Noticing Ants

His horn-headed minder ran at Cherubael, firing a grubby old laspistol.
Cherubael hadn’t moved. He was simply watching the murder around him. The las-shots sizzled off his skin, and he glanced down at the twist, as if his reverie had been broken.
The daemonhost didn’t even move a hand, a finger. There was just a slight nod in the direction of the horned minder, and the miserable twist was somehow filleted where he stood, waves of fire stripping off his flesh and popping out his skeleton, parts of it still articulated.
I felt the warp churning around that dismal place as Cherubael went to work. Once he had started, his fury was unstinting. Merdok’s war-rena ferns disappeared in a sudden vortex and died, fused together. The mud beneath Vassik’s feet boiled, and she and her bodyguards sank, screaming and thrashing, into it.
...There was blood and filth and swirling plant-fibre in the air. A warp storm was crackling around us, so dense and dark we could barely see, barely stand against its churning force.
...
Furious psychic detonations went off all round. Screaming, semi-sentient winds from the deepest warp snaked around the field, destroying the last of the twists and the fleeing buyers.


"Malleus", Chapter Eleven