This story was written for a challenge on Prose. It was actually written in six parts, so there might be weird jumps here and there.
This Story Takes Place In The Warhammer 40k Universe
 As the sky darkened, fingers of pink and orange stretched up from where the sun was setting. The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of fruit from the orchards to the south. The grass was thick and soft, and wildflowers provided spots of color here and there. Caffus hated it.
 The entire planet was beautiful, and cloying, and nothing at all like home. Caffusâ nose and throat were itching without any smoke or oil in the air, and he felt chilly despite the warm evening. Worst of all was the horrible openness of it all. Back home, in Gunmetal City, Caffus had never seen the sky and never been outside of the cavernous steel walls that made up the enormous hive.
 Caffusâ only comforts on this saints forsaken world were his guns. Their familiar weight was the only thing that kept him from falling up into that big open sky. Those six pistols were his pride and joy, and heâd built his life and reputation around them. He had purchased or scavenged each one and lovingly cleaned and restored them until they were fit for fighting, dueling, and killing. He knew each one, itâs strengths, weaknesses, and which situations they were best for. They were Caffusâ only friends, and the only ones he trusted completely. And a strange sensation in his gut told him that heâd need them tonight.
 A deep chuckle sounded behind Caffus. He turned and saw Lug watching him, amusement dancing behind his dark eyes. âFeeling a bit uneasy, Caff?â Lug was, in a very literal sense, an enormous contradiction. He stood at least four inches taller than the others, and his muscled frame was so wide he had to turn sideways to fit through the average door. He carried the biggest machine gun Caffus had ever seen with ease. Yet he seemed to be the most jovial of Caffusâ new companions.
 âJust feeling a little⊠exposed.â The others chuckled, even Ishta. The diminutive woman hadnât made a sound since Caffus had met her; she hadnât spoken a single word in the five months since heâd met her, not so much as a cough. Far more disturbing, Caffus hadnât heard a single footfall or rustle of clothing. Tonight, she wore a tightly fitting, matte black body glove and he had a hard time keeping track of her in the rapidly darkening evening. For the first time, Ishta seemed like a true human.
 âI remember my first time offworld,â said the usually stoic Ravion. âI come from a desert planet and the plant-life of Fedrid gave me a rash so bad, I sprained my wrist trying to scratch under my armor.â
 A quiet hiss from Caffus left made him jump, and pure reflex brought his autopistol out of its holster in a flash of cold steel. He quickly turned it away, however, when he saw that it was pointed to Ishta. The small woman had a curved short sword in each hand, both sharp as sin, and Caffus had no idea sheâd even been carrying them. She gestured up the rise toward their destination.
 Caffus took in the ruins at the top of the hill. The ancient stones had been crumbling for centuries, and whatever carving or ornamentation they may have had were long erased by the elements. At first Caffus couldnât figure out why Ishta had drawn her swords, but as they drew closer to the moss covered ruins he heard it.
 A low chanting was drifting toward them from the far side of the ruin. Caffus couldnât understand what was being said, but his companions looked grim. The drew, as stealthily as they could, around the ruin.
 âThereâs our entrance,â Ravion said, indicating a large hole in the ground at the base of the ruin.
 âLooks like someone beat us here,â Lug pointed out. All the joviality had left his attitude.
 âAny chance they didnât find the book?â Ravionâs question was directed at Ishta. The little woman shook her head, her hard face a grim mask. Ravion swore. âWhat are the odds that chanting isnât related to the book?â Everbody knew that the odds were slim, but no one wanted to say it.
 They moved around the side of the ruin. An orange flickering light grew in intensity, providing light to the now dark world and casting dancing shadows all around them. Caffus could see impossible shapes in the shadows, things that shouldnât, couldnât, have been there. Once he nearly pulled the trigger on a bush.
 As they drew near the chanting grew in volume, and with it a strange sensation in Caffusâ skull. It was as though the words were living things, burrowing deep into his head and dancing about. They were words no human was meant to speak, they were all certain of that. The little group rounded the ruins.
 Caffusâ group rounded the corner and stopped dead in their tracks. At the center of what had once been a courtyard, an enormous bonfire flared bright with flames so red they seemed to bleed into purple. Around it was a ring of men and women chanting strange words that carried insanity with them. They werenât robed and hooded, but stark naked. Around the ring were dozens of other people, all engaging in horrible activities.
 Some were performing hedonistic acts so depraved that no human mind could have possibly conceived them, and Caffus couldnât decide whether he should be excited or disgusted by the twisting, writhing, and moaning.
 Others were engaged in all manner of sadistic torture. Blood poured from a hundred small cuts, flowing over bruises and broken bones. Caffus knew, inexplicably, that those being tormented had volunteered for the treatment.
 The coppery smell of blood wafted through the air, mingling with the smells of alcohol, obscura, and bodily fluids. It was utterly disgusting, and through it all the horrible chanting grew louder and caused blood to leak slowly from Caffusâ ears. The whole scene was wrong.
 For a brief and horrifying moment, Caffus felt something inside him break. Ravion cuffed him on the back of the head, and brought him back to himself. Caffus knew that there was only one thing to do. He surged forward, his pistols spitting death in all directions. Ishtaâs blades carved through limbs and necks with deadly efficiency. Lugâs heavy weapon spewed fire in short controlled bursts, each deadly. Ravion levelled a precision rifle at one of the chanters, but before he could pull the trigger a shockwave emanated from the bonfire, knocking over everyone still standing.
 Caffus picked himself up, despite his ringing ears and aching muscles. As loud as the area had been, it was now completely silent. All around him people were picking themselves up. Lug reached down to help him, but they paused when they noticed the lighting had changed. The bonfire had gone out, and been replaced by a sphere of light floating high in the sky. It was like a tiny purplish sun, pulsing with cold light. Where the fire had been, three figures stood watching Caffusâ group.
 For an instant Caffus thought he was looking at three beautiful women, but as the light from the sphere grew they resolved into something else. Each⊠creature stood a full foot taller than Lug, with vaguely female forms but these had clearly never been human. Their heads sported horns, their arms ended in oversized crab claws, and they moved with a grace and purpose that any dancer would envy.
 They surged toward Caffus, and he couldnât tell whether it was lust or murder behind the creaturesâ eyes. The most intense fear Caffus had ever felt washed over him, and he knew that he would die. These misshapen, yet somehow beautiful, creatures would destroy him. They would rape him over and over until he begged for death, then torture him a thousand different ways. And they would laugh the entire time. Caffus was going die, horribly.
 Lug stumbled toward the creatures, desire for those profane forms overriding his good sense. âLug!â Caffus call didnât stir the big man. âLug, stop!â One of the creatures reached for the big man with its razor-sharp claw. Caffus reacted, and put a bullet through each of the creatureâs eyes. Caffus ran for Lug, to pull him back to reality. He could hear Ravion and Ishta fighting, but he was focused on Lug. He didnât see another of the creatures coming for them. It came from nowhere, hissing and spitting, and with a flick of its wrist Lug was gone, replaced by red mist.
 Caffus sat on blood soaked grass, surrounded by carnage. Ishta was using a pict recorder to capture images of the battle ground. Ravion was searching for the book, the foul artifact responsible for the death and depravity that had occurred that night. The book that had killed Lug. The cold purple sun had gone out with the deaths of the daemons.
 While his companions worked, Caffus sat there cradling what was left of Lug. Caffus hadnât known the man long, but he knew that Lug deserved more than he got. Lug had accepted Caffus, been a friend to him.
 But Caffus mourned for more than a fallen friend. A part of him had died that night as well. Everything he thought he knew had been wrong. He thought that mankind was powerful, that men were the rulers of the galaxy, and that their enemies couldnât stand before them. But after tonight, he seriously doubted those views.
 Ravion sighed as he sat down next to Caffus. âFound the book.â He held up a small package wrapped in leather.
 âWhatâs going to happen to it?â
 âWeâre going to destroy it. Weâre going to make sure its evil never influences anyone, ever again.â Caffus nodded. They sat in silence a moment, watching Ishta finish her work. âI remember my first mission,â Ravion said. âA group of daemon worshippers was trying to open a warp portal and cause a warp incursion. If theyâd succeeded, the entire planet wouldâve been overrun by those things. By beings so powerful, the things we fought tonight would look like sickly dogs in comparison.
 Caffus stared at the stars. Heâd never seen anything like them before. Countless stars, and most of the had billions of humans living near them. And they were all in danger of falling prey to the carnage heâd seen tonight. He asked Ravion the question that had been bothering him since he first laid eyes on the debauchery heâd witnessed. âHow could they do that? How could they summon those⊠things? On purpose?â
 âThey fell astray,â Ravion replied. âThey succumbed to temptation. They werenât strong enough to resist.â After a pause, he continued. âThatâs why we do what we do. Because someone has to resist. Someone has to be strong. Someone has to stem the tide.â
 Caffus sighed, and stood. âI guess thatâs us.â Ravion smiled.
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