Ferrik jumped up on the window pane, a plated boot well planted in the face of a terrified PDF. They were just boys. Young, weak runts, not fit for combat. To Ferrik it mattered little. He would show these cretins what it meant to feel the uttermost wrath of Khorne.<br/>The soldier fell on his back, spitting blood and broken teeth. There was no time for contemplation. He was not going to toy around like some Slaaneshi whore and play with it. It was going to die in a sea of gore, so he swore it.<br/>And Ferrik did stay true to his word. The PDF was split from groin to chin in a vista of crimson.<br/><br/>For just a second, as he decided on the next target, he saw one of his long time veterans take a boltgun volley to the head. He smiled beneath the dark steel of his helmet. A good death. His blood would suit the red lakes of Khorne well.<br/>Then something, as if dreaming, stung him in the shoulder. The flesh was roughly burnt and cracked open, leaking out a soft line of blood. Had the las-shot been fully charged, he would probably have been pushed to his feet with a dysfunctional arm, but the weakling had spent his last shot of his burned out clip. The pain was barely there. Or it was so intense it just seeped together with the deep bloodlust the brewed in his rigid form. Ferrik couldn't decide anymore. If he didn't notice pain because of his bloodlust, or if it was the pain that propelled it.<br/><br/>Seeing two fresher recruits charge by him into the thick he bit back a curse. He could taste blood in his mouth where he had bit - his lip probably ruptured. The pupps were in his way. Let the mongrels pay the prize then.<br/>With another wordless cry of bloodlust he merged the ripping blades of his sword with any tissue that could bleed. It did not take long, and the younglings lay dead on the floor.<br/><br/>Such was it, that all fell before his mighty chainsword. Friend and foe alike. None mattered, they were all bags of crimson sacrifize. Veterans and comrades had made well known that to carve a bloody swathe through the enemy without being hit by the force of a rampaging Sergeant, it was best to stay away from Ferrik's sword lengt. Newly indoctrinated however flocked to the mad man. Trying to earn his approval or simply follow his example by staying close, none of them realised their fatal error until they had lost a limb or life.<br/><br/>The gateway finally fell behind them as a pack of Khorne's Decapitators made their way through to the frontline. Ferrik fought on all the harder. Had the Throne seen fit to bless them with the aid of his bloody handed soldiers, they did indeed have the Blood God's eye on them. This, if any, was probably the best time to prove onesself. It was a rare incident indeed that the his patron turned its eye to where he was, and he was not going to dissapoint.<br/>Cutting down another PDF, then one more, Ferrik realised that the weaklings was dropping fast and soon none would be left. Suddenly running out of anything at hand to kill, he cut down a Slaaneshi cultist as if to compensate for the hold up. Deciding it might not be enough, he cut down another follower of the Dark Prince just for good messure.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>