His appetites could never be sated, just as the stars would never cease to burn. Yet still Slaanesh longed for more, always more. Where once he might have savoured each sinful soul that fell into his clutches, by eating so many millions of spiritual essences at one time he became vast and swollen well beyond the limits of Khorne's rage, Tzeentch’s machination, and even Nurgle’s cosmic corpulence. He was all but incapacitated by the act of gorging himself so deeply. At the time of the shattering of the World That Was, Slaanesh had glutted himself on the spirits of that ancient race to the point that only a pitiful few survivors escaped his hunger. That entity was Slaanesh, at that point grown powerful beyond measure on a stolen ambrosia of aelven souls. Long ago, when the dreaming cultures of the realmspheres took form, the glimmering potential of the Mortal Realms attracted the eyes of a wanton god.
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