"Xenos" Herold spat with disdain as he saw one Greenskin far off in the distance through his scope, raising its choppa and rallying its troops for an assault on the walls. It looked a bit more purposeful than the normal boasting of an Ork Warleader. Though he doubted that was the Warboss. He fully expected a brute of monumental proportions, and the one he looked at now seemed like an up-jumped Nob with the support of a few thousand of his eager fellows. 

With a guttural cry, the Ork horde that had hunkered down on the front lines suddenly lifted themselves up and charged. Gretchins leaped up with them. The Ork's smaller cousins gnashing their teeth and wildly shooting ramshackle pistols into the air. The bigger Orks loped with a heathen ferocity, brandishing their weapons and firing whatever guns they had forward, though most didn't even have the range to hit the wall at their distance. 

That was when Herold and Ansgar unleashed hell, the Krieger troop informing Herold of the sweep to the left. "Right secured," Herold replied, ripping through green flesh and bits of hammered metal with the intense reign of fire he was sweeping over them. He had not used a Heavy Bolter in years, but it was still familiar to the Arbites sensibilities. He hardly ever smiled, but he had a very grim satisfaction that so many Ork Xenos were perishing under his watch. 

The hours counted down, and when three were up, the Orks had seemed to have lost their fury at the moment. The Nob that led them lay dead, along with a few hundred of his fellows piled around him. "Ammo needs refilling," Herold told one of the approaching tech priests, and he stepped off the turret once he received news of the briefing they were to receive. He reported in, echoing Ansgar's information of a failed Ork incursion.