Fighting With Faith- Tenth Entry
Elshilta paced the room restlessly, his eight exoskeleton formed legs clicking the floor continuously, making a light staccato note onto the plasteel floor, resounding off the caved in ceiling of his crudely constructed hab he was given. He had been waiting for two hours.
Suddenly, a Hormagaunt, in all it’s horried splendor, sped into the room, almost knocking into Elshilta, but was halted by it’s bio-engineered senses as it immediately picked up Elshilta’s scent from it’s finely tuned olfactory senses. It stood in front of the mutant, oblivious to the frightening human/mutant/spider form facing it. It obediently bowed it’s head, lowering it’s blood slicked claws in respect to the entity standing before it.
Deep within the buccal cavity of Elshilta, he mouthed a string of growls and barks that no human can imitate. The Hormagaunt uttered a low growl beneath it’s serrated rows of razor sharp teeth in response and led Elshilta out of the room.
Elshilta was not stirred by the scene of carnage he was met when he strode out of the room. Dismembered corpses of Hormagaunts, humans and mix-blood mutants lay sprawled on the floor. He brutally impaled a dying human with his exoskeleton legs who reached out to him from the ground with two stubs of his arms which were left, blood flowing freely from the wounds. He uttered a pathetic groan and was dead.
Fool. None can stand in the path of the mighty Tyranid swarm.
It was another twenty minutes before the Hormagaunt led Elshilta into the vast, bloodied docking bay of Planet Hangkoi’s main commercial spaceport. A massive battle had taken place here. Freighters, transport vessels, commercial vessels and exploratory vessels lay dormant on either side of the spaceport; their owners either slaughtered in the initial assault on the spaceport or were now held captive in the centre of the spaceport. He continued his pace until he reached a group of huddled figures in the centre of the spaceport, before coming to a standstill.
“You did things…well comrade.” Elshilta said in a low, raspy tone which had been mutated so much by the toxic effluent from the planet’s waste wells. Elshilta was glancing around appraisingly, taking in the sight of human, mutant and Tyranid corpses sprawled onto the plasteel ground in some of the most awkward positions he had seen. Blood was everywhere.
“I do things my way, Elshilta.” Loglrim replied with a note of sarcasm to his voice. He was no better mutated then Elshilta; his left arm had mutated into a throbbing bright red pincer, flexing with powerful muscles at every movement of his arm. He had still two human-like legs, but strangely coloured veins had begun protruding out of his thighs and calfs.
Standing beside Loglrim, was a tall and imposing figure almost up to Elshilta’s massive two and a half metres height. Dressed in black robes with his cowl folded back and holding a staff wet with gore, the ominous yet simple looking design on his shoulder plate showed his vile allegiance: The Genestealer Cult. Genestealer Cults were an ever present threat in the Imperium. They were humans who thought otherwise to the foul, derogatory image that the Imperium projected to the population of the Imperium and seeked the inhuman, biologically enhancement the Swarm would bestow upon them. They would form cults deep within the runks society, holding secret meetings and rituals, planning and preparing, sending physic messages to the hive fleet of their choosing, passing on valuable information about the human military situation stationed on their planet. Above all these, they would “recruit” new apprentices into their ranks, often by subjugating methods, swelling it into a small army, honing their skills in preparation for the inevitable invasion of the hive fleet. When the fleet strikes, they would jump out of cover, revealing their long years of hard work and preparation, striking the Imperium where they were most weak at.
They were the traitors, for turning their back against the Imperium. They were heretics, for worshiping the foul Xenos. They were Enemies, for allying themselves with the enemies of the Imperium.
“We shall now begin inserting the Grelion slugs into our…captives. They will pilot the ships for us to the planet Singphosia of the Asat system, where we will be rejoined with our various cults already present there. We will bolster further our significantly sized army of followers there and prepare for the wondrous assault of our Mother Fleet. Other fellow worshippers have begun their journey to the other planets, to spread the true power of the Tyranids.” The black robed figure said. He had a voice of evil. A voice of deceit. A hated enemy of the Imperium.
The Genestealer cult and Tyranids as a whole were aliens, insidious and treacherous. They had laid waste to the Smorjorn System. The Asat System was next.
Elshilta paced the room restlessly, his eight exoskeleton formed legs clicking the floor continuously, making a light staccato note onto the plasteel floor, resounding off the caved in ceiling of his crudely constructed hab he was given. He had been waiting for two hours.
Suddenly, a Hormagaunt, in all it’s horried splendor, sped into the room, almost knocking into Elshilta, but was halted by it’s bio-engineered senses as it immediately picked up Elshilta’s scent from it’s finely tuned olfactory senses. It stood in front of the mutant, oblivious to the frightening human/mutant/spider form facing it. It obediently bowed it’s head, lowering it’s blood slicked claws in respect to the entity standing before it.
Deep within the buccal cavity of Elshilta, he mouthed a string of growls and barks that no human can imitate. The Hormagaunt uttered a low growl beneath it’s serrated rows of razor sharp teeth in response and led Elshilta out of the room.
Elshilta was not stirred by the scene of carnage he was met when he strode out of the room. Dismembered corpses of Hormagaunts, humans and mix-blood mutants lay sprawled on the floor. He brutally impaled a dying human with his exoskeleton legs who reached out to him from the ground with two stubs of his arms which were left, blood flowing freely from the wounds. He uttered a pathetic groan and was dead.
Fool. None can stand in the path of the mighty Tyranid swarm.
It was another twenty minutes before the Hormagaunt led Elshilta into the vast, bloodied docking bay of Planet Hangkoi’s main commercial spaceport. A massive battle had taken place here. Freighters, transport vessels, commercial vessels and exploratory vessels lay dormant on either side of the spaceport; their owners either slaughtered in the initial assault on the spaceport or were now held captive in the centre of the spaceport. He continued his pace until he reached a group of huddled figures in the centre of the spaceport, before coming to a standstill.
“You did things…well comrade.” Elshilta said in a low, raspy tone which had been mutated so much by the toxic effluent from the planet’s waste wells. Elshilta was glancing around appraisingly, taking in the sight of human, mutant and Tyranid corpses sprawled onto the plasteel ground in some of the most awkward positions he had seen. Blood was everywhere.
“I do things my way, Elshilta.” Loglrim replied with a note of sarcasm to his voice. He was no better mutated then Elshilta; his left arm had mutated into a throbbing bright red pincer, flexing with powerful muscles at every movement of his arm. He had still two human-like legs, but strangely coloured veins had begun protruding out of his thighs and calfs.
Standing beside Loglrim, was a tall and imposing figure almost up to Elshilta’s massive two and a half metres height. Dressed in black robes with his cowl folded back and holding a staff wet with gore, the ominous yet simple looking design on his shoulder plate showed his vile allegiance: The Genestealer Cult. Genestealer Cults were an ever present threat in the Imperium. They were humans who thought otherwise to the foul, derogatory image that the Imperium projected to the population of the Imperium and seeked the inhuman, biologically enhancement the Swarm would bestow upon them. They would form cults deep within the runks society, holding secret meetings and rituals, planning and preparing, sending physic messages to the hive fleet of their choosing, passing on valuable information about the human military situation stationed on their planet. Above all these, they would “recruit” new apprentices into their ranks, often by subjugating methods, swelling it into a small army, honing their skills in preparation for the inevitable invasion of the hive fleet. When the fleet strikes, they would jump out of cover, revealing their long years of hard work and preparation, striking the Imperium where they were most weak at.
They were the traitors, for turning their back against the Imperium. They were heretics, for worshiping the foul Xenos. They were Enemies, for allying themselves with the enemies of the Imperium.
“We shall now begin inserting the Grelion slugs into our…captives. They will pilot the ships for us to the planet Singphosia of the Asat system, where we will be rejoined with our various cults already present there. We will bolster further our significantly sized army of followers there and prepare for the wondrous assault of our Mother Fleet. Other fellow worshippers have begun their journey to the other planets, to spread the true power of the Tyranids.” The black robed figure said. He had a voice of evil. A voice of deceit. A hated enemy of the Imperium.
The Genestealer cult and Tyranids as a whole were aliens, insidious and treacherous. They had laid waste to the Smorjorn System. The Asat System was next.
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