The prime evils (Diablo universe) vs Chaos Gods (WH Fantasy)

Prime evils:

Diablo, Lord of Terror

Mephisto, Lord of Destruction

Baal, Lord of Hatred

vs

Chaos Gods:

Khorne, God of Carnage

Nurgle, God of plague

Slanesh, God of excess

Tzeech, God of lies

No prep

Morals off

Gear:

Standard

Battlefield:

Hell (Diablo universe)

Victory conditions:

Ko, Death, incap, bfr

Versions:

Prime evils from Diablo, and the chaos gods from warhammer fantasy.

Bump.

chaos gods stomp

Bump, to clarify you can use feats from all media from both sides and that the battle is taking place in hell so the prime evils have the advantage there also since the fight is outside the warp the chaos gods are not omnipotent.

Baal uses that blowy upy trick on these scrubs

@killerwasp said:

Indeed.

@army2442: uh dude, chaos gods have to be in the warp or there featless. which in turn by default the prime evils win.

@killerwasp said:

Just a quick question, are the prime evils (Diablo, Mephisto & Baal) are around Darkseid level at best? if yes then Chaos Gods should still win because even outside the Warp they should be above Darkseid.

@jwwprod: i honestly don't remember, but they weren't that impressive. Problem is we've never see the chaos gods outside of the warp, so we have no idea what they can do. All we can do is use the greater daemons as examples of what they can do. If he allows that per say, i think even the greater daemons would own these chumps.

Chaos. Godstomp.

@andreysemyonov1337 said:

Agree.

The warp is the multi/omniverse(or is connected to them)

"The forms the live-things called Chaos, in their limited little ways of perceiving the omni-verse, swarmed and thrived in this infinite ocean of mind and emotion. The daemon moved with Stele. Waiting, waiting and watching for the moment when the thrashing and chattering of the quarry was at its peak. Only then would it strike, lapping up the absolute perfection of its fear, sinking in rending teeth, tearing it to soul- shreds."
Pg.106 Deus Sanguinius

“A miss indicates that the missile has left Warpspace at the wrong point – and this could be anywhere in any of the million universes.”
pg.37 Adeptus Titanicus

Thoughts can destroy or create thousands of universes in the warp

"Here in the Great Ocean, he could be whatever he wanted to be; nothing was forbidden and anything was possible.
Worlds flashed past him as he hurtled through the swelling tides of colour, light and dimensions without name. The roiling chaos of the aether was a playground for titanic forces, where entire universes could be created and destroyed with a random thought. How many trillions of potential lives were birthed and snuffed out just by thinking such things?"
Pg.712 A Thousand Sons

Chaos is older than time

All around him, he could hear the sounds of the future, of warfare and death. The thought that he shared the guilt of the destruction of the Emperor’s dream was the greatest shame and sorrow he had ever known.
An end to it all would be a blessed relief.
‘Oblivion,’ he whispered as he closed his eyes. ‘Do it. End me.’
The barriers in Fulgrim’s mind dropped and he felt the elation of a creature older than time as it poured into the void in his soul. No sooner had its touch claimed his flesh for its own than he knew he had made the worst mistake of his life.
Fulgrim screamed as he fought to keep it out, but it was already too late.
His consciousness was crushed into the dark, unused corners of his mind, forever to be a mute witness to the havoc wrought by his body’s new master.
One moment Fulgrim was a primarch, one of the Emperor’s Children, the next he was a thing of Chaos."
Pg.757 Fulgrim

"A terrible, ageless scream of frustration filled the chamber, echoing throughout all the realms of existence simultaneously as a creature older than time was thwarted in its ambitions."
Pg.619 Descent of Angels

"All I can tell you is that the warp is beyond the comprehension of you or I, and things exist in its fathomless depths that are older than time as we know it.’"
Pg.359 Battle For the Abyss

Schrodinger's Slaanesh/Chaos

That is how events are viewed from the chronology of the material universe. In the Warp, things are different, for the Immaterium is not bound by linear time, and events do not occur in a strict sequence of cause then effect. As his rival gods reckon it, Slannesh has always existed in the Warp, and yet has never existed at all
-Codex: Chaos Daemons 6th Edition pg. 16

That is how events are viewed from the chronology of the real universe; in the Warp, things are different. The Realm of Chaos has no true time, and events do not occur in a strict sequence of cuase then effect. In essence, Slaanesh has always exsted in the Warp, and yet had never existed.
-Codex: Chaos Daemons 5th Edition, pg.7

The sheer mind-boggling impossibiliry of the Warp defies
explanation, and those who attempt to delve further into
understanding its ways inevitably slip into madness. Of the
little that is known is that Warp space does not conform to the
laws of physics as we know them.
-Warhamer 40k 6th Edition Rulebook, pg. 144

It is a hurning ocean of chaos, raw emotion and madness given form, where the laws of physics, time and nature are meaningless concepts and nothing is as it seems.
-Warhammer 40k 4th Edition Rulebook pg. 122

In warp space there is no time, no distances, only a constantly flowing stream of immaterium.
-Battle Fleet Gothic Rulebook, pg. 85

It is a roiling, howling maelstorm of force and energy, utterly unpredictable and not subject to the rational laws and linear flow of time in the way that physical reality is.
-Horus Heresy Book 1: Betrayal, pg. 16

Beyond the boundaries of physical space, unrestricted by time or casuality, there is a dimension utterly incomprehensible to mortal minds.
-Codex: Chaos Daemons 6th Edition pg. 6

Beyond the boundaries of physical space, unrestricted by time or casuality, there is a dimension utterly incomprehensible to mortal minds.
-Codex: Chaos Daemons 5th Edition pg. 4

Timeless and ever-shifting, this psychic visionscape is known as the Realm of Chaos
-Codex: Chaos Daemons 5th Edition pg. 6

The Realm of Chaos, also known as the Warp, the Immaterium or Warpspace, is a dimension parallel to our own, a universe devoid of matter and life, without laws of time and space.
--Codex: Chaos Daemons 5th Edition pg. 6

The Empy holding reality against Chaos consuming the universe throughout space time.

"His immense psychic powers envelop and protect Mankind across the entire galaxy. His consciousness wanders through Warp space, warring against the Daemons that inhabit it, keeping closed the doors between this world and the next.
If the Emperor fails then the Daemons of Chaos will flood into the galaxy. Every living human will become a gateway for the destruction of Mankind and the stuff of Warp space will submerge the galaxy. There will be no physical matter. No space. No time. Only Chaos."
-Warhammer 40k 5th Edition rulebook, pg.101

Physically fettered, chained atop mountainous banks of
machinery, the Emperor's mind stretches out through space
and time - a light in a vast gulf of blackness.
-Warhammer 40k 6th Edition Rulebook, pg.134

Outwardly, the Emperor is but a desiccated corpse, kept alive partly by the cyclopean, mystical machine of gold wrought by his own hand and partly by a will so powerful that it transcends the bounds of the blackened, shrivelled husk of his body. Physically fettered, chained atop mountainous banks of machinery, the Emperor’s mind stretches out through space and time – a light in a vast gulf of blackness. Should that spark of life ever be extinguished – should the Throne fail in its mysterious purpose – then Mankind would surely be lost.
-Warhammer 40k 7th Edition Rulebook

"Today, as for every day since that battle, the Emperor lives only by the immeasurable force of his supreme will. The stasis fields and psi-fusion reactors of the machine known as the Golden Throne preserve his broken and decayed body; his great mind endures inside a rotting carcass, kept alive by the mysteries of ancient technology. His immense psychic Powers reach out from the Golden Throne, enveloping and protecting Mankind across the enemy-strewn galaxy, a beacon of light in the malevolent darkness.
If the Emperor fails, then none will be able to stop the influx of the dark powers; ravenous and all-consurning Daemons will flood into the galaxy. Every living human will become a gateway for the destruction of Mankind. Reality as it is known will be subsumed by the stuff of Warp space - a realm of nightmares and cruel insanity where all life will end. There will be no physical matter. No space. No time. Only Chaos."
-Warhammer 40k 6th Edition rulebook, pg.137

"Daemons are destruction and anarchy incarnate and they lust after the flesh, blood and very souls of living creatures. They want only to destroy, to drag any living essence they can capture back to their shadowy realm, to obliterate the material universe and engulf it within Warp space."
-Warhammer 40k 6th Edition rulebook, pg. 144

Daemons are destruction and anarchy incarnate and they lust after the flesh, blood and very souls of living creatures. They want only to destroy, to drag any living essence they can capture back to their shadowy realm, to obliterate the material universe and engulf it within Warp space.
-Warhammer 40k 7th Edition rulebook

"They are never sated. The abominations from the Warp will not rest untii they have consumed not just Mankind, but the universe as well. All will be ruin; all will be Chaos."
-Warhammer 40k 6th Edition rulebook, pg. 234

@andreysemyonov1337 said:

I LOVE THIS POST!!!!

@jwwprod

Have a look at this one:

‘It’s coming,’ Tegrus said, his voice almost shrill. He thrashed, as if trying to free himself from the clutches of something only he could see. A moment later, a dull boom echoed up out of the cistern and washed over them. Gardus felt his heart pause in its rhythm, and gasped, clutching his chest. Nauseated, he saw several Stormcast fall to their knees, retching. The daemons had stopped their advance and fallen silent, seemingly expectant. Another boom, like the collision of distant stars. Gardus tasted blood. He’d bitten his tongue. Tallon shrieked loud and long, every feather on the gryphhound’s neck stiff and flared in fear. ‘What is that?’ he asked, already knowing the answer. ‘The Lord of Flies himself,’ Morbus said. The Lord-Relictor strode past them towards the edge of the cistern. Gardus rose quickly and followed him, after waving the others back. They knew enough to hold their positions, unless otherwise ordered. Through the ragged shroud of smoke, Gardus saw what lay below the Inevitable Citadel, at the heart of Nurgle’s garden. Almost immediately, he closed his eyes and turned away, unable to bear it. It was impossible to describe. Impossible to comprehend. To his eyes, it was a wallowing swamp of black stars and dying worlds, of rotting galaxies alive with immense, writhing shapes as large as nebulas. Cosmic maggots, gnawing at the roots of infinity. Galactic plagues, eating away at the very flesh of existence, reducing all that was to leprous ruin in their unending hunger. It was a dark mirror of Azyr, corrupted, reduced, strangled. All glory vanished, all hope quashed. A thunder of screams echoed upwards, driving him back. A million million voices, raised up in anguish and despair. Forever crying out for that which would never come. Again, the world shook. The reverberations were the death knell of the worlds below, Gardus knew, though he could not say how. Worlds claimed by Nurgle, realms older than Azyr or Ghyran, now broken and ground into filth. He felt sick. He wanted to see the clean stars of Azyr once more, even if it meant enduring the Reforging. But still the voices cried out, crying for aid, for him. Garradan… help us… It hurts… why does it hurt… Everything is burning… help us… Garradan… Garradan… Help us… The voices assailed him from every side, filling his head, squeezing his heart. He staggered, and felt Morbus’ hand steadying him. Another tolling of the death knell. Down below, something began to crawl out of the black heart of that cancerous infinity. It was no shape, and all shapes. Fat and thin, a plume of smoke, a puddle of oil, spreading ever upwards. There were eyes in the smoke, as round as cold, dead suns, and teeth that stretched in a grin as wide as the horizon. Fingers like comets clutched at the void, as the Lord of All Things stirred from his manse, and began the long, arduous climb to his garden. Moons crumbled beneath that impossible bulk, and stars were snuffed out. ‘He is coming,’ Morbus said, hollowly. ‘An honour, of sorts.’ Gardus closed his eyes. ‘He is coming for me. I escaped once before. I should not have. My fate was written the day I stepped through the Gates of Dawn.’ Gardus stepped away from the edge of the cistern. He did not wish to see the swamp of dead universes swirling below, or the thing rising from within them. The thing that had been trying to claim his soul since before the burning of Demesnus Harbour, in one way or another. He looked up, and saw the others approaching. ‘Stay back,’ he roared. He looked at Morbus. ‘Keep them back. Keep them from seeing that, if you can.’ ‘Soon that will not be an option.’ Gardus shook his head. The ground trembled beneath his feet. It felt as if the garden were set to tear itself apart. Perhaps Nurgle had grown bored, and had decided to reshape it all again. ‘Much is demanded–’ he said. ‘–of those to whom much is given,’ Morbus said. ‘Lead them to glory, Morbus,’ Gardus said softly. ‘Temper them, as I might have. Be the light that guides them.’ He took a breath and stepped to the edge of the cistern. His hands tightened on his weapons. He wanted to run. To leave this place. To see the stars again. But the voices cried out, and he could not turn away from such pain. He would not. Whatever the cost.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ ‘If Nurgle wants me, I will go to him. I will carry the light of Sigmar’s wrath into the dark, as the only the faithful can.’ Morbus laughed softly and extended his staff, blocking Gardus. ‘I think not.’ ‘What?’ ‘I think I have waited all of my life for this one moment,’ Morbus said. ‘I was ancient before I heard Sigmar’s call. And I have only grown more ancient still in the centuries since. I am old, and I am tired, but I have one storm yet left in me. A storm bolstered by the souls of the living and the dead alike.’ He looked at Gardus, lightning trailing from his eyes. ‘I think you are wrong, my friend. This is not your doom. It is mine.’ ‘Morbus,’ Gardus began. Morbus flicked a finger and Gardus was hurled backwards by a flash of celestial energies. He struggled to his feet, smoke rising from his armour. ‘I know now why I came here with you. In death, we prove ourselves worthy of life. The fifth canticle.’ Morbus unclasped the remains of his cloak and let it crumple to the ground. He cast aside his staff. ‘Our souls are pure, and by their light is darkness banished. I hold an army within me now. You are the sword. Grymn is the shield. But I am become the hammer stroke, which puts an end to the conflict.’ He stepped to the edge of the great, cosmic cistern. He stared down into untold abysses of foulness, into the very eyes of the Lord of All Things. And Morbus Stormwarden laughed. He spread his arms. Lightning swelled out around him, melting the stones to slag, and driving back the mass of daemons which surrounded the remaining Stormcasts. ‘This is why we are here, Gardus. This is the first blow, and the last. This is the settling of a question millennia old.’ Gardus lunged, reaching for him. Morbus leapt. He fell into the black, a shining comet of azure. The rising presence paused in its ascent. Something that might have been a hand, miles across and as wide as a universe, reached up to intercept the light.Fingers closed. The light was gone. Snuffed. Nurgle screamed. The light returned. A spark, at first. Then a blazing column of fire and heat, spearing upwards through the black, pursued by the agonised screams of a daemon-god. Twenty souls, thirty, more, all those who’d fallen in this diseased realm, rising up, at last, to the forges of Azyr. The light swept out as it rose, filling the amphitheatre. Daemons screamed as they were reduced to floating motes of ash. Everything wavered and came apart, reduced to shards of darkness. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it was the only thing Gardus could see. He felt a wrenching sensation deep within him. And then he was rushing upwards, carried on wings of lightning and thunder. Below him, he could see the darkness returning in the wake of the light’s ascent. He could hear the enraged bellows of a consciousness as old as the stars. Neither Nurgle nor his garden could be so easily destroyed. But they could be hurt. They could be reminded of why they had once feared the storm. And should do so again. Reminded. Warned. Challenged. Who shall carry my light into the darkness? Sigmar’s voice whispered. ‘Only the faithful,’ Gardus said. He closed his eyes, and let the light carry him home.

Source: Hallowed Knights - Plague garden (Josh Reynolds).

@andreysemyonov1337: Stop bumping threads like this!