VI
The gunfire came from nowhere. Ulo and Ulk threw themselves to the ground with panicked yelps as bullets impacted all around them, only their size saving them from being struck. Neither was Drakensson spared, the Squat ducking as the piping he was proceeding along sparked with ricocheting rounds.
The sudden attack had come from above. They were pinned. The Canids sought shelter behind some crates, and blind-fired in the direction of the ambush, back into the upper levels of the skeletal surrounding buildings. It was a trap, and they had walked right into it.
Suddenly the situation worsened yet further as figures emerged from the shadows, bearing a variety of ill maintained weapons. Garanthe could swear that they had not been there a moment ago. Around a dozen of them advanced, firing speculative shots in the gloom. They were closing in on the pinned Squat and Canids. Seven more emerged from near the Inquisitor's position, rising from grating in the floor or swinging down from overhead piping and walkways.
Garanthe loosed shots back at the approaching group, blasting a few from their feet with his trusty shotgun. He was suddenly caught cold by yet another ambush and was forced to fall back by some cargo containers. He fired twice more before ducking back and reloading, thumbing shells into the chamber with practiced, calm efficiency.
Dolf charged forward with a yell, brandishing his Powersword. felling two cultists with precision shots. He swayed to the side as another attacker swung wildly with a sparking Power Maul. Dolf tried to bring his weapon round but the cultist was too close and he could only parry as the maul was brought down in a vicious downward blow. He darted back to make some room but the cultist's eyes gleamed cruelly and the maul lashed out again and swatted the pistol from the ex guardsman's grasp. A close combat affair it was to be then.
Garanthe surveyed the situation. Almost all of the Inquisitorial Team were pinned; Autogun fire chattered from above, punctuated by high powered rifle shots, preventing the Canid mutants from moving or supporting the isolated Drakensson who had a cultist with a battered flamer closing on him. Garanthe himself was locked in a firefight, conserving as much ammo as possible while still keeping the foe at bay.
Redirection of the fusilade from above signalled the arrival of Andrukas and Deathshead. The addition of the Inquisitorial Crusader and Deathwatch Space Marine in Power Armour altered the balance of the battle drastically. The Astartes' Boltgun killed half a dozen cultists in seconds, figures tumbling from the upper reaches. Andrukas reaped a mighty toll, his Power Sword steaming as cultist blood sizzled on the energized blade. The Canids and Squat rallied. The Tide turned.
Yet the respite was momentary. As if responding to an unseen signal even more cultists swarmed from every conceivable recess and shadow like a swarm of insects, their extra arms adding to the allegory.
These newest arrivals toted heavier weaponry, one fired a Webber at the Crusader, enveloping him in strong, sticky strands. Andrukas roared in frustration as his arm was trapped by his own shield, unable to swing his sword, rendered impotent.
High powered mining lasers cut through the piping where the Canids were cowering. They returned ineffectual fire once again but they were rapidly running out of sanctuary.
Drakensson was backed into a corner, facing the Cultist with the flamer. The abhumans faced off against each other and the cultist snarled maliciously as it depressed the trigger. The Flamer sputtered but failed to ignite and before the Squat could respond the cultist howled in frustration and leapt backwards into the shadows, melting away.
Autofire from above suddenly cut down Dolf, the Guard Veteran toppling to the floor without a sound. Ulk and Ulo braved the pinning fire, the Canids scampering for their lives as the cover they had been sheltering behind was obliterated. Through the Emperor's Divine Grace or pure luck they survived, their diminutive stature making them difficult to hit. Ulk started scaling the objective building as his brother held off encroaching cultists.
Andrukas was besieged by foes, jabbing with their knives at the stricken crusader, trying to find a chink in his armour. Bellowing his hatred he tried to use his mass alone against his attackers but it was futile, he was being swarmed, it was only a matter of time.
Deathshead had moved off. A walking one man army, he stalked towards the biggest concentration of cultists, blasting away with his Bolt Pistol. The mass reactive shells obliterated the hybrids to bloody gobbets of flesh. The Deathwatch Marine was vengeance incarnate and his wrath spoke bloody ruin.
Garanthe was forced back, step by step, by yet another surge of cultist hybrids, these truly were abominations, sporting utterly alien limbs, and melee weapons that puslated and writhed with a life of their own. Their faces held not the faintest trace of humanity, plated and fanged. Xenos filth.
So preoccupied with the danger before him was he, that he failed to check his surroundings.
His life was almost forfeit. Claws flashed in the dark and only some sixth sense kept him from being decapitated by the lunging creature. Genestealer! No hybrid mutation this, a purestrain monster, Tyranid vanguard organism. A deadly foe. Dropping his shotgun and drawing his Powersword, the Inquisitor was forced into the most deadly of duels.
