Hybrid Metamorphs

Hybrid Metamorphs are born of a cult's first and second generations, and as the appointed hour draws near, something within them begins to change. Under the swelling influence of an approaching hive fleet, or through the sheer psychic pressure of the cult's fervour, their bodies erupt into monstrous new shapes that echo the form of the purestrain Genestealer from which their whole line descends.

The transformation is a grotesque flowering of Tyranid biology. Their weapon-limbs lengthen and harden into sickle-shaped talons as long as swords, or into pincers strong enough to crush stone, while whip-like ropes of living sinew curl and lash at their wrists. To the cult these mutations are not deformities but blessings, marks of divine favour bestowed by their alien gods, and the Metamorphs are venerated as living saints who walk among the faithful.

On the battlefield they are the brood's foremost close-combat champions, hurling themselves into the enemy with the ferocity of the beast whose shape they are coming to share. Where the rank-and-file hybrids overwhelm through weight of numbers, the Metamorphs kill through sheer savage capability, carving through armour and flesh with their ever-shifting arsenal of grown weaponry as they lead the charge toward the promised day.