With the first swing of her sword, Mordred cut down nearly a dozen daemons - the magical shock wave of Clarent's might flattening over a dozen more. She laughed in delight. It had been oh so long since her last battle, since she last unleashed her rage upon her enemies. In the fires of war she had a calling, in the thrill of combat she had purpose.
She reveled in it.
From high above her head, daemonic war machines blotted the sky - cutting a swath through the acrid air and clouds - they flew upon frayed, leathery bat wings that physically should not have been able to support their weight. The airborne daemons dove low, snatching up unfortunate Servants with their claws and carrying them high above the hellish clouds.
The lucky ones died quick, dropped to their deaths miles above the ground - others weren't so fortunate, as the daemons torn their limbs from their bodies as they swarmed helpless heroes with a frenzy of scything talons and rending claws.
A massive salvo of ranged fire emerged from behind her back. The combined Archer Classes as one, unleashed their payloads against the target rich sky above them. Arrows, bolts and bullets shot up from the ground and then from the sky, thousands of daemon corpses collapsed to the earth below - falling upon their fellow devils, crushing their companions beneath their useless weight.
Against the relentless tide, the Servants fought. Mordred stood comfortably within the depths of the heroic phalanx, Clarent cleaving a path through Chaos' ranks. The battle was pitched and bloody. She rose her sword high into the air and swung it down hard, splitting the twisted face of a red-skinned daemon as it hissed at her behind blood drenched fangs. A follow up slash with Clarent ended the beast, cleaving it in two at the waist.
A roar from her right attracted her gaze as she spotted a hulking Berserker leaping through the legion of vile creatures with great fury. Dual axes in hand, the man, a viking warrior, tore a bloody path through their ranks, leaving behind a grisly pile of gore and broken bodies.
To Mordred's left, desperate cries of agony called her attention. She saw a trio of grotesque, purple mouths that chattered and hovered in place. From their lips salivated sickly acid upon the ground that crackled and corrupted. From their gaping maws shot out pitched plasma and blue hellfire that instantly melted a nearby Saber Class Servant to nothing but charred bone.
To the front, sinister giggling sounded off from ahead.
A swarm of hideous, bloated creatures emerged from the bowels of a massive flesh flower which sprouted into existence before the Servant army's front ranks. Corpulent balls of decaying green flesh and leathery hides skittered into view, all of them laughing maniacally as they approached. One of the creatures scraped at a large rend within its very belly, squeezing out ball of puss from a hanging organ and flinging it like a baseball at Mordred's head. She ducked underneath the incoming projectile, which splashed against an unfortunate Caster standing behind her. The woman had taken the full force of the unseen attack and Mordred heard the Servant's horrified screams turn to sobbing gurgles as her face decayed to a primordial soup before her very eyes.
The rotten daemon continued to snicker.
"Disgusting bastards!"
Mordred snarled as she swung her sword, decapitating one of the giggling horrors before punching another one in the belly. The creature popped like that of a balloon, laughing wholeheartedly as its fleshy body burst into nothingness before her. Several more of the wicked little things spread insect-like wings from their backs and leapt up at the knight with surprisingly frightening speed. Their claws reached outward towards the knight, fangs chattering and eyes burning bright with maniacal glee as they soared through the air.
Before they made contact, the swarm was intercepted by the nearby Berserker Class Mordred had spotted earlier. The viking roared a battle cry as his massive form tackled several of the daemons mid-flight, their bodies popping into nothing as he went. Impressed by his tenacity and not one to be outdone in fury, Mordred joined her fellow hero, both his axes and her sword cutting a swath through the noxious beasts.
One of the childlike daemons nimbly avoided the giant's bladed axes and gripped the viking's helmeted face with a choking laugh. Needle claws slashed and prodded at the Berserker's face, but failed to pierce the ironclad skin of the furious warrior. Instead, the Berserker grasped the leathery daemon by its throat and crushed its frail body between his teeth. He chewed and gnawed at the bloated corpse before spitting its putrid remains upon the ground at Mordred's sabatons. Grime and muck spattered across her armor.
"Oh come on, seriously?!" Mordred whined as she kicked away chewed up and spoiled guts from her armored boots. "You couldn't possibly have found a better way to - hey! You okay?" She paused mid-rant as her eyes widened upon witnessing the Berserker's face.
The viking's skin had been colored a sickly grey, and his hair turned ashen white. Mordred was about to ask him what was wrong before the warrior tore at his helmet, gagging as he fell to his knees. Green tumors began to grow from out of his skin, pushing and rending apart muscled flesh as black ichor bubbled and spilled forth from his gaping mouth. His eyes bloated and burst open, the cavities filling with sour smelling puss as a wet gurgle creaked out from his throat.
Mordred couldn't speak - instead she stood, spellbound and ignorant to the battle raging on around her as she just watched on in horrified fascination as the Berserker continued to vomit black bile across his own body. Suddenly he stopped and grasped at his throat, yawning his mouth wide open in a silent scream of pain and terror. Against the servant's own wishes, something stretched out his maw to unnatural lengths, forcing it apart downwards as skin and sinew tore at his jawline.
Then, from the Berserker's pitched and blackened mouth, crawled a disgusting pale daemon - horned and giggling, the thing played with the man's removed tongue, revering it as one would a trophy. Crawling to sit atop the fallen viking's head, the bulbous thing cheered wildly as the world exploded around it. From the champion's stomach erupted a fountain of hot blood and black ink, spilling forth from the unholy cocktail was a writhing nest of daemonspawn. They crawled out from a ruined rib cage and rappelled down from hanging intestines, all of them laughing merrily as they went.
What the fuck?
Mordred was beyond reasoning at this point. Beyond clarity, poise and tact. All that she was left with was horrified confusion, immeasurable disgust, and bloodcurdling rage. Clarent glowed bright with malefic aura as she sent a powerful bolt of energy towards the now very much dead viking and the nest of repulsive daemons who played and swung atop the Berserker's discarded organs like they were children at a playground.
The lightning from Clarent shot forth in a whirling hurricane of focused anger, purging the wretched creatures from this plain of existence. The blast scorched the earth in holy red fire, casting back the horrors to the very depths of the Warp.
Nothing remained of them but ashes, not even the corpse of the former Berserker.