Omake: Falling Angyls (Part 1)
A tenth of a second before impact, Solvi disengaged the power field on her combat knife, a mad plan blossoming in her mind. The knife jerked in her grip as it slammed into the Angyl's back, burying itself deep into muscles and bones of the foul thing's back. As the daemon shrieked and flapped wildly, trying to dislodge her and regain its balance she guessed, she brought her pistol to bare and snapped off four shots.
The first burned the head from the angyle leading her improptu firing perch's flight. The second caught another of its companions in the spine. The last two burned gaping rents in the final two angyl's wings: even with their Warp spawned magiks they would be hard pressed to continue their flight like that.
The angyl she had stabbed finally regained enough equillibrium to reach up and catch her shooting arm in a vicelike grip. A voice like golden bells and crystal chimes rose up in her mind.
Submit to the Glory of the Sta-
"No" she snarled, activating the power field on her knife. Once again humming with malevolent purpose the blade resumed its course through the daemon's ribs and spine, returning Solvi herself to her fall through the skies of Avernus in a shower of ichor.
Once again in freefall, Solvi took a moment to take stock of her situation. Her detour had slowed her descent by a few seconds, allowing the rest of her Helguard drop platoon to shoot past her. Since it would hardly do for the troops to arrive before their champion, she flipped herself into a headfirst dive and prepared to ignite her power armor's jumpack.
---
Just in time to slam headfirst into the back of a truly enormous psyrodactyl.
In defiance of all logic the damn thing didn't even have the decency to be knocked out of the air despite the tonne of power armored Helguard that had just smacked into its back.
Solvi was about to remedy that slight with her knife when something about the beast's indignant shrieking caught her attention. Disbelieving, she sheathed her blade and clambered up the creature's back until she could get a look at its face. There, plain as day, was a very familiar scar.
"Mr Squawksie!*" she cried, delighted to be reunited with her old winged friend. He friend squawked in acknowledgement, then tore into a ring of burning eagle wings, eyes, beaks and talons.
"Uhh, ma'am?" the voice of Solvi's nominal commanding officer came over the platoon's voxnet, "I'm assuming we have your 'friend' to thank for our current transfer into the aerial rough rider corps?"
Turning, Solvi beheld the rest of her platoon, each in various stages of coming to grips with the fact that they were now riding a psyrodactyl.
"Mr Squawksie, did you find yourself a flock? I knew you could!"
The giant psyrodactyl's answering shriek sounded particularly smug.
Solvi's grin was feral as she unslung her neutron rifle and took aim at a deamonic mockery of the Emperor's glory and cut loose. Around her the rest of the platoon joined her as they finally came to grips with their new mounts and brought their weapons to bare.
* See: Solvi Haddardsdottir and the Screaming Peak for our first introduction to Solvi's much beleaguered winged friend.