PARIAH'S CRUSADE. PART ONE
The Inquisitor Lord Philostratus and his disciple Roland watched in silence. Witnesses to an atrocity of bloodshed, they waited. Vengeance would be wonderful.
The Bloodthirster howled, a horrid, twisted sound, one that seemingly emanated directly from the warp. Its horned visage grinning ferally in bloodlust, the creature surveyed the area that was once a thriving human hive city, now reduced to rubble and gore. Its grin widened, sharpened bloody incisors now visible on its daemonic face.
A dwelling still stood, relatively unscathed. The Daemon Ba'duk would change that. He hefted his enormous axe, and swung it with one gargantuan muscled arm, removing the roof from the dwelling in one swipe, blade crunching through ferrocrete and plassteel as though it were nothing more than cardboard and toothpicks. The crunching and snapping punctuated with a scream of sheer terror.
Roland, the young Inquisitor did not break the cover of his Pariah field, knowing the suicidal futility of such an action. Even his Aegis matrix and power armor were no match for that monstrosity. Philostratus stood by in silent approval. They continued to watch from their shrouded vantage point.
The monstrous creature stood head and shoulders over where the roof had once been. It rested its axe on its shoulder as its mouth began to drip foam and saliva. Thick cords of drool pooled in its craggy face as they flowed out and drenched the terrified family that lived in the small apartment.
"HAHA HAAAHAAAAHAAAAAAAAH!"
It reached in an enormous ham-hand and grabbed the father, making ready to bite of his head. He lifted the struggling man up to his mouth and… dropped him.
An enormous set of crashing sounds, startled the gargantuan beast. With the possibility of greater violence it quickly lost interest in the small family. It turned around, rippling cords of muscle flexing and propelling it around with amazing speed, a great agility belying its bulk. It began to sprint towards the drop pods, envisioning the beautiful blood that would be made to flow for his master, Khorne.
The inquisitors opened fire. A former desperado and gunslinger, Roland took his bolt pistol set to semi-two, and emptied twelve rounds of 75 caliber bolter shells into the beast making good on at least seventy five percent of his shots.
The Thirster bellowed as its back was torn open with small explosions and miniature novas of pure golden light as the blessed rounds hit home. A particularly well placed shot actually hit it in the back of the head, which, due to its lunging posture and movement was a small and difficult target.
As it stumbled forward, in pain and surprise, the Greyknights opened fire. It howled once more, and shrugged of the pain. In a rage that seemed to engulf everything with its hatred it charged.