<em>Maybe this Ork invasion actually <strong>isn't</strong> the best thing to ever happen to me...</em>Praxedes thought as she was corralled through the most heavily-defended areas of the courthouse to a safer location with the rest of the refugees. At least when she was a prisoner she didn't have to live in constant fear of what would happen to her if someone so much as got a glimpse of what she really looked like.<br/><br/>The almost whimsical nature of her tormentors as the simultaneously brought her to the height of agony and ecstasy... That she could take. At least she wasn't operating with the ever-looming fear that one of the numerous, heavily-armed defenders would actually notice what she looked like and decide to fill her body with a few dozen laspitol shots 'just to be on the safe side.' She can't help but wonder if perhaps all daemonettes felt this way; with so much of the Imperium who would attack them on sight just for the way they look, maybe they're so vicious because it's the only way they can survive...<br/><br/>As it was, Prax was starting to get more than her fair share of weird looks - over how little fear she was showing... over how she seemed more nervous about what was inside the courthouse than outside... and over the awkward way she had arranged one of her arms in a sling to better disguise her claw beneath her robes.<br/><br/><strong>It's alright. All you need to do is wait until the defenses break. You're faster than anyone else here. Getting away shouldn't be that difficult.</strong><br/><br/>So far her disguise seemed to be working. She had found a robe that appeared to have once belonged to someone much bigger than she was, so it was easy for her to disappear within its folds. Any body parts that might be exposed she had wrapped with makeshift bandages, figuring people would be more concerned with the greenskins and less with the wounded stranger who was seeking shelter. It was this or spend the foreseeable future avoiding Orks that would shoot at anything that moved and wasn't green.<br/><br/><strong>"That woman, there! bring her to me, no matter how tainted she appears do not kill her. By order of The Emperor’s Inquisition."</strong><br/><br/>Well, maybe not.<br/><br/>Upon hearing the words and seeing the armed pair of men moving toward her, an overwhelming amount of tainted adrenaline dumps into her bloodstream. Suddenly, instead of fighting an urge to run, Prax finds herself fighting an urge to strike. To sink her claw into her would-be attackers. And then, the Voice. Dark, unintelligible whispers that worm their way into parts of her mind that should be left unexplored.<br/><br/><em>No. No, not now...</em><br/><br/>The time it takes for the pair to make their way over to her is only a few seconds, but in Prax's state it feels more like ten minutes. Ten minutes where she can't seem to make her body respond to the imminent danger. Ten minutes while she considers all the possible options available to her.<br/><br/><strong>"Hey you, come here!"</strong><br/><br/><em>It's too late. There are too many of them; attacking would just get you killed.</em><br/><br/>Out of options, when the ganger grabs her sleeve, all she can do is allow him and the guardsman to escort her to the inquisitor who had made the request.<br/>