It was the plated behemoth who struck first, darting straight at the vampire and hacking upwards with the greataxe. He moved with a grace that was jarring for someone of his bulk, and it took Sofie aback. She sidestepped the blow so that the axe scraped harmlessly off of her side before breaking away from him before he could retaliate - she was still faster than he was.
Growling in rage, the warrior charged again, jabbing the head of the axe forward more in rage than out of strategy. Sofie took the chance, grabbing the shaft of the weapon and pulling herself in. She drew her better sword - coal-black, runes glowing to show that the Banshee was present. An ethereal voice muttered: "Now" into her head and she brought the blade into the warrior's stomach.
She expected to feel the warmth of blood on her gauntlet; everything else the blade, by virtue of it's craftmanship or the spirit within it, had cut through with ease. But instead there was a loud crack, a horrified shriek inside Sofie's head - it can't have been her thoughts, for she could hear it vividly - and then nothing. The warrior stepped back, breaking into hearty laughter, and she glared at him with stunned disbelief.
Her possessed blade was no more. It fell apart into shards which broke apart into dust. Behind the warrior was the source of this resilience; a hazy phantom was grinning from behind him, completely unlike his form. Indeed it was humanoid, wearing at once an extravagant wedding gown and then a suit, and it looked androgynous and the gaze of its beady eyes made Sofie numb. It raised a hand which shimmered like a projection, casting it down as if to begin a race, and the servant of Chaos charged again.
With the guide of it's ethereal guardian, the warrior reached the unarmed vampire and swung at her. In her shock she could do nothing but whimper and duck past it, and it tore off the head of a torture chair with a vicious crack and with such force that it embedded itself in the wall. The rest of the duel was hardly that at all; Sofie could only back away, dodging, concerned as much with trying to understand what had happened - what was that shattering wail? - as trying to stay alive.
Eventually, her foe got lucky, striking down onto her head. She failed to move in time, and the strike hit home, hitting her in the top of the head and scraping down over her mask. There was ringing in her ears, the echoing sound of the metal whining on impact as she collapsed to the floor. The Warrior stood over her, frothing in rage and laughing triumphantly. He raised his axe like an executioner, but stopped when a figure began to form next to him.
It was the daemonic creature from before, now taking the form of a lithe, pale woman with a single crab-like claw replacing one hand. With her human hand she tore off Sofie's helmet, and smiled gleefully at the sight.
"Such a beautiful girl," It spoke, it's voice fluctuating at random. It was probably this creature that was the source of the surreal atmosphere; the changing odours that had perforated her helmet and enthralled Sofie's senses were stronger now. "Cut off her head, I want to play with it." She stood up, grinning and clapping, laughing like a schoolgirl. The warrior nodded, grunting and assuming his pose once more.
He brought the blade down. Sofie closed her eyes. She waited for the feeling of the blade severing her neck, but it never came. Instead, the blackness of her vision was replaced by a burst of light. There was a cry, a screech, the rattling of metal against the floor and the hastened footsteps of something running away.
Sofie opened her eyes, but it took seconds to readjust. She sat up. Next to her, where the daemon woman had been, was a scorch mark. The twin-headed axe lay next to her, unowned, and casting its shadow over her body was the man she was here to save. He held a small bronze amulet, shaped into the twin-tailed comet of Sigmar. It glowed brightly, and his hands looked burnt, but he did not seem to care.
"I have purged the daemon!" He cried with disgust. "It shall not harm either of us anymore, Sister! Brother Michael of the Order of the Comet stikes again!" He punched the air with a youthfulness one wouldn't expect from someone so old and tired-looking. But his eyes were not focussed on Sofie, she noticed; indeed, they weren't focussed on anything at all. She remembered Michael. He would teach the girls just as Ventra did, but where she spoke of heroic deeds and martial prowess, he would fill the new Sisters with religious fervour, a hatred of the mutant and the inhuman.
And the Undead... Sofie frowned, but stood. Immediately the missionary grabbed for her hand and began to pull at it.
"We must leave, come! I must return to the chapel - yes, we will be safe there, safe from all of this. Come on then, Sister."
Sofie waited for the comment of the Banshee, the sarcastic snark of someone who knows they are untouchable. But there was nothing but quiet. Sofie considered the possibility that.. She frowned again. She hadn't even asked her name.
Still, to feel guilty for a phantom - who was no doubt using the Vampire for her own ends - was foolish, Sofie thought, grimacing at herself. Instead she elected to travelling with Michael. It was her only way to get to the chapel, and the wyrdstone that lied within.
They left the building. There was nobody here - perhaps the routing of their champion had broken the spirits of the rest. Michael guided her, always ahead. He didn't appear to be blind without close inspection, and he moved as if guided by a greater force.
Perhaps he was here for a reason; afterall, there must have been a corpse to loot - the Sisterhood would surely have set themselves to cleansing the taint as soon as it arose - for what she needed to breach the chapel's wards. But the Banshee had only mentioned this possibilti, and had insisted she come here.
"Thank you," She muttered. Michael turned around, grumbling. "Oh, nothing." She confirmed, and they continued on their way.