Around her, resistance was solidifying; the harder the Eldar struck, the harder Eros fought, as if drawn by the promise of strong mothers for their offspring. Soon Tyranids pressed in from every angle, forming a solid wall of blades and teeth and drooling, dripping phalli. One Banshee fell, then a second; a third took a glancing blow which ruptured her helm and left her exposed to the dense soup of contagions in the air. The woman staggered and let out a low moan, then tore off the remains of her helmet to reveal a face wild-eyed and flushed with arousal."I need - I can't help - Isha's love, First Exarch, why are we fighting them?" She cried, already clawing at the clasps and seals of her armour. "They will give us children! Children, after so long!"
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