The sack of spores hurdled toward the planet at speeds that most Imperium ships would envy. As it entered the atmosphere the planet rebelled against it’s entry, wreathing the spores in flames and sundering the weaker parts of the biological carapace from the rest. Unheard from inside the protective shell klaxons were sounding far from the potential landing zone. Quickly followed by the pounding of Flak from the Guardsmen stationed in posts littered through out the death world known simply as: The Edge. A reference to it being one of the furthest inhabited planets in Imperium space: often prone to Ork invasions only recently did they receive the orbital flak cannons that were proving useless against the hardened casing of the insect like drop pod.
It hit the soft earth of The Edge with explosive fanfare, sending spores and pieces of hardened flesh into the surrounding ecosystem. Emerging from the green cloud that used to be the drop pod emerged a creature with long sything talons the size of most humans, a squid like face and the colorings of the nightmare to come. The Codex: Xeno classifies it as Tyranid: Genus Lictor—assassin and scout brood. No sooner had the spore cloud settled then the carapace of the beast shimmered and faded to match the forest world around it. We have arrived. It send the message through the synaptic link it shared with the hive fleet only a few days away. It vanished into the collection of trees, invisible to all but the most rigorous of scanning equipment.
In the crater it left behind green glowing biomass began to pool, each cell having a sentience all its own. Reacting to the requests from the shared link that all of the hive fleet shared, it began to devour everything it could: feeding its own mitosis. Of all the half aware cells in the collecting mass, there was one that would be destined for greatness.
Far off through the void, an Adepta Sororitas ship, peered through the great distances and found nothing. The Navigator and Astropath Transcendent both walked up to the ships captain, warning her of the impending shadow they can both see in the Immaterium. Course corrections were made.
Whoever had watch duty several days ago clearly fraked things up. Estimates on the landing zone were as far off as 1000km. On The Edge that can be more hazardous then the potential invading force. Now Jabal, hardly a sergeant, and his squad of Imperial Guard Scouts are on their way to the most recently predicted crash zone for the mysterious drop pod that no one can confirm. He chewed on his tabac a little, hesitant to be sending his troops into the middle of nowhere on a hostile enough planet. If it wasn’t for duty, he would have told the flunky of a watch officer to fuck off.
Jabal blinked a moment, he was on his back. Gunfire, screams and wet ripping sounds filled the near by area. His mind desperately tried to remember what happened. There was an explosion. No. The force of one, but no heat.
He made his way to his feet, grabbing his las-gun that had been tossed to the side.
They had breached a perimeter, the first signs of a familiar Tyranid threat, they were preparing to Vox back when the tuck was hit by something. Jabal’s mind reached back into his memory as he looked around to sight whatever it was that had hit them. He realized it was quiet. All of his squad had been eliminated. Markings on the truck spoke to the force which had been applied. Buried in the side was a fleshy arrow like puncture, the missile still stuck in the side of the vehicle with a ripped off tendril of muscle attached. Flesh Hooks. Jabal, now more scared then before, scanned with increased haste for any Xeno that might try and kill him. He could hear movement, but he couldn’t see where it was coming from. A moment later something slithered out from a near by bush.