Stukov silently thanked the Throne that the buckshot tore apart the Horror he'd fired on, seeing the fast work of the rest of the team clean up the horrors in rather short order. Especially the combination of psyker powers and judicious application of grenades. Still, that left the Chaos Spawn that seemed to no longer be content simply lingering and trying to look menacing, instead choosing to engage. The armsman was ready to charge it when he saw it crouch down, and then launch a volley of these quill things at the retinue as a whole. Given his closer proximity, Stukov had little recourse but to shield his vitals and pray. He grunted in pain as his left arm was turned into a pincushion, the flak armor under the greatcoat's sleeves doing little to protect against the attack compared to what it was designed to work against, and he could feel one in the meat of his thigh as well as one that was scraping against his stomach, that had punched in at an angle through the carapace armor and nearly impaled him in the gut as well. He tried to reach down to rip that quill out of the armor, but he realized the naval pistol was quite literally pinned to his hand at the moment, rendering pretty much his entire left arm useless. Great.

	He couldn't work a pump action shotgun one handed, and the quill that left the naval pistol stuck to his hand probably ruined the magazine well as well, meaning he likely only had a few shots left in it assuming it worked at all still. That left the chainsword and using the pistol as a bludgeon. Either way he couldn't easily evade another volley of those quills and he raised the chainsword as he stormed forward in the wake of the attack, weapon roaring to life as he charged its left side, his injuries plainly evident as he engaged on the side that didn't have the large, hulking pincer, looking to kill the thing as fast as he could as he engaged it with the only weapons he had left to him. Getting its attention would let the others focus on bringing the thing down, and then they could worry about whatever it was that was being a problem that Sis tried to get a hold of them over. He'd dropped any pretenses of trying to speak further, teeth gritted in anger, and in pain, as he focused his efforts on assaulting the Spawn with chainsword and faith.