Chaos is the word mortals use to describe the raw, formless energy that seeps into the world from the Realm of Chaos, a dimension of nightmare that exists beyond time and space. To scholars it is magic in its purest state; to priests it is the manifestation of sin and corruption; to common folk it is simply the terror of the unknown. Chaos is all these things and more. It is emotion without restraint, power without order, the endless storm that beats against reality and seeks to drown it.
Like the ocean, Chaos has no beginning or end. It waxes and wanes in strength but never ceases, forever testing the walls of the mortal world. When its tides rise, they bring madness, mutation, and damnation. To resist it is to cling to fragile stone while the sea crashes around you.
Known also as the Aethyr, the Realm of Chaos is both a reflection and an antithesis of the world. Where the mortal realm is bound by physical laws, the Aethyr is shaped by thought, dream, and nightmare. It is a shifting expanse where mountains become seas, where time has no meaning, and where every mortal fear and desire takes form.
From this realm come the Daemons, entities of pure magic given shape by mortal emotions. Some appear as angels, others as monsters, but all are cruel, insatiable, and alien. To them, mortals are playthings — fragile sparks of thought and flesh whose destruction or corruption is little more than amusement.
At the heart of this realm stand the thrones of the Chaos Gods, the greatest of all daemonic entities.
Also called the Ruinous Powers or the Dark Gods, the Chaos Gods are beings of immense and terrible might. They are not creators but reflections of mortal vice, embodying the darkest emotions of intelligent life. Their very existence depends upon the passions and flaws of mortals — war, ambition, desire, fear — and as long as such things endure, so too will the gods of Chaos.
Four reign supreme:
Khorne, the Blood God, who embodies rage, hatred, and endless war.
Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways, patron of ambition, sorcery, and deceit.
Nurgle, the Plaguefather, lord of decay, despair, and endurance.
Slaanesh, the Dark Prince, master of excess, pleasure, and obsession.
Though rivals, they are bound together in an endless struggle called the Great Game. Each seeks to dominate the Realm of Chaos and, through it, the mortal world. Armies of Daemons clash ceaselessly in their name, while mortal followers — Champions, Sorcerers, and Lords — wage their wars in the living world.
There are countless minor gods as well, born of fleeting emotions or local fears, but none rival the power of the Four.
Where the barriers between the realms are thinnest, Chaos seeps into the world with terrible effect. The northern Chaos Wastes are a land of shifting tundra, jagged mountains, and blasted desert, forever warped by raw magic. Here, reality bends; rivers flow uphill, beasts sprout extra heads, and the sky bleeds unnatural colors.
This is the crucible of Chaos. Tribes of mortal warriors — the Chaos Marauders — live and die in endless battle, each hoping to earn the favor of a god. The greatest of them may be elevated to Champions, blessed with mutations and powers beyond mortal reckoning. Yet the gifts of Chaos are double-edged; a chosen hero one day may degenerate into a mindless Spawn the next.
The Wastes echo with constant strife. Even allies turn upon each other, for the gods care little for loyalty. To rise in the eyes of the Ruinous Powers, a warrior must shed blood — whether of friend or foe matters not.
No one truly knows the beginning of Chaos, but the oldest tales speak of the Old Ones, a godlike race that once shaped the world. They built mighty gates at the poles, conduits to the stars. When these gates collapsed in the Great Catastrophe, they tore reality apart.
Through the rift poured the stuff of Chaos, flooding the skies with Warp energy and showering the world with warpstone — crystallized magic, poisonous and mutagenic. Daemons spilled into creation, and many of the monstrous races of the world were born from the touch of Chaos.
The High Elves stemmed the tide with their great network of waystones, siphoning much of the raw magic back into the north. Yet the damage was done: Chaos had become a permanent wound in the world, and it festers still.
Though the Realm of Chaos is far away, its influence is everywhere. The most obvious is in the Wastes, but mortals across the world feel its touch. In dark temples and secret cellars, Chaos Cults plot the downfall of kingdoms. These groups vary from small cells of desperate peasants to entire villages or noble houses sworn to the Dark Gods.
Some cults seek revolution, others chase personal power, and many are lured by promises of pleasure or forbidden knowledge. To the outside world, their members often appear respectable: merchants, priests, soldiers, even magistrates. This deception makes them far more dangerous than open warbands.
Mutants are another mark of Chaos — men, women, and beasts twisted by its touch. Some are pitied, many are feared, and most are hunted down by witch hunters. Yet many turn to Chaos willingly, seeing their deformities as signs of divine favor.
The Chaos Gods take particular delight in corrupting mortals rather than merely destroying them. A fallen soul is sweeter than a slain one, for every act of betrayal, every whispered prayer to the Dark Gods, feeds their power.
Foolish mortals believe service to Chaos brings reward — immortality, strength, pleasure beyond imagining. And sometimes it does, but only for a time. For every mighty Champion there are a hundred wretches who became Spawn, their bodies twisted until nothing human remains. The Dark Gods give, but they take far more.
Chaos does not love its followers; it uses them. Its true purpose is not merely conquest but the unmaking of all things — the breaking of reality itself so that only the endless storm remains.
Yet as long as mortals feel anger, lust, fear, or ambition, Chaos cannot be banished. It is both the enemy of life and its inevitable shadow. To fight Chaos is to fight one’s own darkest nature. To ignore it is to invite corruption. This is the cruel truth of the Old World: Chaos is eternal, and one day its tide may finally drown the world.