Hey guys! Welcome to another dark corner of my twisted mind!

Before you start this story, I have a confession to make: Zootopia isn't my favorite universe.

*hear gasps and somemammal fainting somewhere*

I know. Shocking right? Well, I apologize, but as excellent as this movie is, it is just too young to stand a chance. This doesn't mean it doesn't inspire me though. This is why I am proud to publish my first crossover !

You who have clicked on this story, steel your heart, abandon all hope, and lose faith in everything except yourself, for the ones hearing your prayers are not on your side.

Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned.

Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war.

Peace doesn't exist amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

Welcome to one of the darkest and most violent universe that has ever been created. Welcome to a time when humanity/mammality refuses to bow, though it has already lost. Welcome to a place where a hero can only delay the inevitable, no matter his deeds.

Welcome, to the world of Warhammer.


Disclaimer: I own nothing and don't pretend to. This story is purely fan work, all content linked to Zootopia belongs to Disney and all content linked to Warhammer belongs to Games Workshop. Except for OCs maybe, but I guess they don't really care about those ^^



Chapter one : Moths to a flame



Through the darkest of nights, shines the brightest of lights.

An old adage. To some, it's a fact of life, as indisputable as the need to breathe to survive. To others, it's merely a life-vest, something to keep your head above the water not to drown in life's hardest moments. Finally, to most, it is nothing but a series of meaningless words, used by those who try to make themselves more interesting than they really are, or want to stand under the spotlight.

Whatever the truth, there's something that only a fraction of mammals know about, the main reason being few take the time to analyze the saying. As for those who did once, they spent the rest of their existence regretting their choice. Some truths are not meant to be revealed, as the mammal mind isn't ready for their full implications.

The universe is vast. Too vast to most to comprehend. Long ago though, there was one who thought he did. One who stood above anyone else, though none knew where he was coming from.

Stronger, wiser, with psychic abilities and powers unseen before and unmatched, he became the alpha that put an end to endless conflicts and unified his entire planet, Terra. Then, under his benevolent guiding, mammality got rid of every obstacle to her development.

Mother Nature was reduced to a slave, controlled by pieces of machinery to follow her new masters' every commands. Medicine lengthened life expectancy beyond all dreams, three digit numbers becoming the norm. Technologies were unlocked that further expanded mammal's capacities in every field of expertise possible. Biology, mathematics, physics, chemistry, informatics, not a single domain was left unattended to and each led to miracles in many domains.

Early in this bright era, mammals discovered space travel by mastering what had been a sci-fi dream not so long ago, hyperspace, or Warp transit. They colonized their solar system, terraforming once inhospitable planets. This set the foundation to the Imperium of Mammals, with the god-like alpha at its head. He became the Emperor, a figure of worship, and launched a vast galactic crusade, bringing every planet under his reign, claiming the stars for the sake of mammality.

Millennia flew by. Thousands of suns now bathed the golden age brought by the Emperor. Countless planets and mammals in number defying imagination lived life to its fullest, all thanks to their seemingly immortal ruler. Terra had become the beacon that shone for the whole universe, the planet from which everything started, the soil that gave birth to their savior.

Alas, all-powerful as he was, The Emperor too forgot one of the simplest truths, one that would doom his work and send mammality in a spiraling descent into darkness.

The light that shines in the dark does not only attract those that crave its radiance.

From the confines of space, alien races, or xenos as named by the extraterrestrial experts, who roamed the stars long before the first mammal drew breath, laughed at mammality's pitiful claim on the stars, and decided to put its Emperor back to where he belonged. Wars raged and planets were lost, taken into slavery, emptied of their inhabitants, or simply annihilated, vanishing from existence.

Less sentient races, too primitive and savage to understand simple notions as peace and coexistence, or even communication, were also discovered and began to fester on the less defended planets, devouring or killing all living things in their paths. The Emperor brought with him unlimited supply in the form of beings of flesh and blood, and their primal nature wouldn't let the opportunity pass.

But the Emperor's worst enemy was still lurching in the shadows. Deep inside the Warp, curious and hungry eyes were staring avidly at this new race expanding like weed. Demons, creatures of raw emotions, horrors without names, mindless beasts or powerful entities, no matter how you describe them, they turned their gaze to this new toy who dared face the endless void of the universe. And among them, four beings, so powerful mammal mind could not find another word than gods, began plotting mammality's fall.

They struck from the inside. Using mammals' sins against them, they sowed corruption in the hearts and souls of the weak, insidiously replacing the love of the Emperor the savior by a deeply-rooted hatred towards the slaver, using the attacks of xenos to fuel the anger burning for the Emperor's lack of actions and false promises of security. For centuries they remained hidden, playing a game that could last for dozens of millennia if needed, time meaning nothing to such entities. Finally, when the time was deemed adequate, they revealed their hand.

All around the galaxies, mammals rebelled against their leaders, backed by swarms of demons never seen before except in the darkest of nightmares. Governments were brought down in blood and flames. Statues and churches were burnt to ashes and replaced by morbid cults knowing no limits in depravation. The flames of heresy ignited in half the conquered galaxy, and civil war raged for years. The Emperor himself proved powerless against the four deities now worshipped as the Chaos Gods, and returned to Terra to plan a counter-attack.

The Great War raged, ending in the Emperor being gravely wounded. His body finally about to break, the alpha was put on the Golden Throne, an ancient relic from a xenos race that enabled his body to be frozen in time and stop his decay, while his mind was still able to guide mammals through the stars. A beacon of light in the darkest of times.

This happened ten millennia ago. The Emperor is still fighting his endless wars against the horrors of the universe, to no avail. There is only one hope for the majority of mammals now.


As the years passed, more and more planets became isolated from the rest of the galaxy, some burying all traces of technologies to make sure they would stay isolated and in peace. Demons and xenos became myths, stories told through generations to scare kits and make them behave or share good laughs around a campfire with friends.




On those planets, mammals live simple lives, completely oblivious to the threat of extinction that looms above their planet and their heads.

On one such planet, whose official name had been lost somewhere in the imperial archives and simply baptized Edenolia long ago, live four billions of such mammals. Compared to the rest of the Imperium and what once was, they would be considered primitives. Great cities had been built, but the majority of the planet has yet to be tamed. Nature is alive, fauna and flora spreading in the unpopulated wilderness, the soil still rich with nutriments. A little paradise into a gloom galaxy.

The planet's capital city, Zootopia, is home to mammals of hundreds of different species. They all live together in near perfect harmony, the only gift their ancestors bestowed upon them. Tales of chaotic times were still told to kits, shaping them into respectful and obedient mammals while growing up. Crime rate was low and mainly coming from acts of desperation rather than ill will, murder a word not heard or spoken for decades. Peace reigns and embraces them all in its warm embrace.

Take the example of Lionheart Street. Officially situated in Downtown district, it has frontiers with the Rainforest District, Tundratown and Sahara Square, making it a very diverse neighborhood. Families that live here go by well, though they are far from rolling in gold. Buildings are mostly made of solid light grey stones, but some have been painted with flashy colors to catch the eye and attract tourists. It actually works.

Red and artic foxes, gnus, buffaloes, bobcats, sheeps, bears, doles, panthers, wolves, bunnies, even one family of gorillas; walking down this street is the opportunity to see nearly three dozen different species living in the same place. They are all different: size, fur color, muzzle, ear and tail length and shape, hobbies, jobs, fears and dreams.

Ask any of them if they think they all have something in common, they will answer by the negative. Not that it would bother them of course, it would just require a tremendous amount of luck to find one thing that links them all. Tonight however, they do. Three hundred and seventy-seven mammals find something in common for the first time.

Tonight, they all die.

Three o'clock. All adults awake and sit in their bed. As one, they get up. Their eyes are dull, their movements slow and jerky, but their synchronization would make any pawlympic athlete jealous. Those who have kits go and pick them up, leading them gently in the living room. Tiny paws and hooves cover yawns and rub half-closed eyes as squeaks, whines and questions escaping tired lips are met with cold silence. Those who don't just remain immobile by their beds. Then, like another ballet act, all adults walk to their kitchen to pick up a knife, before going to their respective living room.

A quarter past three. The final act starts. Blood gushes out of open throats of all sizes. The few children who have the time to cry or shout don't do it for long, their plights replaced by horrible gurgles as their parents put them out of their misery, before turning their improvise weapons to their own flesh.

Half past three. Three hundred and seventy-seven lives have been reaped. Unbeknownst to the rest of the city, of the planet, an entire neighborhood has been emptied of its inhabitants without warning. The only witness is the abnormally pale, greenish sick moon scarred by a crimson tear that looms low in the dark sky. Sure, things won't remain as peaceful and quiet for long. Soon, the bright morning sun will reveal the horror to the eyes of the world, shattering mammals' souls forever.

Some mammals will cry, while some will be too shocked to shed a single tear. Some will have nightmares, while some will lose sleep entirely. But one individual amongst all will see her very life turned upside down. One of the smallest mammal of the neighborhood, with light grey fur, amethyst eyes, long black-tipped ears, and what could only be called a cute fuzzy-wuzzy little tail.

She doesn't know it yet, but this bunny doe is the only survivor, sound asleep in her student-sized apartment. Her still beating heart keeps her body warm, more efficiently than the dark-purple sheets covering her petite frame.

Her flame still burns in the night, where all others have been extinguished.

She doesn't know it, but she's calling them.

And they are answering.



Just a few more words for those who have the courage to read them ^^

I discovered Warhammer when I was five or six, thanks to my older brother, when he brought a friend home and played a table game with his friend's figurines. A couple weeks later, I was helping him assemble and paint his own, and this was it. I was trapped, and haven't escaped since.

Twenty-five years later, I have my own set of figurines, as well as video games, card games, board games, maps, coffee mugs, comics, calendars, a collector edition movie, a drinking horn, a rune-engraved ring, Pop figurines, Christmas cards, and I may be missing some.

More importantly, I own more than 320 physical novels, as well as more than 200 e-books, e-shorts and audio books (and it increases every month). Yes, if you wondered at the bookshelf I use as my profile image, all you see is nothing but Warhammer, with two rows of books for most of the shelves.

Obviously, with the thousands and thousands of hours I spent reading, I tried a few times to write my own story, but failed every time. The main reason was of course my lack of talent as a writer, but it was also due to a lack of inspiration. Yeah, it can seem strange with all the material I have to get inspiration from, but it actually became harder and harder to find something new, something that hadn't been written about yet. Something I could call mine.

And then, last year, I got my epiphany: I discovered Zootopia's fanfiction community, and it opened new doors to me. I published my other stories mainly to get help and advice, and I was able to improve myself (at least, in my own eyes). And now, it is time for me to fulfil a life-long dream.

No matter how you will respond to this story, I'm already thanking all of you for this opportunity. I couldn't have done it without this wonderful community.

Thank you all.