Walking in the war torn streets of Tarson reminded him of patrol duty back home, or when he was scoping out a potential target to exact justice upon. Ever alert, Herold was skilled at most things martial and dangerous, but this was something he excelled at. Scanning his surroundings, alert. Not to mention room clearing, which his combat shotgun and hefty, door-kicking bulk was very well suited for. Once they made it to the end of their walk, he aided in that endeavor with a practiced ease. "All clear on this side," he reported through the comm, making his way back to the group. 

He wasn't entirely saddened he didn't find Orks, but he'd rather know where greenskins were rather than not. Once he made it back to the rest of them, he began checking his ammo stock. Opening his pack and checking his magazines, he found he had about half ammo left on most of his weaponry. His shock maul still had plenty of juice however, having only been used on one, no two Orks in their last advanced before the bombardment had occurred. 

Luckily, he'd not used any grenades as of yet, which was something he'd definitely need when he inevitably needed to rely on melee attacks for the brunt of his damage. Even as strong as he was, with a powerful shock maul and a shield, the Ork was a dangerous adversary to fight hand to hand, even to some Adeptus Astartes. He would deal the Emperor's justice on all Greenskin's he found, but it increased the risk factor exponentially. 

Grunting, he reloaded his shotgun, but strapped it to his back and unholstered his pistol, hefting it at the ready as he watched the door for when they were ready to go. He idly ate some rations as he did so.