The dark streets were silent except for those few who were stumbling home from bars. That all changed rather quickly as chanting began to fill the air loud and boisterous. There were hundreds of people all of them wearing rags, their bodies scarred and bearing open wounds from having whipped themselves. Some had even sewn their own mouths shut or plucked out a eye. One thing they all had in common though was the chants of the Imperial Cult ringing out from their lips. The faithful had gathered into a mob of religious fury in anger at what was taking place on this planet.

The sound of their feet stomping on the road resounded loudly as they marched along the lane hands raising clubs, auto pistols, knives. Torches also rose in the air their embers raising into the sky and disappearing in instants. Out of the mob to march at the front came a woman who was very different than the rest. She wore power armor, her hair cut short and black as the night that covered the city. In one hand she carried a leather braided whip and in the other she carried a bolt pistol. The expression on her face was one of a serious nature the scar going from the corner of her lip across her cheek only increasing the feeling of disdain she held.

At once she raised her bolt pistol into the air and shouted loudly. “Love the Emperor for he is the Salvation of mankind!” The crowd behind her repeating the chant as they started to make a straight line for a door with a red light above it. “Obey his words for he will lead you into the light of the future!” She stops in front of the door staring at it for a moment before turning back towards the mob. “Faithful! Beyond this door are heretics! They fall from the light as they wallow in the pleasures darkness! They forsake our Emperor and his light! Show them no mercy! So that we might show the rest of this planet what happens to Heretics!” Lykinia’s foot slams into the door making it swing open.

Suddenly the mob rushes forward and around Lykinia pushing into get into the brothel. Screams of horror and pain erupt as they mob takes it’s righteous fury out on the wicked within. As the mob seemed to have all gotten inside a few of them standing outside holding torches looking up and down the street. Lykinia stepped into the brothel passing patrons and prostitutes alike receiving judgement in the form of clubs and other various objects. She stopped in front of a fat man who was blubbering, his lip busted and had bent in a direction it shouldn’t go. She stared down at him. “You are the proprietor of this establishment yes?” The man nodded slowly and the battle sister lashed the whip across his face then continued to have it crack across his body tearing flesh and cloth alike. She then brought her bolt pistol to bear pointing at his forehead. “This is your atonement Heretic.” She pulled the trigger and his head exploded in a spray of gore. Flesh, bone, and brain matter splattered across the faithful, the wall, and the floor.

As the owner’s body fell to the floor limp and gushing crimson liquid, Lykinia stepped over the body pushing past Faithful who seemed to have found a door hidden in the floor. Prying it up she stepped down a series of a stairs to find herself standing in large room dimly lit by flickering torches. Chaotic symbols were scribbled across the walls in a fashion that had no real pattern. Several bodies lay on the ground each of them with their eyes wide open and smiles on their faces. What looked like a bloody hand had been scratching at the wall stained the far side of the room. “Heresy…. So much. This place must be purged.

Lykinia returned to the faithful and took from them bottles of filled with a foul smelling alcohol. She heaved each one down the hole into the room below following this with a torch causing the liquid to catch flame and blaze wildly below. “Burn this den of heresy. Let no blasphemers leave.” She moved past them as the faithful began to shove everyone in the brothel into rooms barricading them and smashing more bottles of the alcohol on the ground. Soon Lykinia and all the faithful stood outside watching the building blaze away. Nobles, PDF, it didn’t matter who it was. If they had been in that brothel she was purging them with fire. “From the blasphemy of the fallen, our Emperor deliver us. From the begetting of daemons, our Emperor deliver us.”