One day later.
As the stench of decay mingled with gunsmoke over the entire position, the Battle Sisters had their moment to shine.
Nurgle zombies and Plague Marines staggered toward the forward trenches like a tide, braving the Death Seekers' ferocious lasgun and heavy autogun fire. Just as these bloated monsters thought they were about to swamp the defenses, a ringing battle cry pierced the sky.
"For the Emperor! Purge the filth!"
With the roar of power armour servomotors running at full output, a dozen or so Dominion Sisters in silver-white power armour shot out of the flank cover like shells from a cannon. Every swing of their power swords sent rotten flesh and black blood flying, while their bolters spat lethal fire at close range, instantly blasting a bloated Nurgle Beast to pieces.
The players sheltering behind the trenches sucked in sharp breaths.
"Holy shit, these ladies are fucking fierce!" one player exclaimed, ducking his head. "Look at the force behind those swings. In real life, one punch from her would probably drive my head straight into my chest."
"No shit. They're wearing power armour, and they're elites who've trained since childhood," his companion said, licking his lips excitedly as he changed his lasgun's magazine. "But we're no slouches either! Don't forget, our default physical capabilities in this game are superhuman too!"
Indeed, although the players might have been shut-in nerds who could barely lift a finger in real life, here they had the average physical capabilities of the Imperial Guard-
and with their mass-produced carapace armor on top of that, they had long since surpassed mortal limits.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, brothers!" Bug roared over the comms. **"The Sisters are already charging! Are we going to chicken out? Activate your combat stimulants! Keep pace with them!