Lazarus’s eyes widened and his run slowed to a stop, his feet almost sliding out from under him in his haste to stop.
The daemon filled the doorway. Huge. Terrifying.
The sirens drowned out thought.
They blocked his mind’s attempts to get a handle on the situation, but fortunately, for a moment, also made fear wait in the queue of responses vying to get through the wall of invasive sound. The Preacher backpedalled, moving to stand in front of the Captain, one hand warding the man backwards, his other holding out a simple cleaver.
Turning his head quickly, he caught the sight of Krell’s back.
He cursed; his friend was one of the bravest men he had ever met, but daemon’s were his weakness, the point where even he drew the line.
“Brother Krell!” he balled, desperate to make himself heard over the ship’s warning claxons, “We need you! Let your gun feast on chaos filth!” He had no time to gauge the effectiveness of his words, turning again to face the monstrosity before him, “…Abomination…” he spat.
He tightened his fingers around the cleaver and narrowed his eyes, “May whatever corrupt scum you serve have mercy on you, daemon, for I shall not!” He bawled, his words lost to the chaos, the siren’s continuing screams stealing their venom.
He did not care.
“Mighty Emperor…” he said, glancing down at the kitchen utensil again, “I have squandered my days with plans of many things…this was not among them” he shifted his gaze back up to meet the creature, careful not to look it in the eyes; that way lay madness, “But at this moment, I beg only to live the next few minutes well. For all I ought to have thought, and have not thought; all I ought to have said, and have not said; all I ought to have done, and have not done; I pray to you, God-Emperor, Wielder of the Light, for forgiveness”
He lurched forwards, but Time seemed to slow: rather than a stream which flowed around him, forcing him every onwards, Lazarus found it to be a molasses. He forced himself forwards, wading through the time-soup which filled the corridor, and aimed his blade at the daemon, roaring the Emperor’s name.
Even at this pace, when the creature threw out its clawed hand, it moved with a terrible speed. The Preacher barely managed to dodge the blow, feeling the dagger-like talons trouble the air before his face as he wheeled around and lashed out again. His eyes widened as the blade left a blue slice in its wake, “Thank you, Holy Emperor” he said aloud, a determined grin coming to his lips, knowing now that his words had been heard even through the horrors of the Warp.
The daemon easily avoided his clumsy attack and countered with ire, forcing Lazarus to leap back – an experience more akin to swimming than actually jumping. As his feet hit the floor again, he lunged forwards immediately and caught the daemon by surprise; clearly more used to cautious adversaries. It failed to block and the cleaver hammered into its face, burning through its corporeal form easily, “Feel the Emperor’s Wrath!” the Preacher yelled jubilantly as he continued to push the sanctified steel into the beast until it fell to the floor. As it did, time normalised for Lazarus with a jarring sound, like a vox-recording being reset to the correct speed. He took a second to ensure the scum at his feet was dead before yanking the blade from its crushed face.