>>5827935Death has intoxicated you. A blood-red haze now hangs over your vision, compelling you to charge at the three blips on the radar screen heedless of all danger. Squeezing the handrail of your chair, you try to resist its lure. There must be another way, something else you can do.
"When facing a great number of smaller enemies, keep your range. Under no circumstance can they be allowed to surround and overwhelm you."
Your first lesson, paid for in your father's blood. The sanguine mood subsides, you shall have your fill of cold vengeance yet...
Aboard the Hand of Stone, Higher Navarch Ame-Terret gnashes his spike-like mandible in frustration. Earlier, a faint distress signal has sounded from within the rock-ring he personally chose for the floor-breaking. Naturally, one does not make home without clearing all its entrances first, so he split up his under-hive to thoroughly search the whole region. Just as the Exile's Bread reported visual contact, the sound-tunnel collapsed. Have those fanatic lesser-borns gone martyr on him? All of the sudden, energy-darts started bouncing against his worm's sturdy carapace, coming from filthy machine-guards. For every of these he destroyed, two more would reveal themselves. He wanted to pull back, get his under-hive together for hole-to-hole clearing, but the White Moss is now scurrying further away after suffering heavy damage from a mine (may the Great Burrower feast on that dungcrawler of a Hivekeeper's heart).
At least the, what's it called, Banshee has now regrouped with him. Apparently this creature is some sort of malevolent spirit of the Feast, how typical of the hairless to fear even the most natural of acts. Ame-Terret still could not believe how his proud overhive, vanquisher of a thousand worms, could be reduced to playing nunnery for damn egg-eaters. In better times, he would have made his hunting grounds elsewhere. In this Last Time, even a Navarch has to humour a hairless' ichor-debt.
Suddenly his overlings reported contact over the ring. Soon after, a sound-tunnel was opened from the Banshee. The matriarch glares at him, "You can help if you want, but remember, this is my ichor-debt to settle." As if a lowness like him would ever want it to begin with. Before he could even laugh, however, the White Moss disappears from his search screen.
Usually, firing into an asteroid belt is tricky business due to all the natural cover. If said asteroid belt is littered with your own mines, however... You don't even have to nail a direct hit, just need to herd the quarry to their own explosive deaths.
"Bullseye." Elysium excitedly yells over the intercom. The kid's got talents, you have to admit, but he has to really learn some self-control. You wonder what kind of person his uncle the last gunnery officer was like. Still, for now his enthusiasm is an asset. Sparrow-3 down, just two more birds left.
