FanSyst
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Kharn exudes a blood mist wherever he walks. This mist allows for the manifestation of Daemonic creatures.
"The Betrayer was on the move, cutting a bloody path up through the hive, eschewing any form of elevator or conveyor. He seemed to be shedding all the blood he could, and though the Unsung couldn’t locate him in any vid feeds, eyewitness reports spoke of a billowing crimson mist building around him.
There was talk of the Cicatrix Maledictum, of empyric bleed. Of daemons."
"Magnifying his optics, Corphyx saw a towering warrior in scorched, blood-red armour plough into the midst of his electro-priests. Jolts of motive force arced and leapt as glowing holy men hurled themselves at the figure, but with every sweep of his chainaxe he smashed them away like broken dolls.
A crimson mist billowed in the warrior’s wake, and the magosethericus was in no doubt as to its nature. His empyric spectroanalytics confirmed it beyond a doubt.
‘Reality breach,’ he buzzed. ‘Malefic spectral dissonance. All units retask, eliminate that warrior, pattern sanctis reductum.’"
Kassar expected the angel to strike at any moment. Battle Sisters ran at them, frantic to stop them, but they were far too few, and as they turned their backs upon the Khorne worshippers, so they were hacked down. Bloody mist parted before them as they ran. The arch grew closer. Shots rang from their armour, and several of the Unsung staggered, but none of them fell.
By some dark miracle, with the last of their enemies still intent on hacking one another apart amidst the rain of falling glass, they were going to escape. Then a charging figure emerged through the bloody murk, running straight at them, armour scorched, flesh bloodied, massive chainaxe screaming. ‘Blood for the Blood God!’ roared Khârn.
The red mist billowed upwards, coiling and churning into screaming faces and grasping, ephemeral claws. With a roar, the red-armoured warrior burst from its leading edge, scorched and smouldering but very much alive. At his heels came unnatural things, blood-fleshed terrors of the warp clutching black, smoking blades.
‘Magos!’ shrieked the lieutenant. ‘You have to destroy the–’ A thunderous volley rang out. Corphyx’s servitors chuntered as they reloaded their weapons, and the magos-ethericus dismissed the charred remains of the lieutenant and his soldiers as irrelevant.
The towering warrior was charging up the steps, closing the gap by the moment, a tide of daemons boiling into reality behind him. As they passed the teleportarium platforms, the machines’ holy energies were corrupted, white lightning turning blood red and ripping inwards to tear implosive holes in the flesh of time and space. Terrible things stirred in their shadows, then surged forth to join the charge.