror, his only whim is for one to enjoy themselves. And so may we enjoy ourselves."

He would not feel insulted in the least with her false words, nor would her gift actually be recieved. Iucunditas was a monster, a being of the warp, the immaterium; he had no need for food, sleep, drink; all of those things were simple little pleasures that he could choose to perform but had no need for he was chaos given form.

He would not however relinquish his grip; instead with the might that could sunder tanks he tightened his grip in a crushing vice like hold. Bodily raising her tiny form compared to his in a quick jerk that would have any normal human's bones being torn from sockets and legaments being severed.

Around like a rag doll he would flail her about before bringing her down harshly against the ground with enough force to splinter the stones beneath the sand.

"Take pleasure in all you do and you shall be rewarded."

At some point in his past Iucunditas has been man, he had been flesh; but then he had become something more then human when he had become a soldier of the Emperor; but that Corpse God had betrayed them, the False Emperor had refused his children and so Iucunditas along with many others had fallen to Chaos, to the warp. And with the mutation machine blended with man and man with machine. Whether it be daemonic abilities or aged old auspex that caught the detail it was sure enough that the details were caught. The shiny details, this person was wearing some form of form fitting suit, though its construction escaped him. But that did not matter to him, he had torn apart suits of armour that could withstand the intense heat of a ships plasma reactor, this would be nothing.

As before music began to play, some nameless classical tune that trilled and went up and down, quickened and slowed. A beautiful piece of work that did owner unto Slaanesh. Iucunditas loved his music, it pleased him and he enjoyed it.

Turning around from where he had stood he took the few steps that were needed before reaching the carriage he had ridden into the stadium upon. With a massive gauntlet clad hand he grabbed a retainer, sightless and blind, and with strength beyond that of mortal means threw the man bodily at his opponent. The man would scream at the surprise of what was happening, but no matter how the man landed he would be dead as Iucunditas had thrown him with enough force to snap his neck upon impact.

Just as he had thrown the man the music had bloomed into a thunderous roar and the clash of percusion was accompanied by the mighty sounds of a cannons fusilade. It brought joy to the madness of the beast. This destruction rought to such a lovely tune.

But then Iucunditas was not worry where his improvised projectile landed. For he was grabbing for the carriage itself. Would he possibly throw it as some gigantic missile, or did he have some other purpose in mind? Only time would show.

Man? No, Iucunditas may have once been man, but genetic alterations had rid him of his humanity and the taint of the warp had twisted this once proud defender of humanity into a monster that saught nothing more then to enslave humanity to his Lord's will.

Within his grasp he held the monstrous carriage which was large enough so that he looked no different then a six foot man within it. And so it was that the carriage was eight feet high from base of the wheel to the highest point, another eight wide, and almost twenty in length.

Gripping it by the lead axol he held onto it and taking no more then four steps was he able to more then cross half the distance between him and Hohoemi. What made this feat even most astonishing is that he did it while swinging the carraige and charging in the span of time well less then a second. In fact the feat that took the longest was not the charge, but the actual lifting of the carriage which took not more time then it did to bend down, grab it, and stand back up.

So with one smooth continueing motion from start to finish he swung the carriage like some massive improvised club. His normally impressive reach further increased by a good fifteen feet. If she did not move out of the swing it would hit her and there would be about five feet of length behind her such a range could he strike at.

If the monster could have shrugged at missing he would have done so, but as his hands where full and the circular motion of the swing prevented the movements he kept doing what he was doing.

But there was one differnce, he positioned his feet and began to swing even more furiously when he firsted sense that his blow had missed. Whether it was done by daemonic energies or arachaic machines far in advance to what humanity played with now.

His spin tightend and quickened he could tell where she was moving, he could lead the target and based upon thousands of years of combat experiance and feats of athleticsism. Releasing the carriage at such a point that it would match up with her own course, whether or not that was at the fifty foot distance didn't matter much.

Hohoemi was in motion and Iucunditas had thrown the impromptu projectile to where she would be in the time it took to close the distance. It was a grand feat which was only made all the more grander as the last cannon roar of the music sounded.

Coming out of the spin the monster rumbled with laughter that reverberated across the entire arena floor and sunder the air like thunder. Watching her as she moved about was a source of amusement for him, he hadn't had this kind of fun in decades and his inhibitations were gone, absolutely gone.

His hands moved through the air as though he played some madness of acoustic sounds. Iucunditas was air guitaring as the first strings of an old terra song played.

Howeling in time with it he worked his magic of technology in a most twisted fasion as he sang the words."

"We come from the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. The hammer of the gods."

And with that spoken there was something imperceptable to sight, but could be heard. That is it was seen untill the after effects went into play.

Before Iucunditas in an arc spanning out from him as the focal point was an impressive destruction of the stone flooring. The harmonics had oblitered the stones and were travelling directly to Hohoemi with their deadily cresendo.

All the while Iucunditas strummed his air guitar and sang the verses.

"Will drive our ships to new lands, To fight the horde, singing and crying... Valhalla, I am coming!"