Warhammer Fantasy

The gothic charm and dark, nigh hopeless universe had always seemed oddly alluring to you. You'd spent more time and money than you liked to admit on miniatures, and had a rather comprehensive, if not entirely infallible grasp on the lore. Plus, if you screwed up there it wouldn't affect Earth, so getting used to your powers would be easier, even if you could just reverse time.

Plus, how much more fucked could Warhammer get?

After a few moments of thought you shut your eyes tight and will the Warhammer World into existence. Well, for all you know you could simply slip between dimensions or traversed the multiverse. You're still getting used to being a god, after all. Regardless, when you open your eyes you find youself sitting atop a mountain, wind whipping around you with a fatal chill.

You had immense power here, but there were other gods in existence now. Ones that probably won't take you all too seriously; and others that most certainly won't like even more competition.

The Elves had Asuryan, Isha, Kaela Mensha Khaine and that. The Empire of Man worshipped Sigmar, Ulric, Morr and Taal. The Kislevites woshipped Ursun, the Estalians and Tileans had Myrmidia.

Then there was Chaos, the four gods of pretty much everything evil. You were fairly certain you were omnipotent and therefore more than capable of handling them though. You clearly held power, but you weren't quite sure if God was being completely honest with you. A worry that was only reinforced by your omniscience taking its time sweet arse time to kick in - unless it only worked when you thought of it.

The thought of gods brought about a single question to you as a freshy minted deity. Ulric, Myrmidia, and Khaine were gods of war, just as Shallya and Isha were fertility and healing goddesses of a sort. Vaul had smithing under his belt, and both Sigmar and Asuryan took the title of patron gods of their species'.