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Description
…Strange clicking sounds probably were the first red flag. Of course, I had to ignore it.
‘Come on…’ – I slowly pulled myself up as best as possible, fingers digging at the frost-covered wall. Chest ache pierced all the way to the spine, but at least there was no blood anymore. Either it had already stopped or clothes simply had frozen over it. The second more plausible.
Alright, gun. I had to get my gun. About five or six steps to the middle of the staircase. Nothing serious, as long as you’re not struggling to walk or breathe.
Every breath out – through clenched teeth, as slowly as possible, or there would be another fit of cough, and I’d be defenseless for a minute or two.
At one moment my hand slipped and I barely avoided falling face-first on the frozen floor. There was no pain, but a pattern of black spots dropping on the floor informed me of a reopened scrape on the left side. I dragged one glove off, pressing it against the wound. Should do for now.
Somehow I made my way to the staircase, and what followed was one of the moments where I instantly regretted doing something.
The moment I reached my hand out for the gun a long, jagged chitin spike tapped against the step just above it. I glanced up just a little, feeling my insides turn to ice.
On top of the staircase, just where the exit was supposed to be, sat a crouched figure, all composed of jagged chitin armor and fuzzy tufts of what looked like fur.
Except that they don’t need it.
Tail was almost needle thin and twitching nervously, as the rest of the figure sat completely motionless. Hooved hind legs, broken and overgrown claws on the front ones, blunt spiked protrusions that used to be deadly blades. Only the lower half, but it was more than enough.
A suspicious xeno contraband lost near Elyon was a Tyranid. A bloody Warp-damned Tyranid twice the size they usually are.
The claw reached forward, and I instinctively pressed myself closer against the wall. Reaching out for the gun would take a second, but I wouldn’t be given that second.
The claw lowered and tapped against the concrete step. Silent taps, each echoed through the basement where I was trapped in. One. Two. Three. Slow grinding of chitin against frozen concrete, as the Tyranid moved its claw to the left. One. Two. Three. Drag.
What the…
The realization hit at the second set of taps.
The creature couldn’t see anything, and was using its claws to navigate.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. Another step down.
And what if it decides to go down?
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. I won't be able to stand against it.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. Tap. Tap...
The claw inched closer, now glistening in the remains of light. The chitin was all splits and cracks, I still could think whether it would splinter upon hitting me.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. Thin, if not skinny tail, covered in tufts of greyish fuzz, lashed forward, landing on the steps with a sickening crack.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. It was coming down.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. And the claw stopped after having reached a large crack.
So…what now?
After what felt like a lifetime the xeno pulled its claw back, and I heard shuffling steps mixed with more tapping.
Yes, go away. Please.
The moment steps had faded I literally scrambled down the wall, realizing I’ve been holding my breath the whole time.
---
Here I am, shoving a Tyranid into my story while knowing almost nothing about Tyranids.
I just love how like 80% of the Casualty story so far is Eisenhorn stranded on an ice world getting spooked by different forms of wildlife.
characters© Games Workshop/Dan Abnett
drawing© me

Description
…Strange clicking sounds probably were the first red flag. Of course, I had to ignore it.
‘Come on…’ – I slowly pulled myself up as best as possible, fingers digging at the frost-covered wall. Chest ache pierced all the way to the spine, but at least there was no blood anymore. Either it had already stopped or clothes simply had frozen over it. The second more plausible.
Alright, gun. I had to get my gun. About five or six steps to the middle of the staircase. Nothing serious, as long as you’re not struggling to walk or breathe.
Every breath out – through clenched teeth, as slowly as possible, or there would be another fit of cough, and I’d be defenseless for a minute or two.
At one moment my hand slipped and I barely avoided falling face-first on the frozen floor. There was no pain, but a pattern of black spots dropping on the floor informed me of a reopened scrape on the left side. I dragged one glove off, pressing it against the wound. Should do for now.
Somehow I made my way to the staircase, and what followed was one of the moments where I instantly regretted doing something.
The moment I reached my hand out for the gun a long, jagged chitin spike tapped against the step just above it. I glanced up just a little, feeling my insides turn to ice.
On top of the staircase, just where the exit was supposed to be, sat a crouched figure, all composed of jagged chitin armor and fuzzy tufts of what looked like fur.
Except that they don’t need it.
Tail was almost needle thin and twitching nervously, as the rest of the figure sat completely motionless. Hooved hind legs, broken and overgrown claws on the front ones, blunt spiked protrusions that used to be deadly blades. Only the lower half, but it was more than enough.
A suspicious xeno contraband lost near Elyon was a Tyranid. A bloody Warp-damned Tyranid twice the size they usually are.
The claw reached forward, and I instinctively pressed myself closer against the wall. Reaching out for the gun would take a second, but I wouldn’t be given that second.
The claw lowered and tapped against the concrete step. Silent taps, each echoed through the basement where I was trapped in. One. Two. Three. Slow grinding of chitin against frozen concrete, as the Tyranid moved its claw to the left. One. Two. Three. Drag.
What the…
The realization hit at the second set of taps.
The creature couldn’t see anything, and was using its claws to navigate.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. Another step down.
And what if it decides to go down?
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. I won't be able to stand against it.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. Tap. Tap...
The claw inched closer, now glistening in the remains of light. The chitin was all splits and cracks, I still could think whether it would splinter upon hitting me.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. Thin, if not skinny tail, covered in tufts of greyish fuzz, lashed forward, landing on the steps with a sickening crack.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. It was coming down.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Drag. And the claw stopped after having reached a large crack.
So…what now?
After what felt like a lifetime the xeno pulled its claw back, and I heard shuffling steps mixed with more tapping.
Yes, go away. Please.
The moment steps had faded I literally scrambled down the wall, realizing I’ve been holding my breath the whole time.
---
Here I am, shoving a Tyranid into my story while knowing almost nothing about Tyranids.
I just love how like 80% of the Casualty story so far is Eisenhorn stranded on an ice world getting spooked by different forms of wildlife.
characters© Games Workshop/Dan Abnett
drawing© me