Araclese counted his blessing for every time his boltgun shot true. He thanked the Emperor every time his armor allowed him one more second of life. This was to be his life, for the eternity of his service in the Imperium of Man. The Captain revved his chainsword as he awaited the Orks to rush the entrenched position.
"May you die in glory and carry the Emperor in your hearts." He said the same phrase to his Blood Angels every time battle encroached upon them. This time would probably be the last. Araclese felt the ground tremble and a faint echo of a battle cry.
"This is it, Brothers! Let their blood flow like the rivers!" The cry grew louder and louder as the Orks came closer. A large mass of green came out of the mist and the Space Marines opened up with their holy Bolters and plasma guns.
The Assault Marines shed the cover of the tranches firing their bolt pistols and severing any green body part they were able to swing at. Araclese followed them out onto the field screaming his rage at the ichor that splattered in his armor and face while he hacked away at the Greenskins.
The Captain soon found himself immersed in the green horde. He continued to fire his bolt pistol and swing his chainsword even though his enemies seemed endless. His vision soon became red tinted and his throat felt as though he had never stopped screaming.
He felt something hit his stomach, hard, and he was knocked backwards into several Orks and Space Marines. He revved his sword and swung it as hard as he could to his right. The sword caught, hopefully in an Ork's hide, and he used it to pull himself to his feet.
He revved the chain-teeth to free it from whatever it was it had caught in. Araclese slammed the butt of his bolt pistol into the temple of an Ork while he gutted another. An Ork's sloppy shot glanced off his shoulder, but it was enough to spin him around. His sword accidentally skidded off a Battle-Brother's arm halfway through the spin.
Araclese saw the explosion a split second before he felt it. The shockwave slammed into him, throwing him off his feet into a mass of Orks and Marines, and, for the second time within a minute, he felt how solid the ground really was. His ears rang with bells of the Holy Emperor himself as he started to stand. Araclese shot an Ork in the head as it tried to repeat what he had done.
He looked out across what was left of the field and saw several Battle-Brothers still doing battle against extremely resilient Orks. Then a Marine tossed a fragmentation grenade into their position, and they were decimated. Those that had tried to flee beforehand were cut down by the waiting Marines.
Araclese looked down and saw a Brother that had absolutely no hope of surviving long enough for an Apothecary to tend to him. He said a prayer for the Marine's soul, lifted his bolt pistol and fired. When he looked up he saw a Dreadnought thumping over the bodies on its way toward him. He turned to watch the last bit of mist clear away and the sun rising.
"Captain Araclese. We're needed aboard the Reaping Talon, immediately."
Araclese gestured at the field around him, "Can't you see that I'm busy?"
"There are more pressing issues elsewhere in the galaxy."
The Captain glared at the Dreadnought and said through gritted teeth, "Not when it comes to our worlds, Jonas. They are always foremost."
"We have received word from scout ships that a Tyranid Hive fleet is making its way to this system."
Araclese's gaze drifted away from Jonas. "How many days until it infects our worlds?"
"The scout ships estimate one week, Captain. It is currently feeding on an Eldar system."
"Then we shall take the fight to them. We will cleanse the system before a single Imperial citizen is harmed."
"Yes, Captain. Their filth shall be expunged from the system and we shall take what is rightfully ours!"
Araclese nodded. "Yes. Commander Jorrar shall stay here to deal with the Orks as needed." A slight grin crossed his face, "We can't leave all of the horde alone."
Jonas chuckled while Araclese watched the first rays of the newly dawning sun play across the stricken field. Several Marines from his fifth company were searching the field for the wounded and taking ammo and other supplies from the dead.
The Captain wished that this could be the last time he would see something like this, but he knew the Emperor had more planned for his destructive life.