Warhammer: Oath of the Black Sword

Members of the Cultists were hacking people to death in the alley. A skinny fourteen-year-old stepped out of a tin shack, clutching a sharpened steel pipe. Three cultists: one with an axe, two with knives. He drove the pipe into the first man's inner thigh. The artery burst, spraying blood across his face. Before the second could react, the pipe had already stabbed into his waist. The third tried to run, but the pipe punched through the back of his neck. The boy crouched and searched their pockets, taking three coins and a syringe. Then he leaned against the wall and caught his breath, the blood on his face still wet.

Six sets of footsteps sounded at the entrance to the alley. Measured, heavy steps, metal boots striking the stone paving. Six giants in black armor blocked the entire alley, their shoulders as broad as the doorway of his shack. The one in the middle crouched down and looked at him. Old scars covered his face, stretching from his left forehead to his right jaw.

"What's your name?"

"Karn."

"What do you believe in?"

He swallowed the blood in his mouth and shouted:

"The Emperor!"

The recruiting officer stood and gestured over his shoulder.

"Take him."