Fighting With Faith- Forty-Seventh Entry

The battle was at its height now; there was no doubt about it. Starut could feel, see and taste the battle lust and rage all around him now. Unrecognisable limbs lay gored and twisted in obscene angles on the ground. Some were cleanly cleaved off; whilst others were still attached to its dying owner in tattered shreds. A mixture of blood; black, red and the colours in between pooled the ground.

Stuart nearly slipped on the slick ground as he scrambled through the bloody melee, hacking and sawing relentlessly. Everywhere he turned, a head was there to be sliced off.

Starut roared in jubilation as he made his tenth kill, firing his pistol at point blank range into the mouth of a Guardsman. The poor fool didn’t have time to react; even as the lifeless corpse hit the ground, his head was in a thousand bloody fragments.

Above the din, a voice, vaguely familiar, roared, “MEN OF ASAT- KILL THEM ALL!”

Starut looked up, momentarily hesitating as he located the source of the battle shout.

There, fifty metres away, Commissar Leetol stood side by side with the Asat Guardsman, killing and maiming all that stood in his path. His eyes were two orbs of fiery wrath, as though wherever his gaze fell, an enemy would crumble to ashes.

In response, the Guardsmen chorused in a raucous, ragged cheer that echoed off the distant walls. That nearly made Starut stall in surprise for not the bloodbath around him.

A Power Sword buzzed to his right. Instinctively, Starut leapt aside. He snarled as he drew his ornately crafted bone scabbard, shaped and molded from slain Tyranids’ carapaces. It was purple in colour; slick in blood.

The enemy, a lanky Repentant that seemed too frail to be wielding such a powerful weapon, stood defiantly in his way, towering over Starut. His mouth was frothing, and self inflicted scars decorated his scantily clad body. His bald head glistened in the gloomy light, slick with sweat and blood.

The Repentant roared, muttering an undecipherable oath as he lunged forward, nearly cleaving Starut in two for not a Tyranid Genestealer scuttling past. The buzzing razors bit into the sides of the creature, causing a howl of agony.

With inhumane speed, the creature leapt around, facing the Repentant directly.

With another furious howl, the Repentant leapt forward, bringing his Power Sword into an arc that was aimed at cutting the Genestealer’s head off.

However, millennia’s of evolution was not stopping the creature.

With barely a shuffle, the Tyranid sidestepped the flailing human and appeared behind him. With barely a shriek, the Tyranid leapt onto his back, its arms in a flurry as it tore skin, ripped muscle and severed arteries. Blood splattered the Tyranid and surroundings as the Repentant fell onto his knees, unwilling to die.

His eyes now wide with anger and agony, the Repentant shrieked in maniacal terror.

Starut gazed apathetically at the dying man as the Genestealer appeared through his chest.

With a low moan and heavy sigh, the Repentant died.

Starut sneered as he leapt back into the swirling melee, risking a look around. More Asat Guardsmen were still pouring into the Generatorium as the last few ranks of Tyranid forces crashed into the battle. Several groups of Guardsmen were making desperate sprints through zigzagging silos and fallen machinery. A few had already made it to the other side of the chamber, regrouping behind wrecks of machinery.

Starut cursed, watching helplessly as the rear Tyranid forces were slaughtered in the initial surprise rear and flank attack. Red gore splashed the walls as cultists, unaware of the threat from behind, were mowed mercilessly down.

“WITH ME!” Starut roared as he fell back, dodging swinging blades and flying projectiles.

Foolish Imperials, fancy such a petty tactic? Let’s see what else you have in mind…Starut thought to himself as he stalked the field of death.