Falling Men, Rising Laughter.

Despair took over, Brother-Sergeant Hammel lay amongst his dead brothers. They scattered around him like an orbit. Yet a wider circle was of the renegade Guardsmen of Kyret.
These fools had abandoned the Imperial Truth and handed their lives over to the Evil Creatures of the Warp. ALready a taint had changed them, they moved with Unnatural speed,
yet still nothing of an Astartes. The Emperor's Angels, now fighting the Chaos Daemons. The Battle had been a hard one...

*sir*

*speak Brother*

*They've got a super-heavy, The Forge has either been overan or...*

"Dammit! The forge is gone, and they've got some big guns!" He announced to his squad, or at least tried to. The enemy, noticing how their waves were cut down in scores.
Decided to bombard the Marine position from afar. The booming Battle-Cannon announced itsef with vibrations rushing along the floor. Registering with the Sergeant's
Motion Sensors before the Audio Detectors.
*All Squad! GO TO GROUND*

The Order had scarcely been given when a Huge Plasma shell crashed down in the Outer Redoubt.

Hammel had to duck from an armoured leg flying through the air, blood trailing in a fine misty trail behind it. He turned to the right, and saw an Astartes look horrified
and scared as he noticed that the shell had burnt off his legs.

Those Marine's closer to the explosion were the luckier ones, obliterated instantly by the extreme heat.
Hammel, resolute as ever took up the Company flag, stuck it into the ground, before collapsing out of exhaustion.

When he awoke, he saw 5 wounded Astartes, all with backs to him. They only had general issue Power Armour, and were much more wounded than him. Resting his head on the stump of a pillar, he groggily recollected his day...