Swarmlord vs Custodes

• Duty Unto Death:

"A single pod cut through the toxic fumes and the burning sky, hammering into the centre of the plain and the milling confusion of the alien horde. There was an instant realignment, like constellations suddenly clarified in the heavens. The army turned as one, unified by singular purpose once more. The thing which tore itself free from the spore-pod was immense, the pinnacle of genetic mastery and a paragon of inhuman might. The greatest bio-scholars of Terra could not decide whether it was a consciousness in its own right, or an immune response of the hive mind – brought into being when the tide was set against it.

The swarmlord raised its head and bellowed as it rushed forward to meet them. It closed the distance in what seemed like moments. A blur, the storm given form. Blades scissored down against the Custodians. They blocked, even their movements too slow. Bio-electric fields warred with the power fields of their weapons in a whine of feedback and a shower of sparks. It forced Varamach to his knees, and the great cleaver blade descended, burying itself in the armour of his neck. There was a spasm and a gout of blood, and he had only a moment to drive his spear up and into its flesh before he fell. Another loss, too massive to countenance. Natreus ducked under its guard and slashed across its chest, but the swarmlord brought all four of its blades to bear. It pinned Natreus, blades barely containing him as he struggled, blood coating them in furious smears. The Custodian’s spear fell from his grasp, and the swarmlord cast him to the dust.

Only Tamerlain remained. He broke into a run, swinging his axe as he advanced. The heavy castellan blade impacted against one of the boneswords, chipping it. There was no surprise in its dead eyes, only a snarl of alien hate.
‘This is His domain,’ Tamerlain said, not caring whether or not it could hear or understand. ‘I am His servant, and you shall not end me with my duty yet undone.’ He moved beneath its dance of blades, feeling them scrape against his armour – turned aside by angle, speed and the armour’s inherent strength. It snarled, dripping venom as it stabbed down at him. He dropped to his knees, his hand finding Natreus’ spear. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, and drove the unpowered blade up with such force that it cracked the monster’s armoured sternum. It slammed one of its blade limbs into his side, and he brought his axe up again. An arm flew free in a gush of sour fluid, and it batted him aside with the flat of another blade. They were evenly matched. Opposites. Mirrors. One the pinnacle of human genetic mastery, the other a crescendo of accelerated hyper-evolution. One was golden, the other base.
They fought down the burning slopes, even as the tyranid swarm wove around them in a tightening noose. By-blows obliterated swathes of brood organisms. The swarmlord did not care as it scythed through its own, as it drove Tamerlain back. He fought with every century of his experience behind him. He could feel the names carved into his armour, pressed against his flesh. Each carried a burden.
He moved as fast as he was able, raising his axe to block and parry or to cut and slash. Their melee devolved into a grinding brawl, drawn out and bitter. He tensed as he fought, feeling the dull ache of fatigue. He struck for its thorax, cleaving it open even as it brought two of its blades round. It pincered him in place. He felt something break in his armour’s systems, his gauntlet clenching in palsy. He closed his eyes and focused. It was more gruelling and more intense than any Blood Game he had run in the service of the Throne, more pressing than any battle of his long years. He felt his fingers close, finally, around the hilt of his misericordia dagger, and pulled it free. He pushed it up and drove it into the thing’s snarling visage. Dissonator spirits engaged with a flare and the blade blazed golden for a glor­ious instant as it sank through flesh and chitin. The beasts screamed, every last one of them howling in animal agony. Tamerlain kicked out his leg and drove the dying monster back. Behind him, the world roared again – in sympathetic victory."