As she laid on the sunny beach near the orkish jungles, she found great solace in her ultramarine comrades. Her eyes half open from the sunlight of dusk. She felt relaxed, not a care in the world. The imperium was at peace and no xeno would threaten it. Although comfortable, she soon found herself in bliss. As the space marines around her removed her boots, and began to remove the rest of her clothing. One of them slid one of its giant gauntlets to her delicate pink walls down beneath.
Suddenly the commissar shook free of her addled fantasy. She was on a chaos battle barge, seems she had been dreaming. Was it her mind sheltering her, or the emperor in this dark time? Her arms were still pinned, but this time to the metal walls of a prison chamber. Her arms had stopped bleeding and sealed up around the blades to cause the holes in her arms to be permanent. Upon a more thorough look as she regained her senses, she knew this was a torture chamber. If it wasn't then her situation had already grown even direr, as her guardsmen would have been all slaughtered. The chamber walls were hot metal with boiling blood upon them, well scabbed over.
The commissar that once put fear into her troops, soon found the same fear eating away at her on the inside. She slid her right arm off of the right jagged spike. Gripping at her heart desperately, just to stop the fear from spreading to the rest of her body; however the weight of her body on the left spike grew painful, so quickly found a metal pipe to position her feet upon. To slide her other arm off the spike. As she fell to the floor of meshed fresh blood with dried old. She soon found herself partially exposed, as her sleeves and pant-legs had been cut off from her usual commissarial uniform.
The chamber was about thirty-two feet by thirty-two feet (9.7536 meters for metric). As she walked to the chamber door, she soon neared it. But as she looked for some way to open it, the door opened. There was a bloodletter glaring at her. It gripped her by the chest of her clothing, lifting her about a foot off the floor. Its daemon blade was ready to stab her through the throat. But as it eyed her for weapons, it took a few sniffs at her. Smelling her fear it threw Celeste onto her back. She was no worthy foe; slaughtering such a mortal was not the way of Khorne. As Celeste had the wind knocked out of her from the landing, she heard a coercive, sarcastic and slightly joyful tone. “Such brutish demons Khorne sends to aid us in our conquests but, they at least to have an archaic sense of honor.” As Celeste lifted her head up slightly to see who was speaking, it was a chaos sorcerer. Celeste knew that her torture had only begun...