Board Thread:Discussions/@comment-35898226-20180616172050

All the assembled were on their feet, crashing their weapons together. There was going to be a battle, and Isamaie hadn’t really trained for a score of allies versus fifty enemies.

Some of the angry Norsman Savages climbed onto the tables. It was like they all became beastman, or like Dire, only no physical transformation. The acted like feral things, barely human. They were given over to something, something Isamaie had no experience with. They had changed somehow, become something.

What was hiding suddenly tore through the curtain; and in one incredible bound were in the center of the great hall, a half dozen lengths from Isamaie. Her feet couldn’t move. She dropped her pistols. What the creatures were wasn’t human or a beast or even alien, they were something demonic; something from outside space or reality. They were mixed with human warriors, a fusion, and some kind of possession with a demon from the warp. These were Imperial citizens who had taken demons into their hearts, willing to be possessed, to work with Chaos. Who would do that? Who’d willingly so corrupt and contaminate their souls?

Isamaie was going to quit the Inquisition, she decided. This was it. She was just an orphan, a thug from a hive city. Nothing in her life prepared her for dealing with pure nightmares, and she’d never been good with dealing with nightmares anyways. She shook, she was trembling, and she was going to fall down, curl up and just hope it was all going to go away.

She took pride in actually staying on her feet. She managed to take a couple of steps backwards, while the creatures howled in their unearthly bloodlust. The host of norsmen savages took up the call, howling with an unearthly claxon. Isamaie backed into something dense, ropy, full of muscles and hairy. It had to be Shadow-Wise, she smiled at first until she realized it wasn’t Shadow-Wise, It was Dire. Their eyes locked and it licked its face with obscenely long tongue. She fell down onto her backside.

“A morsel for later perhaps, that would be so nice.” It laughed. It sprang upward and forward, over her trembling body and trampled into the fray.

The three Inquisitional Stormtroopers (IST) on each side of her went to one knee; in steady discipline; their Helguns seared through the air. Isamaie was horrified that many hits were simply ignored by the daemons.

“Who ignores hit from a Helgun? Was that even frakken possible?” she wondered

Flash the Ogryn and Dire were tearing into the enemy. They reveled in the fight.

Isamaie took a deep breath, and scrambled forward and grabbed her pistols. There was a screech over the course stone and a claw grabbed her and lifted her high upside down. She’d been seized by a daemon thing, and she was hanging in the air like a piece of meat at a butcher shop. Her heart stopped. Two IST were there plunging long serrated knives in. One was killed in short order, but that was his job, his reason for living. Isamaie actually knew the fighter, a young man. She was high in the air, about to be a morsel. She had her pistols in her hands, she noticed. She pulled hard on both double triggers. The daemon seemed to have a weakness for full automatic lasgun fire, to the face. She hit the ground in a crouch. She was now more mad then scared. 