Those poor souls who
survived the E-Sec Cannibal Wars would later attest (before
liquidation, of course) that Foulnest was never the same after the
so-called Shift of the Imps. Disruptions on both sides of the liminal
divider coalesced at last, and unadulterated Chaos was let loose in
the form of a swarm of diminutive, malicious beings from beyond the
veil. For the gangs of Foulnest, this was cause for action: the
enforcers of C-Section were duty-bound to eradicate the unholy
vermin; the Middenmans and Kreel's Ascent were similarly driven,
albeit by very different creeds; even the Miscreants joined the hunt,
for as any true follower of the Wrong Gods knows, Chaos begets Chaos.
Their purge-patterns
converged in a tunnel complex beneath Foulnest core.
Salvation-Shall-Verily-Be-Paid-For-In-Blood,
Inexorable-Is-His-Judgement, Shriven-Are-The-Rancorous,
Blessed-Are-The-Abject and Repent-Lest-Thou-Be-Truly-Damned scraped
their tattered boots over the filth-caked decks, advancing past
long-derelict container units.
In the corridor ahead,
there was weird chittering, and shadowy forms large and small. Repent
levelled his polearm and fired a blunderbuss torrent into the gloom.
There was a strangled squeak and a small form dropped, but the larger
shadow lurched forwards, undeterred. An abhuman, sapiens variatus,
goat-faced and hooved, doubtless drawn to the zone bt the stench of
the abominable. The Middenmans raised their rusty weapons, and battle
was joined.
Across the tunnels, the
gangs were moving in. C-Section adopted a standard search-and-purge
pattern, fanning out and hunting down the imps with methodical
purpose. The xenos-born Kreel's Ascent, a crew of mere neophytes,
found themselves surrounded by mocking imps, who capered and danced
between their gunshots and maul swings. The Escher Miscreants,
whipped up into a bloodthirsty frenzy by the malcontent known as Sui
Ti Py, found themselves under attack from another abhuman drawn to
the dark festival: a mutated ogryn. The Miscreants were at first
delighted to have sport greater than the runtish imps, but soon
thought twice as the brute withstood the lashes of Mad Madeleine's
whips, grabbed hold of the Escher leader, and snapped her neck with
casual ease. Screeching dismay, the Miscreants countercharged and
took down the ogryn.
For their part, the
Middenmans had overcome the beastman, though it took all of them to
wrestle the mutant to the ground before Repent could skewer it though
the heart with his polearm blade. The Cawdors advanced cautiously,
Inexorable stopping to examine the red-blinking access panel of a
sealed door on the way. Blessed lacked his fellows' caution - he
scuttled ahead gleefully and stomped the pseudo-life out of the imp
scorched by the earlier blunderbuss shot.
Salvation shoved past
Blessed to a narrow door at the end of the tunnel. He activated the
panel, and the door wheezed aside. Beyond, a bewildering scene: the
carcass of the ogryn,over which the Miscreants were fighting a mob of
unruly, legged books. The Eschers were cursing the imps, which
capered about and riffled their pages insolently.
Shriven called out. The
Middenmans were about to be beset by wrong-things of their own: a
gaggle of strange, ambulatory fish were emerging from behind the old
containers. And beyond that, a set of double doors were groaning
open. A C-Section enforcer strode through the doorway and fired a
grenade which sent the Middenmans sprawling.
Inexorable, still at
the red-lit doorway, grinned beneath his rictus mask. Time to fight
Chaos with disorder. He punched the flashing control and the door
slid back. It was as he'd suspected – the red light signified a
depressurised zone beyond, and the sudden equalisation wrought havoc
in the tunnel. Howling winds dragged Middenmans, imps and even the
grenade-hurling enforcer towards the vacuum chamber in total
disarray.
As suddenly as it had
began, the wind died off, and the combatants groggily sought their
bearings. Repent was among the first to recover and, finding a
cluster of imps in his path, let rip with his blunderbuss, felling
them. He raised his polearm high, screaming exultation, but failed to
notice another fish-imp creeping up behind him. The warp-thing bent
its stringy legs and leapt, digging rows of needle teeth into
Repent's neck. The Middenman dropped to the deck, bleeding profusely
from a wound that would later kill him.
A more mundane threat,
though no less dangerous, was posed by C-Section. The enforcers were
advancing into the tunnel, and Blessed was felled by their gunfire.
Salvation and Shriven, appalled at the sudden takedown of their
brethren, fled back to the shelter of the cargo containers.
All around, the signs
of empyrical intrusion were becoming more evident: the very tunnel
walls shimmered and quivered, offering glimpses of the passageways
and chambers beyond. The imps danced through the walls, cackling with
glee at the Chaos made manifest.
By the creed of the
Middenmans, to stare madness in the eye is to find the righteous
resolve to overcome any foe. Inexorable screamed wild litanies of
hatred and stomped the imp that had killed Repent, rendering the fish
thing into a pulp of strange cerulean jelly. His cowering brethren
recovered their nerve: Salvation charged along the corridor, crushing
the non-life out of a row of imps with his great hammer of nails
before swinging his weapon into the breastplate of an oncoming
enforcer with a mighty crack. Shriven was inspired to a boldness well
above his juvehood, charging directly at C-Section's Captain Lassard,
who'd stepped into the tunnel in support of his officers. The Cawdor
juve lashed out with his scrap-knife and caught the veteran enforcer
off guard. The blade struck home, and Lassard went down. Buoyed by
his improbable success, Shriven charged onwards, only to be gunned
down by the fire support offered by Sergeant Mahoney.
The battle was reaching
its climax: across the zone, Sui Ty Pi, last woman standing for the
Miscreants, was locked in a death duel with the remaining acolytes of
Kreel. The Middenmans pressed forward at C-Section, though Inexorable
was as overweening as Shriven, charging straight into Mahoney's
sights, only to be badly wounded. Salvation rushed into combat with
Enforcer Hooks, driving her back with swings of his hammer, but
failing to land a telling blow.
And then, abruptly,
there was a change in the carnage-charged atmosphere that had risen
to a crescendo. The few imps that remained had all scuttled off into
the ventworks and drainpipes, and the tunnel walls settled into their
usual solidity. The uncanny scratching that had afflicted the gangs'
minds subsided, their blood-hunger abated, and the cold realisation
dawned that there was little to be gained by prolonging the fight.
So ended the Shift of
the Imps, as the crews retreated to lick their wounds and console
themselves to the nightmares now seeded in their minds.
And as the Cannibal
Wars intensified, there were plenty more nightmares to come.