Swat 4. Need help? Call the Swat. 

Fo Shizzle Ma' Nizzle on da Force Hammerz and Shieldz.  

Fighting With Faith- Forty-Second Entry

Bullets peppered the walls to his right as Starut sprinted across the hanger. He jumped over wrecks of silos, dodged charging mutants, shot off potshots at the enemy which seemed to be everywhere and was cursing at the top of his lungs for leading his squad in that suicidal charge. Smoke from blasted ruins drifted his way, momentairly obscuring his view as he raised his hand in front of him to brush the haze away. An explosion jarred to his right, shaking the very ground he was on and sending a ear-splitting shockwave rushing past through him. he ignored the discomfort and ran on, oblivious to just how near he was to death seconds ago.

He was approaching the exit of the hanger, which was now bigger then when he first came in. Craters the size of a man was blasted into the walls, revealing more cultists and aliens pouring into the hanger. Talons swishing and menacing claws barred, A Genestealer, covered in a dull red coat, leapt past him, along with the rest of its brood as they went about killing and maiming.

He had lost his squad, or maybe the other way around as the supposedly flanking maneuver on the Asat Guardsmen ended on a disastrous note: Scores of Chimera transports with Dozer blades attachments had entered the hanger, raking the place like horses galloping over grass, their sponsons tearing bloody chunks of flesh away from the defending cultists and mutants. It crushed the Tyranids mercilessly, the sound of the carapaces of the alien cracking like boots stamping on twigs.

A concussive blast from behind threw Starut off his feet, causing him to sprawl on the ground. His survival instincts returned as he looked up, eyes wide with apprehension. Sensing a warm flurry of activity on his back, he stood up and turned. Fires raged around the hanger, with even more craters on the walls and floors. The fighting seemed to be getting more intense as the defenders were force to use desperate measures to fight back and the attackers utilising dirtier tactics to out-maneuver them.

A burning mutant roared past him, it’s back wild on fire. Its roars were drowned out by the explosions and gunfire that were taking place. It writhed in agony as it fell to the ground, rolling on the ground trying in vain to put the fire out. Starut gazed at it sympathetically for a moment before recovering his composure and reaching the exit.

Starut lifted his leg, which responded with an acute pain tearing up his right thigh. He cursed as he bent down, going as low as possible before rolling up his pants. His right knee was a swollen purple mass, with a small cut oozing brightly coloured blood out. He rolled back his pants and stood up.

He must move on.

Gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the intense pain that seemed as though his kneecap was bursting, Starut half-ran, half-stumbled out of the hanger, into the wide corridor beyond , cloying by the second with scuttling Tyranids, shambling mutants and running cultists.

“Starut-STARUT!” A voice called out to his left.

It sounded vaguely familiar. Starut stopped and turn, peering into the throng before him awhile before identifying the source: Shaolsen.

His heart full of relief and certain happiness, Starut ran towards him, as he did towards Starut. Both met in the seething cacophony of boots, claws and shouting, grasping each other by the hand and running back to where they parted with their brood of Biovores.

Rather mild depiction of a Carnifex..serrated teeth, razor sharp claws, drooling mandible and mounds and mounds of gristled and mangles corpses at its feet! 

Fighting With Faith- Forty-First

The thin slits that were the nostrils of Master Cultist Barnel, Overseer of the Tyranid forces in the throbbing warehouse flared, giving out an audible and menacing hissing sound. He stood immobile on his tendril-like green command pulpit, a pulsating organ that throb and gurgled as though feeling the pain of the crumbling building it was in. Thick, gooey veins ran along the circular base of the pulpit, growing into a tangled vine which served as a chair for the Barnel to sit upon. Tiny organisms scuttled around the living chair, foraging for microscopic food and prying off unwanted parasites from the veins.

Barnel was concentrating on the various reports coming in from the breach points in the building from a pulsating and heaving communicator, oblivious to the mass of people and creatures that surged around his seat. Many hangers were already overwhelmed with Imperial forces, with increasing elements of such already dispersing into the warehouse, threading ever so closer to its heart.

Barnel gave a grunt, nodding to himself after finish hearing what he thought was enough to know for at the current moment. He closed the link of the communicator and heaved his seemingly spindly frame off his seat, issuing a sick sucking sound as moist suction pads tore lose from his amphibious skin, revealing the gaping maws beneath, hungry to be filled again.

As he stepped off his pulpit, Assistant Kaweit immediately drifted to his side, giving him a questioning gaze which was soon replace by a knowing face as he saw the direction where his Master was heading.

The pair walked out of the command chamber, long slender legs carrying them forward through many chambers and corridors, passing many faces and alien creatures. They soon arrived at their destination, where they waved away two guarding cultists and proceeded through the door. Beyond the door lay several massive whitish purple oval shaped eggs, pulsating from within, seeming to have a life of its own. Veins of brightly coloured blood and fluid flowed along the walls of the chamber, leading through walls, eventually into the splayed organs at the bottom of the eggs.

Barnel walked to the nearest one, his face turning soft as he lifted his hands to caress the egg, cooing it softly, as though taming a beast into submission for his own twisted will. The presence of the Hive mind was strong here, the stench of it overwhelming. Both Master and Assistant basked in the aura, feeling momentarily the awesome might of the approaching fleet.

With practiced ease, Barnel snapped out of the euphoric ecstasy, continuing his inspection of the eggs and eventually reaching the last one. He gazed upon the soft, tender flesh of the shell and purred softly at it. As though in response, the soft spot of the shell moved. Barnel smiled to himself as it bulged, a squishy sound coming from within. Soon the bulge became a swell, and the whole piece of shell slowly pried open from within.

“Yesss my child…yessss…” Barnel hissed, fatherly loved reflected in his now warm features as he witnessed the birth of a lovely child of his.

A massive skull white claw began to poke from the oozing hole, tearing the wound bigger as the face of the alien peered through. It gave a gurgling moan, like a child first crying when coming out from its mother’s birth canal.

“Master,” the reverent voice of Kaweit came from behind, “Master, the Carnifexes are borne…”

Hormagaunts... of which Benlian and his squad mates were killin' and fightin' Fear them!