Dazzling beams of yellowish red surged from the las-beam cutter held by Grummore. Singed flesh and wounded howls sounded in turn as he ducked about, using protruding walls and even corpses as cover. His sidearm didn’t have fantastic range, being more of a shipbreaking tool rather than a weapon of war but it was plenty for this corridor and the high rate of fire proved invaluable to keeping the advancing wave at bay. That is, until the chanting started. At once Grummore took note of the oncoming push. He could do nothing as the suppressing fire coming from stubbers, autopistols, shotguns, and lasguns behind them were plenty to make him think twice about popping up. He squatted low behind a fallen corpse and unleashed a sustained volley into the group and watched as flesh singed and hair burned but only by sheer luck did one of them fall as it was struck by other voidsmen’s rounds. With its dying gasp, the Tzaangor grasped its two-handed great axe and flung it down the hall just barely clipping Grummore as it buried itself into the corridor’s wall.

The Kin turned his attention down the hall after realizing he was still alive to witness some poor beast be riddled with all manner of flung knives before exploding in a fantastic purple smoke, his vision blocked of the hapless voidsmen the beast was intent on cutting apart. At once he a thud as the Rogue Trader himself fell besides the Kin. The berserk beastman intent on securing the kill. The monster drew back it’s pale blue blade and was preparing an overhead strike. With a muscular burst belying his shorter stature and hints of grey, Grummore launched himself forward just before the wounded Tzaangor and pressed the cutter into the torso of the beast before holding the trigger. A brilliant yellow glow emanated from the creatures chest as the tool literally melted a hole through its chest and fired out the backside down the corridor. After a moment the blade clattered to the floor and the beast slumped forward, still carrying some momentum.

Grummore seemed lost for a moment, he took note of the voidsmen, while yes they were dying, they were not buckling and they were returning the death count equally if not more and the Voidmaster Stukhov’s shotgun was a thunderous drum which made his ears ring apart from the more subdued noise of lazfire. The mixture of his orders barked in patterned arrangement to the rhythmic thumping of the artificer weapon brought a sense of strength against the chanting beasts.

Until it wasn’t.

The silence snapped the Kin away from his assessment and to the Voidmaster locked in a harrowing melee ahead of Grummore. He turned back to the Rogue trader and barked out pointing his cutter in Stukhov’s direction while holding out a hand to Silas, [color=FF8C00]“No time t’be lazin’bout! Yer Voidmaster is go-”[/color] His remark was cut short as a grenade went off, thankfully the full force of it was absorbed by the small pile of corpses that the Frontiersman was using as cover but the blast of it was still enough to send him tumbling past, concussed by the explosion.