The Battle for Ouran
The Tyranid Hive-Fleet Draco had reached Titus Delta, the primary planet in the Titus System of the Imperium. The onslaught came as a total suprise, and no Imperial fleets were close enough to assist Titus Delta before the first death tolls took effect. For the time being, Titus Delta stood alone against the impossible odds against them. Hive-Fleet Draco was a massive invasionary force, capable of obliterating the entire star system, sucking it dry of any life, as all Hive-Fleets lived for doing.
The Titus System was invaluable to the Imperium. The outlying, secondary worlds of Titus Alpha and Titus Epsilon manufactured vital tank chassis to aid the Imperium, together they held a population of 28 billion human lives. As devastating as the loss of these two worlds would be, the loss of Titus Delta would be especially grievous. That world was the primary source of fossil fuels and crude oils for the Imperium war machine in that galaxy. If Titus Delta was to fall to the horrifying tides of the Tyranids, all Imperial forces in several surrounding sectors would be impotent, not to mention the fact that Titus Delta was home to more than 31 billion people.
And the invasion had begun....
Colonel Sterling's heart pounded as he watched the first wave of the Tyranids advance on Ouran. They were less than half a kilometer away, moving at an alarming rate. Worse still, from his defensive position atop the battlements on the rockcrete walls of Ouran, he could see a second wave sitting idle, awaiting deployment. He took up his heavy bolter, double and triple checked that its mechanisms were clean and the barrel cleared. He looked to the men of his squad, fellow Titan Planatery Militia soldiers, TPM, also watch the alien masses surge forward across the snowy plains before them, their lasguns held at the ready, an ominous quiet amongst them.
The first wave, intelligence sources had informed him, were the shock-troops of the Tyranids. Genestealers. Though the Colonel had never actually seen a genestealer, he had heard the stories.
The genestealers were basically a mass of black flesh, crudely stretched over their visible, purple muscles, about the height of a typical man. Their four arms ended in razor sharp talons, that were almost as deadly as the genestealer's double rows of teeth. They had been known to be extremely agile, able to leap great distances, climb nimbly up any surface, and many commanders had sworn that they were damnedest hand-to-hand warriors in the universe.
Now they were within range. Colonel Sterling snapped out of his reverie, and tapped the vox-link in his ear, enabling feild communication. "Mortars team one and two, fire at will. Let's rain the Emperor's wrath at them. Do not open fire past coordinates 22 w, 38n, if any of you hit our walls, I will be issuing feild executions."
A series of acknowledgements from both mortar teams followed his orders. Sterling watched, filled with determination and faith in Him as the twin explosions from the mortars bursted in the air, followed by the familiar whistling sound, and finally, impact. A grin crossed the Colonel's face as two differant location on the terrain erupted in a fireball, blowing the alien bastards to hell in a fountain of purple blood. The mortar teams hastily reloaded.
Mortars wouldnt do the job, the Colonel knew. There were just too many in this wave alone for two mortar teams to handle, and the Munitorium hadn't supplied Ouran enough mortar shells for the Colonel to open more mortar teams. No, the genestealers would reach the walls in mere minutes, and then it was up to the lasguns and heavy bolters of his men to keep the genestealers at bay.
Another volley of shells ripped through the air, impacting again into the rushing genestealers. They moved on, unfaltering, unafraid of their human prey. Now the first of their ranks had reach the walls, and in a nimble jump, attached themselves to it. The horrific aliens began scaling the 200 meter rockcrete walls, their claws easily peircing the stone that could withstand the impact of tank shells. Sterling almost swore he saw one snarl directly at him. Now it was time.
Colonel Sterling activated his vox-bead again. "Troopers of the TPM, fire at will. Keep these bastards from reaching the top if you value your lives, The Emperor Protects!"
"The Emperor Protects!" his troopers responded into their links, and in an instant, the air was filled with the sounds of bolter and lasfire.
The genestealers were climbing the walls at twice the rate a man can run, and so Sterling furiosly raked his bolter's firepower left and right, blasting several of the Tyranid's from the wall, sending them to their deaths in splashes of purple blood. The dead aliens fell from the walls, impacting hard on the snowy terrain below, a purple mess around their broken forms.
More mortars boomed in the air, crushing the advancement behind the front lines of Tyranids. The dead Tyranids squeeled in alien rage as they were blown apart or vaporized altogether.
Sterling's bolter clip went dry just as the genestealers' vertical advance had reached the half-way point on the wall. Cursing, Sterling ejected the smoking, emptied clip from his heavy bolter and slammed a fresh one home, and again, commenced raking the walls with all the death that his weapon would spit. Seeing the alarmingly close proximity of the Tyranid assault, he knew the battle would soon be close-quarters, something he dreaded but knew was inevitable. This is where the beasts got to strike back. He tapped his vox-link on the primary command channel.
"General Jaedan, this is Colonel Sterling of the Ouran wall-perimeter defense." Sterling yelled and he cut as many aliens from the walls as his bolter would possibly allow, the exploding ammunition ripping the ever-advancing aliens apart.
"Colonel Sterling, go ahead."
For every genestealer that died, three were behind him....frag.
"Sir, requesting flamer crews be brought forward from the second lines to assist. I believe if we have flamer support we can deny the first enemy wave entry into Ouran."
Sterling grew apprehensious, looking down the wall, seeing that his men were frantically trying to keep the Tyranids from reaching the top, spraying lasfire desperately, delaying the inevitable violence that would soon be limited to melee combat.
"Colonel Sterling, request denied. Do what you can with the supplies given. General Jaedan, out."
Sterling cursed bitterly and threw his spent bolter down the wall, smashing an approaching genestealer's skull in, splattering purple gore agianst the walls. He pulled his chainsword from its scabbard and thumbed the activation rune. The weapon roared to life. He again tapped his vox-link, this time on the infantry channel.
"This is Colonel Sterling, fix bayonets! The enemy is upon us! Fear not death, for your souls will soon be in paradise with the Emperor!" Sterling swung his chainsword down, decapitating a genestealer that had reached the lip of the wall, too damned close.
A series of acknowledgements followed, and Sterling ripped off his vox-bead and swung his chainsword down again, taking one of the arms of an advancing genestealer. He heard all around him the firepower cease, and saw his men attaching their massive, serrated blades to their lasguns and bolters, hacking and slashing at the aliens who now had scaled the walls. He winced to hear the first of his troopers cry out as he was ripped open by a genestealer.
Suddenly, a genestealer further down the wall leapt upwards at an alarming rate, landing squarely on Sterling's chest, barreling him over. As the two tumbled back into the munitions crates behind them, the beast slashed at Sterlings face with its upper claws, its lower claws clamped down and tore into the flesh of the Colonel's torso, locking the genestealer into the killing position. Yelling in pain and defiance, Sterling swung his chainsword in a diagonal arc, cutting the genestealer through the chest, the blade exiting the monster's shoulder. Purple blood splattered Sterlings face, and he rolled the dead Tyranid off of him.
He rolled over in pain, as blood gushed from his stomach wounds. His face had been torn to shreads, but nonetheless, his injuries wouldn't be fatal just yet, he still had some fight left in him.
Holding his guts in with his left hand, swinging his chainsword with his right, Sterling leaped upon a genestealer who was devouring a fallen trooper's innards. Before the creature even saw him, Sterling drove the grinding teeth of his chainsword into its back. It shrieked in pain, before it spasmed and Sterling pulled his weapon free. He charged another of the beasts back at the lip of the wall, swinging the chainsword and cutting its leg off above the knee. The genestealer fell squeeling to its death down the walls.
As Sterling turned, a genestealer attacked him unexpectedly, biting down the arm that held his chainsword, snapping it off in one bite. Sterling's howls of pain were cut short as the monster's upper arms visciously ripped off his jaw. A fountain of gore flowing from both his severed arm and his mutilated face, Sterling dropped weakly to one knee, and despite his pain, unholstered his bolt pistol sidearm and shot the genestealer point blank, exploding its head.
Then Colonel Sterling collapsed due to massive blood loss, spasming on the cold rockcrete battlements as his men were devoured all around him.
The second line of the TPM defense forces were stationed in abandoned civilain habs and streets on the outskirts of Ouran itself, listening with grief-stricken hearts to their comrades frantic screams over the vox channels as they were eaten alive by the enemy. The first line of defense had failed, and within minutes, the second line had to hold against the coming assault.
A young lieutenant named Greer voxed General Jaedan with the grim news that the first line of defense had fallen to the initial wave of the enemy. The General emotionlessly reminded Greer that if the second line was defeated, Ouran would be doomed to fall. Greer swore he would hold this line together.
The troopers had built sandbag barriers within the hab windows and along the streets, with narrow gaps from which support weapons would be fired. Four habs were being used as auto-cannon bunkers, and within two others were heavy stubbers. Four hundred men lined the streets, using sandbags, boxes, and walls as cover. Officers anxiously paced the lines, ensuring their men were ready.
Within reason, the defenders on this line had ample support weapons, and over a dozen flamer troopers. Flamers were invaluable in close-combat. It broke morale against any foe who had a shred of self-preservation, but not the Tyranids. Tyranids were infamous for their fearless habit of driving onward even in the face of sure death.
The vox-link crackled and the few men who had survived the first lines came running to the second lines in terror. Some carried wounded, and the troopers who could no longer fight were sent to the infirmary deeper in Ouran. Those from the first line that could hold a weapon took a position and waited for more terror to wash down from the now-enemy controlled battlements.
A screeching noise suddenly peirced the air, though its source couldnt be pinpointed. It was certainly alien in origin, but sounded nothing like a genestealer. The troopers braced themselves against their cover, listening and wondering what in the Emperor's name that blasted shrieking was.
Their question was answered in mere moments. What initially looked like a flock of large birds was swooping over the walls and towards the outer habs and Greer's men. As they drew closer Greer realized exactly what these "birds" were. He anxiously tapped his vox-bead.
"All units prepare for an aerial attack, the Tyranids have sent in gargoyles to initiate the attack. I want all stubbers, bolters, flamers and lasguns trained on the sky, take these damned birds out! Shoot to kill, we have plenty of munitions at our disposal."
Acknowledgements followed, and Greer gripped his lasgun tightly, waiting for the gargoyles to come in range.
Gargoyles looked nothing like a genestealer, the only similarity being the black and purple colors of their flesh. They instead looked like a small, legless dragon. Gargoyles had been noted for swooping down upon their foes and nimbly, expertly, and almost gracefully ripping the heads from their heads from their bodies. They often seemed to come out of nowhere, and by the time you realized one was swooping in on you for the kill, you were dead.
The autocannons roared to life, sending fusillades of random firepower at the gargoyles, their superior range dropping two, then three of the beats from the sky is bursts of purple blood.
As the gargoyle's neared the TPM position, the Ouran city gate unexpectadly crashed inwards, destroying several structures and habs, crushing them under the sheer weight. Greer was speechless, how in the hell had the gates collapsed? There hab been no reports of attack- and then Greer grimly recalled that there was no longer anyone alive on the battlements to report any such attack.
To his horror, the fallen gates were swamped with genestealers and hormogaunts, which stood at twice the height of a man, and had hoof-like feet. While they weren't as deadly in close-quarters combat as genestealers, they carried large bio-cannons which spat all sorts of disease and biological death at its enemis. The bio-cannons themsleves were alive, and each seemed to have a differant, twisted ammunition to lob at their foes. Their jaws were enourmous, and their body was almost snakelike. At his right flank, the Tyranid ground forces advanced on Greer and his men, within firing range, only a hundred meters or so away, and the gargoyles had already begun their death swoop manoevering.
Greer froze with horror, he froze when his men needed him most. His troopers voxed him desperately for orders, as the gargoyles launched daring and quick swoops and decapitated soldier after soldier. The genestealers from the battlements began to descend on Greer's men, adding to the frenzy. The first Tyranid wave combined with the second, and the two drove hard against the last remaining TPM line.
Greer's men never recieved their orders, a hormogaunt fired its bio-weapon at Greer, and he was covered in a strange, fleshy-pink netting, barbed with razor sharp teeth. As Greer screamed and struggled to free himself, he only mutilated himself further, lacerating his skin in hundreds of places as the razor web tore the flesh from his bones. The barbs of the net found his eyes, and they were torn to peices. The fleshy web constricted and contracted against Greer's skin, until the webbing finally cut him in half.
His troopers fought on bravely, and leaderless, the air filled with the roar and chitter of the Tyranids as well as the screams and weapon-fire of the TPM soldiers. They were fighting a losing battle. Those that focused on holding the genestealers and hormogaunts at bay were ripped apart by the diving, shrieking gargoyles, and those focused on blasting the Tyranid raptors from the sky were torn into bloody shreds by the genestealers. The Ouran marketplace was awash in both purple and red gore, with the red far outweighing the purple.
From his command post at the Imperial palace of Ouran, General Jaedan's heart sank as he listened to the vox channels as his own hopes for survival faded. Dammit this was too soon, he couldnt die this way, he had his whole career ahead of him. He turned to his adept, a sniveling runt of a man named Arno Brase.
"We're evacuating. All those men assigned to my honor guard are to be deployed to the second line to help hold the Tyranids." The General had selfishly assigned over a hundred soldiers to be his personal bodyguard, he feared death above all else, and wanted as many men between death and himself as possible. And thats exactly where he was placing them.
"But General, your are sentancing your honor guard to death, surely one hundred men cannot halt the Tyranids." Adept Brase protested.
"I said hold them, not stop them. I want to buy time for the evacuation. Only myself, my advisors, that would include, you my lucky adept, and the wounded are going. We dont have enough chimera apc units to carry everyone to safety." said the General coldly.
"As you would have it, General." conceded Brase, content that his own life would be saved.
The General flicked off the switch on his vox-caster, knowing that Ouran would fall, but not with him in it. He selected his finest robes, and left his command room, safety looming in the distance.
Ouran did indeed fall. Only the General's cabinet and a few of the wounded soldiers escaped in the chimera troop transports, arriving days later in the Titan captiol of Cordua. The destruction of Ouran had been severe. After the second line collapsed, an hour after the General was evacuated, the civilian populace had been butchered by the Tyranid hordes. Men, women and children were exterminated, twenty million human lives were extinguished in the battle of Ouran. Nobody who remained survived.
The Tyranid Hive-Fleet Draco had reached Titus Delta, the primary planet in the Titus System of the Imperium. The onslaught came as a total suprise, and no Imperial fleets were close enough to assist Titus Delta before the first death tolls took effect. For the time being, Titus Delta stood alone against the impossible odds against them. Hive-Fleet Draco was a massive invasionary force, capable of obliterating the entire star system, sucking it dry of any life, as all Hive-Fleets lived for doing.
The Titus System was invaluable to the Imperium. The outlying, secondary worlds of Titus Alpha and Titus Epsilon manufactured vital tank chassis to aid the Imperium, together they held a population of 28 billion human lives. As devastating as the loss of these two worlds would be, the loss of Titus Delta would be especially grievous. That world was the primary source of fossil fuels and crude oils for the Imperium war machine in that galaxy. If Titus Delta was to fall to the horrifying tides of the Tyranids, all Imperial forces in several surrounding sectors would be impotent, not to mention the fact that Titus Delta was home to more than 31 billion people.
And the invasion had begun....
Colonel Sterling's heart pounded as he watched the first wave of the Tyranids advance on Ouran. They were less than half a kilometer away, moving at an alarming rate. Worse still, from his defensive position atop the battlements on the rockcrete walls of Ouran, he could see a second wave sitting idle, awaiting deployment. He took up his heavy bolter, double and triple checked that its mechanisms were clean and the barrel cleared. He looked to the men of his squad, fellow Titan Planatery Militia soldiers, TPM, also watch the alien masses surge forward across the snowy plains before them, their lasguns held at the ready, an ominous quiet amongst them.
The first wave, intelligence sources had informed him, were the shock-troops of the Tyranids. Genestealers. Though the Colonel had never actually seen a genestealer, he had heard the stories.
The genestealers were basically a mass of black flesh, crudely stretched over their visible, purple muscles, about the height of a typical man. Their four arms ended in razor sharp talons, that were almost as deadly as the genestealer's double rows of teeth. They had been known to be extremely agile, able to leap great distances, climb nimbly up any surface, and many commanders had sworn that they were damnedest hand-to-hand warriors in the universe.
Now they were within range. Colonel Sterling snapped out of his reverie, and tapped the vox-link in his ear, enabling feild communication. "Mortars team one and two, fire at will. Let's rain the Emperor's wrath at them. Do not open fire past coordinates 22 w, 38n, if any of you hit our walls, I will be issuing feild executions."
A series of acknowledgements from both mortar teams followed his orders. Sterling watched, filled with determination and faith in Him as the twin explosions from the mortars bursted in the air, followed by the familiar whistling sound, and finally, impact. A grin crossed the Colonel's face as two differant location on the terrain erupted in a fireball, blowing the alien bastards to hell in a fountain of purple blood. The mortar teams hastily reloaded.
Mortars wouldnt do the job, the Colonel knew. There were just too many in this wave alone for two mortar teams to handle, and the Munitorium hadn't supplied Ouran enough mortar shells for the Colonel to open more mortar teams. No, the genestealers would reach the walls in mere minutes, and then it was up to the lasguns and heavy bolters of his men to keep the genestealers at bay.
Another volley of shells ripped through the air, impacting again into the rushing genestealers. They moved on, unfaltering, unafraid of their human prey. Now the first of their ranks had reach the walls, and in a nimble jump, attached themselves to it. The horrific aliens began scaling the 200 meter rockcrete walls, their claws easily peircing the stone that could withstand the impact of tank shells. Sterling almost swore he saw one snarl directly at him. Now it was time.
Colonel Sterling activated his vox-bead again. "Troopers of the TPM, fire at will. Keep these bastards from reaching the top if you value your lives, The Emperor Protects!"
"The Emperor Protects!" his troopers responded into their links, and in an instant, the air was filled with the sounds of bolter and lasfire.
The genestealers were climbing the walls at twice the rate a man can run, and so Sterling furiosly raked his bolter's firepower left and right, blasting several of the Tyranid's from the wall, sending them to their deaths in splashes of purple blood. The dead aliens fell from the walls, impacting hard on the snowy terrain below, a purple mess around their broken forms.
More mortars boomed in the air, crushing the advancement behind the front lines of Tyranids. The dead Tyranids squeeled in alien rage as they were blown apart or vaporized altogether.
Sterling's bolter clip went dry just as the genestealers' vertical advance had reached the half-way point on the wall. Cursing, Sterling ejected the smoking, emptied clip from his heavy bolter and slammed a fresh one home, and again, commenced raking the walls with all the death that his weapon would spit. Seeing the alarmingly close proximity of the Tyranid assault, he knew the battle would soon be close-quarters, something he dreaded but knew was inevitable. This is where the beasts got to strike back. He tapped his vox-link on the primary command channel.
"General Jaedan, this is Colonel Sterling of the Ouran wall-perimeter defense." Sterling yelled and he cut as many aliens from the walls as his bolter would possibly allow, the exploding ammunition ripping the ever-advancing aliens apart.
"Colonel Sterling, go ahead."
For every genestealer that died, three were behind him....frag.
"Sir, requesting flamer crews be brought forward from the second lines to assist. I believe if we have flamer support we can deny the first enemy wave entry into Ouran."
Sterling grew apprehensious, looking down the wall, seeing that his men were frantically trying to keep the Tyranids from reaching the top, spraying lasfire desperately, delaying the inevitable violence that would soon be limited to melee combat.
"Colonel Sterling, request denied. Do what you can with the supplies given. General Jaedan, out."
Sterling cursed bitterly and threw his spent bolter down the wall, smashing an approaching genestealer's skull in, splattering purple gore agianst the walls. He pulled his chainsword from its scabbard and thumbed the activation rune. The weapon roared to life. He again tapped his vox-link, this time on the infantry channel.
"This is Colonel Sterling, fix bayonets! The enemy is upon us! Fear not death, for your souls will soon be in paradise with the Emperor!" Sterling swung his chainsword down, decapitating a genestealer that had reached the lip of the wall, too damned close.
A series of acknowledgements followed, and Sterling ripped off his vox-bead and swung his chainsword down again, taking one of the arms of an advancing genestealer. He heard all around him the firepower cease, and saw his men attaching their massive, serrated blades to their lasguns and bolters, hacking and slashing at the aliens who now had scaled the walls. He winced to hear the first of his troopers cry out as he was ripped open by a genestealer.
Suddenly, a genestealer further down the wall leapt upwards at an alarming rate, landing squarely on Sterling's chest, barreling him over. As the two tumbled back into the munitions crates behind them, the beast slashed at Sterlings face with its upper claws, its lower claws clamped down and tore into the flesh of the Colonel's torso, locking the genestealer into the killing position. Yelling in pain and defiance, Sterling swung his chainsword in a diagonal arc, cutting the genestealer through the chest, the blade exiting the monster's shoulder. Purple blood splattered Sterlings face, and he rolled the dead Tyranid off of him.
He rolled over in pain, as blood gushed from his stomach wounds. His face had been torn to shreads, but nonetheless, his injuries wouldn't be fatal just yet, he still had some fight left in him.
Holding his guts in with his left hand, swinging his chainsword with his right, Sterling leaped upon a genestealer who was devouring a fallen trooper's innards. Before the creature even saw him, Sterling drove the grinding teeth of his chainsword into its back. It shrieked in pain, before it spasmed and Sterling pulled his weapon free. He charged another of the beasts back at the lip of the wall, swinging the chainsword and cutting its leg off above the knee. The genestealer fell squeeling to its death down the walls.
As Sterling turned, a genestealer attacked him unexpectedly, biting down the arm that held his chainsword, snapping it off in one bite. Sterling's howls of pain were cut short as the monster's upper arms visciously ripped off his jaw. A fountain of gore flowing from both his severed arm and his mutilated face, Sterling dropped weakly to one knee, and despite his pain, unholstered his bolt pistol sidearm and shot the genestealer point blank, exploding its head.
Then Colonel Sterling collapsed due to massive blood loss, spasming on the cold rockcrete battlements as his men were devoured all around him.
The second line of the TPM defense forces were stationed in abandoned civilain habs and streets on the outskirts of Ouran itself, listening with grief-stricken hearts to their comrades frantic screams over the vox channels as they were eaten alive by the enemy. The first line of defense had failed, and within minutes, the second line had to hold against the coming assault.
A young lieutenant named Greer voxed General Jaedan with the grim news that the first line of defense had fallen to the initial wave of the enemy. The General emotionlessly reminded Greer that if the second line was defeated, Ouran would be doomed to fall. Greer swore he would hold this line together.
The troopers had built sandbag barriers within the hab windows and along the streets, with narrow gaps from which support weapons would be fired. Four habs were being used as auto-cannon bunkers, and within two others were heavy stubbers. Four hundred men lined the streets, using sandbags, boxes, and walls as cover. Officers anxiously paced the lines, ensuring their men were ready.
Within reason, the defenders on this line had ample support weapons, and over a dozen flamer troopers. Flamers were invaluable in close-combat. It broke morale against any foe who had a shred of self-preservation, but not the Tyranids. Tyranids were infamous for their fearless habit of driving onward even in the face of sure death.
The vox-link crackled and the few men who had survived the first lines came running to the second lines in terror. Some carried wounded, and the troopers who could no longer fight were sent to the infirmary deeper in Ouran. Those from the first line that could hold a weapon took a position and waited for more terror to wash down from the now-enemy controlled battlements.
A screeching noise suddenly peirced the air, though its source couldnt be pinpointed. It was certainly alien in origin, but sounded nothing like a genestealer. The troopers braced themselves against their cover, listening and wondering what in the Emperor's name that blasted shrieking was.
Their question was answered in mere moments. What initially looked like a flock of large birds was swooping over the walls and towards the outer habs and Greer's men. As they drew closer Greer realized exactly what these "birds" were. He anxiously tapped his vox-bead.
"All units prepare for an aerial attack, the Tyranids have sent in gargoyles to initiate the attack. I want all stubbers, bolters, flamers and lasguns trained on the sky, take these damned birds out! Shoot to kill, we have plenty of munitions at our disposal."
Acknowledgements followed, and Greer gripped his lasgun tightly, waiting for the gargoyles to come in range.
Gargoyles looked nothing like a genestealer, the only similarity being the black and purple colors of their flesh. They instead looked like a small, legless dragon. Gargoyles had been noted for swooping down upon their foes and nimbly, expertly, and almost gracefully ripping the heads from their heads from their bodies. They often seemed to come out of nowhere, and by the time you realized one was swooping in on you for the kill, you were dead.
The autocannons roared to life, sending fusillades of random firepower at the gargoyles, their superior range dropping two, then three of the beats from the sky is bursts of purple blood.
As the gargoyle's neared the TPM position, the Ouran city gate unexpectadly crashed inwards, destroying several structures and habs, crushing them under the sheer weight. Greer was speechless, how in the hell had the gates collapsed? There hab been no reports of attack- and then Greer grimly recalled that there was no longer anyone alive on the battlements to report any such attack.
To his horror, the fallen gates were swamped with genestealers and hormogaunts, which stood at twice the height of a man, and had hoof-like feet. While they weren't as deadly in close-quarters combat as genestealers, they carried large bio-cannons which spat all sorts of disease and biological death at its enemis. The bio-cannons themsleves were alive, and each seemed to have a differant, twisted ammunition to lob at their foes. Their jaws were enourmous, and their body was almost snakelike. At his right flank, the Tyranid ground forces advanced on Greer and his men, within firing range, only a hundred meters or so away, and the gargoyles had already begun their death swoop manoevering.
Greer froze with horror, he froze when his men needed him most. His troopers voxed him desperately for orders, as the gargoyles launched daring and quick swoops and decapitated soldier after soldier. The genestealers from the battlements began to descend on Greer's men, adding to the frenzy. The first Tyranid wave combined with the second, and the two drove hard against the last remaining TPM line.
Greer's men never recieved their orders, a hormogaunt fired its bio-weapon at Greer, and he was covered in a strange, fleshy-pink netting, barbed with razor sharp teeth. As Greer screamed and struggled to free himself, he only mutilated himself further, lacerating his skin in hundreds of places as the razor web tore the flesh from his bones. The barbs of the net found his eyes, and they were torn to peices. The fleshy web constricted and contracted against Greer's skin, until the webbing finally cut him in half.
His troopers fought on bravely, and leaderless, the air filled with the roar and chitter of the Tyranids as well as the screams and weapon-fire of the TPM soldiers. They were fighting a losing battle. Those that focused on holding the genestealers and hormogaunts at bay were ripped apart by the diving, shrieking gargoyles, and those focused on blasting the Tyranid raptors from the sky were torn into bloody shreds by the genestealers. The Ouran marketplace was awash in both purple and red gore, with the red far outweighing the purple.
From his command post at the Imperial palace of Ouran, General Jaedan's heart sank as he listened to the vox channels as his own hopes for survival faded. Dammit this was too soon, he couldnt die this way, he had his whole career ahead of him. He turned to his adept, a sniveling runt of a man named Arno Brase.
"We're evacuating. All those men assigned to my honor guard are to be deployed to the second line to help hold the Tyranids." The General had selfishly assigned over a hundred soldiers to be his personal bodyguard, he feared death above all else, and wanted as many men between death and himself as possible. And thats exactly where he was placing them.
"But General, your are sentancing your honor guard to death, surely one hundred men cannot halt the Tyranids." Adept Brase protested.
"I said hold them, not stop them. I want to buy time for the evacuation. Only myself, my advisors, that would include, you my lucky adept, and the wounded are going. We dont have enough chimera apc units to carry everyone to safety." said the General coldly.
"As you would have it, General." conceded Brase, content that his own life would be saved.
The General flicked off the switch on his vox-caster, knowing that Ouran would fall, but not with him in it. He selected his finest robes, and left his command room, safety looming in the distance.
Ouran did indeed fall. Only the General's cabinet and a few of the wounded soldiers escaped in the chimera troop transports, arriving days later in the Titan captiol of Cordua. The destruction of Ouran had been severe. After the second line collapsed, an hour after the General was evacuated, the civilian populace had been butchered by the Tyranid hordes. Men, women and children were exterminated, twenty million human lives were extinguished in the battle of Ouran. Nobody who remained survived.