[color=lightgreen]"SECOND RANKS, SUPPRESS THE GUNNERS! FRONT RANKS, FIRE AT WILL, REPULSE THE SCUM! DRIVE THEM BACK INTO THE VOID AND LET THEM CHOKE ON THE VILE HERESY THEY SPIT!"[/color]

Stukov kept firing his shotgun into the ranks of the oncoming tide, sweeping back and forth and indiscriminately peppering the oncoming cultists with buckshot. He wouldn't resort to more esoteric ammunition, not yet, not until the need was truly dire. They were holding the line, thankfully, the constant drills and readiness exercises were paying dividends currently. Of course, not all things could go the way of the crew, and the blasted Tzaangor rushed forward to engage the frontline. Which meant they rushed right into the waiting stance of Stukov and his shotgun. He focused his attention on the closest, slam firing as the thing roared and carried forward, slowing its charge but not arresting it fully, forced to engage in melee with the abomination. But if they expected the Voidmaster to be found wanting, they would be sorely disappointed. A downward blade swing was deflected with a sideways bayonet strike, the reinforced weapon proving its worth as the blade narrowly glanced away, and left an opening for the Voidmaster to slam his bayonet upwards into the beast's throat, before firing the last shell in the weapon right into the things jaw, decapitating it in a spray of gore and blood. Stukov had a chance to shove the corpse back in time to catch, out of the corner of his eye, the Rogue Trader get launched back. As much as instinct screamed he move to assist, he had no such luxury.

Another of the Tzaangor were upon him, inclined to try and take advantage of the Voidmaster's emptied shotgun. Snarling, Stukov found himself engaged in a hard fought brawl with the creature, pitting his agility and experience versus the beast's strength and inhuman durability. He couldn't withdraw either, not without putting more of the line at risk of being overrun. Given the abomination gave him no room to reload, he had to strike with bayonet and reinforced stock, landing cuts and blows, though he would only be chipping away at the creature at this rate. This was no time for thoughts though, as another blade swing nearly took his head off, feeling the blade give him a near close shave over his head, though it created an opening to land a good thrust into its side, burying the bayonet deep and leaving a nasty open wound in its side, though he was back on the defensive again, though he was forcing openings when he could.  He'd put this one down in due time, though not in time to assist the others with their trouble. He'd have to put his faith in their capabilities to not buckle so soon in the face of trouble that found them this soon.