'You will pay for this!', spat Sister Maria, a fledgling member of the Adepta Sororitas and the only survivor of her convent's failed assault.
The ceramite battleplate and ceremonial habit she once prized had been sundered and scattered about the chamber, discarded with a dispassionate flick; with it, her decency had been lain bare. Strength suited her feminine form, as fertile as she was robust; each muscle contoured and every curve emphasized. Crude chains coiled about her wrists and ankles, biting deep and binding the loyalist in a rigid kneeling position, hands clasped behind her head. She would have thrashed and snarled with increased vigor had the blood-rusted gauntlet of her captor not held so firm upon her snowy crown.
It took all that remained of her jailer's patience not make an offering of her viscera-spackled skull here and now. No, the larger plan required patience; Khorne demanded it. 'Silence! Had it not been for the worthiness of your blood I would have drained it of your pathetic sack of flesh!' Every word was contemptuous fury; bloody saliva foamed from his scarlet helm's vox-grill. The raging titan's heraldry was unmistakable. A World Eater: Iron-nailed berserkers of the Skull God, bloodletters and gore devourers all. This particular champion was aged and ripe. Loyalist marrow had sated his chainaxe's appetite at the drop site massacre of Istvan III.
Just sharing space with the ruby-smudged savage made the battle-sister seethe with rage and she struggled to subdue these terrible urges, lest she join him.
'Yes, your lifeforce boils with blessed hate,' His grip intensified, drawing a thin trickle of blood from her brow, 'especially when I disemboweled your runt sisters.' That was the final straw.
'I'LL SLAY YOU HERETIC! I'LL-"
'GOOD!' The Skulltaker howled with a satisfied frenzy, 'GIVE ME YOUR RAGE; KHORNE YEARNS FOR THE STRENGTH OF HIS CHOSEN!' The chains that bound her shattered with a single twist of his clawed gauntlet, liberating Sister Maria in more ways that one; what did the Khornite have planned?
'Your body is a untempered and unblooded, but a perfect vessel for daemonhood. I will compel this rage into your miserable body,' he growled mockingly, 'sister.' Though he would not kill her, the World Eater would fill her with his essence, compel her frenzy to new heights.
Freed, the naked sister-of-battle's growing savagery was overwhelming, and she understood it was the path to chaos; how could she resist?
The rapacious champion approached and cracked his plated knuckles,