Herold fell back into the Warehouse, taking up a position behind mounds of crates that he made sure were [i]not[/i] explosives or ammunition. He'd be damned if a heretic, be they Space Marine or not, would kill him by simply firing at his cover. As he positioned behind that, he hefted his grenade launcher, fully reloaded with six Krak Grenades. He felt more comfortable using them against the Power Armor of the Chaos Marines. His fired round after round, the grenades making their signature 'krak' explosions, akin to their namesake.

By the Emperor, they moved quickly in their bulky armor! Still, four out of his six shots hit their mark, more or less, sending Space Marines back heavily wounded if not dead. He hoped the latter, though it was hard to tell with the smoke and fire going around him. He hastily reloaded his Grenade Launcher, now putting Frags in there. They'd do damage if nothing else, and began to play the role of the team's artillery, dispersing the Marines and wounding them where he could. 

It was over before he knew it, and even the hardened Arbites was sweating and shaking by the end of it. The fallen Angels of the Emperor were a hard thing to aim at, much less fight. He thanked the Emperor for that Hellhammer fire. Herold wiped the perspiration at his brow, and formed up as the smoke began to clear. "Arbites at the ready," he replied. He dropped his Grenade Launcher, for the weapon had been damaged in the fight by some measure. Instead he grabbed a Plasma Rifle next as he entered the Hellhammer.