The furry crusades

Idk why, just watched FlashGitz videos on youtube of the same title, check em' out!

(this is based rather tightly on the appearance in the videos for both the furries and the "crusaders" i.e. the men in the armor, and, like the series, is in no way to put stain on the furry or LGBTQIA+ communities, nor is it associated in ANY way with the Warhammer 40k universe or it's developers, as it is for entertainment purposes exclusively. This is purely an AU of the FlashGitz universe and all inspiration came from them and their works, so like said before, go check them out. Anyways, on with the story.)

The dark was absolute, seemingly. Nothing pierced the dark through the walls of the catacombs. The armor, heavy on Battle Brother Beran, the newest of the group, clanked with each step. The others were completely silent, having worn the armor their entire career. Beran had a bolter, chainsword, and obviously extra mags for said bolter. The air was tense, they were looking for degenerate furries... Those things... One thing was for certain, they all had a rage, a burning passion fueled by every fiber of their beings, to eradicate the pestilence called furries. They walked through the decrepit halls, vines growing through the cracks, though no light was let through, possibly by sheer volume, or something else. Beran, being inexperienced, was the pack mule, untrusted with a bolter outside combat, despite vigorous training. They came into a room and saw them. Furries, by the tens, perhaps 60 in the room alone. They saw each other, both sides knew this. The Battle Brethren drew their bolters and unloaded the mags, eradiating at least 35, then Battle Brother Eritas charged in with his chainsword, cutting them down.

"Persist!" Shouted Brother Heliteus "In the name of the crusade! Eradicate the furries!" And persist they did, blood flowed like water across the ground, guts flying as a furry is stabbed and the chainswird revving. Heads became mist as bolters were expertly shot and legs became paste under the Brothers' boots. After the battle, more came, though they had a white flag and looked sane, minus the furry look.

Beran did nothing, but Eritas readied the sword and Hestius reloaded his bolter, they knew these weren't the furry strain they were fighting moments ago. They were not degenerate, not gay, not "trans" none of it. They approached and one spoke, breaking the tense silence that hung in the air.

"W-we surrender" said one, fear lacing the tone "spare us, please." He begged, the brothers were surprised, a furry asking for mercy was insane to them. This never happened and they were not only shocked, but intrigued. This revelation meant there could be more, more non-degenerate furries. There could be so many things to do with them. For now they simply stood. Deciding just what to do with them.