The orks had been caught in the trap as were expected, and, just as one could expect, they had responded to the trap with even greater aggression. The Elysians were used to being dropped into the hell of it, and so quickly adapted around the guard regiments they had been thrust among to turn back the green tide. Pushing them back into the guns of their own regiment, lines of drop sentinels lancing over rubble and ruin to bring their superior firepower to bare.

Before the greenskins in the area could be eradicated in full, new orders cam through, the entire force, those who had already been deployed, were to head to the central Cathedral, whether this was of great tactical need or more an issue of what it should represent, this was not a question for the boots on the ground. They were moving without a grumble, even if it pained to leave a sector of the hive not entirely wiped clean. The Elysians ranged ahead of the Endorans and the Nendardel, without the armoured units of their peers they were a lighter force and so formed a screen of well trained scouts and walkers without any delay to confirm such a formation. Particularly with the risk of surviving orks, it was hardly an unwelcome addition.

Ariel and her squad moved and pace, from ruin to ruin, both screening them for threats as well as benefiting from the cover. Rogue ordinance was hardly a rarity in any conflict, let alone those against the orks. However, it wasn't any rogue attack that finally struck the Elysians with full force. Just as the regiments neared the Cathedral, the ground itself seemed to erupt. Countless explosions along the line as orks burst from the underground, from sewers and underhive, on foot or in their ragtag tunnelling vehicles, it displayed a cunning found only in the most 'cerebral' orkish warlords. Sentinels disappeared by the squadron, brought down by rockets or simply sunk into the earth. Of course, Ariel cared little in the moment for the rest of the regiment, as her squad found itself huddled in the rubble strewn crated that was once a public hall, pinned by persistent gunfire.

"Well shit, command fucked us on this one." Sergeant Tyrick swore, attempting to lean up to take a look at what they were facing, before immediately having to duck away from a spray of rounds. "Might have picked them up if we didn't have to haul ass." His words were followed by a flurry of curses from the remainder of the squad as the orks trained their rockets on their bolthole, evidently having run out of armoured targets. Much of the warped metal and scorched ground that the Elysians were using for cover was churned into uselessnes, and as a squad they were forced to empty las rounds in the direction of the most imminent orks simply to stay alive, keep their heads down so that at least one direction was neautralised. Even still, they began to drop.

Their only hope of salvation would be the imminent arrival of the regiments they had ranged ahead of.