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Was just looking at that 'too much guard fiction' thread and it inspired me to do a little writing. This was challenging in many ways and i am aware of some inconsistencies but i like to think it is just about readable.

'Demon' By the OP

The last of the warp-stuff sloughed from my back with little ceremony, now I am flesh, now I wield iron, now I carve your meat. My summoning to this plane was not a command, it was an invitation, one to which I deigned to respond, why now am I here? What is to be un-made? The joyful bluntness of reality answered my questions, a cocktail of heat, fear and physical trauma pervading my vicinity. Everything feels close, forcing themselves on my manifested sensory suite, but my new body also tells me they are far away, a thousand strides on these unsubtle legs.

It would take time to close the distances, time, always the stranger to my existence, but now it dissects and apportions each quanta of sensation, I now have little say. This grossly distended linear-thing would now funnel me down it's intestinal course, forcing me down it's junctures. Some home comforts remained however, even as my eyes accustomed to seeing they gave me a sweet glimpse of my manor. The souls, they were shackled but they were unmistakable, their dead light and scrying harmonies, transcending this jagged plane. Some were even diffuse and blossoming, flitting between my two sights as they left their physical shells. I inhaled deeply, my aspects and allies did the same, it would embolden the feeble and goad the strong, for me it was a message to my master. You have sent me to murder, it has begun, it will be done.

My legs had carried me to the first area of potential, the souls were dense here and the fear hung like a miasma. The seat of my consciousness slipped into the space like it was a vacuum, I unpicked the beings from the obstructions, they occupied a large building, echoes of my previous and future invocations told me its bulk would inhibit this form. I rallied a portion of my aspects to my position, they were nothing more than my tendrils, but possessed a low cunning that impelled them to sow greater mischief than I might myself intend. They did not look to me for guidance as they started wrenching at the smaller openings, they already knew my orders. The souls now pulsed with something more than fear as they laid eyes on my gnashing hordes, Hatred, mortal weapons fired their charges, blaring out of the windows my aspects were attempting to enter. I sensed the light of a number of my force dwindling, those that came loose entirely were either reclaimed by myself or suffused into the masses. I myself leapt to the roof, using what little freedom this planes cursed gravity would allow, My mass fell with a great crushing force, dashing me through my destination's feeble construction.

Sensing my entry the souls nearby scurried with purpose, each morsel glowing much brighter than before. They sensed their doom, and this brought them close. Some now shined brightly within the other spectrum as well, fraying at the edges where time no longer shackled them, their fate was sealed. Those that were dimmest were the most entrenched, the ones cutting a swathe through my forces on the lower levels, for a second a whisper of my master's anger reached across the planes, I sent back an impulse of reassurance, I would reclaim the aspects entirely if need be. Failure did not guarantee oblivion, after all, what are the goals of mortals to my master? But if the ones who invited me were to stray or grow disillusioned I may have to answer for it.

Already a score of bodies lay at my feet. Transmitting the kinetic energy from my muscles into their bodies had a satisfying finality to it, almost every swing wrenching a soul from it's anchor. Their physical bodies were keen to dissemble, the feeble muscles and tissues rarely holding them together, great gouts of their ichor heralding each of my blows. It brought me great pleasure as it coated my hide in it's crimson gloss, a gift from my master who needed to see It spilled. As distasteful as I thought this plane, I had to admit I was enjoying myself.

Lower down the souls grew dimmer, falling less easily, cohesive and very much anchored. They were less clearly earmarked for my master, I would have to bring more of my focus to this plane in order to succeed. I called a number of my cadre through the ingress I myself had created, they would serve as fine distractions if the need arose. The souls had heavier weaponry here, I felt my aspects moving more cautiously in their vicinity, I had no such reservations and chose these as my targets. Many still fell with ease but some introduced the potential of failure, more mortal blows than ever were falling on my hide. One such blow lanced through my shoulder, a dull beam of mundane energy that was blinding in this plane. As I smashed those that had brought about this inconvenience I felt the wrath of my master seep through the wound, a mortal might have called it pain but I was granted this more uncomplicated alternative. I felt his influence pressing on me, he was watching now, his anger throbbed from the wound the mortals had made, it only dimmed when a score more lay dead. However almost none of my focus remained within my true domain, it would be defenceless, rivals would be marshalling and lesser beings squatting in the vacuum.

Only a handful of souls now remained, most in open flight, I sent the remainder of my aspects after them, each one knowing to return home as soon as it had taken it's fill. As I chopped down the last who chose to resist I was greeted by a curious sight. Two of the souls shined in a hateful shade that I dimly recalled, it was the Swathe I saw. It was the neutral cancer that sliced through my realm with dreadful consistency, the Astronomicon an echo whispered to me. A soul had wrought it and it was a source of great pain for my master and his immediate kin. The one who bore it the brighter I sliced open with a half hearted blow, the other however I assessed with curiosity. Within the foul light of the swathe I saw something more bizarre; my own hue, a reflection of myself, dim and malformed though it was. I surveyed the soul with mortal eyes, which it met with impressively un-mortal consistency. It's lips were moving, an echo reminded me of the mechanics of it's mumblings.
'Mechanics of it's mumblings.....' It said, continuing with more nonsensical babblings. I watched it say one last thing as i Hoisted a blow.
'Hoisted a blow...........'

Thanks for reading! Oh and the purpose of the 'twist' is that demon's and indeed people dont really think like this so the idea of a psyker trying to intepret a demon's 'thoughts' seemed like the most feasible.

Man, I think I have said it again, if not then I say it now.

You need to write more often.

I really enjoyed this, a rather unique perspective.

That was a rush. An off-kilter, kinetic stream of consciousness.

Really enjoyed it.

Very well done, your take on the daemon was indeed refreshing.

Thanks for the kind comments guys.

No problem, always a pleasure to read your work

This was a great glimpse into the mind of a daemon. I once tried to write from a daemon's perspective, but I gave up and decided that it was impossible...

It seems that you've done the impossible. Well done Perkustin.