The order came, and Lisbeth began to sing. 

"A spiritu dominatus,
Domine, libra nos!"

Standing bolt-upright, Lisbeth pulled back the bolt from her weapon and [i]Permanence[/i] joined in song. Spraying the fire across the ranks of the Guard, two mass-reactive rounds found their homes in the chest of a corporal who burst into a sea of flesh from the waist up, falling back onto a grim-faced sergeant who shoved the corpse away and started firing back with an old-looking pistol. Lisbeth rolled aside under the las-blasts behind a column, reloading her bolter and leaning out to spit out another burst of fire.

"From the lightning and the tempest, our Emperor, deliver us." The words of the Fede Imperialis brought a calm serenity to Lisbeth's mind, and a relaxed fluidity to her movements. Lean, aim, pull trigger, retract. This was what she was born to do. Again she rolled out to her left, behind a vehicle hull pockmarked with las-blasts, and she touched her hand to the fleur-des-lis about her neck, and roared the next line of the [i]Fede Imperialis[/i] "From plague, deceit, temptation and war, Our Emperor, deliver us," Lisbeth sang, as she rushed out from the shelter with her sarissa levelled at the nearest target. 

She fell upon the surprised guardsman's flank, piercing the thin layers of flak before he could even turn around to register the short power-armoured woman piling into his side. The point of the sarissa tore through both lungs and his right ventricle, bursting each as the rest of the heavy, spiked blade followed through. Kicking the betrayer off the end of her weapon, Lisbeth's hand went to her belt, tearing a pair of frag grenades away as she spun back behind cover. A few las-bolts glanced off her pauldrons, scorching the sign of the Ordo Hereticus before the fragmentation grenades burst, spraying shrapnel in all directions. A dozen men went down screaming, and to her own detriment Lisbeth allowed to gaze to hang on the site of the explosion so long that a small piece of that very shrapnel buried in her cheekbone, sending her reeling behind a pillar as she let her bolter hang by the strap. Singing while she pulled at the wound, she ground her teeth together and ripped out the hot metal, pain radiating across her skull. "From the ssss[b]sssssCOUR[/b]ge of the Kra[b]aA[/b]ken,
Our Emperor, deli[b]ver ussSSS![/b]"