They lunged at him with blinding speed, coming at him in groups of two or three at a time. Their eyes burned through him with red-hot hunger. Loki Sigismund leveled his pistol and pulled the trigger. Hard. The shells slammed into the creatures, sometimes directly in their ugly daemon faces. Still nothing. They just got back up and lunged faster, their skin already healing the very second they were wounded. Their mouths salivated as they lusted for his blood. Their snapping fangs came within inches of his throat before Loki batted them away or sprayed them with lead rain. In all his years, Loki had never seen a creature as threatening as these. He was the best soldier in the Imperium, and still, these bastards might be the ones to finally do him in. His visor told him there were no records in the Emperor's Grand Library about them, but he was sure he had read about them before.
Loki was suddenly thrown to the ground, armor and all. In an instant one of them had climbed on top of him, fangs bared and eyes burning, and began to actually rip his Mark IV plate armor off! The fiend pulled away chunks of metal weighing hundreds of pounds and threw them to the side as though they were nothing. It's grimy fingers closed around Loki's throat and its black, oozing nails bit into his flesh. It was then that Loki's life flashed before his eyes.