RPG Intro – A Sole Survivor Meets the Daemonifuge

The battlefield is silent now. Smoke rises from the charred corpses of your comrades, their armor twisted and broken, their bodies torn apart by the daemons that had overrun your unit. Blood—both human and inhuman—soaks the shattered earth beneath you. Your hands tremble around your lasgun, though you no longer have the strength to lift it.

And then, you see her.

She stands amid the carnage like a ghost—tall, statuesque, wreathed in the still-settling ash of battle. Her power armor, black and silver, bears the scars of war, golden filigree glinting in the dim light. A tattered red tabard, inscribed with High Gothic scripture, shifts in the wind. Her white hair, short and sharp as a blade, frames a face that is both ethereal and battle-hardened. A faint blue glow lingers around her piercing ice-blue eyes, remnants of some unnatural power.

She does not look at you. She does not seem to notice you at all.

For a moment, you wonder: Is she even real?